The Black & The White (40 page)

An interim cut had not been expected,
and it meant greater losses for us. I was unaffected. It was now
Andrew’s problem and not mine.

I started to unwind our trades in
bulk, not as much as we wanted to. The size in which we traded
alerted other traders, which caused a greater panic in the market,
causing us more losses.

Andrew began to sweat. His face was
red throughout the day. Both of us skipped lunch, as were consumed
with losing substantial amounts of money. Phones rang off the hook
from firm management, to risk controllers, to clients from whom
we’d borrowed money, to people we owed money to. I redirected most
of the calls to Andrew.

Throughout the day, neither of us was
very cordial to the other. That evening, when we both were getting
ready to leave at around eight, we didn’t say goodbye to each
other. The tension was palpable.

That week, I worked only
half-heartedly, and Andrew recognized it. Our secret books were
continually losing money. Andrew was continually back and forth to
the fax machine, fervently sending off confirms. He had stopped
asking me to send off confirms for him. His passive-aggressive
attitude hadn’t affected me.

The following week, I had a meeting
with Andrew before the trading day began.

“
I don’t think this is
working out.”

“
You can’t quit. What can I
do to get you to stay?”

“
Nothing.”

“
We’re a team,” he said in
an attempt to guilt me.

I looked at him without
emotion.

Seeing that I was unaffected, he tried
a different tactic. “You quit and that’s the last of your Wall
Street career.”

“
Okay,” I said dismissively.
“Too bad you couldn’t be rational.”

“
I am fucking rational. I
gave you a career. If it weren’t for me, you’d be no one, you hear.
I fucking trained you. And you quit? No one is going to hire you,
and I will be sure of that! You’re a quitter. That’s what you
are.”

“
That’s fine,” I
said.

“
You think you can take my
clients away from me? You’re wrong. They are loyal to me. Who are
you? You’re just a small-time trader. You can’t handle this
business.”

The angrier he got, the more insulting
he became. I knew he was afraid of losing his clients.

“
That’s fine,” I said
again.

“
I will sue you for
intellectual property. You know my positions.”

“
Yeah, and it’s a good
strategy because you’re losing so much money. Maybe you should
consider the fact that you cheated your clients and the firm. I
would be scared if I were you. So go ahead, sue me. You have
nothing on me.” I turned and walked out the door. Before I closed
the door, I turned back around and said, “Asshole.”

I
took a month off before starting the new job. Luckily, with
Carin’s help, I was able to negotiate a bonus (I had to forgo the
insulting $15,000 bonus because I had quit) with my new
employer.

I sold all of the furniture in my
apartment, painted my walls a light yellow—a happy color—updated my
wardrobe and bought another cat. I didn’t want my cat to be as
lonely as I was. Meowser needed a partner too. I was eager to see
the death of one sordid life and the birth of another.

After not seeing Jeffrey for a few
months, I contemplated riding my bicycle to Jeffrey’s restaurant. I
wanted to see him but was scared. At the steps of his restaurant, I
stopped for a moment then drove off. I rode my bicycle with no
particular destination, riding through down-town to the Tenement
Museum and Chelsea Piers, thinking only of him. Memories of Jeffrey
reeled in my mind like a movie. Somehow, without conscious intent,
I found my way near his restaurant again.

I rode on the sidewalk. I was
reluctant to go in again. What would I say? I debated parking my
bicycle and going in. As I was turning my bicycle around, a man
with a familiar voice called out. “You’re leaving already,
stranger?” Jeffrey said.

“
Uh, hey. Um, I was just
parking it.”

“
Right.” He laughed. “Want
to come in for a drink? On me.”

“
I am trying to cut back.
How about a diet coke?”

“
Deal.” Jeffrey parked my
bicycle against a parking meter.

We sat at the bar talking and snacking
on some food he had ordered. I was waiting for him to yell at me or
at least ask me some questions, but he didn’t. I wanted to ask him
why he had all of the sudden disappeared, but I was enjoying the
awkwardness of our reunion, filled with laughter. We spoke as
though nothing needed to be said.

“
Well, I should get going,”
I said.

“
Wait, before you leave, I
have something for you. But you can’t open it until you get
home.”

Jeffrey disappeared into his office
and emerged with an envelope, which he handed to me.

I smiled, gave him a hug, and said,
“Thank you. See you soon?”

He nodded.

“
Yes. Soon. You know where I
am.”

I resisted the urge to jump into his
arms and cry, to apologize for all of the lies. I knew he was hurt
without his having to tell me. He hurt because of me.

Driving away on my bicycle with the
letter in my purse, I had a hard time seeing the road in front of
me because of the tears trickling down my face.

When I got home, I rushed to open the
letter. My cats were circling me, but I was consumed with the
contents of Jeffrey’s envelope.

Dearest Isabelle,

I am physically and emotionally
exhausted after this weekend, but I really need to get a few things
off my chest and let you know how I am feeling. I have had the most
incredible time with you recently, and have realized how deeply I
care about you.

I thought a lot about what
happened recently, David, gossip columns, late-night client
meetings and God knows what else. Through it all, I have been
trying to make you realize what has been true from the beginning of
our relationship: that I am in love with you. It’s been a challenge
to get you to believe this. But that doesn’t change the fact that
it is true.

I’ve made perfectly clear that I
have not lied, have not cheated, in ANY of my relationships, yet
people did get hurt. Do you really think it is appropriate to ask
ethical and moral questions of me when you’re the one lying? Do you
think this is easy for me? How could you not realize I would find
out you were away with another man?

