by Dylan Allen
“Yes, someone call security.” I shouted without taking eyes off him.
“I’m about to beat his ass, and I guess I can start now and stop when they get up here.” I drew my fist back.
“For fuck’s sake!” He screamed, putting his hand in front of my face. “Fine, fine! I looked in her employee file, got her date of birth, and hired a private investigator. I knew she was hiding something. Clearly, I was right.”
Then he shouted at the room as a whole. “If any of you had bothered to look into who you were hiring; you would have found it first.”
I released his lapels and stepped back.
Our CEO, who was still in the room, stepped forward. “You looked in her employee file?”
“Yes. So? I am the General Counsel. I can look in anything I want.”
“We’ll see what HR has to say about this, Matthew.”
He turned to me. “Simon, security is on their way, I suggest you go and cool off before they arrive.”
Grateful for his kindness, I turn to leave the room. But no way am I going to cool off.
I walked out of that conference room on a mission.
An hour later, I am at LaSalle and Willis’ offices, standing in the reception. The receptionist finally looks up and asks dispassionately, “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I am here to see Adelaide Dennis.”
“Are you with the press? They left here yesterday after we informed them she no longer worked for us.”
“She no longer works here?” The air leaves my chest.
“No, she doesn’t. Are you from the press? I can give you a copy of our prepared statement.” She starts to hand me a media packet.
“No, I am not. I am a friend. Do you know how I can reach her? Her number isn’t working.” I hear the desperation in my voice, but I don’t care.
“I can’t give you any further information.” She starts to look at me nervously, reaching over to pick up her phone. “If you don’t leave I will call security.”
That’s the last thing I need.
I turn away and leave, feeling like my whole world has just slipped through my fingers.
December 14, 2014
It has been two weeks without a single word from Addie. Fourteen days, six hours, and 13 minutes.
I am ready to lose my fucking mind.
I’ve tried everything. Cara and Louis have been incommunicado as they have been with the Paris Ballet on tour in Australia for the last two weeks. Neither one of them responding to my voicemails, texts, or emails.
Sleep has become something I can only do fitfully. I eat only when forced to by Mercy, and work is a disaster.
The only bright side is that Matthew has been fired. Apparently, stealing an employee’s information is a crime. They let him avoid involving the police by “resigning”. It’s a small victory, but I feel like I’ve done something for Addie.
Her apartment is vacant, her emails bounce back. It’s like she has disappeared, and I’m sitting here, thinking I need to hire a private investigator myself to find her.
I pull out my phone to do a search on my browser, and for the hundredth time today, the selfie we took in Paris is the first thing I see. I’ve made it my phone’s wallpaper.
I can’t believe how fleeting that happiness was. I don’t want to believe Addie is gone without me being able to find her.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, head in my hands, staring at the picture of the most beautiful woman in the world. Holding her in my hands, yet she is so far out of reach.
Mercy and Henry come in from their jaunt down to the market. Mercy stops short when she sees me.
“Simon, son. What’s wrong?” She asks as she plops Henry down on her way to the kitchen. He crawls his way to me and immediately grabs for my phone.
I hand it over without much protest and lean back to stare at the ceiling. I haven’t really talked to Mercy about Addie.
She was here the night we all watched the CNN story about her, and she fumed about her, called her a liar and a cheat. That day, I didn’t say anything in Addie’s defense. I was in shock and I didn’t know how I felt.
She hasn’t said a word since, and honestly, I haven’t felt like talking about it. Kyle has stopped asking me if I’d heard from her a few days ago when I nearly ripped his head off while playing rugby.
“Everything.” I respond, not bothering to hide how bleak I feel.
Henry is banging on my phone and screaming, “A-eee A-eee.” He misses her, too. I feel completely helpless. I grab my laptop to resume my search for a PI.
“What does that mean, Simon? What do you mean, what’s right? You still moping over that girl?” The harsh derision in her voice makes me look at her.
“That girl?” I repeat slowly as I feel my ire rise. Mercy is oblivious of my tone.
“She was no good, Simon. Listen, I didn’t protect you from your mother, but I’ll be damned if I let it happen twice.” She starts to unload the groceries as she speaks.
“I couldn’t believe it when she showed up here looking like she was the one who was hurt.”
My brain registers the words she speaks and my body reacts before I can really process it. I am up and across the room in the kitchen in an instant.
“What do you mean she showed up here?”
“Calm down. Don’t worry, I sent her away.”
I try. I try so hard to take a calming breath. I remind myself this woman has been like a mother to me.
I bite out. “Mercy. When was this?”
When she hears my tone, she stops her unloading and looks at me. Her eyes worried and scared. Her hands are wringing nervously in front of her as she watches me cautiously before she speaks.
“The day after you got back from Paris.” The last word in her sentence is almost a squeak.
“What?” I shout. I can’t control my temper at this point. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I didn’t think you cared, Simon! You haven’t said a word.” Her eyes grow wide. But then, she raises her chin to look me square in the eye. “I think you’re better off without her anyway.”
