by Alice Bright
"No, not him," she grabbed my arm. "The older Smith." I cocked my head to the side, wondering what Alex's dad could possibly have to say to me.
"What does he need to see me for?" I asked her. While I had met Alex's dad before and spoken with him on occasion, our work rarely intercepted. He had certainly never requested to see me personally before.
Isabelle lowered her voice. "He knows."
"Knows what?"
"He knows," Isabelle insisted. "About you and Alex."
"What?" I squeaked. "How?"
Isabelle leaned closer and told me, "I've worked for the Smiths for a long time, Liz. After awhile, you start to figure things out. And Alex has figured one thing out for sure: you. He hasn't been this crazy about someone in a long time. His father noticed the change and they talked last night for almost two hours after closing. He told his dad he loves you, Liz."
"He loves me?" We hadn't gotten there yet. We hadn't said those words yet. I had only said them to once person before and that person had ripped my heart out of my chest. I still felt raw. I still felt the pain. I didn't want to go talk to Mr. Smith. I didn't want to hear him say that I needed to stay away from his son. I just wanted to go into my office, sit at my desk, and do my job. I had been hoping for a monotonous day of paperwork and clients. I didn't want anything exciting. I didn't want anything that required me to think too hard.
"I've never seen Alex like this," Isabelle told me. "Not even with Tabitha." The door to the office opened and a client walked in. The stout, elderly man mumbled a faint greeting as he took a seat.
"Good morning, Mr. Holt," Isabelle greeted him with a cool, professional smile. To me, she simply nodded, letting me know that I was no longer needed.
Taking the cute, I headed down the hallway. It normally took me only a few steps to get to my office. Today the narrow hall seemed to stretch on for miles. Images from horror movies and snippets of scary music played in my head as I made my way to the office at the end of the hall.
Lifting my hand, I hesitated. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to hear him say that I was damaged goods, that I shouldn't be dating his son. I didn't want to hear that I wasn't good enough. I didn't want to hear that my mom was crazy, that my parents were a huge mess, and that I wasn't the right type of girl for Alex.
But then I took a deep breath.
And then I knocked.
"Come in," Mr. Smith's deep voice called.
I entered the ornately decorated office slowly, carefully, deliberately. I closed the door softly behind me before turning and greeting Mr. Smith.
"Good morning, Sir. Isabelle said that you wanted to see me."
"Yes, take a seat, my dear."
I sat down in one of the burgundy chairs that faced the oversized mahogany desk. Smoothing my skirt, I glanced up at Mr. Smith, whose eyes had never left me.
"My son tells me that he loves you," Mr. Smith said. For a lawyer, he didn't beat around the bush. I appreciated the fact that he didn't keep me waiting or listening to a lengthy dialogue about love and propriety, but I still didn't know what he wanted.
"Well, Mr. Smith, he hasn't said that to me yet."
"He doesn't have to. It's obvious, isn't it? He's crazy about you, and I can see why."
I looked up sharply. Was he complimenting me or lecturing me? I still couldn't tell.
"Okay, Sir. I'm still not entirely sure why you wanted t o speak with me."
Mr. Smith folded his hands and leaned back in his chair for a moment. Then, like in any good horror movie, he started telling me a story about his son. He started telling me a story about love and pain and destruction, and he ended the story with, "So you understand why I have to ask you to leave."
"To leave, Sir?" I didn't understand. I'd been a fantastic employee. I'd never been late. I'd never so much as skipped out early. I was always on top of all of my duties. I was a fantastic secretary.
"Elizabeth, you're fantastic at your job. You make my son happy. You brighten up the day of everyone who comes into this office. Believe me: I've heard only good things about you from everyone. The fact of the matter is, though, that you're a distraction. And if my son is going to take over my firm one day, distractions are something that I cannot afford. So if you plan to continue your relationship, you'll need to find another job."
It didn't take a genius to figure out that I wasn't exactly being given a fair shot. Who said I was going to be the distraction that would ruin Alex's career? Who said I was going to be the one who brought him down? I felt like I was being punished for the mistakes of another woman. I felt like I was being judged too harshly.
"No offense, Mr. Smith, but you're not my boss. As far as I can tell, the person who is my boss is quite pleased with my work. As you mentioned yourself, I've had no complaints. And as far as Alex's work is concerned, none of his clients have suffered or been neglected since I started working here. No one has complained about him being distracted. No one has lost out. So it seems to be that you aren't so concerned about your son being distracted as you are about the possibility that I could break his heart, in which case, I doubt that me not working here would make it any less painful."
The older Smith opened his mouth to say something, but I stood and held up my hand.
"I'm not done yet," I told him. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk with my supervisor about this situation. After all, he's the one that I answer to: not you. And yes, I do realize that you are the head of the company; however, you have no authority to fire me when I've done nothing wrong except love your son. And if you're looking for something that's wrong with me, there's plenty. I'm not perfect, but I don't pretend to be. Love is something that you work for. Love is something that takes time. And if time is what Alex needs to tell me himself that he loves me, then I'm quite prepared to give that to him."
