Affirmation (4 page)

Spinning
away from him, I start to walk out, but then a thought strikes me.
Turning back around, I decide to hit him hard with something I had
been dying to say for weeks.

“Cal
didn’t initiate sex with Marissa.”

Matt’s
eyebrows shoot straight up, and then his face goes red, his eyes
stark. “I don’t want to hear this.”

I’m
not about to shut up. “He was drunk at her party. I understand
you were out of state and your plane got delayed, so you couldn’t
make it in. Marissa offered him the guest room, and he accepted.”

“Enough,
Mac,” he says, his voice getting louder as he steps around the
desk toward me.

“He
was really, really drunk… on the verge of passing out. In
fact, he thinks he did pass out for a little bit, but when he came
too—”

“Get
the fuck out,” Matt yells at me. “I don’t want to
hear this.”

I
sidestep around the other side of his desk to buy myself time. “Tough
titties, you chicken shit pansy. You’re going to listen. Cal
sort of woke up, and Marissa was in bed with him… giving him a
blow job. He tried to push her off at first, but he admits… he
didn’t try hard. He was drunk and didn’t have much
control. She climbed on top of him, Matt. He let it happen, for a
while. Then he came to his senses a bit and stopped it. I mean, the
act had still been done… but he stopped it.”

I
expect Matt to yell at me again or advance on me further, but he just
closes his eyes as if he’s in pain and his head hangs down low.
I keep going before he tries to stop me again.

“If
you’re honest with yourself, Matt, you know it’s true. He
didn’t make the move. Otherwise, why would he have been the one
to confess it to you? He came to you to let you know, and you never
even gave him a chance to explain. You beat the crap out of him and
kicked him out of your life, without even giving him a chance.”

Matt
turns away from me, walking back behind his desk. I decide to let him
hear the last of my mind, and then it’s over.

“I’m
not justifying what he did, Matt. Cal doesn’t try to do that
either. He was wrong, and he knows it. But he did not instigate it
and, although he was weak at first, he did stop it. But you already
know that’s true, because I understand Marissa wasn’t
stingy with her charms.”

Out
of breath and out of stamina, I watch Matt as he stares out the
window over downtown Manhattan. His shoulders are hunched, and he
looks defeated.

I
turn and walk to the door, but before I leave, I swing back around.
“I only told you this, Matt, because your pain and bitterness
are holding you back. I only wanted to show you that it might be a
little easier to forgive Cal than you originally thought. Carrying
that bitterness is not good. It’s already turned you into
someone that is destined to lead a lonely life, because you can’t
let it go. That’s fine… that’s your choice. But
remember this… you teach Gabe by example. What is he learning
from watching you? What are you teaching him about love and
forgiveness?”

Matt
doesn’t respond. He just stares out the window, and it’s
clear he has nothing to say. Unfortunately, neither do I. I said my
piece, and it’s time to move on.

Opening
the door, I walk out, hoping that Macy is at home with a huge carton
of ice cream for me. I’m feeling a massive, crying meltdown
coming on.

I’m
slogging through every workday at Connover and Crown, and it’s
getting harder and harder to get through it because I’m
depressed. I watch the clock constantly, waiting for it to be 5:30 PM
so I can go home. I don’t work late at the office anymore,
preferring to work from home instead.

Anything
to avoid seeing Matt.

It’s
been a week since we broke up. This past weekend was brutal. I spent
countless hours obsessing over whether I did the right thing, or if I
should have given Matt more time and patience. Now I obsess over
whether I have already been replaced by another numerical match
through
One Night Only
.
I pull my phone out time and again with the intent to call him, or
even to send a short text, just to see how he’s doing.

But
my common sense always prevails. I’m no dummy, and I’m
not one to keep attempting the futile. My gut tells me that Matt
doesn’t have it in him for anything further, and it’s
time for me to move on.

The
only way I know this is affecting Matt is because I’m getting
daily ratings from Bea. She always greets me each morning with a Matt
Report, and he hasn’t dropped below a ten since we parted ways.
I know this should give me some comfort, but it doesn’t. Matt’s
not missing me. He’s just missing the convenient and stellar
sex. I’ve heard lack of those things will make men grumpy.

Fortuitously,
Matt had been out of the office a great deal this week with court
hearings, and I didn’t really need his help on any of my stuff.
We both were doing a great job of avoiding the other, and I was
starting to believe that this might actually be workable. I’m
sure with time, my hurt feelings and his surliness would just
naturally ease, and then maybe we could have at least a polite
working relationship. I mean, I might have some major issues with
Matt, but I really love the type of work I’m doing for him.

Today,
however, Matt makes it clear to me that there’s no room for a
polite working relationship between the two of us. There is an email
waiting for me as soon as I get in. It reads:

Mac,

In
an effort to help with the burgeoning increase in complex business
cases, you are being transferred into that division under the general
supervision of Bill Crown. Obviously, you will still work on the
Jackson case since the clients are attached to you, but John Casting
will act as your co-counsel and immediate supervisor. You can direct
any and all questions to him. Finally, with the addition of Kylie
Wynn to the Pearson appeal, I will not need your help on that case
further.

I
wish you the best of luck with these new endeavors, and I’m
sure you’ll be a successful member of the complex business
litigation team.

