Insipid (13 page)

“Thank you, Warren.” I don’t want to prolong this conversation any further, so I stand up to leave. I grip the phone in my hand, determined to delete the last three months of my life, deeply embedded in hundreds of text messages. I do it as soon as I’m out of his office. I erase his entire contact information from my phone.

There. It dies its own death.

CHRISTMAS IN CHICAGO
is like any other cosmopolitan city in the world. You can count on snow. You can count on incredible shopping deals. You can count on the crowds. And you can count on the office being a ghost town when everyone takes what’s left of their vacation days before the end of the year. But not for me. I worked every single day between Christmas and New Year’s, save for the long weekend I spent in San Francisco with my parents. I will never forget this holiday season, simply because it was the worst one I had ever experienced in my life. Given what happened more than one year ago, my heart can never be broken more than it has been in the year that has passed. Lucas tries to call and text but I don’t answer. Shutting him off from my phone was easy. Shutting him out of my heart is not. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. Who did he spend Christmas with? Who was lucky enough to receive his first kiss of the New Year?

At the same time, I remember the new low that I had sunk to in recent months. The desperate craving that I had for anything he could throw my way. I feel conflicted. My mind still runs away with crazy thoughts of him. I have sex with someone else and think of him. I call his name out in the dark. I don’t love him. I can’t love him. I channel my anger at him for telling someone about us. This marks the end of our screwed up story.

There are numerous text messages from him and Skype notes asking me where I am. I’m too afraid to respond, knowing that all eyes are on us. And those stupid work phones. I knew I had lost it when I think of all the messages that we sent each other on our work phones.

I have no pictures. There are days when I try to remember the details of his face, the ones I so meticulously memorized when he was here the first time. In the time of Instagram and Facebook and in the midst of the selfie boom, this just highlights the sinister nature of our relationship.

The office comes back to life on January 6. It seems that everyone is desperately trying to catch up on all the year-end deadlines. Early that morning, I find myself back in Leya’s office reviewing a checklist with the team to ensure that we have everything we need before reporting our annual results.

The room is full of people, staff members and peers who cheer when I walk in. “Here she is! The woman of the hour!” Nick, the Head of Strategy exclaims. “Jade, you’ll get a kick out of this. The client wants us to front another two million dollars for factory material on net ten day terms.”

“Tell them to suck shit,” I say matter-of-factly.

“There you go, the goddess has spoken.” Nick leans back in smug affirmation. “There’s no gray with this woman. She’s black and white. I love it.”

The meeting continues for another thirty minutes. I catch Leya staring at me. I nod my head at my friend and smile weakly as I adjust my eyeglasses to shield myself from her glare. She knows that the glasses are there for a reason. I never wear them except when there’s an on screen presentation. Or when I’m trying to hide my eyes as a way of protecting my secrets from the world. As the meeting comes to an end, she lifts her right hand to stop me from getting up. “Stay a few minutes, Jade. I need to run something by you.”

Everyone nods and leaves the room. Leya gets up to shut the door.

“Jesus. Why can’t people make these decisions on their own? He’s a VP, for heaven’s sake, and he has to wait for me to tell him what to do?” I twirl around in the chair, trying to deflect her serious demeanor.

“He’s not the only one who can’t make a decision. Jade, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”

I blink my eyes under the false pretense of confusion about what she had just said. “What?”

“You look like crap.”
This woman. She doesn’t quit.

I glare at her and roll my eyes, still without saying a word.

“Well, okay. You’re still sickeningly gorgeous, but your eyes… they look like marshmallows.”

Still no reaction, not a single acknowledgment from me.

“Oh, Leya. I’ve never felt like this before. At my age, who would have known that I would feel like I did again with…” I stop myself.
That was a lifetime ago. A time and a place long forgotten.

“When you told me that it was going to be fine in a month, what did I tell you? When you swore it was going to be just a fling, what did I say?”

“That it’s not that straightforward,” I admit, my voice breaking in a choked whisper.

“Why are you fighting it?”

“Because he can’t want someone like me.”

“And what exactly is someone like you?”

“A lifeless shell of nothing. My heart can’t take it, Ley. I just can’t do this anymore.”

“Do you know that people actually die of a broken heart? Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? Your pants are falling off; you’ve lost more weight.”

“I’m working out. I’m doing the half marathon in March.”

“Bullshit.” She bends down to fish into her purse and hands me a small black phone. I shake my head and squint my eyes impatiently, confused about her latest gesture. “It’s an unmarked phone registered to my daughter. Use it. Call him. Tell him what’s going on. Put some context behind this. You can’t just cut it off without speaking to him about all this shit.”