Without another word, I turned and walked out the door, letting it close loudly behind me, not bothering to catch it. I scurried into my own office and sat down, waiting quietly at my desk for something to happen. The phone could have rang, though, and I wouldn't have heard it. My thoughts were too overwhelming to handle. I bit my bottom lip, wondering what I had just done. It had felt right, and I was proud of myself for finally being strong, for finally being willing to stand up to someone, but had my timing been off?
I didn't have a chance to worry about it. When I arrived at my desk, a client was waiting and Alex wasn't in his office yet.
"Good morning," I greeted the woman. "Mr. Smith isn't in just yet. Can I get you a cup of coffee while you wait?"
With a smile, I turned around to get the woman a drink. Here I was: making coffee again. I hadn't moved as far up the corporate ladder as I liked to think that I had. I hadn't changed my life that much. I tried to smile as I brought her the warm drink and assured her that Alex would be in soon. All I really wanted to do was curl up in the corner and cry.
Chapter 16
After a busy morning of dealing with clients and cases, Alex called me into his office. I closed the door, locked it, and settled into the chair across from his desk. We had barely spoken all morning. There simply hadn't been time. I didn't mind that we didn't get to spend a lot of time together while we were working. That was part of the job after all.
"No," he told me. "Come here." He patted his knee and I obliged, sitting as close to him as I wanted to. We were alone and I was allowed.
He leaned up and kissed me softly, pulling the hair back from my face. His hand was gentle as it grazed my cheek and I couldn't hold it in any more. The tears started to fall and I bit my lip to keep from sobbing.
"My dad talked to you today," Alex said, knowingly. I nodded, unable to speak. I wanted so badly to let him know that I loved him, that I cared for him, that I wanted us to have a good relationship. I was just still recovering from my breakup, still trying to find my place in the world, still trying to figure out what it was that I had to offer someone like Alex, someone who had everything.
&nbs
p; "What did he say to you?"
I stopped crying and simply leaned in to Alex's shoulder, curling my head in close to his. He smelled masculine, like aftershave and cologne. I just wanted to breathe him in. I just wanted to stay in that moment forever. I had too many emotions swirling around inside of me to deal with my life. It didn't seem fair to anyone. I felt like I was ruining my future. After talking with his dad, part of me wondered if I was ruining Alex's, too. Finally, after letting me sit for a moment, Alex lifted my chin softly so that I was looking at him.
"Tell me," he said.
"He said that you love me."
Unblinking, Alex said, "I do."
I nodded, but didn't say it back. I wasn't ready to speak those words. I wasn't ready to make that promise, even if I felt like it was right.
He kissed me, but I pulled away.
"Your dad said I can't work here anymore," I told him. "He said I'm a distraction, a liability."
"That's not his call to make," Alex said.
"I know, but do you think he's right?"
"No. No, I don't think he's right, and I think he was wrong for cornering you alone. You're all I think about. I think about you more than I should, really."
"I think about you all the time, too," I whispered. "
"Everything is going to be okay. I promise. I'll talk to my dad, okay?"
"Okay."
The phone started to ring and without another word, without looking back, I left the room to return to my desk. As I closed Alex's door behind me, I heard him pick up the receiver.
"Smith and Smith. This is Alex."
***
"Sometimes I feel so lonely without him I think that my heart is going to explode."
"Explode?"
"Or collapse."
"Neither one is good."
I was sitting on my couch talking to Molly. She really was the only reason that I was sane these days. And to be honest, even that was questionable. I felt like I was going crazy with pain. My heart was being pulled in every direction and then pushed back.
The only problem is that when you stretch something out, it doesn't always return to its original shape.
"It's not that he made me feel that good about myself. It's that he made me feel so good and then he made me feel so terrible. Why was I so easy to replace? Why was I so easy to forget?" Even as I spoke, the words hung in the air like moths dancing around a light.
Months after the breakup, was it still supposed to hurt? Were the dreams still supposed to haunt me? Were the conversations still supposed to replay in my head daily? There were so many things that I wished I had said, so many things I wished I had done differently.
He was my first regret.
"You know what?" Molly said, finally breaking my thoughts.
"What?"
"You need to cut the crap."
Taken aback, I stared at her. Was she serious?
"You're being a real whiner," Molly told me. "It needs to stop. I know you're hurting, and that sucks, but everyone is hurting, Liz. Everyone has pain an issues and sadness. You need to get over it or it's going to destroy the relationship that you have now. I'm sorry that Tim hurt you, and while I can certainly sympathize, you need to let it go."
"It's not that simple."
