Falling for Her

by A. C. Meyer

  “Oh, God,” Lais whispers, covering her mouth with her hand, as shocked as Rodrigo and me. Then Rodrigo gets up.

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but he’s not himself. Baby, stay here with Mari, try to get some rest. I’ll go to his apartment and try to find out what’s going on.” I cry even louder. “Mari, I need you to be strong, angel,” he says, looking at me while wiping away my tears. “I promise I’ll find out what’s going on. But you need to stay strong.” I try to stop crying and nod. “Lais, baby, come with me to lock the door,” he says, and Lais leaves with him. Even though they’re talking quietly, I can hear what he says.

  “Does she have any sedatives in the house?”

  “There’s a natural sedative in her medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

  “Give her one. She needs to rest. And so do you. Man, what a day!” Then they murmur something unintelligible and I hear the door closing.

  Lais comes back to my room holding a pill and a glass full of water, following Rodrigo’s instructions. She hands the pill to me and I’m too weak to say no. After I drink the water, I give her back the glass, which she puts on my nightstand, then she lies beside me, holding me like she used to do when we were kids and I woke up in the middle of the night, scared by a bad dream. Lais has always been much braver than I. In everything. Slowly, the hug that brought me so many good memories gets tighter and I end up drifting into a dreamless sleep.

  I am completely crushed by what Mari did to me. Her betrayal took everything from me. I had no idea what my life was going to be like from now on, but I couldn’t stay in the office anymore, surrounded by her memories. I left the office taking my briefcase and the damned papers Miguel had given me earlier. I was tired of walking around my office, almost burning a hole in the carpet, unable to fix anything. Roberta was really helpful, taking messages and solving problems while I stayed locked in my office. Then, I suddenly felt trapped, even claustrophobic. I knew I had to leave before I exploded.

  “Are you leaving, Carlos?” Roberta raises her eyes when she asks me, and I don’t even bother looking at her. I’m too stunned to be polite.

  “I won’t be back today,” I say, and leave, slamming the door behind me. I walk down the hall, watching people disappearing behind their work areas, and go to the elevator, before I’m stopped by Miguel.

  “Leaving already, buddy?” he asks, slapping my shoulder. I don’t like his tone. I nod, and walk into the elevator without giving him the chance to speak. I get to my car in the garage ready to go home. When I start the car, the radio turns on automatically, and the sound of the romantic song that starts playing makes my heart shatter into even smaller pieces.

  I turn it off quickly, before the singer’s voice can make me cry. I follow the traffic to my house, not paying attention to anything around me. Like a robot, I drive to my building, park, and when I get in the elevator, I see myself in the mirror. My clothes are disheveled, my hair is messy, my eyes are red, and my beard is already visible. I’ve never looked so miserable, so crushed. The reflection that stares back at me is much different from the proud businessman who left my house this morning, ready to take over the world. This is the reflection of a loser. Yeah, that’s how I feel, like a loser.

  The elevator stops. I go to my door and, when I open it, I can feel Mari’s perfume like a punch in the face. Everything in here reminds me of her, of the moments we spent together, of how I was an idiot to let myself be fooled. As much as I want to deny it, I know I let her in. I let her take every empty space inside me, and I was too dizzy to notice what was right in front of me. What hurts the most is that I had been warned. My brother, the man I trust over anyone else in the world, had warned me when the relationship had just started, before anything happened, he warned me I shouldn’t get involved with her. And I didn’t listen. I fought him when I insisted on introducing her to my parents as my girlfriend, putting a traitor inside their house. Guilt joins my feelings of hurt and pain.

  I drop my briefcase on the ground, pull off my shirt, not bothering to hang it in place like I normally would do, then throw my shoes in a corner and take a bottle of Jack Daniels from the minibar. I take it along with the papers to my bedroom.

