30. Garrett
30
Garrett
“ Y ou fucked up, man,” Ethan says as he drops into the chair on the opposite side of my desk.
“I’m busy,” I grumble back at him, keeping my eyes locked on my computer screen.
“Maybe if you didn’t fire two department heads and run your assistant off in the span of a single week, you wouldn’t be so busy.”
I stop typing and look over at him. “We agreed that firing Frank was the right move.”
“This isn’t about Frank, Garrett. What are you going to do about Emma?”
Her name is like a knife to the chest. Aside from a text message confirming that she arrived safely in California, we haven’t spoken. I keep telling myself it’s easier that way, but so far, I can’t get my heart on board with that assertion. I glance over at her old desk, which is empty today. Her job’s been posted for three weeks now, but I haven’t found anyone I like for the position.
Pulling my attention back to my obnoxious brother, I sigh and say, “Nothing I can do. She’s got her dream job in LA now. It’s not my place to interfere with that.”
“Oh, come on,” Ethan says.
A sharp knock on the door interrupts whatever stupid thing Ethan was about to say. Margot walks in a second later without an invitation.
“Here’s the projection reports you wanted,” she says pleasantly enough to Ethan as she trots over to my desk. She passes a stack of papers to him then turns to give me the same death glare I’ve been getting from her for weeks and tosses another stack of papers carelessly onto my desk.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
She doesn’t respond.
“We were just talking about Emma,” Ethan informs her.
Great. Like I need Emma’s best friend chiming in on this. Margot’s already made it abundantly clear that she’s pissed off at me.
“Perfect,” she says, plopping down in the chair next to Ethan, “I have some thoughts.”
I rub a hand over my face. “Well, let’s hear them.”
“First of all, you fucked up big time,” Margot says.
Ethan’s eyes widen at her before turning to give me his best I-told-you-so smile.
“So I’ve heard,” I mumble.
Margot and I have hardly exchanged a dozen words outside of meetings. I’ve always thought of her as sort of quiet and reserved. She must be pretty angry at me if she’s willing to waltz into my office and curse me out. And truthfully, I can’t really blame her.
“Not only did you lose a great assistant,” she continues, “you let the one woman on earth who brought out any good in you just walk away. And now, my best friend is a thousand miles away living in a glorified broom closet full of very aggressive rats while you just sit here in your stupid office looking sad and taking it out on the rest of us.”
“Aggressive rats?” I repeat, dipping my brow in confusion.
Margot waves her hands like she’s batting the words away and takes a deep breath. “The rats aren’t the point.”
“But there are rats?”
Leveling an annoyed look at me, she ignores my question and continues her tirade. “The point is that you drove her away, and now you need to fix it.”
“I let her go so she could pursue her dream job,” I correct.
Margot rolls her eyes at me and turns to my brother. They have one of their weird little psychic conversations that ends with him shrugging. For all the crap that Ethan has given me about having feelings for my assistant this past year, I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever looked in a mirror. But that’s not the issue right now.
“Isn’t she happy in LA?” I ask.
Margot’s eyes flare. Her mouth pops open with a single, unidentifiable syllable before she snaps it shut again. She stands up and narrows her eyes at me. “Just fix it, and in the meantime, hire a new assistant so I don’t have to keep printing crap for you,” she says before storming out of my office.
I blow out a big breath and look at Ethan, who is scratching his temple and suppressing a smile. I know it’s for Margot and not for me. Slowly, he moves to stand as well. Tapping his fingers lightly on my desk, he echoes her words, “Fix it, brother. For your own sake as much as Emma’s.”
That night, I come home late to an empty house. Ron’s nails tap excitedly on the hardwood floors as he comes to greet me with his little red plaid effigy in his mouth. He sees me then looks over at the door like he was expecting someone else.
Expecting her.
“It’s just me, buddy,” I say as I bend down to scratch him behind one ear.
Even my dog is upset about this.
Ethan and Margot’s words replay in my head. Fix it .
I’m not sure exactly how I’m supposed to do that. I thought I was doing right by Emma letting her go. I couldn’t ask her to give up her dream job to stay here with me. And quite frankly, I don’t know why she would want to after the way I’ve acted.
Being with her on that trip was like existing in an alternate reality, one where everything was perfect. Things worked out exactly how they should. I was happy.
But it wasn’t real life.
I’ve built a life for myself in Denver. I’ve worked hard for the life I’ve created, not just for myself but for my family as well. It makes me happy to know that they’re taken care of. It’s the only thing that makes me happy these days. Everything else just makes me feel numb now.
Everything but Emma.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and pull up her number. After staring at it for far too long, I finally hit the call button and hold it to my ear.
We didn’t make any rules about contacting each other, but a clean break seemed easier to me. I have no idea if she feels the same. Maybe she’ll be mad at me for calling. Maybe she’ll be mad that I didn’t call earlier.
The phone rings three times before she answers with a quiet but confused, “Hello?”
The sound of her voice makes my chest expand, filling a painful void. I clear my throat, but the words still catch on the stubborn lump there.
“Hi, Emma. How are you?”
“I’m good,” she says with a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
A long pause follows.
“Things are good in LA then? Your new job’s going well?” I ask.
It’s the sort of conversation a dentist makes while poking a person’s gums with a sharp metal stick.
Inwardly, I’m kicking myself for making this call so impulsively. I’m not sure how I thought this would fix anything. She’s still there, and I’m still here. This awkward exchange just reinforces the distance between us and the fact that there’s not much I can do about it.
“Yeah, it’s – it’s good,” she says. “How are you, Garrett?”
“Good,” I say unconvincingly. “I’m good,” I repeat, but it still doesn’t land quite right.
Another excruciating pause.
Ask her about the rats.
Tell her Ron misses her.
Tell her you miss her, you idiot.
“That’s good,” she says then she lets out a ghost of a laugh that comes through the phone like static. “This has to be a record number of times two people have used the word ‘good’ in one conversation.”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to force a laugh. “Did you mean any of them?”
She hesitates before answering with a quiet, “No.”
“Me either.”
The silence that follows is heavier than the others.
“I should go,” Emma says eventually. “I was just on my way out the door when you called. I’ll, um, talk to you later, okay?”
Before I can answer, the line goes quiet.
I brace my hands on the edge of the kitchen counter and hang my head. The void in my chest returns with a familiar, dull ache.
Next to my feet, Ron looks defeated, too. He lowers himself to the floor with a sad little grumble.
“I know, buddy.” I say to him. “I just don’t know what to do about it.”