by Dina Silver
Carrie finally looks up and removes an ear bud from one side of her head. “What?” she asks.
My eyes widen. “Did you hear my first question?”
“No, sorry,” she mutters.
“But you nodded,” I tell her, amazed at her lack of consideration.
“Sorry, what’s up?”
“Please let me know if Brooke calls in.”
“Brooke’s not coming in today,” Carrie says and rolls her thumb over her iPod.
I have just about had it with Carrie. What is it with this girl? Why is everyone so careful with how they speak to her? No one ever wants to upset Carrie, like she’s going to order you the wrong size binder clips - God forbid! Sadly for her, this is not the week to mess with me.
“Carrie,” I say sternly, and mime pulling the plug out of her other ear so she has a visual aid of what I’m asking of her. “Get Brooke on the phone and put her through to my desk.”
She rolls her eyes. “If you want to give me her cell number I can…”
“Now!” I shout and cut her off, and then march away trying to imagine the look on her face.
My phone is ringing when I reach my desk. “Brooke?” I answer.
“Hi, Kat,” she says.
“Hey, how are you?”
“I’m just really tired and I’m not coming in today. I talked to Dave, so if you need me for anything just call my house phone,” she says. “My cell phone took a beating yesterday.”
“Have you talked to Drew?” I ask.
“I had a locksmith come after you left and put a suitcase of clothes on the front patio for him. It was gone by this morning, so it looks like my marriage is over. I have no intention of trying to work things out with him.”
“Wow,” I whisper. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m so proud of you, you did the right thing, Brooke, don’t think for one second you didn’t,” I say.
“Thank you, I know. Like I said, I’m not looking back and I’m definitely not going to forgive him - not that he’s asking me to,” she comments. “I’m sorry you had to partake in the drama, but I do appreciate you being there. If I’d had to face him alone, I’m not sure I would have had the same strength.”
“Don’t mention it,” I say. “Are you sure you’re okay being alone today?”
“I’ll be fine, I just need a day or two to clean up my pride,” she lets out a small laugh. “When I called my mom last night she actually sounded happy for me - which made me all the more embarrassed for myself. But I’ll get through this.”
“I know you will. And I realize I’m no relationship guru, but if it’s any consolation…I have a feeling this may be the best thing that ever happened to you.” After the words came out of my mouth I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. Her pain is still pretty fresh and she might not be ready to view her husband’s infidelities as some sort of blessing quite yet. “I just mean that you deserve so much better and I’m sure that’s what your mom was thinking as well,” I quickly add.
“I know, thanks Kat.”
“All is well here at the office; don’t worry about a thing. In fact I haven’t even logged on to Facebook once this morning,” I assure her.
“And for that I am proud of you,” she plays along. “Okay, Kat, talk to you later.”
“Bye.” I hang up the phone and try to imagine what she’s going through. Even though Drew is a diseased ogre and completely awful for her, I know that the blow to her ego is probably harder. Losing her husband is one thing, but for someone like Brooke, the drain on her already low self-esteem can be devastating.
In hopes of helping her find someone who will give her the praise and appreciation that she deserves, I decide to spend the remainder of the day registering her on various dating websites under my email.
They’re not coming in today or tomorrow.
Adam texts me around four-thirty.
Why??
I ask.
Dave is leaving tonight, Ryan in the morning.
He says.
UGH!!!!!!
I text back.
Call him then.
He replies.
He won’t even return my text.
I remind him.
Btw did you like the rouge?
He asks.
Enough with Adam, I pick up the phone and call Julie. There is no way I’m letting Ryan get on a plane and spend a week in Las Vegas without talking to him first. This is not like him to avoid me, even if he is horribly upset with me, which I don’t think is the case. He told me to take some time, but he didn’t say ‘lose my number’ or anything. It just doesn’t seem like him. And besides, he knows that we’re bound to see each other on a daily basis. He can’t avoid me for too much longer.
“Hey there,” Julie answers my call. “I am so sorry, I meant to call you yesterday and see how things were going.”
“Ryan’s been out all week and I haven’t even been able to orchestrate a chance encounter,” I tell her.
“When’s he due back?”
“That’s the problem; he’s not. He’s going to Vegas with Dave tomorrow through Sunday. I’m a mess.”
“Then call him,” she says.
“And say what? I already sent him a text, and he didn’t respond.”
“Maybe he didn’t get it?”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m sure he got it. Since when don’t people get their texts?”
“Then pick up the phone and call him like a big girl,” she says. “If he doesn’t answer, leave a message so he can hear the sincerity in your voice.”
“I’m nervous,” I confess. The truth is that I hate confrontation. One time in the third grade, one of my classmates was making fun of me on the playground. She said my jeans were too short and that I’d probably had the same pair since kindergarten, eliciting laughs from two other girls standing with her. Then she hiked her pants up and started dancing around me, which drew an even larger crowd. I burst into tears and ran inside. Later that day, my mother got a call from the girl’s mom saying that she would be bringing her daughter to our house so that she could apologize to me. I screamed with dread. That girl was the last person I wanted to see. I begged my mom to make the whole thing go away, but she said it was the right thing to do. I was nearly doubled over with nervous tension as I waited for them to arrive, and when they did, the girl wasn’t remotely remorseful. She was only apologizing because she had to. It was the right thing to do, and her mom was making her do it. She knew that, and I knew that. I remember staring at the floor through the entire twenty-second apology praying for it to end, and I don’t want Ryan to sees me as that girl - apologizing only because she got caught.
