Undersold (16 page)

Shane and I had a lunch meeting to go over some details about the app. We were having trouble programming the rating system for individual tutors, and found that single low-ratings were filtering out big chunks of our teachers. We were worried that a single bad review could remove a perfectly good tutor from rotations. I worked hard on it all morning, and about fifteen minutes before our meeting I had one of those lucky “Aha!” moments. The solution to our problem more or less presented itself to me, and I was beyond excited. I gathered up my things and walked quickly over to Shane’s office. I was excited to share my breakthrough with him, and it hadn’t occurred to me that he may be busy.

The whispers and looks continued, but much less than the first week or two after the blog post. I couldn’t blame them; it was a huge piece of gossip. I hated it though, and found that most people avoided me for some reason. Linda went out of her way to be kind, along with a few other people involved in my project, but for the most part my coworkers pretended like I didn’t exist. Nobody was outright mean or rude, but there was a palpable shift in the way the office responded to me. Though my relationship with Shane was gone from the office rumor mill, the cold shoulders and awkwardness from most people stuck around. I felt like that was the biggest downside to everything.

I made my way toward Shane’s office, and noticed Janice wasn’t at her desk. Shane’s office door was cracked open, which usually meant that he was alone in there, so I pushed the door open and looked inside.

I stopped dead at what I saw. Janice was sitting on Shane’s desk, her legs crossed toward him. Shane was sitting in his chair, leaned back, and he was looking up at her with a big smile on his face. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Shane laughed, and Janice reached down to put her hand on his shoulder. She continued to talk quietly at him, and their bodies shifted toward each other slightly. Then, Shane reached his hand up and placed it on top of Janice’s hand, still on his shoulder. They were making eye contact, and there was a short moment of intense silence, palpable across the room.

I didn’t make a sound, and neither of them noticed me in the doorway. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This wasn’t their normal interaction, or at least it wasn’t what I normally saw between them. It was intimate, a kind of intimacy I had never seen Shane share with anyone but me. I felt jealous almost immediately, but more than that, I felt confused. Janice was tall and beautiful, smart and kind. In a lot of ways, she was everything I wanted to be. Her self-assurance and easy manner made people feel at ease almost immediately around her, and I had seen her take control of a room simply by entering it and speaking.

Basically, she was the kind of person I always imagined Shane would fall in love with. Not some quiet, dorky computer nerd from the crappy suburbs, but beautiful, brilliant Janice. I had no clue why she was Shane’s personal assistant, and I always wondered why she wasn’t some high-powered executive at another company. Now it was starting to make sense to me. They clearly had a relationship, and it was one he never told me about. The fact that he never mentioned it made it seem all the more sinister.

I felt my stomach sink and the stone of self-doubt in my chest harden. I took a step back out of his office as they laughed together at something else I couldn’t hear.

I remembered the conversation I had with Linda my first week in the office. She had said there was a rumor about Janice and Shane. Was this the secret he had been hiding from me? Did he have some sort of relationship with Janice he wasn’t telling me about? I couldn’t imagine he was the kind of man who would lie about dating multiple women, but then again, he did pretend to be someone he wasn’t when we first met. He talked so much about trust, and yet there he was, flirting with his assistant.

I couldn’t stay. It felt wrong to break in and speak during what was clearly a private moment, so I turned and left. I walked fast, my mind racing. I didn’t exactly know what my plan was, but I knew I needed to keep moving. Was that rumor Linda told me true? Why would he keep an ex-girlfriend around as his assistant? Back at my desk, I could feel myself close to hyperventilating. I felt dizzy and out of control. What were they doing now? How long had this been going on?

I pushed back from my computer and gathered my things. I walked out toward the elevators, got on, and left the office. I couldn’t think straight, and didn’t want to. Let Shane and Janice have their moment. I was sick and tired of him lying to me, or at least of him not telling me the whole truth. Hadn’t I more than earned his trust by now? I’d done nothing but follow his rules and try to live up to his standards of privacy. I thought I was doing a good job, but what if he needed something more?

