by E. J. Noyes
When I returned to the lounge, Mark was sprawled on the couch, his legs stretched out with his ankles crossed. I set my phone down on the coffee table and stared at it as though I might force it to ring. I couldn’t even bother attempting to sound polite. “Can you piss off please? I need some space, Mark. We can talk tomorrow.”
He nodded and pushed himself to his feet, walking to the door without argument. Mark stepped into the hall then turned around, holding out his hand to me. “Belley, I love you. I really am sorry.”
I took it, squeezing. “I know. I love you too, even when you’re a fucking idiot.” Squeezing harder, I said, “But I’m still very mad at you for what you did today.”
He smiled sadly. “I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t.”
Once the door clicked closed behind him I stalked to the bar in my great room, snatched a bottle of my favorite whisky and a glass. I poured two fingers, took a deep breath and chugged it. Sacrilege for a forty-year-old Macallan but at that moment, I just didn’t care. The shudder came quickly, followed by the almost eye-watering burn through my throat and nose. I set the bottle back on the shelf, carried the glass to the kitchen and dropped it in the sink.
It broke.
I left the broken glass where it lay and moved to the couch. Pulling the too-long sleeves of Audrey’s sweatshirt over my hands, I drew my knees to my chin. My chest was tight with that awful feeling of knowing I’d behaved badly. I’d thrown everything she’d given me back in her face. In as many words, I’d accused her—wrongly—of being a gold digger when she’d never asked me for a single material thing.
Really, this had nothing to do with money. I could almost laugh at the absurdity of it because almost everything else in my life did. Layered above that was by taking so long to reveal our relationship, it had turned into something so huge that it’d exploded in my hands. And then my whole sorry your mom’s sick, but hey I had a bad day too. I was such a shit. My phone remained silent.
I gave up waiting for her to call me, dragged myself upstairs and climbed into bed, still wearing Audrey’s hoodie which smelled like her, as did the pillow on the other side of the mattress. Shampoo, lotion, perfume and something else I could never quite pin down. I curled up, face buried in the softness and scent of her. I’d once admitted to her that on nights she wasn’t there I would sleep with my face in her pillow. She’d laughed, run upstairs to get it and made a big show of rubbing her face on it like a cat.
Our fight looped around and around in my head in glorious Technicolor and with each repeat, I felt sicker. I called and left another message for her then around one a.m., I phoned my therapist and left a message with her answering service. “It’s Isabelle Rhodes, I need an appointment with Doctor Baker. Urgently.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next morning, bleary eyed and upset, I tried to make myself look like I hadn’t been awake all night and went to work. Dr. Baker’s receptionist called to let me know my therapist could fit me in but not until late afternoon, which gave me all day to dwell on everything that’d gone wrong in the past twenty-four hours before I could talk to someone about it. Super. I managed to swallow coffee but no food because I couldn’t fit anything solid in around my nausea.
In my hazy state, I could only deal with one crisis at a time, and given that Audrey was incommunicado, I focused on the one that was right in front of me. Mark’s sale proposal. My lawyer agreed to look at the contract immediately so I couriered it over, and we arranged a meeting for the next day. One task completed. A million more to go.
Whenever I had a break, I called Audrey and left voice mails. I sent texts begging her to call me so we could talk. I even emailed, which was such an awful, impersonal way to convey my message but I was desperate. Nothing. She had gone totally radio silent. I was worried about her, about her mama and it didn’t help that I couldn’t think of how to apologize for the fact that I was obviously a completely irrational bitch who ignored the important things to focus on micro facts.
She didn’t call me back.
Paranoia set in, and I started scouring morbid news articles and death notices. For both her and her mother. Mercifully, I found nothing, though an Audrey Graham from Riverside County, California passed away in her sleep at age ninety-four. May she rest in peace.
Then I got angry. Angry at my Audrey for ignoring me. The decent thing would be to let me know she was all right. Alive. Even a text would do. But there was nothing. And I was upset with myself for being angry at her when she was possibly dealing with a dying mother.
