37. Oliver
THIRTY-SEVEN
Oliver
Georgia never makes it to my office. Georgia never picks up her phone when I call her after school.
I don’t let it deter me. Running on autopilot now, I simply add “Stop by Georgia’s apartment” to my To-Do list for the rest of the day.
I make phone calls to Dorothy’s parents. I make phone calls to Georgia’s teammates. Then, after waving goodbye to Ethel, I walk to the precinct.
I’m buzzing Georgia’s apartment when I hear Eloise’s voice over the intercom.
“What do you want, dickwad?”
“Hi, Eloise. I’m here to talk to Georgia.” I answer into the box.
“Not after you threw her to the wolves, like that, you’re not.”
My heart drops. How does she know already? I haven’t spoken to her all day . “What?”
“She’s gonna lose her license because of you, asshole.”
Fuck . “Just let me in. I can explain.”
There is silence for a long few seconds. I buzz the intercom again.
“Go away, Oliver,” Eloise’s tinny voice tells me impatiently.
“I need to talk to Georgia, and I’d really prefer not to do it over this intercom.”
“Tough shi—” There are sounds of a struggle, followed by the sounds of a murmured argument.
“Georgia? Is that you, baby? Please let me in. I really need to have this conversation with you?—”
The door buzzes, and I push my way inside, taking the steps two at a time.
I expect wrath as soon as I open the door. I expect her eyes to be burning, her hair large and electric, her presence a fiery pulse in the room. I expect her to shove me, poke me aggressively. I expect a deluge of colorful and explicit language to spill from her beautiful mouth.
I get that, but it’s from the wrong woman. It’s from Eloise.
“You motherfucking piece of shit—” she shrieks at me, while stabbing me in the chest with a particularly long and pointed nail. “How dare you give Georgia up like that? What, are you saving your own ass, or something? How about I pretend to be a parent and call the superintendent’s office myself, and let them know all the fucking rules you’ve fucking broken over the last few months?—”
I peek around Eloise to find Georgia (“don’t you dare look at her, motherfucker”). She’s sitting calmly on the Porn Couch, arms crossed, her face an impenetrable mask of complete and total apathy. This reaction terrifies me more. “Georgia…”
Georgia looks at Eloise. “It’s okay, Weezy. Let him say whatever he needs to say.” Her voice is flat, unaffected, teetering on the edge of aloofness.
“Do you want me to stay here or do you want me to go?” Eloise softens when she addresses her best friend.
Georgia looks at her with eyes full of love. “Can you just give us a few minutes?”
Eloise nods. “Love you, George. Call if you need anything.” She glares at me while she grabs her coat from the rack. “Fuck you, asshole,” she spits in my direction, then walks out the door.
Georgia cuts her eyes back to me, but remains unmoving. Silent.
I move to where she’s sitting and take her hands in my mine. They’re limp, as if she doesn’t want to bother mustering the energy.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard already,” I begin, “But I’d like you to hear my side of the story, and how I’m going to fix it.”
“It’s too late, Oliver,” she tells me, almost bored. “Giving my professional records to that monster?”
I’m shocked. “I didn’t give those letters to anyone, Georgia. I swear.”
A flicker of something in her eyes. “Then how did he know exactly how many there were and what they were for?”
I groan, scrubbing my face with my hands. “Superintendent Daniels called me this afternoon. He talked to Mr. Jones, who wanted to know the outcome of the investigation, because he was going to press charges against you at the precinct. Daniels happily passed along all your letters to file, probably so he’d be seen as ‘cooperative’ if this ever blew up. ‘District 13 cooperates with local authorities’” I say, with air quotes, “or whatever. Then Daniels could easily brush it all off without ever having to take the heat. It was him. Not me.”
I watch as she takes in this information. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still fucked. They have the letters. Max’s dad is still pressing charges.” she mumbles.
“No,” I say firmly. “I handled it. I made sure evidence was submitted for their investigation that nullified his arguments.” I list things off my fingers. “I went down to the precinct after school today to give a statement about what I observed during that first incident on school grounds when you poked him. I gave them all of my notes from the meeting with him after the incident, and from my investigation. I gave a statement about what I observed during the Fall Festival. I called Dorothy’s parents, who will also provide their statements about what they saw each of those times. I got Lina and every single one of your teammates to write up character statements for you, but I think that was overkill. I don’t think it’ll get that far. But it was worth trying, for you.”
