THIRTY-EIGHT
Maeve
I turn to Sarah, my stomach filled with dread. “He’s coming here.”
“When? Now?! Let me talk to him.” She moves to snatch my phone, and I pull it away. “I do not want to hear this man use being an idiot as an excuse one more time,” she gripes.
I put my phone under my leg so it’s safe from Sarah, then go back to staring at the article. I don’t believe Finn would screw me over like this. That can’t be possible.
I text Shazia.
Anything?
I asked her to find out if Finn knew about this. I want the answer to be Of course not , but I have a sinking feeling in my gut that says otherwise. In response to my text, my phone starts ringing.
“Did he know?” I say, the words tumbling out before I can manage pleasantries.
I hear Shazia’s hesitation, her intake of air. It’s unlike her. “Derek told him that he had a more favorable deal, via email. He also had both versions of the contract. Are you sure he knew your salary?”
“Yes,” I say confidently. “I mentioned it many times when discussing the Paul Myers situation.” It makes me feel physically ill to think Finn was being paid commensurately all this time while pretending to support my quest for equality. Even if he missed the email, he sees the money landing in his bank account and knows what I make. There’s no way he could have just overlooked this. He’s not that stupid. His mom’s charity is centered on equal pay; one of her big talking points is how male costars need to advocate for their female counterparts to be paid equitably for it to ever happen. Did he think this was just business, like Paul Myers would say?
“His family attorney has already requested we meet with Streamify as a united front; they want to get you paid equitably. And I’ll negotiate for back pay. On the bright side, this article will make you much richer.”
I know it’s Shazia’s job to think of the financials. But it’s hard to care about the extra money when this article is going to be the dissolution of our relationship. Before I can respond, I hear the doorbell ring. “Thank you for checking, Shazia. I’ve got to go.”
I don’t move, and the doorbell rings again. Sarah looks between the door and me. “Want me to kill him? I know exactly where in the yard to put him.”
I shake my head and walk to the door. Finn is standing there, a giant bouquet of roses in hand, along with three iced coffees. His face falls as he looks at me. “You saw it,” he says. It’s not a question. I nod anyway. “There’s no excuse here. But can I try to explain?”
Sarah walks over and takes all three coffees and the flowers from him, glaring the entire time.
“Talk,” I command, without letting him in. Maybe I shouldn’t let him explain. But I want to hear it. I want some inkling to hold on to, that can make me believe he isn’t this disappointing.
“It never occurred to me that we might be being paid different amounts. I barely read my emails, but I know you probably already know by now that the contract was there, and Derek told me it was more. Although, just saying, he didn’t outright say it. It was confusing wording. Especially when you’re just skimming. I assumed if I got more, you did too! Which is wrong. I am so sorry I was not more aware of the pay gap, and I will make this right.” He’s out of breath when he finishes, his cheeks flushed and eyes earnest.
When he reaches for my hand, I pull it away. “Finn, don’t play dumb. You know about the pay gap. Everyone knows about the pay gap. You just have the privilege to ignore it. To choose to ignore it. You can’t undo this.”
He nods emphatically. “You’re absolutely right. Like I said, it’s no excuse. I am in the wrong here, and Maeve, I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. I’ve always said you’re smarter than me, and—”
“Finn, just stop talking!” Suddenly I’m yelling without meaning to. “You talk a good game, but you can’t undo this. You can’t claim ignorance on this. You know better! I am so tired of you doing the wrong thing, then just expecting me to forgive you. Please, just leave.”
“Maeve, come on. Is it really so bad that I assumed we’d be paid equally? Let’s call it stupidly positive thinking. I really think—”
“How nice for you that you can pick and choose when to care. It’s not stupidity, it’s sexism. And laziness. And your fucking privilege that you are never going to outgrow. You are always going to be some rich kid nepo baby that never has to work for anything, but gets credit for everything at the expense of people like me, who work so fucking hard .”
I slam the door in his face, cutting off whatever excuse he’s offering next. “Leave!” I shout through the door.
I can hear him yelling through the door. “Are you serious? Maeve, I’m apologizing! I thought we were a team. Why can’t this be a real conversation?”
I walk away while he’s still talking. I am so tired of always adapting to him. Of being second. This article is the manifestation of all my anxieties. Does it even count as anxieties if it’s true ? I am valued less than him despite being the one doing most of the work for the show. My mom was right, Finn will always outshine me. And I was okay with it! Back when I thought we were a team. In public, where he gets credit for it, he’s always been a great man, giving me credit, saying no to golf course meetings, taking the blame for anything that’s wrong since it rolls off him. But all that is just performative if when it counts he’s not actually advocating for equality. And he let me look like an absolute idiot in front of the entire world. First with Cassidy, then Cassidy again, then this article. Again, and again, and again.
I walk back into the living room and collapse onto the couch with Sarah. She has thrown out the flowers and assembled a wide array of junk food and beverages. “I can’t believe he did this,” I moan. “It just makes me so angry! He is never going to understand what it feels like to take responsibility. To not have everything go perfectly. He never has to work for anything and wants applause for just being a decent guy, which is actually so much worse than the average woman.”
“Men are trash. All of them,” Sarah agrees. “Like, what is wrong with him? Evangeline is, like, the gender-pay-gap queen; he can’t claim ignorance. And actions are what matters, not intent. If he’s dead to you, he’s dead to me.”
“Well, right now, he is dead to me.”
Sarah grabs my phone and goes to Finn’s contact, changing his name to the graveyard emoji. My sisters do that with all our exes that we’re completely done with, so that if they text us, we don’t even know who it is.
“Am I overreacting?” I ask. Sometimes I wonder if my feelings are real. Or if my anxiety is building a mountain out of a molehill, loosening my grip on reality.
Sarah shakes her head. “One hundred percent not. This isn’t forgetting to take out the trash. This is your career. Your real life. And he doesn’t even need the money. You fucking fought to get here.”
I start to cry, softly. These aren’t the tears of a panic attack; these are tears over the fear that something I love might be ending. Of doubting the man I love. Of sadness that something I accomplished has been stolen from me. “I was just so happy to have done this. To finally get recognized. It’s all ruined now.”
Sarah wraps me in a huge hug. My face is buried in her shoulder when suddenly I feel more arms around me. I look up and see it’s Claude and Tiffany. “Sarah added us to your lock,” Claude murmurs without breaking her hold.
“How did you get here so fast?” I ask through tears.
Tiffany rolls her eyes. “Spirit and a time difference. We saw the article before you. Now fuck that stupid fucking man. Let’s watch rom-coms and eat our weight in junk food. Or health food. Whatever is available here in LA. You are so much better and smarter than that idiot.”
“I just feel so stupid for thinking that I did something with the glass ceiling.”
Claude pulls back to look at me. “Maeve. You did . And I’m sure that as a result of this you’ll do even more. You shouldn’t have to leverage a painful moment to drag the fight for equality forward. But that’s what women, people of color, queer people—that’s what we’re all forced to do. And it sucks, but it’s true, and more will get done here. You were betrayed, pure and simple. But don’t discount how much your pain is being used for.”
Her speech wipes my tears away for a moment. “You’re like ten. Where did you learn to talk like that?”
“Shut up, you’re barely older than me. Pageants aren’t all dresses and bikinis now, bitch. You’re not the only one who knows how to talk.”
I pull my sisters back in for a huge hug. “Thank you for coming.” And now my tears aren’t over the article, over Finn. They’re over how happy I am that no matter how big and scary my life gets, my sisters are always going to be here.