A look that’s meant to be reassuring. “Okay. So for now, let’s talk a bit more about your anger.”
I grit my teeth and prepare to try my hardest not to fall into any more traps. But I have to wonder if I’ve already been caught.
37
Now
Although things between James and me have thawed, they remain a little awkward. Now, more than ever, he seems to not want me around. At the same time, I find myself yearning for him a little more now that my connection with my sister has been severed, a void of affection to fill. She’s never been the one to initiate a call, but now I can’t call her, either. I’ve been blocked.
Over the past couple of days, James has insisted that while things are stressful, I elect to work from home. But working in the office is a nice distraction from everything else happening in my life. Here, there is order, and if and when there’s chaos, the stakes are so low that it’s easy to keep a cool head about it. People seem to think I’ve attained some guru level of inner peace, but the truth is that I simply don’t care enough about work problems to go into a panic about them. And so, for the past few weeks, the office has been a strange haven.
I’m returning from my lunch break today, earbuds pushed in as deep as they’ll go, Euro rock blasting on loud. It’s not my usual music of choice, but of late, I’ve found angry screaming soothing. It’s nice to hearfrom people who seem more enraged with the world than I am. It’s nice to take these lunchtime walks, inhale some not-quite-fresh but at least outside air. It’s easy in the gaps between task seven and task eight on the to-do list to clear my mind, take in the people pounding the pavement, the old buildings, the secret alleyways, the tiny hidden parks.
The lifts are half-broken again today, and so those of us who have braved them, packed in shoulder to shoulder, must wait at each floor for the doors to close before jabbing the next floor choice repeatedly until the button sticks. By the time I get to the fifth floor, a little of my lunchtime Zen has been eroded, but not enough to stop me from looking forward to blasting through the next five or so hours of tasks. It feels good to get this done.
Most of the team is still at lunch, but Molly is back, eyes focused on her screen. She glances up as I shrug off my bag and jacket. There’s a scrutiny in her expression I’m not used to, eyes tracking me as I sit.
“Good lunch?” I ask with a brightness I don’t feel. She nods, the false sunshine in my voice not banishing the shadow that undercuts hers as she says,
“Will called for you.”
My mouth goes dry, tongue sticking to my teeth even as I say, “Oh yeah?” with an easiness even faker than my smile.
I realize too late that her scrutiny is naked suspicion. I wonder if this is how Mad Mary felt when the tide began to turn against her in the office: afraid. Wonder if people have already started to align my increasingly erratic behavior with hers.
“Yeah, you were out, so I answered the office phone for you,” Molly says.
I want to point out that she’s not answering the phone for me—anyone can answer; it’s just that most people in the office are too lazyto, and I always seem to be first to cave. But now doesn’t feel like the best time to debate the issue.
“He said your time’s up.” She continues. “What does that mean?”
Play it cavalier, cool as a cucumber. “Oh god. I have no idea.” A look of fear I don’t have to fake.
Molly is fast to pounce on it. “What?”
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t say anything. It’s just that…” A dramatic look into the distance and a flicker of reluctance back her way.
She’s all in now, swiveling to face me in her chair and leaning forward. “What?”
“Well, James said he’d been drinking again…” A pause for added drama. “I didn’t realize how bad it must be, but this…”
Molly nods, somber. It seems like she’s genuinely on side now. “Christ. He did sound off, now you mention it.”
The tempo of my pounding pulse slows even as my thoughts race. It must be about the money. Although James said he was handling that. Perhaps he gave Will more than just the cash. Told him he knew about the drinking. Told him he can’t come back to the business. Did James give away that I’m the one who caught Will in the act?
I punch my log-in details into the computer and try to look normal. But then Molly pipes up again.
“I noticed that in the pigeonhole for you, by the way.”
Confusion clouds my mind for a moment, but then I spot it. There’s a gleaming white envelope, almost blending in with the polished white desk. My name is clearly written on the front of the envelope, our company address beneath it. I take my seat and pick up the post. The all-too-familiar scrawl glares at me. I’m already holding my breath, but when I slip my finger under the folded corner, when I slip out the first sheet of paper, my heart stops.
In the end, my humiliation was so complete that I died a little before you did. And I wish I could say that when I heard you were dead, I was sorry.
“Anything interesting?” Molly asks.
Panic and fury flare in my chest. I fold up the contents.
“No, just…” I rack my brain for something she won’t want to see. She’s unendingly curious. “Just an overdue invoice from one of the freelancers.”