  The room is dark. Very dark. Someone forces me to get up, lifting me by my shoulders, but I’m too dizzy to remember anything. My head hurts and when I pass a hand over my face, I feel it’s wet with tears. Slowly, I realize that I’ve spent the whole afternoon drinking and looking at those papers, trying to find a mistake in them. But I concluded there was nothing wrong, and she really did betray me. Then I cried. And drank some more. My head is about to explode, and when my eyes get used to the darkness, I recognize Rodrigo. He takes me to the bathroom, turns the shower on and orders me to take off my pants and get under the cold water. I stand there for a few minutes until he returns with a robe and a towel and tells me to get out. I do it automatically, dry off, and put on the robe he brought me. I go back to my bedroom. He takes the papers from the floor and I throw myself in bed. Everything hurts: my head, back, legs, eyes. But the pain within me is the worst. I keep my eyes shut for a minute, until he stops by my side.

  “Here.” I open my eyes and see him holding a glass with some gross-looking liquid inside.

  “What the hell is that?” I ask, and his expression seems to get even more serious.

  “You’re fucking drunk. Just drink this shit so you can talk to me with a clear head.” I felt like shit already and his words only made it worse, though I knew he was right. I take the glass, drinking that disgusting thing in one sip, and I barely have time to swallow before he starts talking.

  “I want to know what the fuck is going on! I just came from Mari’s house and she’s crushed. You broke up with her over some dickhead’s gossip and you still have the nerve to leave that crying message on her voicemail and make the girl cry even harder! Fuck, Cadu! I don’t know who you are anymore, you’ve always been so steadfast about everything and now you’re believing people’s gossip?” I face my best friend, his anger written all over his face, unable to understand what’s he trying to imply.

  “Are you telling me you’re taking her side? You’re my best friend and you’re siding with a traitor over me?”

  “I’m siding with reason. You’re not a jealous, possessive guy. That scumbag Miguel tried to force himself on her, and you blame Mariana, deciding to believe him over the woman who practically lives with you?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? That’s what she told you? That I broke up with her because I was jealous? She’s even worse than I thought. That fake betrays me, takes my work, sells my collection to another magazine, and cries to you that I’m jealous and you believe her?”

  “What?” he asks, confused. “What about a collection . . . Man, there’s something wrong here. What are you talking about?” He takes the chair in front of me and I take a deep breath, then start telling him everything that happened from the start. After a few minutes, my friend is replaced by “Dr. Rodrigo.”

  “Give me those files. I want to see them. Someone has obviously set this up, but I need to check this out to see if you can call it just cause. It’s a shitty situation, man. On the one hand, you can sue her for selling classified information, corporative espionage, and stuff like that, but on the other, she can claim sexual and moral harassment. A shitty situation indeed. Come on, give me the files.” I hand him the papers, and while he reads, I sit back down, turning to the window, looking at the view outside and trying to keep steady.

  Nearly one hour later, he looks up from the papers and says, “These documents don’t look real, Cadu. I need to make a call . . . shit, where did I leave my phone?” Rodrigo mumbles to himself, and I take the phone from the bed and throw it to him. He takes it mid-air, and when he presses the button to turn it on, he turns to me and asks, “Dude, whose phone is this? It’s not yours, is it?”

  “No, it’s hers. Why?
”

  “There’s Little Prince wallpaper, I thought it was weird,” he says, then makes a call.

  “Moretti? It’s Rodrigo Carvalho, how are you? Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry to call so late, man, but I need your help with something.” I watch Rodrigo listen to whatever the so-called Moretti is saying, then explains, “I have a client in an awkward situation. One of his employees installed spyware on his company’s network. It was supposed to be installed only on their branch in São Paulo at first, but for some reason he decided to install it throughout the whole company. There was a leak of confidential information and the guy responsible was monitoring the PA of one of the editors pretty closely, and sent him a big file with proof against the lady.” He listens to him again. “Yeah, Moretti, I know that. We’ll handle that. But the strange part is that the e-mails seem to have been changed. There are words typed in different fonts. Typos. That girl is very clever, she wouldn’t make so many mistakes. Something’s not right here, and that’s why I’m calling you.”

