Up & Out - Ariella Papa [55]
“So you’re not going to be around at all on the weekends?” I try not to sound too desperate or hurt or anything that could be construed badly.
“No, it’s only half the time. A half share.”
“A half share.” It’s more of a repeat than a question.
“Yeah, you can even come out sometimes if you’re not busy. A couple of my buddies are doing it, too. I think it’s going to be a lot of fun. If I can’t spend the summer in Nice…” He tries to make a joke and laughs.
What am I supposed to say? Just when I think things are getting better, we’re back to square one.
“What? You’re not mad, are you?”
“No, of course not,” I say, and smile without opening my mouth. If he was Tommy, he would know I was. Not only am I furious, I am also a passive-aggressive doormat of a wannabe pseudo-girlfriend. And a coward to boot.
“Do you want to come over tonight? We could order some sushi or some Indian?” Of course nothing that he has to make. He can’t buy me. I will not be plied with food and sexual favors. Okay, I would if I thought this was actually developing into something. But is it? It’s not every date that we spend two nights in a row together? Maybe he needs time. No, fuck it. I have to be strong.
“No, I have to do some work.”
“Okay,” he says.
We don’t say much more until he drops me off at my apartment and he tells me that he’ll call. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and try not to slam the rental car door.
Tommy isn’t home. I sit on the couch and try to find something on TV, but nothing is on. What’s the point of digital cable if nothing is on?
No boyfriend. No sex. No Tommy. No X-Files. No D batteries. Fuck!
And if that wasn’t bad enough, tomorrow is Monday.
12
Shattered
I get two disturbing e-mails first thing Monday morning when I am supposed to be reviewing a fine cut of Esme. This Esme will have no glasses, so I’m procrastinating for as long as possible before I watch my little blind creation.
The first e-mail is from Hackett. Oh, what a fine time for him to come back around. It isn’t just to me, but to the entire department. We’re having an off-site meeting at the Chelsea Piers driving range next Monday. The two words team building strike fear into my heart.
The company doesn’t have money for fresh milk in the fridge, yet we can afford golf at Chelsea Piers.
The strange thing about Hackett’s e-mail is how concise it is. He wants us to meet at Chelsea Piers, so he says it. As much as he drove me crazy, I miss the way he was so up front, unlike the queen of verbal vomit.
The next e-mail is from Delores. It’s in sharp contrast to the one from Hackett. From what I gather she wants me to come for a meeting in her office, but she can’t seem to tell me that without mentioning how important it is that we get “all buttoned up” about managing Janice and John. I think I’m reading into a subtext about their relationship. Today’s word of the day is incendiary. There is also a whole justification of her job in the form of how many hours she worked this weekend in her apartment even though she has no air-conditioning. I am not sure if this part is meant to be friendly.
I don’t bother to reply. I just can’t. I want a new job, but I can’t leave Esme. Esme is mine.
Instead of writing back, I just show up at her office at the appointed time.
“Hi,” I say, making an attempt to ignore the nausea that fills me every time I see her.
“Hi.” She is sitting in kind of a strange position. “Have a seat.”
“Did you have a good weekend?” I know the tone of her answer before I get it.
“Busy, but you know it’s to be expected. I’ve got to try and stop working until eleven.” I semi-ignore her. “So I realize we are having some human resources issues and hope we’ll be able to resolve them at the team-building meeting.”
I was surprised that she was owning up to our issues and also fearing the