I don’t believe I have cared for
anyone more than you in my entire life. For months, I have pursued
you, done everything in my power to make you know I care for you,
and finally, this weekend, and last week, I began to think that we
really were making real progress. I have jumped through all the
hoops you have set for me. I hoped you would ultimately realize I
was the real thing, but it doesn’t seem that this is the case. Each
time I jump through a hoop, there seems to be another in store for
me. All I’ve wanted is to spend peaceful quality time with
you.

In any event, I don’t want your
resistance to be about Kim. For me, this has nothing to do with
Kim. It has to do with you and me. I’m sitting here now, feeling so
depressed and so down. I knew it would be hard to spend time away
from you, but your lying has made things exponentially harder. I
know you are confused. Our situation has been so difficult, yet you
choose to make it even harder by dating other men and not choosing
me.

So, I silently walk away while
waiting for you to tell me the day you walk through my door and say
you will be mine, no lies, no nothing, but the chance to have
something real.

Sincerely,

Jeffrey

I took the letter and went outside my
apartment. It was a lot to digest. I held the letter in my hand and
stared into space. I knew it would take time for Jeffrey to trust
me again, but I had the time. I wanted to be a better person. I had
stopped doing as many drugs. Each line I had done had been a lie to
myself. I didn’t want to lie anymore.

I sat down on a gray slab of marble in
midtown with my sandwich. I remembered Jeffrey teaching me that the
best foods of New York were at street level. I bought a gyro
sandwich—it was warm, wrapped snuggly in an aluminum wrapping. The
vendor had Arabic music playing. He was happy, nearly dancing, as
he worked.

“
You can’t call yourself a
New Yorker without eating street meat,” he said.

I was now a New Yorker.

It was nearing spring. Birds scoured
the sidewalks looking for kernels of food. They, too, needed to
survive, hopeful that tourists would feed them. I studied tourists
looking up at the skyscrapers. I couldn’t remember the last time I
had looked up to see the sky. I looked up, eyes closed, blinded by
the sun. My lids were shut but light seemed to still penetrate
them. The sun was not directly on my face, rather it was the
reflection from a mirrored skyscraper. I saw the grand expanse of
buildings that hovered above me. In my imagination I pictured the
droves of “automatons” begrudgingly working in those glass
buildings. I giggled to myself. I was once an automaton, caught in
an android world. I wondered if beyond those skyscrapers was a
building of discarded souls.

I pedaled back home through the
chaotic streets of midtown. I grabbed the black bound book from the
shelf – the leather journal Dani had given me in my senior year. It
had been a while since I had written anything.

“
You should write in it
everyday. One day, you may want to read through it and see what you
were thinking. Journals are a way to pause time,” Dani had written
inside my journal.

I missed Dani’s simplicity and the
purity of our relationship. I longed for those days
again.

I still had one week before I start
the new job. I decided that beginning this day, things would be
different. The imagined peace and calm, one very different from my
recent past. I began to pen a diary entry.

Day #1,

Life today begins. I took a
divergent path, but am now back on the road I see for myself. There
are still weeds to pull and a path to pave, but the clearing is all
but near. I have been drained and taxed by the monsters of the
divergent path, but I have learned.

Through my journey, I have
understood friendship, love, pain, betrayal, lies, secrecy, lust,
and trust. It was a fast road that led me nowhere. Yet here I am, a
more aware person, carving out my future with greater knowledge. I
have a commitment to myself to be true to that person that is
Isabelle.

I closed my leather-bound book and
smiled. I tucked it back in its shelf. It was now all clear to me.
I had a plan. I chose to be with Jeffrey, to live a life of
transparency. And with that was a decision to end ties with
Stephen.

After weeks of avoiding Stephen, I
finally called him back.

“
Oh, baby. Anything.
Anytime. Where are you? I desperately want to see you. Where do you
want to do lunch? I can’t tell you how utterly painful the
deafening silence has been.”

We sat at Stephen’s favorite noodle
shop in midtown.

“
My God, Isabelle. Has it
only been a month?” he asked as he brushed my hair from the side of
my face. I pulled away from him.

“
Stephen, I need to stop
this with you,” I said, cutting straight to the point. I watched as
he looked up at me, surprised.

“
Come on, Stephen, you
didn’t think this was going to last forever. At some point it had
to end. We’ve both known it all along.”

I waited for him to say something, but
he just sighed and ran his hands through his hair. There was a long
silence. Our soba noodles grew cold.

He looked up from his plate and stared
at me, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He was
silent.

“
Say something,” I said,
“Please don’t make this harder than it is. I have to do this. It
was unsustainable. You and I know it.”

He finally spoke. “I’ll never meet
anyone like you again. You are singular, Isabelle.”

Not knowing what else to say, I
changed the subject. “So, I got a new job.”

“
I know.”

“
How?”

“
I suggested your name to
several people.”

“
You didn’t have to.
Stephen, I don’t know what to say except thank you.”

“
I am your friend. There
were strong rumors Andrew was going to get fired. I wanted to make
sure you were okay. So I made a few phone calls. I’m sorry,
Isabelle.” He stopped eating. “I care.”

“
Fired for what?” I wondered
if his fraudulent activity had been leaked.

“
The bank is trying to keep
it a secret, but apparently he lost a huge sum of money for the
bank, for the clients, for me, even. He had been sending out fake
confirms to credit clients and illegally clearing trades. I am not
sure about the extent of what he did, but there is an ongoing
investigation. He’s in trouble. In any case, I heard about a job
and recommended you. But you got yourself that job on your own
merits.”