  He shakes his head, focused.

  “Yes! Exactly. No, money’s not an issue,” he answers, looking at me, and I nod. “I want you to find out who did it. I want you to dig up the whole thing. Yeah, I think so too. Ok. I’ll meet you there then.” He tells him the office’s address. “See you tomorrow.”

  He says goodbye, then turns to me.

  “These documents are false. There’s something wrong about this shit, I can tell. There are some pretty bad typos there, and I remember you telling me about Mari fighting with you over yours,” he says, and I feel my heart tightening at the memory. “Besides, what could possibly lead a staff member to directly disobey an order and spy on the whole company, especially the assistant of the editor in chief of the company? Having access to classified information unauthorized? That alone can get him fired. The secrecy itself . . . But most of all, Cadu, I don’t believe Mari is capable of half of what she’s been accused of. And I know that deep down, you don’t believe it either. We need to figure out what really happened, and I’m sure it’s no good.”

  “You think so?” I ask, finally seeing some light at the end of the tunnel, as people say.

  “I do. And when we find out, you have to be ready.”

  “To face the ‘enemies’?” I ask, using air quotes when I say it, since I can’t even begin to imagine that I have enemies.

  “No. To crawl back to your girl.” He smiles, then gives me a friendly slap on the shoulder.

  Deep down, a sparkle shines inside of me. The flame of hope.

  Cadu

  We arrive at the building the next morning, and the place is quiet. The security guards obviously allow me entry along with Rodrigo, and I let them know that Moretti will be there soon and that he alone is allowed to go in.

  When we get to my office Rodrigo asks for a notepad. We sit by my desk and he asks me a series of questions, which I do my best to answer as accurately as possible, since my head still hurts from all the drinking I did last night.

  Half an hour later, the front desk lets us know that Moretti has arrived. I open the door for him and the three of us go to my office. After telling him what happened one more time, Rodrigo hands him the documents, which he barely glances at, with an expression of pure disdain.

  “What is it, Moretti?”

  “Whoever set this up didn’t even bother hiding it. They were probably sure you would believe it without question.”

  “Set up?” He shakes his head and I taste something sour in my mouth. I thought Miguel was weird, I didn’t fully trust him, but I never imagined he could set me up. “Could it be him who sold my collection? Man, this is a nightmare!” I run my fingers through my hair and Moretti shakes his head no.

  “There are probably more people involved. This is hardly a one-man job. We’ll figure it out, all we have to do is calm down. One step at a time. Take a look here.” He points at a paper with one of the many e-mails from Mari to Lais. “I won’t mention the mistakes, though Rodrigo has already told me that this woman usually writes correctly. But see, after this ‘cursing at myself,’ the sentence is typed in a completely different font. This usually happens when the original text is modified. The font is different and the text’s color turns to purple, to highlight the change,” he explains, and only then do I notice the difference. “It’s not just here. It shows up in several e-mails and messages.”

  “What’s the first step, Moretti? What do you need?” Rodrigo takes the lead, while I reprimand myself for making decisions when I was so angry and for having done the things I did. If Mari is innocent, does that mean I was unfair to her? Jesus, what a mess.

  “Well, can I access this woman’s computer, the one mentioned in the files? I think that’s where we should begin. I can access her inbox, and then try to confirm my theory. Then, I’ll check your network while you figure out a way to keep your IT guys away while I do it.”

  “Sure. Well, her computer is in the next office, let’s go.” I take them to Mari’s desk and Moretti turns the computer on.

  “Do you know the password?” I shake my head, but then remember she used to save those things in her phone. I grab it and check in the notepad app.

  “Got it!” Then, Moretti gets to work. Rodrigo pulls me to the other room. “Rodrigo, I don’t know what to do. If Mari is not . . .” I can’t finish it, and he faces me, upset.