Janice and Shane, Shane and Janice. Janice’s hand on his shoulder, Shane’s hand on top of that. The way her legs were crossed toward him, the easy-going comfortable way they sat so close and spoke, their laughter. How could I have been so stupid not to notice this earlier?

I made it out of the building and onto the street. I walked fast toward the subway, not thinking about anything but their comfortable closeness. I was lucky and didn’t get stopped by any paparazzi, probably because they didn’t recognize me without Shane by my side. I was just another anonymous brunette girl, a little on the short side, plain and simple. Not like tall, leggy Janice. I made it to the subway, dropped in a token, and rode it up to my neighborhood. I had never walked out of work in the middle of the day like this before, and the consequences of my actions weren’t registering at all. I only knew that I had to get out of there, away from Shane, and clear my head for a while before we talked. Normally, I would have biked home, but because I was getting rides with Shane, my bike was stored in my apartment, unused for a few weeks.

When I emerged from the subway, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Shane.
Where are you? Are you skipping out on our meeting?
I ignored it, and went up into my apartment. I undressed, wrapped myself in a blanket, and laid down in bed.

My room was much neater and barer than I remembered. It had been a few weeks since I slept in my own bed, and it felt good, though cold and empty. I missed Shane, his large warmth beside me, his comforting breath on my neck, his strong arms wrapped around my body. I felt like I was losing him and losing myself all at once. I missed him, but I was angry.

A few minutes later, my phone started buzzing again. I ignored it, assumed it was Shane, and tried to sleep. I needed rest and time alone to fully process what I saw before I could confront him about it. I knew I was overreacting, or maybe being dramatic, and it would have been simpler just to walk into the room and demand an explanation, but I didn’t have that power with him. Shane had become the beacon in my life, the lighthouse by which I navigated, and suddenly that lighthouse was snuffed out, the crystal beacon smashed to bits, and I was in danger of running aground.

My phone buzzed again a minute later, and this time I reached over to silence it. As I went to hit the button, I noticed the caller ID said my brother John. It was really unusual for him to call during the day, so I swiped right to answer and held it up to my ear.

“Hello, John? What’s up?”

“Hey Amy,” he said, and his voice sounded husky.

“What’s going on, are you upset?”

“It’s Dad, Amy.”

I felt my whole world come to a screaming halt. I forgot about Shane. I forgot about leaving work. I forgot about everything except for my brother’s voice.

I
got the first train home. I didn’t bother telling Shane, and I couldn’t think about anything other than my Dad. Grief washed over me in waves as I traveled back to Levittown, toward my childhood home.

We all knew my Dad was really sick. The doctors said he didn’t have a lot of time left, but he had always been such a vital force that it was hard for me to imagine him ever dying. Still, with late stage lung cancer, it was going to happen eventually. That wasn’t something I could ever have prepared for though, and when it happened, I knew my life was changed forever. Now, both of my parents were gone. I couldn’t envision a world where I had no living parents, but it was suddenly my reality. I kept thinking back to the last time I saw my father, and wished I had a chance to say goodbye. I desperately wanted to be able to tell him I loved him. I knew he was looking thin, but I didn’t think much of it. We talked about his day, about sports, and about Jasmine. I told him about my days, and mentioned I was seeing someone, but never told him exactly who Shane was. I’m glad I at least got to mention how well I was doing, and how happy I was.

And then he was gone. It was the longest train ride of my life, and every recent memory of my father ran through my mind, especially the proud look on his face on the night of my party celebrating the app’s sale.

At the station, my brother John picked me up in his old Chevy pickup. He liked beat up classic trucks, even though everyone knew he could afford something better. He wrapped me in his arms and we hugged for a while.

“How you doin’, Amy?”

“Not great. I can’t really process it.”

He nodded. His eyes were red and puffy, but he was doing his best to remain strong for me. “I know, neither can I.”

We climbed into his truck and drove back toward our childhood home.