Late morning, Mark barged into my office, closing the door behind him. “What’s going on?”
I didn’t move my eyes from my laptop screen and an insistent client email. “What do you mean?”
“HR just sent me a leave request for Audrey Graham, which was emailed at two this morning, and you look like hell.”
“I think we can agree I’ve looked like hell since yesterday’s meeting,” I mumbled distractedly.
“Come on, Belle…”
I couldn’t meet his eyes and settled for staring at his shoulder. “Mark, I’ve been such an idiot. I’ve fucked everything up. Audrey. You. Us. The business.”
He sat on the edge of my desk. “Tell me.” His voice was low and nonjudgmental.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “Not here.” If I opened the gate, I’d never be able to close it again.
Mark’s hand landed gently on my shoulder. “Okay. But if you want to talk you know where I am.”
“Mhmm.” Finally I met his gentle eyes and was undone. Mark lifted me from where I was slumped in my chair, supporting me and holding me tight as I cried and cried.
I hadn’t cried at all since she left the night before. It would have been the smart thing, to let a little of the water out of the dam so it didn’t burst at an inappropriate time and place. Like my office. With all our staff outside.
My quiet sobbing finally tired itself out and I was left empty, clutching and crumpling Mark’s shirt. He released me and his face was so kind that I nearly started crying again. He ran his thumbs gently under my eyes. “My little Belley. It’ll be okay. You’re okay.”
I’d left a very conspicuous patch of tears on the chest of his shirt. My breathing was that awful half-hiccupping, half-hyperventilating-after-crying kind. Ugh.
Mark lifted my chin. “Go and clean up. I’ll tell them to hold calls and keep everyone out until you emerge.” He kissed the top of my head and left me by myself in my office.
He was right. Time to get your shit together, Isabelle. Step one: fake feeling fabulous by looking fabulous. In my bathroom, I studied myself in the full-length mirror, drew my shoulders back and raised my chin. I’d seen worse, I was fixable. I ran my hands through my hair then retucked and smoothed my blouse. Step two: repair your face.
Clutching my makeup bag, I stared at my face. I could work with this. Red eyes but not swollen. Thank you makeup gods for waterproof mascara. Wouldn’t it be nice if everything were as easily fixed as a makeup repair after you’d ruined it by crying?
Back at my desk and admittedly feeling slightly better, I buzzed Clare. When she appeared thirty seconds later, she gave no indication that my appearance was anything other than usual.
“Clare, I need you to check something for me.”
“Yes, Ms. Rhodes?”
“I need you to find Audrey Graham and make sure she’s okay.” Perhaps pushing boundaries, but I had to know and she wasn’t answering any of my frantic attempts to get in contact.
The edge of Clare’s mouth twitched. “Would you like me to pass along a message?”
“No. If you talk to her just…I don’t know, make something up about her time off or something.”
“Will do.”
Having given Clare a detective mission eased my hurt fractionally, enough that I managed to compartmentalize my personal issues down to where I could focus on what I needed to do at work.
I mulled over Mark’s financial offer and arrived at a ninety-ni
ne percent firm decision about what I was going to do. But I didn’t feel any lighter for it. Clare brought lunch for me to pick at. I stared at my personal cell, willing it to ring. But it didn’t.
Just before four, as I was closing everything down to leave for therapy, Clare rushed back in after a perfunctory knock. “Ms. Rhodes, I found her. Sort of.”
I exhaled. “You’re wonderful.” I didn’t want to know how she’d achieved this miracle of Audrey location. If Audrey had answered the phone for Clare but not me, I might actually have a full breakdown. “How?”
“Well, her phone goes right to voice mail so that’s a dead end. But when Georgia and I had drinks last month, she told me that Captain Graham was talking one morning at the airport about her personal plane, and that it was cute as heck.” Clare shook her head. “Sorry. So I called the airports near the address listed for her mom on Audrey’s next of kin forms. Asked some questions, told a few not quite truths…”
I made a get on with it gesture. “And?”
