Well, this is stupid, I thought. I wasn’t going to worry about it anymore and just see how things were once he got back. He obviously had a lot going on over there and a lot on his mind.
Friday I was in my office going through emails. I was habitually bad about putting them off until the week’s end and then would have to spend several hours Sunday night trying to get caught up. It didn’t take me long to notice that my old friend Katya was back, emailing him constantly. What I noticed even faster, though, was that he was quickly responding to her within minutes of her email, all throughout the day. Communication is spotty, MY ASS.
Now I know he couldn’t email me anytime he wanted because it was coming from his work address. I got that. But I was getting these business-like texts every few days and he was talking to her nearly every day?! To be fair, they were all about her job. She had finally gotten a job with an annuity company, which was conveniently located in the very same office building as him. She had just started it and was already having second thoughts about her ability to stay there. Welcome to the real world, toots.
But her emails had this sense of intimacy toward him that I just couldn’t shake. She seemed unjustifiably upset that she wasn’t able to talk to him.
__________________________
From: Katya Batsevich
Sent: Sunday, June 17th. 7:54 p.m.
To: Wynne, Matt
Subject:
I don’t think I can do this job… I’m scared
__________________________
From: Wynne, Matt
Sent: Monday, June 18th. 4:50 a.m.
To: Katya Batsevich
Subject:
You can TOTALLY do it, have a great first day
__________________________
From: Katya Batsevich
Sent: Tuesday, June 19th. 6:51 p.m.
To: Wynne, Matt
Subject:
It is so frustrating I can never TTY anymore. I don’t think I can do this. Was listening to this guy cold calling… This SUX! I don’t know anyone here! :(((
__________________________
From: Wynne, Matt
Sent: Wednesday, June 20th. 1:30 a.m.
To: Katya Batsevich
Subject:
Cold calling is a minor part of the business! You’ll be fine!
__________________________
From: Katya Batsevich
Sent: Wednesday, June 20th. 11:19 a.m.
To: Wynne, Matt
Subject:
I am super frustrated and disappointed this can’t work out. I can’t do this. Nothing matters anymore.
__________________________
From: Wynne, Matt
Sent: Wednesday, June 20th. 7:36 p.m.
To: Katya Batsevich
Subject:
It is going to work out. I need it to work out.
I need it to?! I’m sorry, but what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Why did HE need this job to work out so well for her? My heart began pounding and I felt like my blood was about to bubble over in my veins. I didn’t know what the hell he had going on with this chick, but I didn’t like it one bit. I’m a fairly laid-back individual. I don’t completely lose my shit that often, but when I do, it’s impressive. And I was about to impress the hell out of him at that moment. Without even thinking, I shot off a text to him immediately. He was probably heading to bed for the evening. Good, maybe he’ll lose some sleep over it, I thought.
Just what the hell is going on with you and that girl? I get your all-business texts every couple of days but you have time to talk to her all day long!? Is this all just some stupid game to you?! Here I am missing you and for what? So you can reassure her about her job IN YOUR BUILDING?! I am not stupid, Matt.
Radio silence. That fucking jackass.
I stayed up late that night, knowing that he would be waking up soon and that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t gotten my text before he fell asleep. I’m still not sure if he got it and ignored it, or had just read it that morning. But he did respond.
Mallory, I know you are not stupid. She is a family friend for many years. High strung. You are the ONLY one I am physical with. Not playing games at all, will show you when I get back home. Will call Sunday when I get to ATL. IMU
Okay, deep breaths, deep breaths. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe she was just a family friend. After all, she sent these emails to work where everyone knows they are monitored. Maybe I was just going a little bit crazy from not having my normal contact with him. I tried to relax and remind myself that he would be coming home on Sunday and I needed to just wait and deal with him then.
As promised, he called me once he was back in the States. His flight had been re-routed to New York first due to some storms in Atlanta, so he had a long layover waiting for a flight back home. He and his traveling companions had parted ways and gone off to their own gates. I was almost too nervous to answer the phone.
“Hey sweetie!” he said, sounding perfectly cheerful. “How are you, honey?”
“Hey stranger,” I replied, a bit guarded. I immediately broke down into those pathetic silent tears when I heard his voice on the other line. I wasn’t about to let him know how hard the last week had been for me.
He launched into how crazy his flights had been and how he ended up in New York instead of home. He told me more about his visits: how the directors are having trouble just covering the basic needs of the orphans with what little funding they receive and how he planned to help. He asked what he had missed on "Mad Men" and basically acted like everything was totally normal between us. I was glad I hadn’t pissed him off too much with my text, but it wasn’t until I got off the phone that I realized we had not said one single word about that entire situation. I was just so relieved to have him on the phone with me that I hadn’t paid attention, and before I knew it the conversation was over.
He texted to let me know when he finally got back to Atlanta.
Home safe, sooo tired. Talk tomorrow!
The next day he called me as usual, but he was completely exhausted. “Oh my God, babe, I can barely keep my eyes open! I’m already on my third cup of coffee!”
