by Brea Brown
I’m wearing a short skirt, high heels, and a low-cut shirt I bought right after Jude and I started sleeping together and I was feeling my hottest. It doesn’t matter that it’s below freezing outside today. That’s what coats are for.
My eyes immediately go to Jude’s office when I step onto the floor and walk through the doors. He’s already in there, sitting at his desk, typing—or what he thinks passes for typing—on his computer. I took my coat off in the elevator, so when he glances up, he gets a good view of me. As soon as I’m sure he’s looking, I smile shyly and head for my station.
I go into my cubicle and bend over a lot while I get situated: putting my purse in my desk, leaning over to check my emails rather than sitting down, and unnecessarily adjusting the position of my trash can under my desk. Then I stretch and reach, watering the potted plant on top of my bookshelf, feeling its leaves and the potting soil to make sure it’s still healthy, standing on tiptoe and flexing my calf muscles in the process.
Lisa prairie dogs and says, “What the hell are you doing over there, yoga?”
Despite not wanting the whole world to know, I confide, “Jude and I had a huge fight this weekend. And I sort of broke up with him. But I may have overreacted. Is he looking at me?”
Lisa doesn’t try to be subtle at all when she turns around to check for me. “Yep. I think I just saw a string of drool drop into his lap.”
“Good. I might need a whole lotta lust on my side later when I ask his forgiveness.”
“You definitely have his attention,” she says, snickering and returning to her desk. “But it may be a while before you guys get a chance to kiss and make up. I have to order lunch for the whole office, and I was told to double the usual budget because they’re making a special celebratory announcement. I think they’re finally going to tell us what the heck’s goin’ on.”
I twist in my chair and take a longer look at Jude, momentarily satisfied when I see he’s still staring at me. But I’m more interested in how he looks at the moment. He’s wearing his newest suit. And he got a haircut. Are those cufflinks? I wish I could see his shoes. If he’s wearing his wing tips, he’s definitely made a more concerted effort than usual with his appearance.
And then he does something that breaks my heart. He waves shyly and smiles nervously. Almost hopefully.
So I do what any insane person would do: I stick my tongue out at him and turn back around to face my computer.
The morning flies by in a flurry of activity. Every time I get a second to catch my breath and decide I’ll go into Jude’s office to have a quick chat with him, I turn around to see he’s not in there.
Then the caterers arrive with the food, which means all the admins have to go help set up the lunch. I forward my phone to my voicemail, feeling a rising sense of panic that I might not get a chance to talk to Jude before this ridiculous announcement. I wish I could step out of the batter’s box and hold my hand up to the umpire. “Whoa. All I need is, like, thirty seconds. All I have to say is, ‘Jude, I love you. I’m sorry. Let’s talk later.’ Just a quick time-out. No frills. Please.” But I’m helpless to freeze time. This is no game.
The best I can hope for is that he gets to the conference room before everyone else. Then I can just whisper that to him before the meeting starts. With this in mind, I decide to work as quickly as possible on the setup, then wait for him in the hallway.
Since I’ve loitered at my desk as long as I can to try to catch Jude, I’m the last admin to arrive to the setup. As soon as I walk in, Leslie says loudly to me, “Hey, I hear your ex-boyfriend is about to get a big promotion.”
“You hear a lot for someone with tinsel between her ears,” I snap, wishing I could hold my tongue and play it cool but feeling better for lashing out at her. I shoot Lisa a dirty look for spilling the beans about the break-up. I thought I told her it was temporary!
Lisa gives me an innocent look and adds, “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s impolite to eavesdrop, Leslie?”
Zoe says, “You’re a whore, Leslie.”
Said in her little-girl voice and so matter-of-factly, it’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in days. I hold the edge of the table and wheeze.
Zoe proudly sticks out her tiny chest. “Did I say that out loud?” she asks the room. “Plus you’re just jealous.”