Something in me breaks. A reserve I’ve been holding comes completely undone as I realize I’ve wasted two weeks looking for Addie and this woman has had the key to her the whole time. I shout at Mercy, in a way that later, will make me feel a deep sense of shame.
“Better off? I am dying without her. She is the first person to love me without obligation!” She flinches, but I don’t care. “She didn’t choose her father any more than I chose my mother. But she chose me! Me! No one has chosen me before. Not even you.” I am winded with the effort of my tirade, but I need information. I lean on the counter, head bowed, and try to control my voice.
“What did she say?”
Mercy looks at me, eyes filled of sorrow and regret. She walks over to her purse, head down.
“Mercy, what did she say?” I ask impatiently.
She turns around to face me and holds out a crumpled envelope.
“I don’t know why I held on to it. I am sorry I kept it from you, Simon. I thought I was protecting you.”
I snatch the envelope from her and smooth it out.
Scrawled on the outside, in Addie’s awful left-handed scratch, is my name.
I open it carefully and sit down to read it.
“Dear Simon,
First, I want to say I am so sorry. I am sorry I didn’t tell you about my father myself. I am sorry you found out the way you did, and I am sorry I am not able to have this conversation with you in person.
LaSalle and Willis has offered me a position in the New York City office. I accepted. This career is all I know. Until I met you, it was all I ever wanted. I wish I had time to talk to you about this, but I lost my phone yesterday, and I didn’t have any time to decide whether or not to accept the offer. It was either this position in New York or nothing.
I haven’t been honest with you about my birth name and who my father is. I want you t
o know nothing else between us was false. Especially not my vow of love. I love you in a way I have never loved anyone before. You gave me a hope I hadn’t dared allow myself to have.
When you read this, please call me and let me know you’re okay. I hope this is not the end of us. I know long distance relationships are hard, but for you, I would try anything.
I hope you feel the same way. Here is my mother’s phone number and my private email. You should be able to reach me using one of these.
I hope I’ll hear from you, but I will understand if I don’t. I know I haven’t treated your fairly or well.
Please know that for me, it will always be you.
Yours,
Addie
C- 281-555-7779
Email: [email protected]
I read her letter several times before I am able to act. Fuck an email or a phone call. It’s time to go and get my girl back.
December 10, 2014
I’ve been at LaSalle and Wills’ New York office for a week now, and I feel like I am dying a slow death.
I haven’t heard from Simon. I can only assume he got my letter and has decided he doesn’t want anything to do with me. Which hurts me so much I can’t allow myself to think about it. I wouldn’t be able to function if I let the pain take over.
Being in New York City is bittersweet.
On the one hand it’s wonderful being able to talk to my family without worrying about time differences and international call charges.
On the other hand, it’s a nightmare being able to talk to my family without worrying about time differences and international call charges.
They call me all the time, several times a day. Everyone except my mother. We haven’t spoken since our blow up when she came to visit me in London. I know I said some terrible things to her that night, but I didn’t understand why she gave up so much for my father.
I love Simon, but I didn’t let that love drive me to give up everything important I have worked my whole life for.
Although, sitting at my desk, I’m not even sure I am living my hopes and dreams. All of my dreams lately seem to be across an ocean and focused on a man I fell in love with, and an organization I volunteered with that let me experience passion in the practice of law.
I sigh and turn back to the contracts I am reviewing. The New York office is much bigger than the London office. Twice as many people means no one but partners have their own offices. I share an office with another junior associate named Margie, who spends most of her time staring at a picture of Henry Cavill she keeps on her desk.
She is currently at lunch, and I have our office to myself. So, I decide to do something I’ve been putting off for months.
I call my mother.
The phone rings twice before she answers.
“Hello.” Her voice is soft but firm, it sounds like the most comforting sound in the world. My eyes fill with tears.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Addie. Hi, baby. How are you?” Her voice is animated and happy, and I am so relieved she is not as petty as I am.
“I’m okay. Settling in. Working. Trying to keep a low profile. How are you?”
“I’m better now that I have heard your voice. Are you happy?” As always, she goes straight to the heart of the matter.
“No.” I answer simply and honestly. It’s not a truth I have been willing to admit to myself until now.
“What’s going on, my love?”
Her use of this term of endearment makes me feel so unworthy. I’ve been terrible to her. I’ve judged her so harshly for loving my father. For not seeking her own independence and for giving up her career to raise and support her family.
“Mommy, I fell in love. And I miss him. I hate my job. I miss London, and I just feel like my whole life is a mess.”
This admission comes pouring out of me. I feel unburdened for having said it.
“Well, that’s wonderful,” my mother chirps.
“What?” Her happy retort shocks me out of my piteous mood. “How is any of what I told you wonderful?”