"Yeah, actually," she said, "it is that simple. Stop bitching about bygones and start living your life with Alex. He doesn't deserve to be the one who is sitting around picking up the pieces of your broken heart. Man up, Liz. Love Alex fully and stop worrying about some loser who crushed your heart. Tim isn't worth your time. Move forward."
I picked up my Miller Lite and sipped it, not making eye contact, not wanting to admit that she was right. I knew she was, though. It was obvious. I couldn't keep letting the past dictate how I lived. I couldn't keep letting every bad day lead to more thoughts of Tim. I couldn't keep wondering if he was still with Sandy or if he had moved on. I couldn't.
"Drink the beer," said Molly. "Tomorrow's a new day, a fresh day, and you're going to use it to start moving forward."
Without another word, she flicked on the TV and put on a mindless comedy, one that didn't require thinking, contemplating, or addressing hard issues. We sat in the silence as the light flickered across the room, and in the darkness I felt thankful to have someone as bold and straightforward as Molly.
Chapter 17
I wrote the letter in the middle of the night, never intending to send it, but knowing that there were things I needed to say, if only to myself.
I miss you. I typed it slowly, as if somehow the speed at which I typed could impact the meaning of the words. I miss you so much and I see you everywhere. I've found someone new and he gets me. He really understands me. He appreciates all the little things about me. But I miss the way we were together. And I did.
I stopped typing as I stared at the words. Who said journaling was supposed to be therapeutic? Who said writing out your feelings was supposed to make you feel better? Who said getting things out in the open, getting things down on paper, was supposed to help? I'd been staring at what I wrote for what felt like hours and it didn't seem to be helping. My heart still ached.
I deleted the document, sending my words into the abyss, and I shut down my computer. Molly was right about Tim. He didn't deserve my time or my attention. He didn't deserve my heart. He didn't value me and, quite honestly, he probably didn't miss me. So why did I miss him so badly?
Falling back into my bed, I curled up with my favorite pillow. I didn't cry, but I wanted to. I just kept thinking of all the things I did wrong, of all the mistakes I made, of all the things I should have said, but that I didn't. Conversations ran again and again through my mind, haunting me, destroying me, making me wish I could rewind time.
If someone could actually invent a time machine, there would be a lot of happy girls ready to take back their relationship mistakes. And I'd be the first one in line.
**
My parents' divorce was finalized faster than I thought possible. They remained civil the last day they were in the office, quietly signing papers before they went their separate ways for good. I guessed it was a good thing that they waited until I was an adult to separate. I didn't have to grow up with parents who fought over where I'd live or where I'd go to school. My childhood remained perfect, even in my heart. I didn't question whether or not they had ever loved each other. I knew, without a doubt, that they had. They had loved each other deeply, just as I had loved Tim. Breaking up didn't mean that your love was false. It just meant your love was imperfect.
As my father left the office, he stopped by my desk and gave me an awkward hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"I love you, Princess," he told me. "Nothing will ever change that."
Caught off guard, I stuttered back an "I love you, too." Then he was gone, and I remained alone in a stale room with nothing but a stack of paperwork to keep me company.
I finished filing, finished scheduling, finished the research I had promised Alex that I would do, and then it was time to go home. Alex drove me back to my place and walked me to the door.
"I'm sorry it's been such a long week," he told me.
I didn't say anything back. Instead, I unlocked my door and opened it, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside. For a little while, I wanted to drown my sadness in something I knew I could count on. For just a little while, I wanted to forget what it felt like to hurt and instead discover what it felt like to be adored. For just a little while, we would use each other, Alex and I. For just a little while, we would pretend to be one whole instead of two broken halves. For just a little while.
It was then that I told Alex that I loved him. I meant it, too. Unromantic as hell, we were curled up on the couch and it just came out.
"I love you." I told him, staring up into his eyes. It was hard for me to imagine my world without him. Alex and I didn't have a ravenous, can't-stand-to-be-apart passion the way that some couples did, but we made each other feel better. We made each other feel loved.
We made each other feel needed. And I didn't doubt that I needed Alex or that he needed me, not when you got right down to it. So I did the only thing left to do: I spoke the words I'd been holding back.
"I love you, too," he whispered, stroking my hair.
And when I laid my head back down on his chest, I soaked up the feelings I was experiencing. I didn't feel scared anymore and I knew that even when I felt sad or alone, I had someone with me who would keep me safe. I had someone with me who would be by my side. I had someone who would make me feel special even when I didn't deserve it.
I stared up at Alex, awkwardly as always, and wondered what the future held for us, but realizing, at the same time, that it didn't really matter. Life would play out however it pleased. The choice was mine as to what I wanted to learn from it. Molly's voice resonated with me: You've got a good thing. I knew she was right.
About the Author
Alice Bright is an American writer who was raised in a small Midwestern town and later moved to the city to pursue her dream of being a writer. Bright's story A Moment With You appeared in the 2012 Brickstone publication "Ignite." The Lawyer is her first novella.
