by Jackie Rose
“I don’t know….”
“Look. If you don’t want to freak yourself out for the next fifty years, just train your mind to sustain the way you felt last night. Something inside you allowed you to go through with it. And it felt good. So how wrong can it be? Knowing that it’s okay, that’s what’s empowering. Who knows? The memory might end up being something you treasure forever,” she finished triumphantly.
It was a compelling argument. “I guess,” I said. “Yesterday morning I felt good about it, for a while anyway. But the more I think about it, the worse I feel, because you can’t deny that this would really hurt Bruce.” Understatement of the century. “But with Jade, you’re right—I felt amazing. Not like me, but amazing. The problem is, now that I’m back in the real world again, it’s way different. Like I know it’s wrong, but I also know maybe it isn’t. I can’t stop thinking about him, Morgan. And the more I think about him, the sicker I feel, and the sicker I feel, the more I miss Bruce. I don’t know. It was just so good. But maybe once was enough to get it out of my system. But if Jade were here right now, I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t know how I’d feel.”
“How did you leave it with him?” she asked.
“Well, when I woke up he was still sleeping. I had to throw up, so I went to the bathroom. Have you ever had an apple martini? They’re pretty damn good on the way down. I didn’t feel sick at all until I woke up.”
Morgan stared blankly at the wall. “Once, I told Billy I loved him after five apple martinis…they’re killer.”
No wonder the poor guy was still hanging around.
“Jade was still sleeping when I got back to bed.”
“Did you wake him up and have fabulous morning sex?”
“No, but he looked truly gorgeous, just lying there. I guess I didn’t want to ruin the moment, so I left.”
“You just left? Just like that?”
“I pulled a Morgan!”
“I don’t do that,” she said. “Not to a guy I like.”
“Well, I don’t want him to think that I like him.”
“God, Evie, you’ve evolved into quite the heartbreaker.” Morgan thought I was being cold? It was an all-time first.
It occurred to me that on some level, I might have slept with Jade to impress her. Her approval did mean a lot to me. I knew she wouldn’t ever want me to do something that I wasn’t comfortable with, but she also didn’t quite understand that she and I were different in a lot of ways. Very different. Especially when it came to men and relationships. Maybe that was why this whole cheating thing was so hard for me—no matter how much sense she made, and no matter how much I agreed with most of what she had to say on the subject, at least technically, I couldn’t change the fact that I felt differently. It wasn’t just about me, like she’d said. It was about me and Bruce. I knew at least that. I would never be able to see my infidelity as an intellectual exercise in some deranged form of feminism, the way she could.
Damn it. Why hadn’t I realized this before all this shit happened? There was no sense in blaming her, though. I was the one who’d been so desperate to believe her.
“You know, I did sense that he was more into me than I was into him,” I told her.
“Yeah, right!” she shrieked.
“Why not? You don’t think I have him head over heels? Remember, he seduced me.”
“And I’m sure that was the biggest challenge of his life,” she laughed, and then let out a big sigh. “Oh, I’ve got to come clean with you…”
“What?”
“You’re probably going to kill me, but I’ve just got to tell you—I saw him! I saw Jade!”
“What are you talking about? When?”
“I couldn’t resist. I was just so curious. So I went to your gym one day when you weren’t there, since I knew you’d never bring me. I have to admit, Evie, he’s much hotter than I imagined. You weren’t lying. And you bagged him…! Oh, I can’t believe it. I just can’t. It’s too much.” She couldn’t stop laughing.
“Thanks a lot.”
“Sorry, but he’s a bit out of your league. He’s out of my league, for chrissake.”
“Vain and humble, your mother must be so proud….”
“Well, if you’re going to be like that about it, Jade and I are very much in the same league. I was just trying to boost your ego.”
“I think I’ve had enough of an ego boost on this one to last me the rest of my life,” I told her. But now that I knew how good it felt, would that one little taste really be enough to last forever?
“Well that was the whole idea, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe at first…”
“So why did you do it?” she asked.
“I was drunk?”
“No, that’s just how it happened. I mean, what were you trying to get from this?”
“Maybe I just wanted some excitement.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t seem convinced.
“Or maybe I just had an itch and I wanted it scratched.”
“Evie, I may not know the true workings of your mind, but I do know enough to say that this was about a lot more than just sex for you.”
Of course, she was right. But my immediate concerns were far more urgent. “But what do I do now? What about Bruce? What about our wedding? Morgan, I seriously don’t know if I can do this….”
“You mean get married?”
“No. I don’t know. I think I mean lying to him.”
“But you lie all the time. If Bruce knew how many credit cards you really have…”
“Yeah, but not about something like this. This is different. You know, it’s not easy to lie to Bruce, even about little things. He has a way of believing everything I tell him that makes me feel like a total bitch. But this guilt is off the charts. I couldn’t even look at him yesterday. I just kept thinking about the bag of clothes in the closet…”
“What?”
“My Clothes of Shame. What I wore Tuesday night.”
