Chapter 10 Gina
Gina
Iwas exhausted and bleary eyed after spending most of the day locked up in this stuffy conference room working on files. The only bright spot had been our side trip for ice cream. That had been fun.
But I wasn’t going to think about that, because if I did, I’d have to think about how we’d opened up to each other a little bit. I also wasn’t going to think about the way Kimberly swiped that bit of ice cream off my lip and then stared at my mouth like she wanted to kiss me.
I’d wanted to kiss her too, but I’d been too afraid to make the first move. I knew she felt the attraction between us the same as I did, but I wasn’t going to push. I owed it to her to let her lead – or not lead, as the case may be – after how I’d hurt her. I owed her at least that much.
I wish I’d known three years ago that the woman I’d seen her with that night was her cousin. If I hadn’t freaked out, hadn’t jumped to the worst conclusions, would we still be together? Or would there have been some other issue that ended our relationship?
I’d figured out in therapy that Kimberly cheating on me hadn’t made sense.
When I was able to manage my emotions and think rationally I realized that there’d been no intimacy in the scene I’d witnessed.
She could have been having dinner with a coworker or a friend.
There was no reason to assume she was cheating.
I’d never even seen her look at another woman.
Plus we were always together when we weren’t at work.
When would she even have time to cheat on me?
But the thing that sealed it for me, at least once I’d moved past the instinctive hurt and the pain of the break-up and my entire life falling apart at the same time, was remembering a conversation we’d had once when we were out for dinner together.
Kimberly had talked at length about how much her father’s infidelity had affected her.
That’s when I realized what a terrible mistake I’d made.
If only I’d been able to manage my anxiety well enough to remember that before I broke up with her.
Before I treated her like dirt and broke her heart. And mine.
“How may files do we have left?” I asked tiredly.
“We need to review these last five files,” Kimberly answered.
“But I still need to evaluate the program expenditures and compare them to our billings. It’s almost five.
I’m going to need to check in with my supervisor and see what he wants me to do.
I’m due on another audit Monday so he’s not going to be happy I’m not done, even though he knows Mary was out sick for a day and a half. ”
“I can work a little while later tonight if it helps,” I offered. “If you’re free, we could also come in tomorrow to work on the rest. I sometimes come in on Saturdays to catch up on paperwork anyway.”
She seemed surprised by my offer. In my former life, I was one of those ‘clock out at the stroke of five o’clock’ people.
I complained incessantly if my boss needed me to work late or attend an event, like I had the night we’d broken up.
But this program was my baby, and I’d learned early on working here that my job was not ever going to be done in forty hours.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind…”
“I don’t mind, really. I would probably be here tomorrow anyway to catch up.”
“Okay, let me see what David wants to do.”
I went to the restroom to give her some privacy and when I returned she was typing something on her computer.
“David authorized me to work overtime this weekend so we can wrap this up,” she said, not looking up from her files. “He wanted me to let you know he appreciates the extra time you’re putting in.”
“It’s no problem. Really. Let me make another pot of coffee.”
Kimberly grimaced. “I don’t understand how you guys have such shitty coffee here. It’s Seattle, it’s practically illegal to drink coffee that comes in a can.”
“Yeah, but that’s what’s donated to us,” I said lightly. “This is a nonprofit. We operate on a shoestring and take what we can get for free.”
It was nearly eight o’clock when we finally got through the last file.
Despite how long it had taken, I was pleased with how things were going.
My team’s files were in perfect order, and other than a few minor issues, we’d found very little that needed to be fixed.
More than that, the ongoing case plan reports showed our families were making progress, good progress, in this program and thanks to our wrap-around services, when they left the program they were generally successful and self-sufficient.
Or as self-sufficient as any of us were anyway.
“You’ve built a good program here,” Kimberly said as she packed up her laptop and files. “You should be proud.”
Her words made something warm glow in my chest.
“I am proud. It sounds corny, but we are really changing people’s lives here. Like our shelter manager Julia always says, we hold hope for people until they begin to hope for themselves again.”
I smiled proudly.
“This program is proof that people can recover from their shitty past and change for the better if they put the effort in.”
I’d changed for the better too. I hoped she could see that. Then again, this wasn’t about me. It was about my program and the people we served.
Just then my stomach gave a loud rumble, reminding me it was way past dinner time. Laughing, I pressed my hand against my belly.
“I’m starving. I could eat a horse.”
“Have you ever been to that pub up the street?” she asked, surprising me. “I’ve heard they have great burgers, but I’ve never been there.”
“The best,” I confirmed. “And their fries are perfect – soft on the inside and crispy on the outside.”
“Are they crinkle fries?” she asked hopefully.
“They are.”
Kimberly gave me a considering look before shocking the hell out of me. “Do you want to grab dinner? A burger and fries sound good right now.”
I blinked for a second, wondering if I’d misheard her.
“Just as friends of course,” she clarified.
She wasn’t my friend and I wasn’t hers. Not anymore. And maybe we’d never been friends before, but I was excited to be her friend now. Excited enough that I couldn’t think of why this might be a bad idea.
“I’d love to get dinner,” I said. “But I have to warn you, I’m going to need to get my own basket of fries.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Really?”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s non-negotiable.”