“Kat, please, there’s nothing to be nervous about,” Julie says.
“It’s not the call that makes me nervous, it’s hearing him say something that I don’t want to hear. I hate groveling.”
“Well you’ll never know until you try,” she throws a cliché my way. “Not that I support this, but you could just leave a message on his home phone since you know he’s out.”
“He doesn’t own a land line, but thank you for that. I know you’ve got my best interests at heart.”
“Always my darling. Now run along and patch things up, I gotta go,” she says and hangs up.
I grab my cell phone and head over to Adam’s desk for some moral support. If nothing else, he’ll be excited to be included on any level. I plop down in a chair across from him.
“I’m going to call Ryan now, or hopefully leave a heartwarming message-slash-plea asking him to see me tonight before he leaves,” I tell him. “And I came over here for your support, so you better produce.”
“Like an underwire bra, I am here for you,” he says and folds his hands in his lap giving my Blackberry and me his full attention.
“Here goes,” I announce and dial Ryan’s phone. “It’s ringing,” I whisper.
Adam gives me a thumbs-up.
“Hello?” A voice answers.
�
��Ryan?”
“No, it’s Dave.”
I give Adam a ‘what-the-hell’ look and cover the phone so I can whisper-shout, “IT’S DAVE!?”
“Hey, Dave, it’s Kat,” I say. “Sorry, I thought I dialed Ryan’s number.”
“You did,” Dave informs me. “He left his phone in my car but I won’t see him until tomorrow in Vegas. I saw your name so I thought I’d pick up.”
“Oh, I see.”
“What’s going on?” Adam raises both hands looking for an explanation.
I take the phone away from my mouth. “Dave has Ryan’s phone and I have no way of reaching him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN:
Buzz Off
I sit immobilized as my own words start to sink in. There is no way for me to talk to Ryan now and I’m beginning to have visions of myself curled up in bed, chewing the ends of my hair for the remainder of the week. Adam grabs the cell phone out of my hand and talks with Dave. All I can hear is his one-sided version of their conversation.
“Hi, honey, yes.” Adam looks over at me. “She is…okay… okay…Biggest Loser…love you.” Click.
I’m shaking my head in dismay, looking for him to quickly relay any information that will put me at ease.
“Dave wanted me to record something for him,” he says and hands me my phone.
“Adam!”
“Sorry! Well, your sour love muffin clearly doesn’t have his head on straight given all that you’ve put him through, and he left his phone in Dave’s car, as you know,” he says.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose. “What now? He has no home phone either.”
Adam folds his hands on his lap again. “He’ll have his phone back tomorrow afternoon and you’ll talk to him then. Why don’t you just shoot him an email?”
“I don’t want to. I need to speak with him.”
Panic sets in as I’m internally fuming and cursing everything and everyone that has led me to this point in my life. First and foremost Marc, who should be punished for behaving so irrationally. Ryan is no game player, he did nothing to deserve these feelings of betrayal and uncertainty…all on the day he introduced me to his mother! I clutch my stomach and Adam comes around the desk to comfort me.
“Kat, I think you’re overreacting. I can see it in your beady little short person eyes that you’re about to turn this into a disastrous event for yourself. So let’s just gather our things, head back to my house and order sushi,” he states. “We can have a sleepover if you’d like,” he suggests. “I’ll even let you use Dave’s La Mer.”
“I think I should go over to Ryan’s apartment,” I blurt out. “I have no other way of reaching him and I can’t let him leave town like this.”
Adam looks at me with pity for a moment while he ponders what I’ve said. “Okay, if that will make you feel better, then you should,” he says.
“Will you come with me?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he smiles. “Can we still get sushi after?”
“Yes.”
It’s almost five-thirty as Adam and I leave the office and head over to Ryan’s place. Earlier in the day I could barely get up the nerve to text him again, let alone stand before him, begging forgiveness. But I have convinced myself that if he gets on that plane with our last conversation being the one we had on Sunday, I am guaranteed to make this a disastrous event as Adam has predicted.
Adam decides to drive, leaving me to obsess in the passenger seat about what I can say today that didn’t come across on Sunday. Will I have the strength now that I didn’t have when I made my initial plea?
Adam’s voice is a welcome distraction. “Alright,” he starts. “Just go in there and be clear and sincere. But no water-works, please, Kat. It makes you look like a spineless, defensive woman with something to hide.”
I glare at him as he continues.
“I’m serious, tears are not your friend, I am. And I’m telling you that sobbing is not going to work with him.”
“Thanks, but I don’t exactly have the control over my emotions that you would like me to. I don’t like being a blubbering fool any more than the next person,” I sigh. “I promise to do my best though.”
“That’s ma’girl.”
“Are you just going to wait down here for me?” I ask.
“Not all night,” he says. “So if you think you’re going to be more than five minutes, text me.”
