Do or Di (34 page)

* * *

The play was fine. I’d seen it before which gave me the excuse to stare at the side of Colin’s face. He never looked over. He held my hand at intermission, but everyone was watching. I wanted to drop it to show him that I didn’t need it, but I didn’t. Diana and my mother got along brilliantly. Then again, for any princess-in-training you couldn’t really do better than my mother who had lived and breathed proper etiquette. We went out after the show. No one except Diana was really hungry, but we ordered some light appetizers and a round of drinks. Everyone discussed the show, the staging, and costumes. Diana was fascinated with the idea of the Phantom. She felt Christine was making a lousy choice by even considering the drippy Raoul instead of the Phantom.

“Is it just about looks to her? Can’t she see that the Phantom is the one who really loves her?”

“People the world over seem to have an inordinate amount of difficulty making clever decisions where love is concerned,” my mother offered. I wondered what she would think of my decisions if she knew the whole story.

My mother wasn’t having any difficulty sticking to her decision that she wanted some time. My dad left no fewer than fifteen voice mail messages on my home phone, but she refused to call him back. Jonathon, I noted, hadn’t left a single message. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or upset. Colin dropped us off after the play. I invited everyone in, but Diana said she had to get home to take Rooster out and Colin offered to take her. I wondered if he would kiss me goodbye in order to keep up appearances, but he didn’t.

We spent Sunday at home. My mother seemed content to read her book and drink tea. She noted that she rarely took time anymore to just enjoy herself. I felt caged up and even with the crutches I would have considered going for a walk except it was pouring rain. Instead I settled for sitting by the window and staring out. I had expected the third degree from my mother on Colin, but she simply commented that he seemed charming. There was no lecture on what a good catch he made with meaningful eye contact to indicate that only a fool would let this one get away. I had always loathed the term “a good catch.” It reduced men to little more than a wide-eyed salmon, lying on the dock while their gills heaved in an effort to pull in air. If they were caught, it meant death. Fish and men, it occurred to me, were happiest when they were free to do their own thing.

The phone rang again. My mother never even looked up from her book. Eventually it clicked over to the machine.

“You have to talk to him sometime,” I said, breaking my vow not to bring up the subject of dating, men, love or my dad.

“Well, of course I do. I just don’t wish to do it today. He can wait.”

A light went on in the back of my mind.

“You want to punish him. Scare him. That seems fair.” I nodded. I had to hand it to my mom after all. She understood the love game far better than I ever did. My dad was undoubtedly consumed with anxiety. I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around the idea that he had ever cheated on my mom, but I was certain that he did love her. My mom and dad belonged together. I couldn’t fathom a world where they would be apart. My mom stood and walked over to me. She pressed her cool hand against my forehead.

“Pumpkin, punishing your dad has nothing to do with it. You always got confused there. Thinking that you could do things, say things that would change everything. Then you would always be upset when things didn’t go your way. You have to understand, what I do isn’t about your dad, about wanting him to change, about trying to manipulate behavior. This is about deciding for myself.”

“You think I try to manipulate people?”

“I think you believe you can change others instead of worrying about what you can change for yourself.” She gave my hair another stroke. “I’m going to lay down for a nap and then I’ll make you dinner.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to.” She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

I looked out the window. It was pouring rain. The sky was a dark pigeon-gray. The people on the streets rushed along. Their umbrellas, like black bat wings arched over them, carved out separated dry spaces. A gust of wind blew the rain toward the window, a patter of drops hitting the glass and pulling together like clear mercury and sliding down. It was time to make some decisions. Decisions for myself.

I dressed carefully for work on Monday. Not only because I saw it as a meaningful day, one where I wanted to look my best, but also because I had a cast on one leg and was unable to wear ninety-nine point nine percent of my shoes. I stopped outside the station, where I balanced on my crutches and looked up at the building. I thought I might feel scared, or even excited, but in fact, I felt strangely calm. As I crossed the lobby it seemed like people were staring. They would all know the falling down the mountain story and it wasn’t as if I were in a full body cast, so I couldn’t exactly understand their fascination. I greeted the receptionist, but she didn’t say anything to me. I had the feeling she was still ticked that I had dared to hurt Colin’s feelings the other day.

I barely sat down in my cubicle before Avita came in. She looked a bit frantic. Her lips were thin and white and her eyes kept darting around as if she expected the secret police to show up and drag us off to a re-education camp.

“Come meet with me in the conference room.” She reached under my arms as if she meant to lift me and carry me down. I winced a bit. My underarms were sore from the crutches. Yet another area of my body that turns out to be woefully under-toned. I wonder if there was some kind of underarm press I should have been doing in preparation for just this kind of event.

“Easy. What’s the big rush? Let’s just talk here. I need to talk to you too.”

