Love.
I loved that girl, and I let her go.
I screwed up again, and this time, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fix it.
32
Melanie
I wanted to hate the mixed tape Tyler had made me back when things were good. I listened to it here and there over the months we were together simply because it had been a gift from him. It had some of his favorite songs on it and I wanted to know everything about him.
These days I was listening to it just to feel close to him. I pressed stop on my very old Walkman and ejected the tape, not wanting to listen to one more one-hit-wonder. I twirled the cassette between my fingers for a minute before tossing it to the foot of the bed. The Walkman followed. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
Maybe I was pathetic…but I missed him. For him to go from being such a large part of my life to not existing in it at all was too difficult for me to comprehend. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. I was still so deeply in love with him, and maybe it was a lack of closure that kept me feeling that way. Maybe once I knew why he wasn’t speaking to me, I’d be able to move on. Maybe I’d even hate him like I probably should.
The truth was…I didn’t want to move on, and I didn’t want to hate him. I wanted to go back. I wanted things to be exactly as they had been when my life was seemingly perfect. I had the guy and my dream job was falling into my lap…then it all went crashing down.
I checked the clock on my bedside table. It read four in the morning. I had been pulling all-nighters the last three weekends to get some more designs together to build my portfolio. Heather and I had reviewed my goals and were now working on putting together lists of vendors. I’d learned some of the business side of fashion through my job at the magazine and school, but it was a whole different reality when I was doing it for myself.
But this was what I had been working for. This was my dream.
I made wish lists of the various fabrics I wanted to get my hands on. The colors and patterns, too. I wanted mannequins and sewing machines and spools of thread in all the colors I could think of. Measuring tapes and needles and beads…I couldn’t forget the beads. Also an assortment of strings would be great. I felt like that spoiled girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I wanted it all and I wanted it now.
Heather also recommended I find an investor so I could get started as soon as possible. I gave her a funny look as I wondered who on earth would invest in a no-name fashion designer, but she assured me that people did just that, and that I wasn’t a no-name with both her support and the support of Brianna. I still didn’t like the idea of riding on their coattails, but I was starting to not hate it at least. It was just the way things were.
As I finished yet another list, my mind drifted back to Tyler, as it always did.
I wondered if I tried hard enough.
He asked me not to let him screw up again. Practically begged me. Did I let him screw up? Should I have used the key he gave me one of those times I went to his apartment? What if I had? What if I went inside and he still didn’t want to see me? That would have hurt worse, I thought.
What if.
What if.
What if.
Ugh.
I couldn’t concentrate.
Part of that was due to the hour, the other part was due to Tyler.
At least he was back at work after spending two weeks out with the “flu.” In the weeks since he’d been back, I still hadn’t seen him once. I looked for him in the elevator, but he must have been taking the stairs. I even rode the car all the way up one day, just to see if I’d spot him on his floor when the doors opened. I didn’t see him, but I had seen Preston when I reached the top level and he gave me a questioning look. I just shrugged and mumbled something about missing my floor.
I moved my notebook to the nightstand and turned off the light, drowning the room in darkness.
It was strange, the darkness. Usually when I turned off the light inside my apartment, the lights from the city would cast a dim light across my space…but tonight there was nothing.
No light.
It was pitch black.
33
Tyler
3:25
3:29
3:34
3:35
3:36
Every single day in the office was a race against the clock. Could I make it to five o’clock without running into Melanie?
I messed everything up with her over nothing. She was the best thing I ever had. The worst part is that I hadn’t even attempted to grovel yet, and she at least deserved that. Even if she didn’t give me a chance. She deserved for me to get down on my knees and apologize and beg for forgiveness. I wouldn’t blame her one bit for denying me. But she deserved that opportunity.
3:47
3:51
“Excuse me?”
I looked up from the time in the lower right corner of my computer screen to see an unfamiliar, clean-cut guy in a suit looking nervously at me from across my desk. “Can I help you?” I asked. I hadn’t been expecting anyone and Roger never had appointments with men in his office.
“I have a four o’clock meeting with Roger Hoffstadt.”
I pulled up Roger’s calendar in my computer—the one he never used—and confirmed that there was nothing on his schedule. “I don’t see anything on Mr. Hoffstadt’s schedule. May I ask what this is in reference to?” I asked, picking up the telephone to page Roger’s desk. I was still avoiding speaking to him in person when possible. Given that I rarely saw him before he pissed on my pitch, it wasn’t that difficult.
The guy shifted nervously, and I was sure Roger’s reputation had preceded him. “I’m a chef,” he started…and my hand holding the phone froze. “I’m here to interview for the new Grilling in the City column.”
My blood ran cold.
Then it ran hot.
So hot.
I slammed the phone down on the desk, not even taking care to place it back on the receiver.