“Stop being such a drama queen.”
“Whatever. But I hate the idea of Bruce not knowing something this big about me. Like he’s at work right now, happily going about his business, completely oblivious to…oh, God…”
“Stop torturing yourself! You’ll go mental if you don’t quit this shit right now. There’s no use. You think I sit around making myself sick every time I’m with Peter? What’s the fun in doing something if you can’t enjoy it?”
“I know, but I’m not like you, Morgan.”
“Well, you better get like me, or you’re done for. What you do, have done, will do, whatever, is 100-percent your own life. You don’t owe anybody access to your memories. Not even Bruce.”
I wish I believed what she was saying, but I didn’t.
On Friday morning, Bruce made an appointment for me with his doctor. Since I had no choice but to play up the whole headache thing, and it had been three years since I’d had a checkup, I was backed into a corner. Of course, Bruce decided to tag along, probably to make sure that I actually went.
“I’d feel a lot better if you just left me alone,” I whispered in his ear as we waited.
“When you have a blinding pain behind your left eye for four days, it’s probably a good idea to see someone,” he intoned seriously.
“Please be quiet. It hurts less when you’re quiet.”
“I’m worried about you.”
It was the longest conversation we’d had since he came home from Baltimore…no, Buffalo? I’m sure he knew something was up.
When I got home there was a message from Pruscilla to call her immediately. Normally, if I wasn’t feeling well, I wouldn’t have bothered, but since she probably really was starting to worry, I called her back. My plan was to return to work Monday, provided I was up to it.
“Pruscilla?”
“Who’s this?”
“It’s Evie. Hi.”
“Oh. Hold on.”
After about five minutes on hold, I hung up. Two mi
nutes, fine, but five? Rudeness of that caliber is unacceptable, even when it’s coming from your boss (Cosmopolitan, July: “The Dos and Don’ts of Office Etiquette”). About an hour later, she called me back. I was in the middle of a nap, and barely picked up on time.
“Hello?”
“Evelyn, I’m going to keep this short—”
“Thanks for calling, Pruscilla, but you really don’t have to worry,” I reassured her. “I’m fine. I just had a bit of a personal crisis this week, but I’m dealing with it now and hope to be back on Monday,” I said. I glanced over at the closet. The Clothes of Shame were still in there, waiting for me. I hadn’t been able to deal with them yet. “Ummm…let’s say Monday afternoon, just to be safe,” I added.
“Monday afternoon is fine, and remember to please bring a box. You’ll be clearing out your desk.”
Oh God.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me. We’re letting you go, Evelyn.”
“B-b-but why?” I stammered idiotically. “What did I do?”
“What haven’t you done is more like it. For starters, you haven’t shown up. And since that was an essential part of your job, Evelyn, we’re terminating you.”
This wasn’t happening. “But didn’t you get my message? I told you I needed a few personal days.” Maybe the voice mail was down or something. She couldn’t fire me for technical problems, could she? That wouldn’t be fair.
“I got your message. You already used up all your personal days.”
“So why can’t you just dock my pay?”
“If you prefer to look at it that way, fine. From now on, we’ll be docking your pay. Every day for the rest of your life. So don’t bother coming in anymore.”
Since I felt the tears coming on anyway, I figured I might as well try using them to my advantage. “I thought we were friends, Pruscilla,” I wept. “After what we’ve been through together this year, with your surgery and our weight loss and my engagement. I thought we were finally connecting.”
“That’s not going to work, so give it a rest. We haven’t connected and you know it. I don’t know why, but you don’t like me, Evelyn. You never did. It’s no secret.”
A woman like her, who could probably count all the friends she’d ever had in her entire life on one hand…was she really rejecting my olive branch?
“That’s not true,” I said.
“You know, I saw something in you, Evelyn. That’s why I hired you. You have a creative spirit, but you haven’t done a thing with it. It’s best we all just go our separate ways. If you think about it, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“But I want to stay,” I whimpered. “I haven’t done anything wrong this time, at least not professionally speaking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? And in case you’ve forgotten, you were on probation….”
“Yes, but only until the beginning of March,” I reminded her.
“No. Permanently. Until I was satisfied that you were committed to changing. And since that certainly never happened…”
“But I was sick.” Sick in my heart.
“You can’t change your story now. If you were legitimately ill, then you’ll have to produce a doctor’s note to that effect. If you can, then you’ll receive your salary for those days you missed. If you can’t, then your final paycheck will reflect your absence.”
It was a good thing I told Bruce I had a headache—now I’d be able to get a note from that doctor. But it was dawning on me that what I really needed was a lawyer. Or rather, the threat of one. Maybe they’d reconsider if they thought I was going to sue.
“If you think I’m going to take this lying down…” I began tentatively.
“Evelyn, please,” she sighed. “Be gracious. For once, just be gracious and accept what I’m telling you.”