Too casually for it to actually be casual, Leslie replies, “Been there, done that. When it comes to sex, English men are like English food… bland and cold, especially that one.” She points out the door and in the general direction of Jude’s office, even though it can’t be seen from here.
“Don’t listen to her, Libby,” Lisa urges, as if I ever would. “She’s lying. Jude never gave her the time of day, not even when she was practically offering to express her own breast milk into his coffee.”
Leslie calmly continues to arrange the napkins, plasticware, and paper plates at the beginning of the buffet line. “Believe what you want to believe. I’m only saying something now because you guys are caput. I don’t ever want anyone to accuse me of being a home wrecker. But would someone who’s lying know this?” She leans in close to me and says, “What’s the deal with his ticklish feet?”
I just stare at her as I feel all the blood drain from the top of my tingling scalp through the tips of my red-painted toenails. Numbly, I reply, “Well, that’s a good question.”
“It was before you two were an item… I think.”
“This conversation is inappropriate,” Zoe steps in. “I’m sorry I called you a whore, Leslie.”
Leslie grudgingly accepts Zoe’s apology.
My diminutive friend taps her chin contemplatively. “Yeah, I think it would have been more appropriate to call you a ‘dirty fucking tw—”
Just as it feels like it’s about to come to physical blows between Zoe and Leslie, Gary and Jude walk in, followed by Mr. Peal, the company president and CEO and two interchangeable guys I always confuse for one another, one the CFO, named Walter, and the other the Marketing Director, Rudy.
“Everything just about set here, ladies?” Gary asks cluelessly.
Jude takes one look at me and mouths automatically, “What’s wrong?” as if he has the right to even be in the same room with me, much less ask me about my well-being.
I shake my head, however minutely, and quickly look down at my feet.
Lisa answers for all of us that the food’s ready whenever they want the meeting to start, so Gary tells her to round everyone up. More to get out of the room than anything else, I go with her. But I walk next to her like a zombie as she makes her rounds through the office.
Marvin passes us in the corridor. “Yo, Libby, wazzup? You and Jude bustin’ outta this town? That’s the skinny I’m hearin’.”
I smile tightly at him. Well, at least one of my fantasies is still alive and well underneath all of Marvin’s frizzy hair. Thankfully, he doesn’t wait to hear the answer. There’s free food to be had, after all.
When everyone’s been informed that the meeting’s about to start, Lisa pulls me into a corner. “Listen, no one would think less of you for skipping this lunch. As a matter of fact, I bet you could take the rest of the day off and no one would notice. I’ll even cover for you and say you’re in the bathroom or at the copier or wherever anytime someone comes by. You don’t have to torture yourself hearing this announcement, whatever it is.”
My eyes puddle up but don’t overflow. “I bet you’re a good mom, Lisa,” I say emotionally. I blink my eyes rapidly and take a deep breath. “But I can do this. It’s not the end of the world. Think how much worse it would have been if I had taken him back and then found out.”
She looks dubiously at me, like I’m a seriously drunk person who’s promised not to puke in the passenger seat of her brand new car if she’ll just give me a ride home.
“All right. If you’re sure…”
“I never said anything about being sure,” I mutter, following her into the conference room. She gets in line for the
food, but I hang close to the door, up against the wall.
When everyone who wants food has it and is seated, Mr. Peal stands up behind the long table at the front of the room, where he’s been sitting with Gary, Jude, Rudy, and Walter. The room gradually quiets, and he smiles the kind of scary, grimace-like smile that used to be my specialty.
“Many of you already may have gotten wind of some changes coming to the company,” he begins, “and I want to assure you, they’re all good. Despite the difficulties other firms have been having in this economy, we’re doing quite well. And that’s thanks, in large part, to all of you. Give yourselves a round of applause.”
There’s some half-hearted clapping, then Marvin shouts, “Huzzah, people!” which breaks the tension a little bit. For most people. I still feel as taut as a new rubber band on a teenager’s braces.