I was done.
I stood so fast, my chair shot out from behind me and hit the wall with a deafening thud.
“After everything I’ve fucking done. This is how it goes.”
“Excuse me?” Nervous Guy asked.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I said, pointing at him. “If I were you, I’d run far the fuck away from here. Roger Hoffstadt will chew you up and spit you out.”
I turned away from him and stomped over to Roger’s door, swinging it open. The opaque glass shattered when the door hit the wall.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Roger yelled, standing from behind his desk.
“Fuck you,” I said snidely. “You are the biggest piece of shit. Grilling in the City? Who is the writer? George Foreman?”
Roger sneered. “Who do you think you are? You think you could write it? You’re an assistant. You’re my assistant. And you’re fucking fired.”
“Wrong,” I said, pulling my cell phone from my pocket. I tapped the screen and held the phone to my ear.
Roger picked up his desk phone. “Yeah I need security to YTM, suite two-one-one.”
When my call connected, my eyes seared Roger’s. “Preston, we need to talk.”
***
“I can’t believe he was such a shit to you, and you didn’t say anything,” Hannah said, retrieving three Modelos from the refrigerator and popping the tops. She gave one to me and one to Preston before nestling in beside him on the couch with her own bottle of beer. It was Taco Tuesday, and Hannah was nothing if not consistent in her themes. Taco night meant Mexican beer.
“You know how I feel about nepotism,” I said, taking a long pull from my bottle.
“Nepotism has nothing to do with it. It’s about human decency. Anyone else would have filed a complaint with Human Resources. You should have said something. It infuriates me that he got away with so much.”
“He didn’t get away with that much, babe,” Preston said.
“He treated Tyler like shit.”
&nbs
p; “He treated everyone like shit,” I said. “I was just the person who was in contact with him the most.”
“Doesn’t make it right. And he was taking your idea…” she trailed off, making a face.
“He was on his last leg and he knew it,” Preston said. “He was set to present a new idea to me tomorrow morning. Had he come to me with that grilling column, I would have known exactly where it came from and had he not given credit where credit was due, I would have fired him on the spot.”
“Well at least it didn’t have to come to that,” Hannah said.
“I would have rather it came to that then the shit show this afternoon,” Preston said, referring to what had happened once Roger realized who I had called.
“Preston? Preston Parks? What are you, a fucking narc?”
Roger didn’t realize I hadn’t hung up on Preston, I just changed my cell phone to speaker. He could hear everything he said.
“Have you been telling him everything? Did you run crying to him when I turned down your column idea? You don’t know shit. You’re a kid. What the hell do you know? You think you can write that column? You think you can grill?”
“I think I already did write that column, and I know I can grill. I have a journalism degree, dickhead. I’m not just an executive assistant. And fuck you for undervaluing that position. Administrative support staff are some of the most valuable members of an organization. They’re also some of the most powerful ones.”
“Yeah...because they have the boss on speed dial.”
“Roger,” Preston said, walking in the office and taking in the mess of glass by the door.
I winced, really noticing the pile of glass for the first time. I should have been more careful, but I hadn’t been thinking at the time.
“Should I come back later?” We all turned toward the doorway where Nervous Guy was standing.
“Who the fuck are you?” Roger asked.
Preston glared at him. “Mr. Hoffstadt, I don’t think I should have to tell you not to speak to guests in my building that way.”
“I’m here for an interview.”
Preston approached him. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but any business you have here with Mr. Hoffstadt today will need to be placed on hold. Please take the elevator up to the eighteenth floor and give the receptionist, Karen, your contact information. I’ll follow up with you.” Nervous Guy was smart enough to high-tail it out of there after that, and Preston’s attention returned to Roger.
“Mr. Hoffstadt, I’m afraid your employment at Parks Publishing has come to a close. I’d appreciate it if you’d quietly pack your personal effects and leave immediately. Your final paycheck will be sent to you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Roger spit the words out. “All because of some kid?”
Preston walked right up to Roger, causing him to take a step back. “I hold my management team to a very high standard. A standard you have been beneath for entirely too long. I tolerated your nonsense because you were producing, but now you’re not. I also do not tolerate any of my employees speaking to any of my other employees the way I have just witnessed. You’re dragging the magazine down with your rotten attitude, and I’m finished with it.”
“I’ve given this magazine five years.”
“And you’ll give it no more.” Preston looked at me. “Tyler, go get Mr. Hoffstadt a box for his personal belongings.”
I nodded, passing two security officers on my way out of Roger’s office. I laughed to myself, thinking about how Roger called his own personal escort out of the building.
“And you did it all without letting the cat out of the bag about Tyler being family,” Hannah said.
“It was important to him,” Preston said, and I respected him even more for it.
“You’re sweet,” she said, kissing his cheek.