“But…”
“But nothing. You don’t think we have grounds for this? It’s not just your most recent sabbatical, you know, though that was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. We’ve been tracking your Internet usage, too, since you got it back. You spend at least two hours a day on personal matters that obviously have nothing to do with work. Unless…” I could hear papers rustling in the background. “…unless you’re going to try and tell me that online mah-jongg and…what’s this? Oh! And the message board at Oprah.com have something to do with cosmetics marketing research.”
“I’m outraged! This is a complete invasion of privacy. No. It’s worse—it’s a deliberate smear campaign. And entrapment! It’s entrapment, too! They can’t do that!”
“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s a new company policy that’s been in effect since January. KW now randomly spot-checks employees’ Internet usage and e-mail correspondence. Apparently, there have been some problems with corporate espionage.”
E-mails, too? God, she’d probably read all the horrible things I’d written about her to Morgan. I’d be mortified. Pruscilla was never really as bad as I made her seem, she was just anal about work stuff, and I found it entertaining to dislike her. Half the time I felt more sorry for her than anything, so the last thing I wanted was for her to see what a backstabber I’d been after she’d given me, like, fifty chances to shape up. It was all just too awful. How would I ever be able to face her again after this?
Well, enough was enough. The embarrassment wasn’t worth it. At one point, you have to ask yourself, what’s worse: losing your job or losing your self-respect? The answer for me was clear. And I certainly wasn’t going to beg to keep a job I never really liked in the first place at a fascist corporate conglomerate like Kendra White. Especially since it obviously wasn’t working out.
“You know what, Pruscilla? I’m not coming in on Monday. You can keep whatever’s in my desk. Because I never want to see that horrible place again!” I yelled into the receiver, and slammed it down.
The silence in the bedroom was deafening. I sat there, stunned, and tried to figure things out. What was I supposed to do now? Without a job, the collection agencies would tear me to shreds within a few months. Bruce was going to kill me. My mother was going to kill me. Hell, I even felt like killing me. Because who was I kidding? I knew I deserved it. I deserved to lose my job.
Suddenly, I remembered the box of Turtles sitting in the back of the pantry. Bruce’s dad had given them to me for Easter. He was pretty much oblivious to everything going on around him, so he probably hadn’t noticed I wasn’t eating chocolates anymore, let alone gooey, caramel-smothered, pecan-filled ones. It was sweet of him, though, since the old me really did have a thing for them.
At the time, I was irritated that Bruce wouldn’t just let me toss them in the trash. Now, in my hour of need, I prayed that they were still there. I ran into the kitchen, certain that Bruce had found them at some point and devoured them. But there they were—hiding behind the cans of fat-free soup. I ripped through the cellophane and tore open the box. Twenty-four perfect little milk-chocolate blobs stared back out.
I ate every one.
18
And then there was the whole matter with Jade.
I was afraid to go to the gym, not that I really felt like it anyway, and also afraid not to. At first, I was dying to know where Jade was at in all this, what he thought about everything. But the more I thought about it, the less I cared what he wanted. Even though I’d be horribly insulted, I was praying he’d changed his mind about me. The worse thing would be if he hadn’t. Should I bother letting him down gently? Or maybe the best thing to do would be to never, ever see or talk to him again. Not that I didn’t trust myself around him. It was just that I knew if I saw him, it would remind me that I was the most horrible slut on the face of the planet.
My only moments of peace came when I told myself that it had never really happened, that I’d imagined it all, like some sort of extended TV dream sequence. But at least on Dallas, everybody woke up and resumed their normal lives. I seemed to be stuck in the nightmare indefinitely. The days passed by in a blur of slee
p and tears.
There wasn’t even anybody I could call for support—I hadn’t told anyone but Morgan, and she was out of town again with Billy. On the upside, the agony of it all was enough to make me not care so much that I’d lost my job and was teetering on the brink of financial ruin. All I could do was lie in bed and cry. Of course, Bruce didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on.
But I could tell his patience was wearing thin, and he clearly didn’t believe the whole headache thing anymore. Most of the time, he pretty much just left me alone, and I was happy with that, because it was all I could do not to break down and tell him everything.
On Saturday night, he went over to his parents’ for sister Wendy’s graduation party. Personally, I think graduating from an all-girls college is something one wouldn’t necessarily want to draw attention to, but whatever. It’s her life. At least I got out of it. Come to think of it, Bruce didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go.
When he came home, he crawled into bed and woke me up.
“Evie, my mother’s sending out the invitations on Monday. I can’t hold her off any longer.”
“So?” I mumbled from under the sheets.
“So…what should I do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Should I let her do it?”
“Are you trying to tell me something?” I asked him.
He turned on the light. “I think maybe you should start seeing someone,” he said.
I rolled over and squinted at him. Did he know? Was he trying to trap me into telling him about Jade? “What do you mean, ‘I should start seeing someone’?” I asked him in a panic. “You think we should have an open relationship?”
He stared at me as if I were mad and shook his head. “A psychologist, Evie. I think you need to see a psychologist.”