Her words release all my anxieties of the past few months. I start to cry. She rushes over to hold me. I don’t try to speak, I just let my tears flow because I know that she understands. She has been here for all this. She knows.

Once she loosens her hold on me, I pull a Kleenex from her filing cabinet, wipe my tears, and press the phone close to my heart. “Thank you,” I whisper as I turn on my heels and head back to my office.

I PACE BACK
and forth before huddling in my favorite spot in the office, on the floor by the corner window, staring out at the cloudy winter sky. My hands are shaking as I manually dial his number into Leya’s phone.

“Martinez,” he huffs hurriedly after the third ring.

“Luke! It’s me.”

“Oh my God, Jade! Where are you? Whose phone is this?”

“Luke, can you talk? I just wanted to explain what happened before the holidays.” I hear voices in the background.

“I’m at a party right now but I can leave and call you right back. Give me fifteen minutes.”

He’s at a party.

“No, let me call you again. How about tomorrow? Just text this number to let me know when you have time to talk.”

“Please, Jade. I want to talk to you. Can you not give me an hour to just get situated and then we can talk?”

I know he’s with someone because there’s a woman’s voice in the background. I think she’s asking him who it is. “No, let’s talk tomorrow. Just text me.”

I hang up and immediately call Leya to ask her if I can keep the phone overnight.

“Of course,” she says. “Keep it for as long as you need to. Just don’t prolong having that conversation with him.”

ON THE TRAIN
on my way in to work the next day, he texts me.

Unknown Number:
Hi. Can you call me?

Jade:
When?

Unknown Number:
Now.

Jade:
On the train, give me an hour?

Unknown Number:
Okay.

Forty-five minutes later, I lock the door of my office and quickly dial his number.

“Jade! What’s going on?”

“Hi. The day that I arrived from vacation, Warren called me into his office to tell me that you told someone about us. Whom did you speak to about this, Lucas? Why would you do that?”

“I swear, I didn’t say anything! I mentioned to a friend of mine that I saw you again briefly while I was in Chicago. This friend has nothing to do with work at all. Fuck!”

“Well, whatever. It got to Warren and the rest of the executives. Listen, you have to delete all of our texts. I’m really worried about them, especially the pictures, Luke.”

“You didn’t send me anything inappropriate.”

“No, but I think pictures of me shopping will show that we have more than a casual friendship.”

“Shit! I’m just so pissed right now. No one has a right to tell us who we can be friends with.”

“You yourself said that this could ruin everything. I really just wanted to explain to you why I haven’t been taking any of your calls. Once we end this one, I’m going to give this phone back to my friend. I won’t be contacting you anymore, so I wanted to let you know why.”

“I’m sending you a fucking phone tomorrow. This has gone too far. To hell with the merger. It’s my money, my choice.”

“Lucas, you don’t know what you’re saying. Let’s just keep it quiet for a few more weeks,” I plead with him.

His tone changes, his mood suddenly lightens up. “How have you been, Jade? God, I missed your voice.”

“I’ve been well, can’t complain. And you?”

“I just got back from two weeks in Mexico.”

“Oh, for work?”

“Well, yes and no. One week for work and the other sort of a mini vacation.”

“Who’d you go with? Was it fun?”

“I went with a friend.”

“Hmm. A woman friend?” I knew what he was going to say next. And yet, I wanted to hear it. I prayed he would finish me off.
It’s the only way for me to truly stay away.
Stop the bleeding. Just bludgeon me with one swift blow and get it over with.

“Yes. Do you remember Cristina? I think I mentioned her to you once.”

“The one you were engaged to?”

“Yes.” Awkward silence. “She had a modeling assignment close to where I was going, so we decided to travel together. What about you, Jade? What’s going on with you? Are you dating? Are you at least trying to take some time outside of work?”

“Oh, yes. I actually met someone. It’s new, but I’m enjoying his company a lot,” I lie. I refuse to be the only one with no life to speak of.

“That’s great, Jade! Keep me posted, okay?”

“I will. And hey, since we’re both trying to start up our personal lives, no need to send me that phone. We’ll just catch up whenever, okay? Take care of you yourself, Lucas. And I hope we see each other again sometime.”

“Jade—”

I hang up as I hear him say my name. I bury my face in my hands and cry.

What is this? What’s happening to me? Get a grip, Jade.
I roughly wipe my tears with the back of my hands.
Round and round I go in this endless loop of fighting and giving in. Why do I even take his calls? He’s there, I’m here. What is the point of all this?