She grinned. “Captain Graham’s plane is now parked at Lake Elmo airport just outside of St. Paul. Next I was going to ring all the commercial airlines to see if she’d boarded a flight but thankfully I didn’t have to because that would have been harder to lie about.”
I stood and slung my laptop bag over my shoulder. “Clare, have I told you recently how great you are?”
My assistant grinned. “Yes, Ms. Rhodes. About three seconds ago. Is there anything you need me to do with this information?”
“No thank you. That’s all.” There was nothing I could do, and I almost felt worse for knowing that Audrey was fine but obviously didn’t want anything to do with any of us.
Clare left my office with a little bounce in her step. I made a note on my desk jotter to contact HR. After everything she’d done for me recently, Clare would be getting a five-figure bonus this year.
I stopped by Mark’s office on my way out. I’d revoked his access to our servers, client portfolios and company accounts. He was hunched over his desk, chin in palm, staring at his screen. Since his bombshell the day before, it was like he’d shrunk. Not physically, but it was as if all his bravado had deserted him. On the flip side, he seemed calmer, as though losing the stress of managing accounts had actually helped.
When he realized I was in his office, he looked up at me, blinking slowly as though he’d just woken from a too-short nap. “Belle. You good?”
“Yeah I’m okay. I’m headin’ off.” Heading, I mentally corrected myself.
“Oh.” Mark fumbled for some papers. “I’ve still got Audrey’s personal leave request here. Did you want to see it? Technically she’s not eligible for that mu—”
“No. Sign off on it,” I said immediately. Nervously chewing the inside of my lip, I followed with, “How long has she asked for?”
“Two weeks. I’ll have Tamara tell Schwartz he’s on the A roster. Should we start looking for a replacement? Or just a relief pilot? I’ll need to do it soon.” He paused to clear his throat. “Or…you can?”
“She hasn’t resigned, Mark.” After a beat I mumbled, “Not yet, at least.” Thinking about her quitting her job because she couldn’t stand to be near me yanked the scab off an unhealed wound.
“I don’t think she will,” he said quietly.
I hoisted my laptop bag back up my shoulder. “What makes you say that?”
“People don’t get upset about things that don’t mean anything to them, Belle.”
* * *
I must have looked really terrible because Dr. Baker actually gave me a hug before guiding me to my chair. The crying began almost as soon as I told her about the past few days. She pushed the tissues closer. “Well then. That’s certainly a lot of upheaval. Where shall we start? Audrey or with your work trouble?”
I shrugged. Both were painful and difficult so why did it matter? “It’s just so much all at once, you know? Like it never rains, it pours.”
“Yes and bad things come in threes.” Smiling, Dr. Baker waved dismissively. “I don’t believe in superstition. Except when the Patriots are playing,” she added with a laugh.
I smiled through my tears. “Sacrilege.”
With a smile, she switched gears from personal back to professional. “Let’s start with the work stuff. How do you feel about it?”
“Hurt, blindsided, angry, afraid.” I sniffed. “I just feel like I don’t even know him.”
“He’s still the same man as before, Isabelle. Still your friend and I think you both need each others’ support now more than ever.”
“I know. And I feel like a shit for being nasty about it. But I was just so angry at him for the way he went about it. Like he did everything exactly the way he knows I hate, by treating me like I’m not worthy of being included.”
“Did he apologize?”
“Yes.”
“And have you apologized? Talked about it?”
“Sort of.” I sighed. “Today was so hectic that we haven’t had a chance to sit down and have an argument about our argument.”
Dr. Baker smiled, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “And what about his proposal? Have you made a decision? You don’t have to tell me what it is, if you have.”
“I have made a decision, yes.” If I didn’t tell her what I’d decided then how would I work through my turmoil? I dabbed under my eyes before answering. “If my lawyer’s happy, I’m going to accept.”