“I know this isn’t something you want to deal with, but we have a bunch of stuff to do. Funeral arrangements and estate stuff. I’m taking care of as much of it as possible, but I need some help.”

“Of course, absolutely.” There was a pause. “Have you talked to Derek?”

John looked solemn. “Yeah, I called him.”

“And?”

“And, he’s in rehab right now. Which is good, I guess. He said he’d try to make it out for the funeral. Who knows what’ll happen with that asshole.”

“Not the time, John. They had their issues, but he loves Dad, just like we do.”

John sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. I know we could use his help, but he’s unavailable, dealing with his problems. Like usual.”

I nodded. It was an old story for us. Derek was too busy getting high or going through rehab or spending time in jail to pitch in with anything. After Mom died, Derek and Dad’s relationship crumbled. I never understood why. Dad had to work long hours to provide for the three of us, and Derek always felt neglected. He was the youngest, and took Mom’s death the hardest, after me. Him and I took opposite paths in response to tragedy. Where I buckled down and studied hard, maybe withdrew from people and the world, Derek partied hard and started taking drugs pretty early on. Him and John would fight about it all the time, and when Derek turned nineteen, instead of going to college, he ran away from home and lived with some musician friends of his out in California. A few years later, Derek came back to Philly, but he was a different person completely. He was in and out of rehabs, usually paid for by John, who was the oldest and most rock-solid of the three of us. He stayed away from Dad, and they didn’t speak for years, as far as I knew.

John and I used to spend hours talking about Derek and his drug addiction, but lately we had stopped trying. At a certain point, Derek had to want to help himself. I was hopeful about this new stay in rehab, but realistic. Addiction was serious and difficult and draining on everyone involved, and I was too busy grieving for Dad to deal with another round of Derek’s problems.

We finally pulled into my childhood home’s driveway. It looked the same as always: two stories, Cape Cod-ish style, blue shutters on white vinyl siding. It was small, but it was cozy and comfortable. Every house in Levittown looked the same; it was originally built as cheap housing for GIs coming back from World War II. The community used to be vibrant and thriving, though in recent years it had gotten a reputation for being the poor, unruly side of town. The truth was, Levittown was a good neighborhood. I had really fond memories of a childhood spent riding my bike between the sections with other local kids, going to the local pool, and playing in the local park.

John and I climbed out of his truck and walked up the front path. We opened the door, and the silence punched me in the nose. Normally, Dad would be sitting upright in his hospital bed, watching sports or crime shows at high volume. Jasmine would be busying herself around the house, doing some small cleaning, checking Dad’s medications, and whatever else she did. Dad never complained about Jasmine, which was a small miracle, and we were all thankful for her. Now, her absence was powerful.

“Weird, isn’t it?” John walked into the living room. Green shag carpet, straight out of the 70s and wood paneling dominated the house. There were pictures of us as kids, and of Mom as a young woman, smiling from the shelves and walls. The old TV was quiet on its stand, and Dad’s hospital bed was gone.

“Really weird. Makes it feel more real, though,” I said.

John nodded. “That’s how I felt, too. Jasmine has been a huge help in all this. She contacted me immediately, and I told her I’d take care of getting in touch with you guys. I called you right away. Apparently, she called the funeral home, took care of the hospital equipment we had, and put me in touch with an estate lawyer.”

“She’s absolutely fantastic, I’ll have to make sure I thank her.”

“Yeah, we all should.”

I looked around the house. The quiet continued to smash down on me.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

John shrugged. “I figured we’d start packing the house up a bit. At least go through everything. Then we have to go down to the funeral home, set everything up with them, and talk to the lawyers.”

“I can’t imagine putting their things in boxes.”

John sighed and sat down on the couch. “Neither can I, Amy. I don’t know what we’ll do with all this stuff. I don’t want to do anything with it, if I’m honest. But we might as well start dealing with this the best we can.”

I moved over and sat down next to him. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” I whispered.

“I miss him too.”