Seeing them cuddling and kissing made me yearn for Melanie. The last time I was over their house for Taco Tuesday, Melanie was with me. I missed her so much.
It was time.
“Han,” she stopped making goo-goo eyes at Preston and looked at me. “I need your help.”
34
Melanie
I sat at my desk, keying in some final notes for Brianna’s upcoming travel itinerary when the suite door opened. Glancing at the clock on my computer monitor, I saw that it was ten minutes until six. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
Hannah peeked her head around the corner and smiled when she saw me.
My heart raced.
What was she doing here?
“Hey, girl,” she said, walking up to my desk like her brother hadn’t broken my heart.
“H-hi,” I stuttered, unsure of what she could possibly want.
“I just wanted to drop this off for you,” she said, dropping a folded square of paper on the desk in front of me. “I’ll see you later,” she sang, disappearing back out the door as quickly as she’d walked in.
Did that even happen? Had she been a figment of my imagination?
I looked down at my desk, eyeing the paper. It looked like a folded-up note, like the ones you passed to your friends in high school before texting.
I took it between two fingers, holding it up to eye level. There was writing on the inside. My heart told me it was Tyler. Duh. Who else would have sent me a note through Hannah?
I quickly unwrapped the note and a slip of paper fell to the desk. I ignored it and read.
Spice,
I can’t properly express how sorry I am for my behavior, or lack thereof, the last few weeks. I’m not going to offer you excuses, you deserved so much more from me than that, though someday I would like to explain what happened. I’m not so good with these kinds of words, but I’m trying here…
If radio stations still took dedications, I’d dedicate all the love songs to you...like Savage Garden’s “Truly Madly Deeply” or “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain. I want to take you on dates to the mall and have matching instant messenger usernames. I’d also keep making you mixed tapes of all the songs that make me think of you. Then I’ll make more that make me think of us.
I’m sorry, Melanie. I miss you so much. Please come see me tonight at 10:00pm.
Love,
Tyler
I picked up the fallen piece of paper. It was a ticket to the Empire State Building’s 86th floor observation deck. He was inviting me to the top of the Empire State Building.
***
“How very nineties of him,” Meredith said when I called her to tell her about Tyler’s note on my way home.
It was very Sleepless in Seattle of him, I silently agreed, leaning back in my seat. I’d ordered a company car--something I never, ever did--but I just wanted to sit and chill and process and talk to my friend and I couldn’t do that while battling the Subway. I figured I was owed the favor since the owner of the company’s wife had just dropped a bomb on my desk.
“Should I go?”
“Do you want to go?” she countered.
I sighed. I wanted her to just tell me what to do. I didn’t want to have to think about it. That’s why I called my best friend. I wanted her to give me the answer.
“I do and I don’t.”
“Explain.”
“I want closure, but I don’t know if I want to see him.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I just feel like I should go, you know? You should always respond to the grand gesture.”
“Since you can’t see me, I’m gonna tell you...I’m rolling my eyes.”
“I would just hate for him to be waiting up there for me, and I don’t show up.”
“Well, he should have thought about that before he ditched you.” I winced at her harshness. “Listen sweetie, your heart is way too big. I know you’re really undecided about what to do here, or pretending to be undecided, because you still love him. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic. You know...you can go there tonight--respond to the grand gesture--and not actually take him back. You can thank him for the effor
t, forgive him even, but still say no. You don’t have to respond to the grand gesture the way they do in all those movies you watch.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe I could just go there and talk to him and we could leave as friends. Or not friends. Maybe we could just make peace.
“Or you could just not go and let him know what it feels like to be ghosted.” Ah, there she was. “That’s my vote, for what it’s worth.”
“I was beginning to think you’d gone soft,” I told her.
“Me? Nah.”
I laughed, appreciating the comfort of my friend, but still not feeling any closer to a decision.
35
Tyler
I’d never been so nervous in my entire life.
It wasn’t only because I was eighty-six stories up in the sky and terrified of heights. That was certainly an important factor, but it wasn’t the only factor. I was laying it all out on the line tonight. I was laying myself bare, and I was doing it publicly. That was a very special kind of terrifying.
I let the security guards know what I was up to so they wouldn’t try to chase me away or call me in for loitering or anything else. One looked at me like I was crazy anyway, the other looked at me with pity in his eyes. Clearly neither one of them were romantics.
As it neared ten o’clock, I alternated between standing off to the side of the elevator and walking around the deck. I wasn’t sure if I should be waiting right there for her to see me right away, or if another position would be better. Then I worried about the view...was one side of the Empire State Building better than the other? And where were they in the movie?
Did it matter? Not really.
And none of it would matter if she didn’t show up.
Shit.
Simply Irresistible: A Totally Sweet Love Story Page 13