She rolled her lips in to suppress a smile. “Got it. Everyone gets their own fries. Let’s hit the road.”
After a quick stop at my office to get my bag, Kimberly and I headed up the road to Benny’s Bar.
It was one of those hole in the wall places that people gravitated to because the beer was cold, the attitude was unfussy, and the food was better than expected.
It was a common after-work hangout for me and my coworkers, and when I walked in, the bartender greeted me by name.
It was a typically busy Friday night, but someone was leaving just as we walked in, so Kimberly and I snagged a cozy booth on the side of the room. The server came over almost immediately, and we both ordered burgers, fries, and beer.
“Still drinking that bitter ass IPA I see,” Kimberly teased.
“Still drinking that watery Hefeweizen I see,” I shot back.
It was a running joke when we were dating, so it felt familiar. After that we fell into an easy conversation, sharing work stories, discussing our current favorite TV shows – The Pitt for Kimberly, Bridgerton for me – and finally catching up on family stuff.
“Is your Mom still with Kurt?” I asked, referring to her stepfather.
Kimberly’s mom had remarried a couple of years after her divorce, and by all accounts, Kurt was a much better partner than her bio dad. I’d never met him, but I knew he took good care of the family and was well loved by Kimberly and her siblings.
“Yeah, they’re still blissfully happy,” she said with a small smile. “Those two are the definition of relationship goals. What’s new with your parents?”
I took a deep breath, well aware that some people judged me for this. “I cut them off.”
Kimberly blinked in surprise. “Really? What happened?”
My mind flashed to all the times one of my parents would call and I’d spend the rest of the day spiraling over whatever hateful vitriol they’d subjected me to. Kimberly had suggested multiple times that I block their numbers, but I’d always blown it off. Turns out she was right.
“Remember I told you I got into therapy after we broke up?”
She nodded.
“I was in a dark place with losing my job and our break-up. Somewhere around month three of therapy, I started to see that keeping them in my life was too toxic. I dreaded talking to either of them, and my mother’s constant criticism and judgement just made me doubt myself.”
I met her gaze.
“And doubt you. She was always yammering about how you didn’t really love me, and I’m not proud of it, but it got in my head.
Not that I’m absolving myself of responsibility,” I hastened to add, “but I finally realized that if I wasn’t related to them, I’d never have a relationship with two bitter and abusive people who didn’t even seem to like me. ”
“Wow, that’s big,” Kimberly said after a short pause. “How has it been?”
“Best thing I ever did for myself other than starting therapy in the first place,” I said, picking up my beer and taking a long sip.
“A lot of people have said, oh you’ll be sorry when they’re dead, or they love you in their own way and they just don’t know how to show it, but the thing is, I really don’t think either of those things are true.
A lot of people don’t understand how horrible people can be if they haven’t experienced it for themselves. ”
When I put my beer down, Kimberly reached across the table and gave my hand a firm squeeze. “I’m proud of you. I’m sure that was hard as hell.”
“It was,” I confirmed, “but it’s totally been worth it. And for what it’s worth, I wish I’d listened to you and done it much sooner than I did.”
“You did it when you were ready,” she said kindly.
“Yeah, and it’s been life changing.”
***
Three and a half years ago…
We were eating at a romantic Italian restaurant downtown, celebrating our one month anniversary. It was the kind of restaurant with candles on the tables and tables far enough away that it gave you the illusion of privacy.
My phone beeped. Seeing it was my mother, I grimaced and hit ‘ignore’. When it immediately started ringing again, Kimberly grabbed my phone out of my hand, turning it off.
“Don’t let your mother ruin our evening,” she said.
“It might be an emergency.”
“It’s never an emergency. She seems to have a sixth sense that tells her when you’re having fun and she needs to ruin it.”
“You’re right,” I said, slipping my phone into my purse. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”
Kimberly bit her lip as if she was trying to decide whether to say something but then something else caught her attention.
There was a couple at the table across from us who were clearly on a date, leaning close to each other as they laughed and whispered.
But from time to time they’d look around, like they were afraid they were being watched.
“They’re acting weird,” I noted, after the man stiffened as he watched someone come through the door, then relaxed when the person apparently wasn’t who he thought it was.
“That’s because they’re having an affair,” Kimberly had said, her voice both confident and disgusted.
“How do you know?” I asked curiously.
“My dad was a cheater. I recognize the signs.”
She gave me a look across the table that I couldn’t interpret.
“I’m the one that busted him. I saw him at a movie theater once.
I was with my friends, and he had his arm around this woman who wasn’t my mom.
When he kissed her I ran home and told my mom everything.
She’d had her suspicions, but once she knew for sure, she kicked his ass to the curb. Like she should have.”
“Oh my God, that’s awful. Your poor mom.”
“Then he had the nerve to fight her for custody of me and my siblings. Luckily, I was old enough that the court had to consider what I wanted, which was to avoid spending time with my dad. Mom got custody, but we had to spend one weekend a month and two weeks during the summer break with him.”
“But your mom was okay?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, she met my stepfather a couple of years later and he treats her like a princess. He’s a great guy, and he’s always treated me and my siblings better than my dad ever did.”
The couple next to us leaned across the table to exchange a kiss, and Kimberly made a sound of disgust. “I fucking hate cheaters.”