As the chuckles and murmurs die down, Mr. Peal continues, “You all know we’re here today to make an important announcement, and for that, I’m going to turn it over to Gary.”
Gary steps forward. Jude pushes his plate of untouched food away and unnecessarily wipes his mouth, throws his napkin on top of the full plate, straightens his sleeves, and generally fidgets. A flash of black under the table catches my attention as he squirms. The wingtips are present and particularly shiny.
Looking at his feet, though, reminds me of what Leslie said, so I have to physically clutch at the wall behind me to prevent myself from bolting for the door.
Gary clears his throat. “Hello, everybody. Today is an exciting day for the company, but in particular for the Commercial Division. We’re branching out in a big way, and Mr. Jude Weatherington”—he gestures to Jude—“is going to be a huge part of that growth.
“In the year Jude’s been with us, he’s been instrumental in some of the biggest, most prestigious jobs this company’s had to date. And he’s handled everything with tenacity, enthusiasm, and an attention to detail that is second-to-none in the industry. I’m confident when I say that.”
Before I can stifle it, a huge swell of pride fills my chest. I know how hard he works and how much he generally eschews recognition for it. I hope he’s letting these words sink in.
He still looks extremely uncomfortable, though. Reflexively, I shoot him an encouraging smile when he glances my way. It’s hard to tell who’s more surprised by it, him or me. I didn’t think it was possible for my lips to shape themselves into a smile, especially in this moment, especially in his direction. He blinks—hard—and returns his attention to the napkin on his plate.
Gary continues, “But what really sets Jude apart is his vision. Without it, we wouldn’t be kicking the competition’s butts like we are.” He pauses for everyone to laugh at his impertinence. “Anyway, that’s why we’ve chosen him to be in charge when we open our brand new branch shortly after the first of the New Year… in London, England!” At that, he claps and motions for Jude to stand up.
The rest of the room erupts too, so I feel fairly invisible as I stand open-mouthed and frozen, watching Jude smile as he shakes the hands of all the suits at the front of the room and nods to the room at large. Everyone except me, that is. He doesn’t give me a second glance.
I, on the other hand, keep my eyes glued to him after I quickly recover. First of all, I don’t want to see anyone else looking over at me to gauge my reaction to the news. Secondly, I’m begging him telepathically to look at me. Just for a second. I want him to know I can handle this. I’m still here. I’m not running. And I’m not a puddle on the floor. On the outside, at least.
But he stubbornly ignores me and nervously addresses the rest of the room when it finally quiets again. “Ahem. Well. Right. Thanks. Wow.” He rubs his eyebrow and smiles shyly. “Uh… I want to say, first off, that I’m very honored by this opportunity. So, thanks to those of you”—he gestures down the table—“who have the confidence in me to do this. I’ll try not to make a fist of things. Huh-huh.” He seems to gain confidence as he continues. “The next few weeks are going to be busy as we assemble a team to populate the London office. I’m told I get my pick, so that’s quite exciting. I’ll be getting with some of you very soon to discuss that.”
After a deep breath, he adds, “And I’m also excited to be embarking on this venture a bit closer to my family. They’re very pleased that I’m coming home. So…” He trails off, then says to Gary, “That’s really all I have to say, I suppose. Oh! Except…”
I find myself holding my breath, waiting for that Hollywood moment where he says one sweet, simple thing that fixes everything between us, then proposes to me in front of everyone.
“Libby, I have a very good explanation about what Leslie said. Until I can talk to you in private, please believe me. But”—he steps away from the table and walks over to where I’m standing, pulling a velvet box from his pocket and kneeling in front of me—“for now, would you please make me the happiest bloke in the world and say you’ll come with me to London? And become my assistant—no, my partner—for the rest of my life?”
He clears his throat. “I do want to say thank you to everyone who’s ever worked on a project with me. Vision can only take one so far; I’ve had a couple of people”—he points to Marvin—“pull my feet out of the fire and translate my rather vague visions into reality. Thanks for that.”