“Then why don’t you go home and sleep, dummy?”
“I can’t! I wish I could, but I’ve never been able to sleep like that. It’s going to take me a good three or four days to recover from the jet lag.”
“What do you mean? You can’t ever just take a nap?”
“Not really, I have a hard time staying asleep at night as it is. If I took a nap, I’d be awake at 3:00 in the morning!”
“Well that’s too bad for you, because I can sleep anytime, anywhere. You just let me know when you need me to sleep, and I can make it happen!” I taunted.
“Man, I wish I could do that.”
“I wish you were here. I bet I could get you tired enough to fall asleep…”
“I bet you could too, and that sounds like a helluva lot more fun than jet lag!”
He was back. My Mattie was back, definitely more tired and a little subdued over the next few days. But by Friday he was his old flirty self again, calling me baby, and asking me what I was wearing. I pretended not to notice that we hadn’t even discussed the texts about Katya. I just saw no good opportunity and now a week later, no real reason to bring it up. But don’t think I didn’t notice that the emails from her to him had completely stopped. He must have asked her not to send him emails at work. I wondered what possible reason he could have given her. She wouldn’t need to email him if she was in his building now. I still felt like there was something not quite right going on. The whole situation made my stomach hurt.
That next Friday I was leaving for Chicago. The message board group where I had become friends with Cecilia had been together now for over 10 years. With about 400 members, we were located all over the country. We had women in every state who worked in just about every industry imaginable, so it was really just a wealth of both friendship and information. We had all gotten to know each oth
er pretty well and had set up several get-togethers in the bigger cities. I had previously been unable to attend all but one small one in D.C., usually because of my ex’s employment issues. This time, I was meeting about 15 of my closest internet friends at the swanky Sofitel Hotel for a weekend of drinking, dancing, and debauchery.
I kept toying with Matt, asking him if he was sure he didn’t have any clients in Chicago. My return flight home was actually going through Atlanta, but with only a 45 minute layover, not enough time for us to actually see each other. He promised we would stay in touch over that weekend since I wouldn’t have to worry about my kids being around and what showed up on my phone. As soon as I got into the hotel room, I texted him a picture of the bed I was going to be sharing with Angie, one of my friends from Maryland, with Wish you were here written across it.
Would like to dance on that bed tonight, he replied.
I’d like to dance IN that bed with you.
Let me just hop on a plane, see you in 6(??) hours, sweetie…
Very funny, but you’re going to have to settle for pictures I think.
Personal demo is better. BTW, I want you.
The feeling is very, very mutual. Very. I responded. I was grinning from ear to ear. Angie was eyeing me suspiciously like, “Who the heck are you texting?”
Hey, I finally broke down and got an iPhone today. But I think I hate it.
Yay Mattie! Welcome to the 21st century! You’ll get used to it, just give it time, I hated it at first, too. It was neat to see his texts now come across as blue instant messages instead.
Throughout the rest of the evening, I texted him silly pictures of us doing shots, dancing in clubs, and making complete drunken asses of ourselves in general. I was having one of the best times of my life, but I still wished he could have been there with me. I knew he would have loved it.
Angie and I were shopping on Michigan Avenue when he called me that Saturday around lunchtime. I told her I had to take a call and stepped away. He sounded pretty upset. Apparently Ivan was arrested late the night before for underage DUI and consumption down in Sharpsburg. Ivan had always been his troubled kid. They had always butted heads, practically from the day he was adopted nine years ago.
“I let my kid spend the night in jail, Mal. He’s still down there in a Coweta County holding cell!”
“Well, what else were you supposed to do?”
“I could have bailed him out last night, I guess. But I’m always bailing him out of everything. I’m sure he expected me to this time. Speeding tickets, car accidents, it never ends with him. I feel really guilty that I let him stay there, but I still don’t want to go get him!”
“I would have done the same thing, babe,” I replied. “He’s had it so good for years and it seems like he could use a little tough love right now. What are you going to do now? Is he still going to live at home?”
“He has no place to go. And no money. He’s been looking for jobs but they are crappy part-time minimum wage ones.”
“Can you make him get a full-time job?” I suggested. “Maybe that would keep him out of trouble?”
“I could, but what I really want him to do is go to school. College, trade school, anything other than sitting on his ass in my house playing video games and being a surly little asshole to everyone. And now this going on his record isn’t going to help him get a job…” he added.
“Ugh, I’m sorry, babe. I know how upset you must be. You’ve done so much for him and he just doesn’t appreciate anything he’s got. I would have killed for someone to pay for me to go to college full-time and not require me to do anything but study.”
“I know. I just don’t get where I went wrong. The other two are great; neither of them is like this. He’s incredibly lazy and entitled and just doesn’t give a shit.”
“I’m really sorry. It’s not you, he’s just a different kid, different personality, different friends,” I continued. “If it were me, his options would be to either work full-time, go to school full-time, or get out. His choice.”
“Yeah, I just really don’t know what to do. I’m so over his behavior.” I could hear the frustration in his voice.