She sits up a little straighter now. “Did they tell you what was going to happen?”
I shake my head. “No, they just said it would take them some time to review everything. But I really don’t think it’ll stick Georgia. There’s absolutely no evidence to support it.”
She’s silent, and I can’t take it anymore. I reach over and pull her into my lap. Thankfully, she comes without any resistance. I wrap my arms around her, kiss her temple, inhale the scent of her shampoo from her hair.
“I think we need to work on our communication skills. I wish you wouldn’t just automatically assume the worst of me. Don’t hide behind all your armor.” I kiss her again. “This all could’ve been avoided if you just communicated with me instead of shutting down.”
She stiffens. She slowly crawls out of my lap, moving to sit on the other side of the couch, staring at me with an indescribable look on her face. “So, this is my fault?”
I shiver with the loss of her warmth. “No, Georgia, of course not, but I’m obviously not going to fuck you over. Trust me to fix these things. I’ll always do that for you.”
She raises both her eyebrows. “You call writing me up for inappropriate conduct fixing things ?” she shrieks. I recognize this tone. This agitation. This is more of what I expected.
“And I wish you would’ve come and talked to me yesterday after school,” I tell her. “I could’ve explained that, too. I’m not going to fucking fire you, Georgia. That third letter meant nothing?—”
Her eyes flash dangerously. “I think we just learned that the third letter actually did mean something, Oliver, as evidenced by the fucking charges being brought against me?—”
“That’s not going to happen, I told you. I wish you talked to me yesterday so I could have explained my decision-making process,” I try, placating her.
She keeps looking at me with that look on her face. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen it before. I don’t know what it means. “Where did I fall in that decision-making process? Where was my say?” she asks in a deadly whisper. “It sure sounds like you made all the decisions for me . For me and my career. Did you think about how it could impact me?”
“Of course I thought about how it could affect you, but I had five fucking seconds to make a decision with Daniels standing right there. And did you not just hear about how I handled it? I fixed it, Georgia; it’s fine?—”
“Controlling the situation so that it suits your needs is not fixing it . Smoothing things over with no regard for the consequences is not fixing it , Oliver,” she hisses.
This unexpectedly hits a nerve. I just want this to be over, before I really start getting irritated with repeating myself. “I don’t want to fight about this anymore.” I say. “This could’ve all been avoided if we just communicated with one another. We will, moving forward. Just trust me. It will be fine,” I tell her firmly.
This is the wrong thing to say.
She stands, a volcano ready to erupt. “Well, really, this all could’ve been avoided if you didn’t hide me away as your illicit fucking affair partner.”
What? “This is all pretty fucked up, but that was something we both agreed on, remember? Our ground rules? So that we both keep our jobs?”
She explodes.
“ Our jobs?!” she rages. “You like lists, Oliver? Well, here’s a fucking list. One. All this sneaking around is really fucked up. Two. Who is really benefiting from this arrangement? It’s you . You’re the one getting the promotion. My job is the one that’s in constant jeopardy. I could lose my fucking license now. Three. Do you know why this is the case? Because you’re my fucking boss . And you’re a man. You are the one that holds all the power here. It’s not fucking fair .” Her chest is heaving with the force of her effort.
“Georgia,” I try carefully now, standing and approaching her as if she’s a wild animal, my hands outstretched. “I know it’s not fair?—”
“ Stop . Fucking . Patronizing . Me ,” she yells. “All of this, everything you’re doing, everything we’re doing, it’s just putting a bandaid on something that is deeply broken, and I’m fucking sick of it.”
Ouch . Now I’m annoyed, my hands clenched in fists by my side in agitation. “Wasn’t this all your idea to begin with? The whole secret and ground rules thing? It sounds like you’re just self-sabotaging now,” I scoff, unable to help myself. “I agree. I think that something really is deeply broken.”
I’ll never forget the look of agony, the sheer devastation that crosses Georgia’s face after I say this. For a split second, she lets me see it before she shoves it away.
No .
“Get out,” she whispers.
“Baby, I’m sorry—” my voice cracks.
“Get out,” she says, with more conviction, with tears streaming down her face.
I turn and get out.