“Do I get to go with you to London, Jude-Dude?” Marvin shouts.
Jude laughs. “Absolutely, if you want to. You were tops on my list, actually.”
“Suh-weet!” Marvin declares, going back to attacking his roast beef.
I wish I could laugh with everyone else. I wish I could laugh with Jude later about how the climate in London will suit Marvin’s sweat problems much better than anywhere in the contiguous U.S. But the biggest wish I have is that I didn’t know what I know and could go with them, even if it means working with Marvin.
Suddenly, a horrifying question occurs to me. Is an admin going to be part of the London team? And, if so, who will he pick? Leslie? Oh, gosh, I don’t know how I’d bear that.
When it appears that all of the speeches are over, I decide I’ve fulfilled my promise to myself to be brave. I slink to my desk, thankful for all the empty cubes around me. I’m slumped there with my fingers against my eyes, mentally trying to go to a happy place that doesn’t involve Jude. Or anybody else, for that matter. I picture myself sitting in the centerfield bleachers at Wrigley, all alone but not lonely. Just at peace.
“I’d like to take you with me.” A voice behind me makes me jump.
I remove my hands from my eyes and sit up straight, but I don’t turn around or say anything.
“That is, if you’re amenable to going.”
A strong person with a voice takes over my otherwise-useless body. “Hmm. Well, I don’t think that’s meant to be.” Good reply, I silently approve of myself. But don’t ask who he’s going to take instead, whatever you do. I have to bite down on my lip to follow my own instructions.
After a long pause, he says, “I, uh, guess we’re just going to make do without a secretary at first, then. I’m sure we can do most things electronically with the ladies here until we get really busy.” I hear him drumming his fingers against the metal on the top of the cubicle wall.
“Administrative assistant,” I automatically correct him.
“Come again?”
“We’re administrative assistants, not secretaries.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Conspicuously, I start moving papers on my desk and getting to work on actual jobs that have piled up this morning while I’ve been busy preparing for the big announcement. When I haven’t heard anything from him for a while, I chance a peek over my shoulder. He’s still standing there, leaning against the wall, one hand casually in his pocket, his feet crossed at the ankles.
“Can I help you?” I ask pointedly.
I seem to have startled him out of a daydream. “Huh? Oh. No. I s’pose not. Although…” He hesitates, but when I raise my eyebrows, he decides to go
on. “I was only wondering… would you be willing to help me out the next couple of weeks, if I need it? You know, around here?”
Ever the professional, I reply, “Sure.”
“You don’t think it’ll be awkward as arse, do you?”
“Probably,” I admit. “But… I don’t know. If you need help, you need help. It’s kind of my job.”
He nods. “Of course. But I can always ask Leslie or…”
At her name, I turn my back to him again. I slam a binder particularly loudly against my desk as I set it aside. “Whatever, Jude. It’s your baby.” As soon as the sentence leaves my mouth, I regret it. “Project, I mean. Whatever.”
“Okay. Ace. I’ll simply… er… leave you alone now.”
“Wait!” I spin in my chair again.
“Yes?” He comes to such an abrupt stop that he almost trips. He returns to the entrance to my cubicle.
“I just… I forgot to tell you ‘congratulations.’ You deserve it. And… I’m happy for you.”
He flashes the saddest grin I’ve ever seen. I make a conscious effort not to look at his dimple. “Oh, right. Well, thanks. Ironic, though, isn’t it?”
I cock my head questioningly, so he explains, “I took this job to get away from there.”
“But you’re glad to be going back, right? That’s what you said in the meeting.”
He shrugs. “Eh. It’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, I suppose, but I merely said that because that’s what everyone expects me to say. I’m happy here. Or I was, anyway.” He deliberates for a second, then says, “Yeah. I guess it’s for the best, after all.”
I nod with difficulty. “Well, I should probably get back to work.” I hear people making their way back to their desks.
