Chapter Twenty
Mallory suggests they go to Ginette’s, a bistro tucked away on a side street in the high seventies between Second and Third. It only has four tables and a perpetually crowded bar. The wine list is extensive and they serve their burgers on toasted English muffins.
She chose Ginette’s for the food but also for the nostalgia factor; it was the first place Alec took her to have dinner when she visited him from law school.
It had been early fall, and one of those magical New York City nights they write songs about.
She’d felt that her own move to the city couldn’t come fast enough.
Now she’s in the city and things are going terribly wrong.
There’s a long wait for a table so they sit at the bar. The backboard is strung with Christmas lights. Fleetwood Mac plays over the sound system: “Rhiannon.”
Alec orders a beer and she asks for a glass of Prosecco. She downs half of it, then blurts out, “Alec, I lost my job.”
Alec puts his mug down on the bar. “What are you talking about?”
“Harrison fired me.”
“Yeah, I got that part. Why?”
Here comes the hard part. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“Mallory, just tell me what happened.”
“Okay.” She takes a breath. “I was at a costume fitting for Bette and she and Agnes asked me to help out with the show last night—just picking up between acts, nothing major. Not dancing or anything.” She decides to leave out the part about her new burlesque name.
He looks at her stone-faced. “What does this have to do with your job?”
“Um, so it was all fine, except when I looked out at the audience. And saw Patricia.”
“Patricia?”
“Patricia Loomis. My boss.”
Alec looks confused. Incredulous. She has the impulse to explain, to tell him she’s almost certain she was set up by Poppy.
But she thinks better of it. That detail would open up questions she’s not prepared to answer—like why is Poppy threatened by her?
It’s either about her growing closeness to Bette, or Poppy feels she’s encroaching on her territory at the Blue Angel.
Either scenario would only validate Alec’s feeling that Bette is a threat to their relationship.
“Mallory, what were you thinking? You have the bar exam in two months and this is how you’re spending your time?”
“I really don’t need you judging me.” Again.
“Anyone would judge this! It’s so stupid!”
She slides down from the high bar chair and starts putting on her coat.
“What? Did you think I was going to tell you they were crazy to fire you? Mallory, you’re at one of the best law firms in the country. Excuse me, you were at one of the best law firms in the country.”
“No, I didn’t expect you to take my side in this. In fact, this is exactly what I expected—and that’s the problem. We’re supposed to have each other’s back. But I guess that’s only as long as I do what you approve of.”
Alec reaches for her arm.
“Please don’t leave. Don’t run out again. That won’t solve any-thing.”
He’s right, although her fight-or-flight is definitely leaning toward flight. But she perches back on the edge of the chair, her handbag in her lap. She feels like crying. Alec rubs her shoulders.
“You’ll find another job—maybe a smaller firm. We’ll figure it out. The important thing is to learn from this and move forward.”
She has learned from this. And it’s the hardest part.
“I don’t want to work at another law firm,” she says.
The hand on her back stops moving.
“Did you sabotage your job on purpose?” he asks, each word slow and weighty.
“No! You think I somehow got Patricia at the show to get busted? I’m mortified! I would never do something like that.”
“I’m not talking about what happened last night. Did you tank the bar exam?”
“What kind of question is that?” She shakes her head. The bartender stops by and asks if she wants a refill. She does. “You know how upset I’ve been about failing the bar.”
“Maybe on some subconscious level you didn’t want to pass.”
Alec minored in psych, and at times like this it’s extremely annoying.
“I don’t think so.”
“I hope not. Or else the same thing will happen when you take it again in February. Maybe you need to talk to someone? A therapist?”
She looks at him incredulously. “I’m having second thoughts about my career and you think I need mental healthcare? Maybe you need a therapist—to deal with the fact that your girlfriend has a mind of her own. Clearly, that’s an issue for you.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t need to attack me. I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t want help. In fact, I’m not taking the bar again.”
He looks shocked, but not as surprised as she herself is to hear the words come out of her mouth.
“When did you decide that?”
“Just now.” She picks up her refilled champagne glass and raises it. “So let’s toast. To new beginnings. That’s what our twenties are for, right?”
Alec doesn’t move.
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I don’t think so.”
His jaw sets in the way it does when he’s really angry. “So what’s the plan, Mal? You’re going to be a burlesque dancer?”
“Maybe. What if I am? Who says I have to settle for a corporate lifestyle right now?”
He folds his arms in front of his chest. “Mallory, this is irrational. How can I plan my life around someone who’s willing to just throw away a three-year investment in a legal career?
What happens when you decide this relationship is too tough, or someone bright and shiny comes along and you don’t want to do the work in this relationship anymore?
Oh—wait. Someone already did. And you fucked her. ”
Okay. Maybe she deserves that. But the deeper they go in the conversation, the more clarity she has. And she’s not wrong. At least not about the work part.
“This isn’t about you, Alec. I’m still figuring out my life. Just because you were lucky enough to know from tenth grade that you wanted to be a journalist doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t stumble a little along the way.”
Alec signals for the check.
“So that’s the end of the conversation?” she says.
The waiter slides the bill across the bar, and Alec pays with his credit card. He doesn’t look at her when he says, “It’s the end of more than just the conversation.”
She feels stricken. “Are we breaking up?”
Now he does look at her, his ocean-blue eyes reflecting her own pain back at her.
“I’m going to stay at Billy’s tonight.”
And then he leaves.