by Claire Adams
The work day was only halfway over, but there was no way in hell I was going to be able to stay there, in his vicinity. Not right now. I grabbed my purse and stormed out, half-expecting him to tell me not to go, that I shouldn’t. But he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching me, a pained expression on his face.
I texted Caroline and asked if there was any way that she could meet up with me, even if it was the middle of the day. She texted back and said she could take an extended lunch. We met up at a café right around the block from her work.
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” I said to Caroline. I wished that we had met up at her place, or at mine, because I could feel the tears there, just behind my eyes, but I didn’t want to start crying in a public place, especially when there were so many people around. “I don’t understand why he would go from one extreme to the next.”
Caroline was looking at my sympathetically. I could tell she felt bad, but there was also some relief mixed in there. “He seems like an extreme person,” she said. “That just sort of seems like the way he is, so I guess it’s not really that surprising. I’m really sorry, Daisy, I am. Even though I wasn’t his biggest fan, I know you liked him a lot. But there are so many other guys out there. Don’t let yourself get caught up with him, because I know the right person is out there for you. He’s going to have a baby with someone else. That’s a whole can of worms you don’t even want to have to deal with. It might not sound like a big deal right now, but that’s just because the baby isn’t here yet.”
“I know,” I said. I sniffed and took a sip of my ice water. “I know there are a thousand reasons why it would be better if I didn’t see him. It’s like, if I wrote a list of pros and cons, the cons side would be so much longer, but that doesn’t matter . . . I just know how I feel when I’m with him, and it’s different with him. I guess I just hate that I can’t even trust my own feelings about this!”
“He’s been giving you mixed signals this whole time. I don’t think it’s so much that you can’t trust how you feel about him—I think you can’t trust him. He hasn’t been upfront with you about a lot of stuff, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re a trusting person, and you’ve believed what he’s said so far, and that’s no fault of yours. It’s really not.”
“I still feel foolish.”
“I don’t think you should work there anymore, though.”
“So what, I’m just going to be unemployed?”
“Until you find another job. You’ve got a little money saved, don’t you?”
“Yeah. But I was hoping to move, maybe.”
“I’m not saying that you still can’t do that, but for right now, I think it’d be best if you got out of there. And by out of there, I mean your job. There’s no way that you’re going to be able to get over him if you keep seeing him all the time. And who knows—if you go in there for work tomorrow, he might be like, Oh, Daisy, I’ve changed my mind, let’s get back together, you’re the love of my life.”
“Which I know would be complete bullshit.”
“Right, but would you be able to say no to that?”
“I hope so.” But even as I said it, I knew there was a possibility that I wouldn’t be able to, that I’d just jump back into his arms, first chance I got.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ian
I was both surprised and relieved to see Daisy show up the next morning. After she’d left yesterday, I had wanted to call her, but I knew that it would be better to give her some space.
“Hi, Daisy,” I said.
“Can we talk in your office?”
“Sure, of course.”
She pushed the door shut behind her. “I’m giving you my notice,” she said. “I’ll work here for another two weeks.”
I nodded. “Okay. I hate to see you go, but—”
She shook her head. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? Don’t tell me how it’s going to pain you so much to see me go, because I know that’s all just a bunch of bullshit. That basically anything that comes out of your mouth is going to be total bullshit.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate to see you go.”
It did sound trite, her saying it like that. “I just meant that . . . I wish things could have worked out differently.”
“You don’t even know what that means,” she said.
“Yes, I do. I wish that this wasn’t going to end up hurting you. I don’t want to see that.”
“Well, you sure have a funny way of going about it. Generally, when people don’t want to hurt someone they allegedly care about, they don’t go around acting like they think they’re the greatest person on earth when really they feel the complete opposite.” Her chin trembled a little, but her eyes stayed dry. Which was good, because I didn’t know if I’d be able to handle it if she started crying.
I had to just turn it off, though. Any feelings that I had for her, any desire, it all just had to go. I had to see her the way I’d seen pretty much every other woman that I’d ever been with: fun to hang around with, but ultimately, dispensable. I couldn’t let myself think that she was anything more than that, because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to let her go.
“If it’s going to be that awful for you, you don’t have to stay the two weeks,” I said. “I don’t want to make things any more difficult for you than they already are.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” she said. “You’ve already made things completely awful for me—why the hell should you start caring about that now?”
“I do care, Daisy. I actually care a lot.” I knew I should shut the fuck up, but at the very least, I wanted her to know that I still cared about her.
But the look on her face got even more pissed off. “You know what?” she said. “I think I will take you up on that offer. I’m not coming back after today—I don’t think I can handle listening to more of the bullshit that is coming out of your mouth.”
She turned and left before I could say anything else. Though really—what else was there to say?