  “If she’s not guilty? Don’t look at me like that. You’ll have to do something big to apologize to her. I get you, man. I really do. But, considering that she might be innocent, you were too harsh on her. She was crushed. I’ve never seen anyone that sad before. No, wait. I did, and it was you, yesterday.” He takes a deep breath and I put a hand to my face, feeling utterly lost. “Dude, try to relax. We’re going to have a long day ahead of us and after we dig this whole thing up, we’ll think of what to do about this mess.”

  My cell phone rings and I jump, thinking it might be her, but I couldn’t be more wrong.

  “Hey, Dad,” I answer the call in a sad tone.

  “Son, what’s happening? Your brother just left, asking me to run an intervention on Be. He said you let yourself be fooled and that you can’t be trusted to run the magazine.” My father speaks fast, not giving me a chance to answer. “What’s going on, Cadu?” I repeat the story once more, reliving everything that happened, up until this point. When I’m done, my father, who has been listening quietly, takes a deep breath and says, “Well, I’m calling my driver, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “Dad, you don’t need to come unless you don’t trust me to handle it,” I answer, exasperated, and my father surprises me.

  “Son, if I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have given you Be. I’m going there to support my most competent editor and find out what’s going on.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I say, feeling emotional, and we say goodbye.

  My father arrives a while later, accompanied by my mother. He is a great businessman, owner of a very successful publishing conglomerate, but despite all the money my parents have, they’re extremely down to earth and united. It was no surprise seeing my mother join us for this conversation. As soon as she sees me, she opens her arms and pulls me into a tight hug.

  “My boy, you look so blue. I’m worried about you,” she says, caressing my face, looking very serious.

  “I’m nervous and worried, Mom.” I breathe deep and turn to my father, who also hugs me. “Thank you for coming.”

  “We would never let you go through this alone,” he says with a comforting smile, and I nod, grateful. “Did your guy find out anything else?”

  “We don’t know yet. We let Moretti do his job and didn’t stand in his way. I need to find out what’s happening, Dad. This whole thing is crushing me. I never thought Mari could do something like that to me, and it hurt me too much. But at the same time, I feel guilty, thinking that I might have been cruel and unfair to her
. If I did, I’ll never forgive myself, never.”

  “Son, don’t be so hard on yourself,” my mother says. “I know you’re suffering because you love her, and I’m sure that if she loves you back, she’ll understand and forgive you. Because that’s what love is, Cadu. True love forgives, understands, endures. Never doubt the power of love.” She caresses my face as she speaks. “Of course, you’ll need to do something to win her back. But we’ll help you. Your family is with you in this.”

  Oddly, when I hear the word family, I think of my brother, and I feel my heart tightening in my chest, as if something really bad is about to happen. Maybe it was a sixth sense. But truth is, something feels off when I think of how my brother had acted and behaved recently.

  “Got it!” Moretti screams, pulling me away from my negative thoughts.

  “What?” Rodrigo jumps and goes to him, followed by me and my parents.

  “Check this out.” He opens an e-mail and gets the paper to compare it. “It’s completely different. Just what I thought. He broke into her account, altered the messages, and printed it.”

  “And what about those e-mails sent from another account on Mari’s behalf?” I feel dizzy with the whole situation.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s a fake. Look, I need the network’s administrator’s password. I want to hack into this guy’s account,” he says, and we stare at each other, not knowing what the password might be.

  “I don’t have it. Should I have it?” I ask, confused.

  “No. Normally, someone in the IT department has it. Usually the person responsible for all the IT issues and one other employee in the IT department. Of course you can’t ask this guy directly, but somebody else should have access to it.” I think about it for a few minutes, until I think of a guy.

  “I know it! Guilherme!” All eyes turn to me and I explain. “Guilherme is our senior analyst. He’s a level below Miguel, and he’s surely the person who has access to this information, besides him.” Moretti nods in agreement, and I go to my office to check the file on my computer, where all our employees’ information is stored. I quickly find his name and call his cell phone. He answers after three rings, sounding sleepy.