“Good for you.” Another line of therapist scrawl joined the scribbles on her page. “I think it’s obvious where the fear comes from. Mark’s been there with you right from the conception of the company. Of course it’s unnerving to take the helm on your own, but I don’t believe that’s all there is to the fear.”
“What else could it be then?”
“Honestly, I think that you’re afraid taking full control is going to prove all these naysayers right. Everyone over the years who’s implied you weren’t capable or that you didn’t belong. That you’re just a small town southern gal who’s way out of her depth.”
Mulling it over only took a few moments. She was right. “I think that’s a fair point.”
Dr. Baker penned a few words on her notepad then looked back to me. “You’ve made enormous progress since we began our sessions, Isabelle, but I think you have a tendency to focus only on the negative ‘what if’ scenarios.”
I frowned. “Doesn’t everyone do that?”
“To a degree…” She snuck a peek at the clock. “I’d like to come back to that another time because I think we need to address your other concern today.”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“I think we can both agree that this situation with Audrey is partly due to spectacularly poor timing, yes?” At my nod, she continued, “Her mother’s illness combined with the belief that you’d somehow broken a promise you’d made are likely the root cause of her reaction.”
“I know, but she didn’t give me a chance to explain. And she’s normally so calm that it threw me, and I guess I panicked.” I sniffed quickly a few times, trying to stop the fresh flood of tears I could feel trying to escape. “And to not contact me at all? I’m so worried about her and her mama.”
“I agree, it’s not an ideal scenario and I can see how you’re upset about that. I would be too.” After another quick scribble, she asked, “Is Audrey close to her family? You haven’t met them yet, have you?”
“Not yet. She gets along with her brother and is close to her mother. Her father’s dead. He was…abusive.” Briefly, I summarized what Audrey had told me.
Dr. Baker nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like she’s a very strong and resilient woman.”
“She is. And everything else.” I gave up trying to stop myself from crying and reached for another tissue.
“I might be reaching, but based on her past and her reactions, it seems as though what Audrey fears is being diminished, made to feel she’s not worth someone’s time. By refusing to tell Mark, you inadvertently played to her f
ears.”
Turning to the side, I blew my nose and tossed the tissue into the trash bin helpfully placed near my feet. “I didn’t mean to do that. Really, I didn’t.”
“Of course you didn’t, Isabelle,” she soothed. “It’s just unfortunate that your fears happen to play against hers.” Dr. Baker leaned forward, her tone gentle. “Tell me. What are you afraid of?”
She already knew of course, but clearly wanted me to verbalize it. I couldn’t help my lip trembling. “I’m afraid of needing. And then having the thing I need taken from me.”
She nodded. “Yes. And I think that’s why you didn’t tell Mark. There are other reasons, sure, but I think it was because you didn’t want to admit how much you need Audrey, to him and to yourself. In case it didn’t work out, or he disapproved, or even just because putting it out in the world means someone can turn it against you.”
Thanks, Doc. Really.
Though I knew it was pointless, after therapy I asked Penny to drive me to Crown Heights. Pen pulled over, parked and waited silently while I craned my neck to look out the window. Unsurprisingly there were no lights on in Audrey’s apartment. I turned my phone over and over in my hand. “Has she called you, Pen?”
Her hands tightened on the wheel. “Yes, last night just before she left. But not since.” Pen’s tone told me everything. She knew what had happened.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked and put you in an awkward position.” Rubbing a hand over my prickling eyes, I asked her to take me home.
“Yes, Ms. Rhodes,” she said kindly.
The drive home was unusually fast, traffic flowing as though moving out of the way to let me through. She parked and I collected all my things while she opened the door for me. When I stumbled getting out of the car, Penny took my arm to steady me.
“Thanks, Pen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Of course.” After a short pause she spoke cautiously, “Ms. Rhodes…maybe I’m overstepping, but don’t write her off. She’s not good with rejection, whether it really is rejection or just something she thinks is.” Penny smiled softly. “She’s a good person and I know she cares about you.”