Jonathan, though, had plenty to say. He’d come in right as she was leaving. I think she had planned to spend the day working, but after our conversation in my office, it quickly became clear how bad of an idea that would be. She stiffly said good-bye to me, and then gave Jonathan a tight smile and a nod as she made her way out.
“Thanks for getting me the job here,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out. Maybe I’ll see you at the gym.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“I don’t really feel like talking about it right now. But yeah, everything will be fine.” And then she left. She didn’t bother to turn and look at me, just kept walking until she was out of my sight. I wondered if that would be the last time I’d ever see her.
“What the hell happened with Daisy?” Jonathan asked.
“Not now,” I said. “I really don’t feel like getting into it right now.”
He gave me a sour look. “That’s exactly what she said, too. But I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to know what’s going on around here. She’s leaving? She quit? So we have to hire someone else?”
“Call Lynn,” I said. “Her resume’s still on file. See if she’s still available. Hey, I have a question.”
“What?”
“Did you know that Seamus McAllister was the one who got Pete to stop kicking my ass? Remember how Pete just stopped all of a sudden? Like he’d lost interest or something?”
“Yeah,” Jonathan said slowly. “You were finally big enough, and he realized one of these days you were going to fight back.”
“I should’ve done it a long time ago. He was right—I was a total pussy.” I thought about that meeting with Seamus, agreeing to stop seeing the girl I loved just because he was telling me to. “I still am, actually.”
Jonathan looked at me closely. “Errr . . . you all right, man?”
I wanted to punch the fucking wall, but I was afraid if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Chapter Thirt
y
Daisy
I didn’t know what my plan B was supposed to be. I hadn’t gotten any call backs from any of the resumes I’d sent out, and now I was officially without a job. I spent the day on as many different jobs sites as I could, sending out my resume, trying to come up with a cover letter that would get me noticed. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be because everything I seemed to write sounded inauthentic or ridiculous.
I jumped when I heard my phone ring. I looked at it and saw that it was my mother.
“Hi, Mom,” I said when I picked up.
“Hello, Daisy. I was just taking a break from my book and I thought I’d give you a call. How are you?”
“Not great, actually.”
“Why? What’s the matter?”
“I quit my job.”
There was a pause. “Oh. How come?”
“It just . . . it wasn’t turning out to be the best work environment for me.”
“I’m glad that you’re self-aware enough to know when it’s time to leave a toxic environment.”
“Well . . . thanks,” I said, surprised that she wasn’t going to start giving me a hard time.
“This might be a good time to work on your writing, Daisy,” she said. “I know that you’ve been resisting the idea in the past, but really, that’s what you went to school for, so don’t you think you should put it to some use? There are grants you can apply for. Fellowships. All sorts of programs.”
“Right, but it takes a lot of time to apply and hear back from those things. And they’re all really competitive. And I haven’t really published anything, so I’d probably get looked over.”
“With that kind of attitude, you certainly would. Do you have any money saved?”
“I’ve got a little.”
“I’m not suggesting that you exhaust your savings, but maybe it would be a good idea to look into some grants, take a little time to work on your writing—perhaps while you’re looking for another job—and see what pans out. I have another colleague who runs a well-known blog, and she’s looking to feature some articles written by younger people, you know, someone like yourself. I told her I’d mention it to you. She knows Carl, too. He said he had a very good interview with you, and that you’re a lovely girl, which of course made me proud to hear.”
“Thanks,” I said. “He was nice. And very helpful. What does your colleague want the article to be about?”
“Anything, really. Any relevant topic to someone your age. She’s thinking between eight hundred to fifteen hundred words. And it will pay, too. Honestly, Daisy, you might just want to think about starting a freelance career, and writing articles for people. I’ve read your writing before and I know you’d be very capable of doing that. Plus, you’d be good at meeting deadlines.”
“Maybe,” I said. There was a certain appeal to that sort of thing, but the writing world seemed like it was highly competitive and hard to break into. “I’m just sending out resumes now, and it’s kind of depressing.”
“Don’t get too down on yourself. Are you at home?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe you should take your laptop and go to a café. A change of scenery always helps me. Send out a few more resumes, then see if you can get something written for that article. It’d probably be good to get your mind on something else, too. And if you can’t get it written, that’s fine, but when she mentioned it to me, I immediately thought that it would be something you’d be interested in.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said. “I’ll at least give it a shot.”
And when we got off the phone, I did take her advice. I packed up my laptop and walked a couple blocks away to Café Paris, where I sat at one of the outside tables, under the awning, and drank iced coffee and sent out some more resumes. I also opened another blank document and stared at the screen for a while, trying to come up with an idea of what to write.
I thought when I graduated from college, I’d have my whole life figured out.
I stared at the sentence for another minute, reading the words over and over in my head. Then I started to type.
By the time I finished typing, it was late, and my article was about three times the length that my mother had said it should be. It would need some serious editing, but I left the café feeling productive, like I had done something right. I walked back home, encouraged that maybe things would work out after all.