“Addie, for the last thirteen years you’ve been focused on one thing: Denying your heart any joy. You’ve seen happiness as a sign of weakness, and you’ve shunned it at every turn. You’ve scorned anyone who has chosen it, too.”
I start to protest at this, but she cuts me off.
“Ah, ah, ah… it’s true. I’m your mother, Adelaide, and I can say these things to you.”
I smile at this.
“I know you judge me for not speaking out against your father. I know you judge me for not having a career of my own and for only being your mother. It’s okay. I understand. I am proud of you. If my perceived failures have been your fuel, I am glad. You are such a brilliant woman. You have accomplished so much.” She pauses to take a breath before continuing.
“I want to tell you something about myself, Addie. By the time I met your father, I had already begun my career. I wanted to continue practicing law after we got married, but I also wanted to be present for my children. Your father was gone so much, I decided you would have at least one parent who was available. And I will never regret this.”
“Look at what happened. What would our lives had been if I had been as busy as your father was? When he disappeared, who would have cared for you? What if I had been as much of a stranger as he was?”
“I know you were angry with me, but at least I was here. I could deal with your anger, Addie, but I could never have borne to have not known you well-enough to know the root of it.”
“When you have your own children you will see there is nothing they could do that can stop you loving them. You will suffer every hurt they inflict on you and welcome them back with open arms because they are your babies.”
“And similarly, I loved your father. When I met him, I was a young lawyer with stars in my eyes. I thought he walked on water. He was so handsome, charismatic, and smart and he swept me off my feet.” Her voice is wistful and soft as she continues.
“I fell head over heels in love with him. He read me poetry, bought me rare books and flowers. He really courted me.” She pauses to giggle. “And when we got married, we promised each other so many things. Even though he disappeared and left us, to this day, I know he meant every single one of those things as much as I did. And it is that knowledge that sustains me. I wish for all of my children that kind of love and certainty.”
“So when you, my most stubborn and resistant child, tells me you have fallen in love, I think it is wonderful.”
I am speechless. My mother has never said so much in one conversation. I’ve only ever thought of her as a mother. I had forgotten that she is a woman, too. I feel a fresh wave of shame wash over me.
“Mommy, I am so sorry.”
“Addie, you don’t have to apologize to me. Just tell me all about this young man and why in the world, if you love him, you’re somewhere he is not. And then, I want you to tell me you’re going to rise to face whatever challenge is keeping you apart.”
I sit back and tell my mother the story of us. By the time I hang up, I have a plan and a renewed sense of purpose.
December 18, 2014
Today, I’ve handed in my resignation at LaSalle and Willis. I have given them two weeks’ notice, and they have been very gracious, and I think secretly grateful, in accepting my resignation.
I contacted A Woman’s Worth, the non-profit I volunteered with in London to see if they would consider taking me on staff. They’ve told me they were not in a position to do so at this time, but they did know of a large Domestic Violence Prevention organization that is looking for assistant General Counsel. They have put me in touch with them, and I have an interview with them in London in two days.
I still have had no word from Simon, and I can’t fucking reach Cara to get his number from Louis. I don’t know where in the world those two have disappeared to, but it is making me crazy.
It doesn’t matter. When I’m back in London, I am going straig
ht to Simon’s apartment, and I won’t leave until he at least agrees to hear me out.
He told me he loved me. I know he meant it. If I have to camp out on his doorstep I will.
It’s the end of the day, and for the first time since I started working here, I am leaving the office early enough that I don’t need to call a car service.
I feel light, free, and hopeful.
New York City is already in Christmas’ embrace and awash with lights and wreaths.
I am enchanted as I leave our midtown offices.
This is my first time living in this city, and its vibrancy is intoxicating. London, for all its cosmopolitan glamour, has a bit of a small town feel. There is nothing small town about New York City. It is big and loud. It’s a concrete jungle and you can feel the possibilities just teeming around you. And yet, I yearn to be back in London. It feels like home.
I step out onto 5th avenue and make my way toward 42nd street, the noise—the taxi horns, the brakes squealing, the music blaring, the people chattering, and the cold assail me. I turn my collar up, put my headphones in, and start walking.
George Michael is crooning about careless whispers in my ear when a call interrupts my music. I reach into my pocket for my phone.
I don’t recognize the number, but I answer anyway. I haven’t been here long enough to have the number of everyone who is important saved in my phone yet. I answer quickly.
“Hello?”
“Babe?”
I stop walking and the person behind bumps into me. My heart begins a wild gallop and my hands start to shake.
“Simon?” My voice breaks, barely audible, as my throat closes on the tears of joy and relief that rush to the surface.
“Addie?” He sounds anxious.
“Simon?” My voice is clearer this time
“It’s me, baby. Your voice is so beautiful, Addie. Don’t stop talking.” He sounds so happy; I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Simon.” I can’t believe I am hearing his voice. Nothing coherent registers.
“Addie, where are you?” His voice, so rich and comforting and beautiful, flows into my ears.