“Five minutes?” I shake my head. “I’m not delivering a pizza.”
“Just text me if you’re staying,” he reiterates.
“Fine, pull over up here on the right,” I indicate with my finger.
Adam pulls the car to the curb and leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Go get him.” He claps.
“Thank you, I love you,” I say.
“Go,” he says and shoves me out of the car.
I walk into the lobby and head towards the door buzzer. I feel the buzzer judging me as I stand there, so I push it extra hard.
No answer.
Don’t toy with me buzzer. I press harder.
Nothing.
I press the hang-up button nearly forty times and try again.
Still nothing.
Much to my own surprise, I start banging on the buzzer demanding to be let in.
“Jesus, Mary, and Josephina!” Adam shouts from behind me as he barrels through the glass lobby doors. “What are you doing?”
I turn to him with a fury in my eyes that would make Glenn Close quiver. “It’s not letting me in!”
Adam puts his hands up slowly like he’s about to talk someone off the ledge of a building. “Step away from the buzzer,” he whispers strictly, then walks up to it himself and tries to ring Ryan’s apartment.
No answer.
“He’s not home,” Adam concludes.
“Try again,” I say and attempt to press the buttons.
“Away from the buzzer!” Adam yells.
He tries the buzzer one last time and there is still no answer.
“He’s obviously not home. Either that, or he has a closed circuit camera allowing him to witness your lobby tantrum - wherein, he’s made the correct decision not to let you up.” Adam grabs my hand. “Now let’s go before you chain yourself to that hideous couchette from Ikea in the corner over there.”
“Where could he be? He’s leaving in the morning.” I follow behind like a kid being dragged out of the mall.
“The boy has a life, my dear, and he’s politely asked you not to screw with it for a few days and you can’t even give him that. So, I let you come here - it didn’t work out - now it’s my duty to get you home and keep you under surveillance before you do something to ruin things for good.”
I rub my forehead with my free hand. “I’m going crazy. This is not like me. You know that, right?” I look to him for reassurance.
“Yes, little darling,” he says, more appeasing than convincing.
“Seriously,” I continue. “I am desperate for him. I can feel it. And everything was fine until Marc ruined it.”
Adam stops me when we reach the car. “Kat,” he begins, and places his hands on my slumped shoulders, “yes, it’s beyond unfortunate what went down on Sunday. But I think maybe Ryan wants you to take ownership of your fault in this debacle, and not just Marc’s.”
“But I did. I explained everything to him, and said above all that I was most sorry for having lied to him.”
“I know, but maybe…and I’m just guessing here…maybe he sees himself in Marc’s shoes somehow? Maybe he feels sorry for Marc and thinks you were too hard on him.”
“What are you saying?” I ask for clarification.
“I’m just saying that sometimes people pay attention to how you treat other people. Maybe he’s bothered by how you ditched a guy who proposed to you and ran to him instead? I honestly have nothing to back it up,” he shrugs. “Just a theory.”
What Adam is saying isn’t entirely off base. But why wouldn’t Ryan
have just told me if that was the case? He simply said I should take some time and figure things out. He’d said that he spent the evening thinking about it, but what does that mean? Crap! Where is he? How could he not be home at a time like this? Doesn’t he need to pack?
I wrap my arms around my mid-section and rest my head on the glove box as Adam drives off to pick up the sushi. I’m doing everything I can to convince myself that I have no other choice but to wait for Ryan to get his phone back.
Just as we pass the corner of Clark and Division I spot Ryan’s parents walking into Walgreens. “Stop the car!” I scream.
“Why?!” Adam yells back, startled.
“I just saw Ryan’s mom and dad walk into Walgreens, turn around!”
Adam pulls over and nearly gets rear-ended as he abruptly stops the car. “What in God’s name do you think you’re going to do with his parents?”
“Maybe they know where he is? Maybe he’s meeting them for dinner? I remember his mom saying something about getting together for dinner with him before he left,” I say. “Please turn around.”
“And then what?”
“And then I’m going to nonchalantly walk into Walgreens and bump into them,” I tell him.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage for the night? It’s not like Ryan couldn’t get in touch with you if he wanted to,” Adam goes for the jugular.
“Thanks,” I growl. “I realize that, but please allow me this one last psychotic scheme and I promise to behave from here on out.”
He shakes his head. “The things I do for you,” he mumbles and turns the car around. Adam parks the car obnoxiously right in front of the entrance to Walgreens with two of the tires up on the curb. “Hurry,” he says.
“I’ll be right back,” I assure him and hop out of the car.
After a quick spin through the revolving doors I begin my search for Ryan’s parents. I thoughtfully grab a basket so it looks as though I have a legitimate purpose for being there; however, the absence of my purse, which I left in the car, may prove detrimental to my plan if I’m forced to confront them at the checkout counter. I start to head toward the pharmacy, believing that’s where they might be, but there’s no sign of them there. I slowly make my way through the back of the store peering down every aisle. Just as I pass the deodorants, I spot Ryan’s mom and dad one aisle over in greeting cards. I take a quick step backwards, out of their view, and think up a contrived greeting of my own.