There was something happening outside my apartment building; I could see that right as I turned the corner. At first I thought it was a couple of guys just horsing around, maybe they’d had a little too much to drink. But as I got closer, I realized that they weren’t just having fun, and that one of the guys—Noah—was being restrained, by Ben and another guy I assumed was Kevin.
“Daisy!” Noah yelped when he saw me. There was a little trickle of blood coming out of his left nostril, and Kevin was standing behind him, both Noah’s arms pinned behind his back. His eyes were wide, and for the first time, he looked scared. “Daisy, who are these guys?”
“We’re the guys who are around to make sure creeps like you don’t get to do whatever fucked up shit is running through their heads,” Ben said. He looked at me. “Hi, Daisy. Looks like it was a good thing that we were out here. We finally caught him trying to get into your building. He actually snuck in when someone was coming out, and was trying to break into your apartment.”
“I just wanted to leave you those,” Noah said, looking woefully down at the ground where a tattered bouquet of flowers lay. “I was just going to leave them for you on the table and leave.”
“But he couldn’t pick the lock. So that’s how we found him when we got in—standing at your door, trying to jimmy his way in with a bent paper clip.”
“How did you get in, though?” I asked Ben.
The tiniest of smiles appeared on his face. “I picked the lock.” He looked back at Noah. “So. Should we take your ass down to the police station and have them throw you in jail? Bet you didn’t think that’s how your night was going to end.”
“I wasn’t doing anything illegal!” Noah said, looking truly distraught. “I just wanted to leave those for you—I wasn’t going to stay. I knew you’d know who they were from when you saw them.”
“Stalking is a criminal offense, you know,” Kevin said. “You feel like spending a couple years behind bars?”
“I have done nothing wrong!” His voice cracked, and he struggled against Kevin’s grip, but got nowhere, his feet scrambling underneath him. He looked at me, his eyes wide. “Daisy, please. I would never hurt you. You’ve got to know that, don’t you? Have I done anything to harm you?”
“No, but you haven’t listened to me when I’ve repeatedly told you to leave me alone. When I told you that I wasn’t interested. You just seemed to think if you were persistent enough that I’d eventually give in, which isn’t going to fucking happen! So why shouldn’t I let them take you down to the police station? Why shouldn’t you get locked up for a while?”
I could see the realization dawning on him slowly, just how much trouble he could be in for these actions of his that he’d originally thought were so innocuous. It was like spilled ink spreading on a linen cloth, the way his expression changed.
“Hold on one sec,” Ben said to Kevin. “Let me talk to Daisy for a sec.”
He motioned for me to follow him, and we walked a few paces away.
“So,” he said. “This asshole has clearly been following you around. We noticed him a few night ago, but he wasn’t really doing much more than just lurking, making it look like he was waiting for someone.”
“I don’t know if I think he’d actually do anything to hurt me,” I said, “though I do know I have told him dozens—if not more—times to leave me alone, and he just hasn’t gotten the message. And he hasn’t tried to get into my apartment until tonight.”
“That you know of.”
“Right—that I know of.”
“So we could haul his ass down to the station if
you wanted. Though if he’s going to deny everything, there’s a good chance he’ll get off with a fine, maybe a little jail time, no more than a year.”
I glanced back over at them. Noah looked like he’d given up; he was just standing there, arms still pinned behind his back, shoulders slumped, head down. I was starting to feel a little bad for him all of the sudden, which was the last thing I wanted to be feeling for him right now, but I couldn’t help it. If he would just promise to leave me alone now, then I’d be okay with that—that’s all I had wanted to begin with.
“Say he ended up having to go to jail,” I said, “and he gets out, and he’s even more pissed than before? What if he comes back and tries to kill me or something?”
“I’d say that’s something that would more likely happen in a movie, but it’s always possible,” Ben said. He leaned toward me. “There have been a few instances in the past where we could’ve taken people down to the police station, but in those cases, too, there probably would’ve ended up being a court hearing, and we’d have to testify, and Ian prefers if we can avoid getting involved with that sort of thing. So we . . . handle things our own way. We could do that now, if you wanted.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, in this case, it means we kick his ass—not enough to permanently disable him or anything, but enough to make him realize that if he does this sort of thing again, it’s not going to end well for him. And trust me, Daisy—the message will get through. He’s in way over his head now; he doesn’t actually realize what he’s fucking with here. Some guys are hard and can take a beating and just brush it off. Not him. We won’t even need to hurt him that badly.”
I nodded slowly. It felt strange to be the one in the position to be making this sort of decision. There was a part of me that wanted to just say to let him go, so long as he promised that he wouldn’t come around anymore. But I’d told him that before and he hadn’t listened, so it seemed like he did need something a little more . . . memorable.
