“Great. So glad we understand each other,” Rebecca said. “This is your one and only warning, Mr. Strom. As you know, we have a zero tolerance policy in regards to gender discrimination and sexual harassment. You are a director of this company and you should be setting the appropriate example. You have not. Unfortunately, without more proof or evidence from Ms. Fisher, I cannot fire you today.”
Rebecca stood and placed both hands on top of my file. She glared at me through her ridiculous glasses. And said, “But I assure you, I know the proof is there. If you go near her, threaten her, call her, or otherwise just cause her to have a bad day at the office because of your actions, your career is over here. Understand?”
I realized that I had never been threatened by a woman before this moment. I had a new feeling inside and I didn’t have a name for it. Suddenly, I felt claustrophobic. There were too many potted plants crowding the back wall of her office and the smell was disgusting, like a moldy jungle. The plants seemed to be droopy, either from lack of sunlight, overwatering or pure boredom. Otherwise, her office was unadorned. The walls were white, the shelves barren, except for a few books about HR policies and procedures. Boring manuals for boring rule-following people like her. Everything about Rebecca More was drooping, musty and irritating. I was anxious to be done with her. And she was waiting for my answer.
“Understood, Rebecca,” I said, standing and leaning ever so slightly toward her over her desk. She startled and stepped back, bumping into her chair, which knocked into a potted tree. A leaf poked through her hair and that made me happy. I had said her name as if it were toxic, a poison making my tongue thick by its mere presence in my mouth. And then I turned and walked out of her office, never expecting to be summoned there once more only three short months later.
I told myself there would be no more empowering Caroline Fisher. A shame, really, after all I’d done for her. After all we’d worked on together. I also reminded myself that there would be other young women drawn to the agency, that I had a great wife, a brilliant life and two sons who everyone said were the most handsome boys they’ve ever seen. And of course, there would always be someone new on the side, someone like Gretchen, a young woman who would simply cross my path at the right time. Although I hadn’t met her yet, I knew she was out there. There were always Gretchens. I mean, look at me. Women love me, almost all women. But Caroline? She never even put out—such a tease. Who needed Caroline Fisher?
Mia interrupts my reflections. “Excuse me. I just need to powder my nose.”
Of course I stand as she pushes her chair away from the table. The waiter is faster than me, though, and pulls her chair out for her. She smiles up at him sweetly before walking away from the table, the champagne-colored silk of her dress shining in the candlelight. I watch the waiter as he refolds the napkin and places it on the table, as if she were never there. He ignores me completely. That’s fine. My thoughts are elsewhere.
8:45 p.m.
15
Turns out I did need Caroline Fisher.
It is my fault, I know. But I thought if we could just talk one more time, she’d see what she was missing. It had been more than two months of no contact and two long months of watching my back. Or, more precisely, two months spent on full alert, watching to be certain that no one would see me watching Caroline. Rebecca More was not a fan of mine, of course, she had told me as much. I had no way of knowing who else in the office she had turned against me, who else was watching me.
As for Caroline, if I saw her walking down the hall, I’d duck into someone’s office before she could see me. Andy had taken over all of her accounts, and the transition had been seamless. Caroline’s new cubicle was on another floor of the building; she was handling our automotive accounts with a senior account executive, a ballbuster woman named Judy. Fine.
But for some reason, I couldn’t get my mind off Caroline. I couldn’t stop myself from stealing a glance at her as she walked into the office each morning from the parking lot, for example. It was something to look forward to, a moment I cherished, catching a glimpse of Caroline stepping out of her car, looking lovely. This particular November day, there was a chill in the air, and Thanksgiving was just a week away. Somehow, we ended up alone together in the same elevator. I swear I hadn’t planned it. It just happened. Serendipity. She wore a tight-fitting navy knit dress and high-heeled leather boots, and she smelled like apricots. She tried to get out of the elevator when she spotted me, but it was too late and the doors closed.
“Hello, Caroline,” I said. Friendly, nonthreatening salutation, but my voice was husky with desire, I’ll admit.
“Paul,” she said. She nodded but kept staring at the doors as if willing them to open.
“Good to see you, it’s been a while,” I said.
Caroline kept her gaze on the closed elevator doors. “Yes, it has.”
“Drinks tonight, for old times’ sake?” I asked. That’s all. I promise. I may have added, “You look amazing,” or “God, I miss you,” but that’s it, really.
She turned her head and looked at me as if I’d grown horns. Her face was white, her eyes wide as if she was afraid, which was ridiculous. How could she be afraid of me? “You are unbelievable. You’re sick. You really are sick,” she said, and as soon as she stepped out of the elevator, I knew I was in trouble.
It took Rebecca an entire week to summon me to her jungle-like lair that last time, which is why for seven days I had convinced myself that Thompson or Payne had saved me. We were the good old boys. We did what we did, and we got a slap on the wrist. That’s what I had thought. In the end, I didn’t get anything more than two months, Mia is correct.
Rebecca stroked a fat green leaf on one of her plants and smirked as I walked toward her desk. She’d won, she knew it. “Mr. Strom. Have a seat.”
I closed the door behind me, but it opened again immediately. A stout short guy dressed in a rent-a-cop uniform appeared behind me. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.
“I can assure you this is no joke, Mr. Strom. It’s over. You’re fired. Your things will be shipped to your home address. The partners have generously given you two months’ severance, although I recommended against it given the severity of your crimes.”
Rebecca was enjoying this. I was not. “Crimes. Really? I’ve been a loyal employee, I’ve made this place what it is.”
“We’re finished here. Please escort him out.” Rebecca smiled, a tight-lipped smile. I felt the meathead’s strong hand around my arm.
I shook him off. “Big mistake, Rebecca,” I said, and walked out the door, my head held high, a smile on my face until I reached my car. Inside the Flex, I began to formulate my plan.
I have been draining my 401(k) although minus the company’s match for last year. I lost that when I got terminated. I’m considering it to be my severance package. I lost a lot in penalties using it, but it is what it is. Back then, when it happened, it wasn’t long before Christmas rolled around and Phyllis and Donald’s gifts rolled in. I had imagined we could make the 401(k) money stretch to another Christmas, get the gifts from good old Phyllis and Donald again. That was as far as I’d gotten, back then. Oh, and my special credit card. I know now it was not a solid financial plan. This money thing is my only weakness, I told you that.
My wife reappears at the table, and I scurry over to pull her chair out before the waiter can. I’m not a barbarian. After I settle her in, I pat her shoulder once before I return to my seat. She tenses under my touch. We need to move on to a nonfinancial topic. We are locked in a no-win conversation. I’m eager to change the subject, to set her mind at ease. She hasn’t ever worried about money in her life. There’s no need for her to start now. She has all we will ever need, already.
“I have a plan,” I say. And I do. But I don’t know why I just said that. It’s the corner I’m in, I suppose. My plan is for me only. I will not share it with Mia. She will find out soon enough. Perhaps beginning tonight.
“What’s the plan, Paul?” she says, extracting her napkin from the table, unfolding it before it disappears onto her lap.