“Do you think he could be doing drugs at all?” I asked carefully. “It seems like that would make him surly and lazy and just have no motivation for anything else, you know?”
“I have no idea. Maybe pot, although nothing would surprise me at this point.”
“What does Sandra think?”
“I haven’t even told her where he is yet. She thinks he just crashed at a friend’s house.”
“Oh.”
I found that… interesting. We must have been talking forever and I felt like Angie was bound to suspect something.
“Hey Matt, I want to keep talking to you, babe, but I’ve got to run. I’m out with my roomie and I sort of ditched her back in Macy’s a while ago. Can I call you later?”
“No problem, sweetie, we’ll talk later. Have fun and be careful tonight!”
“Okay, I will. I miss you!”
“Miss you too, babe. Bye.”
That night we had an absolute ball. We went to the top of the Hancock and hung out in the Signature Lounge to watch the sunset over the city. Then we cabbed it over to Navy Pier and walked the length of it, drinking vodka lemonade and watching fireworks over the water. The weather was perfect–a clear summer night, low 80’s with a cool breeze. We hung around to see a band at the end of the pier and then headed back to the entrance at midnight. We were going to take some cabs back, but we ended up negotiating a stretch limo for a steal so we could all ride back to the hotel together. We went back out to a club at a ridiculous hour of the morning and danced for several hours before walking back to the hotel at four a.m. The entire weekend had just been spectacular.
That Sunday we were all taking off at different times. Some of us had flown in, some had driven, and some took the train. We got packed up and checked out so we could say our goodbyes to those leaving early. Then we split into smaller groups for brunch. By the time we got back to the hotel to grab our bags for the airport, it was getting really stormy outside. I received an email from USAir that because of strong thunderstorms in the area, my flight out of O’Hare was going to be delayed at least an hour. That meant there was no question I would miss my connection in Atlanta.
I called the airline and the best solution they could offer me was to book me on a later flight out of Atlanta. Like three hours later. Three hour delay, you say? I’LL TAKE IT.
Naturally, I wanted to let Matt know about this new development as soon as possible. It was absolutely pouring outside so we were waiting out the storm in the hotel lobby before trying to catch the L back to O’Hare. I texted him and told him that I was now going to have a THREE HOUR DELAY and to call me. He texted back that he couldn’t call just yet but he read me loud and clear. I wouldn’t actually get there until 7 p.m. or so. I knew it would take an act of Congress to get him out to the airport on a Sunday night. But I kept my hopes high that with enough notice, maybe he could come up with a plausible excuse–a client in town for dinner unexpectedly, perhaps. I just wanted to see him and kiss on him for a few minutes.
I texted back: I realize it’s not like we could go get a hotel room or anything, but just to see your face would mean the world to me.
I know, sweetie. That’s a tough one, though. I just don’t know, but I’m trying to think of something.
Think harder. :)
LOL going out in a little bit, will call you.
A few of us were leaving at roughly the same time. Once the rain eased up we quickly headed to the train station together. About 30 minutes into the ride, I saw my phone ringing. I was surrounded by my friends and the clacking of the train was so loud, there was no way I could have answered. He left a voicemail but I couldn’t hear that either. I texted him that I was on a very loud train but would call him back ASAP. Once we got to the airport, I listened to his voice message and my heart sank.
“H
ey Mallory, it’s Matt. I stepped out to buy some stuff for dinner that I’m making, and I just wanted to say hello. Um, we’ll talk later. I’ll do what I can… later. Tough weekend for me though, in general, but we will see. Okay… talk to you soon, sweetie.”
I knew he wasn’t going to come out. I don’t know why I even let myself believe that maybe he would. Once I said goodbye to the other girls, I called him from my gate. “You’re not going to make it, are you?”
“I’m going to try, sweetie, but I just don’t see a way right now. Anna is coming home from the beach tonight. She’s been gone for a week, so I can’t just take off as soon as she gets here.”
I was, as usual, trying to be the cool laid-back chick who doesn’t get upset. “Are you trying to say that your daughter is more important than me?!” I replied sarcastically.
“Funny girl. You know I want to see you, I just can’t promise anything.”
“All right. Well, I gotta go. We’re boarding in a little bit.”
“Have a good flight, babe,” he replied.
Fine. Whatever. Who cares what kind of flight I had? I wasn’t going to see him, and I wasn’t going to have anything to do for three hours in Atlanta, that was for sure. I was so disappointed. I have always felt like, as an adult, if you really care about something, you make it a priority. I clearly wasn’t a priority that day. I doubt he even tried to think of an excuse. If our roles had been reversed, I would have moved heaven and earth to make a 25 minute drive out to the airport to see him, even if it was for 10 minutes. It would surely beat a six hour drive! I hated the way I could go from feeling like I was the only girl in the world to chewed-up gum on the bottom of his shoe. And even worse, I hated that I let him make me feel that way. The old Mallory would have told him to get bent.
When my plane arrived in Atlanta, for a moment, I had a brief glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he would surprise me. But when I texted him that I had landed, he responded:
The Other Other Woman Page 9