Sincerely,

Matthew
Connover

Is
he fucking kidding me?

Is
he mother fucking kidding me?

He
sends me a formal email telling me that I’m no longer going to
be doing injury litigation, which is what I love doing? He’s
transferring me to the hell of business law? And more than that, he
“wishes me the best of luck”?

What
a fucking asshole coward.

I
wait for the anger to well up further and overtake me, but it never
gets above a low simmer. In fact, I feel sort of a cool calmness. I
suppose the fact I have been telling myself over and over again that
there is no hope of a relationship with Matt has led me to believe,
deep down inside, that it would be impossible to go backward to just
an employer/employee relationship.

There
is no second-guessing, and I don’t have even an ounce of doubt
over my next actions.

I
pull up a blank Word document, and I start typing.

When
I’m finished, I print it, sign it, and put it in an envelope. I
handwrite the words “Matthew Connover” and place it in my
outbox. A gopher boy comes around several times a day and takes all
the stuff from the attorneys’ outboxes and distributes it. Matt
will get my notice sometime soon, but I don’t give it another
thought.

Instead,
I pick up the phone and call Cal. He knows Matt and I broke up, and
we’ve talked a few times. He’s been a very good friend to
me and provided me with an open ear. He’s not been judgmental,
and he’s been strangely quiet as to taking my side over Matt’s
or vice versa. I invite him for lunch the following day, and we make
plans to meet in the cafeteria that’s in our building.

I
lose myself in the
Jackson
case, writing up a detailed summary memorandum of it so I can give it
to Cal. His help is going to be instrumental to me.

The
details of the memorandum are so engrossing that I don’t even
realize there is someone standing in my office doorway until he
clears his throat.

It’s
Matt, and he’s holding my letter of resignation in his hand.

Without
invitation, he walks in, closes the door, and takes a seat. He throws
the envelope on my desk. “What the hell is this?”

“Come
on, Matt. You know what it is.” My voice is gentle, without
harshness or even bitter feelings. It doesn’t mean those
feelings aren’t there, but I’m choosing not to bring them
into this. I want to keep this professional.

“You’re
resigning?” he asks, as if he can’t believe what my
letter says.

“Yes.
I’ll give you two weeks’ notice or, if you want me to
leave immediately, I’ll do that. I’m taking the
Jackson
case with me though, so please don’t think about fighting me on
that. My clients won’t stay here if I’m not involved.”

Matt
looks at me with exasperation and waves an impatient hand at me. “I
don’t give a fuck if you take that case. I just can’t
believe you’d quit. I mean… I moved you out of my
section so you wouldn’t have to deal with me. I thought it
would give you want you wanted.”

Cocking
my head, I try to gauge what Matt is really feeling. He looks
agitated and nervous. He looks confused… lost. I’m not
sure what it means, but none of it changes my decision to leave.

“I’m
sorry. I appreciate you trying to make my work environment easier.
It’s just… it’s just too hard for me to be here.
Too many memories. Some right in this office,” I say with a
little smile, and I’m surprised when Matt even smiles a little
over my reference to the times we’d gotten down and dirty in
here.

“There’s
nothing I can do to change your mind?” he asks. His eyes peer
hard into mine, trying to determine if there is a loophole he can
work his way inside of.

If
he could really read my thoughts, he’d see that my heart is
screaming,
Yes. You can tell me you’ve
made a huge mistake—that you miss me, love me, and you’ll
die without me.

But
that’s too much wishful thinking. So I say, “I’m
sorry. This is for the best.”

He
stares at me for a long moment. I can practically see the wheels and
cogs spinning in his brain. But then I see the moment when
resignation takes over his face, and he accepts what I say. “All
right then. I’ll accept your resignation, and I’ll take
the two weeks’ notice. That’s very professional of you to
offer that. Since you’ll only be here two more weeks, obviously
I won’t be transferring you over to Bill. You can help me wind
up some stuff.”

“Okay,”
I tell him, not sure if I’m relieved or sad that he didn’t
beg me to stay. “Sounds like a game plan.”

“You
resigned?” Cal asks with astonishment as we move through the
cafeteria line. He pulls a turkey sub onto his tray, and I make a
grab for one of the last Caesar salads left.

“Yup,”
I tell him, also grabbing a cupcake. I think I’m entitled since
I’m eating rabbit food for lunch.

When
we get to the cash register I open my wallet, but Cal beats me to it
by handing his credit card over to the cashier.

“Hey,”
I say in exasperation. “I’m supposed to be buying. I
invited you.”

Cal
glares at me, and I close my wallet. “I’m buying because
you’re getting ready to be a poor, unemployed lawyer. You need
to be saving your money.”

We
take our food and easily find an empty table. The lunch rush is
starting to wane, but that’s because we didn’t get here
until about 1:30 PM because Cal was running late. The crowded nature
of this cafeteria is one of the reasons I try to avoid it. Yes, it’s
super convenient having it in our building, but I hate having to
battle for a table.

We
sit down, and I pull my cupcake toward me. I love eating my dessert
first, although, sometimes I feel self-conscious about it. I don’t
feel that way with Cal, which is again a testament to what a good
friend he’s become to me.