“No.” She gave one of those frantic looks around. I was starting to get the feeling that she was about to disclose that she was a spy and that we were all in grave danger. “Come on.” She didn’t wait for me to answer and instead started to head down the hall. When I got to the conference room she was already inside peering out into the hallway through the slats of the blinds.

“How are you feeling?” I asked. It occurred to me it was possible that she had hit her head on the mountain. She didn’t say anything, just kept looking out into the hallway. “I’m doing okay,” I offered. “I’ll be on crutches for at least a couple of weeks, but then I can get into a walking cast at least. These things are dangerous.” I waved one crutch in the air. “I got one stuck in a storm drain this morning.”

“Brenda is here,” she said cutting me off.

“Huh?”

“Brenda. Jonathon’s wife? She stormed in here first thing this morning with Jonathon trailing after her like tissue on her shoe. They’ve been in Wayne’s office ever since.”

I sat down before I fell down.

“What is she doing here?”

“No idea.”

“Let me guess, last time she was here was the great sales receptionist incident?”

Avita let go of the blinds and looked back at me. She gave a nod. It had been a bit too much to hope that she came in all the time to offer her suggestions on programming options. I took a deep breath and stood back up. I said a mental thank you to fate for making sure I had dressed well.

“Where are you going?” Avita asked.

“Up to Wayne’s office.”

“Okay… you understood what I said, right? Brenda is still in there. From the sound of it, she’s really ticked off too.”

“I thought you didn’t want any part of my whole quagmire with Jonathon.” I held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You were right about that. All the more reason we shouldn’t hide out in the conference room. What was your plan, try to dig our way free using only the coffee sticks and determination?”

“I figured we could just wait here until she leaves.”

“I owe her better than that.”

“What are you going to say to her?”

I stopped in the door and looked back.

“I don’t really know.” I paused while I considered if this lack of a plan was going to create a problem. “I don’t think I need to say anything. I’m pretty sure nothing I say is going to make the situation better.”

“Then why go up there?”

“Most likely she has things she wants to say to me. I owe her that at the very least.”

I crutched my way down the hallway. Even if I had forgotten how to get to Wayne’s office, the sound of Brenda’s shrill voice would have guided me. I tapped on the door and without waiting for a response, opened it.

Jonathon was sitting in the leather side chair where he was leaning forward onto his knees as if he were either in deep thought or considering vomiting. Wayne was pinned in his chair behind the desk. Brenda stood in front of the desk barking down at Wayne and throwing in a few finger waggles here and there. Wayne saw me first. His mouth opened,
maybe
to try to warn me off, or scream for help, but he never got a chance. Brenda turned.

“You!”

I didn’t say anything. It seemed to be repetitive to introduce myself. It was pretty clear she knew who I was. Jonathon looked at me with terror as if I had burst into the office with a hockey mask and a chain saw.

“You have a lot of nerve! How dare you?” Brenda looked around, grabbed the stapler off Wayne’s desk, and hurled it at me. I was willing to listen to what she had to say, but I didn’t see any reason to take physical blows. I was already wearing one cast. I dodged to the left and the stapler missed my head and whacked into the doorjamb.

“I came down to apologize,” I said.

“There is a difference between being sorry and being sorry you got caught. Jonathon told me everything, you know.”

I looked over at Jonathon. I wondered how Brenda had found out. An overheard voice mail, the trite-but-true lipstick on the collar, a perusal of his Visa bill showing flowers she never received. It didn’t seem fair that it all had to come out now when it was all over.

“Erin, please don’t embarrass yourself,” Jonathon said, his face pale.

“Your little blackmail scheme is over right now,” Brenda said, pounding her hand on the desk.

“Blackmail scheme?” I looked between Jonathon and Wayne for an explanation. I was guilty of a lot of things, but as far as I knew, blackmail wasn’t one of them.

“Jonathon has stated that you have been blackmailing him,” Wayne said. I looked over at Jonathon, who said nothing. “He says that you seduced him and then told him unless he helped you get a radio slot you would tell his wife. You knew that he had an affair in the past and you were prepared to use this knowledge to get what you wanted.”

“You disgust me,” Brenda said. “I want her fired. I’ve already called a friend at the paper. They’ll be running a story on how the whole
relationship
”—she used the air finger quotations to indicate what she thought of that—“with Colin was another publicity stunt. So you have a choice here, Wayne. You can either let her go, or let the whole show go to hell.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jonathon staring at his lap. My best guess is that Brenda had cornered him and rather than admit the truth he threw me under the bus. Classy guy. Or maybe the whole thing was revenge for the fact I dumped him. I opened my mouth to protest and then stopped. Suddenly everything seemed to click in place. It wasn’t what I had planned, but it made some kind of karma sense. What I had done was wrong and when you do something wrong, you’re punished.

“Brenda’s right, Wayne. I’ve behaved badly.” That part was at least true. “You don’t need to fire me. I’ll go.” My voice caught snagged in my throat. “I’m really sorry if I’ve caused the station any problems.”