Chapter 37 Now
Now
Although things between James and me have thawed, they remain a little awkward.
Now, more than ever, he seems to not want me around.
At the same time, I find myself yearning for him a little more now that my connection with my sister has been severed, a void of affection to fill.
She’s never been the one to initiate a call, but now I can’t call her, either. I’ve been blocked.
Over the past couple of days, James has insisted that while things are stressful, I elect to work from home.
But working in the office is a nice distraction from everything else happening in my life.
Here, there is order, and if and when there’s chaos, the stakes are so low that it’s easy to keep a cool head about it.
People seem to think I’ve attained some guru level of inner peace, but the truth is that I simply don’t care enough about work problems to go into a panic about them.
And so, for the past few weeks, the office has been a strange haven.
I’m returning from my lunch break today, earbuds pushed in as deep as they’ll go, Euro rock blasting on loud.
It’s not my usual music of choice, but of late, I’ve found angry screaming soothing.
It’s nice to hear from people who seem more enraged with the world than I am.
It’s nice to take these lunchtime walks, inhale some not-quite-fresh but at least outside air.
It’s easy in the gaps between task seven and task eight on the to-do list to clear my mind, take in the people pounding the pavement, the old buildings, the secret alleyways, the tiny hidden parks.
The lifts are half-broken again today, and so those of us who have braved them, packed in shoulder to shoulder, must wait at each floor for the doors to close before jabbing the next floor choice repeatedly until the button sticks.
By the time I get to the fifth floor, a little of my lunchtime Zen has been eroded, but not enough to stop me from looking forward to blasting through the next five or so hours of tasks. It feels good to get this done.
Most of the team is still at lunch, but Molly is back, eyes focused on her screen. She glances up as I shrug off my bag and jacket. There’s a scrutiny in her expression I’m not used to, eyes tracking me as I sit.
“Good lunch?” I ask with a brightness I don’t feel. She nods, the false sunshine in my voice not banishing the shadow that undercuts hers as she says,
“Will called for you.”
My mouth goes dry, tongue sticking to my teeth even as I say, “Oh yeah?” with an easiness even faker than my smile.
I realize too late that her scrutiny is naked suspicion. I wonder if this is how Mad Mary felt when the tide began to turn against her in the office: afraid. Wonder if people have already started to align my increasingly erratic behavior with hers.
“Yeah, you were out, so I answered the office phone for you,” Molly says.
I want to point out that she’s not answering the phone for me—anyone can answer; it’s just that most people in the office are too lazy to, and I always seem to be first to cave. But now doesn’t feel like the best time to debate the issue.
“He said your time’s up.” She continues. “What does that mean?”
Play it cavalier, cool as a cucumber. “Oh god. I have no idea.” A look of fear I don’t have to fake.
Molly is fast to pounce on it. “What?”
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t say anything. It’s just that…” A dramatic look into the distance and a flicker of reluctance back her way.
She’s all in now, swiveling to face me in her chair and leaning forward. “What?”
“Well, James said he’d been drinking again…” A pause for added drama. “I didn’t realize how bad it must be, but this…”
Molly nods, somber. It seems like she’s genuinely on side now. “Christ. He did sound off, now you mention it.”
The tempo of my pounding pulse slows even as my thoughts race.
It must be about the money. Although James said he was handling that.
Perhaps he gave Will more than just the cash.
Told him he knew about the drinking. Told him he can’t come back to the business.
Did James give away that I’m the one who caught Will in the act?
I punch my log-in details into the computer and try to look normal. But then Molly pipes up again.
“I noticed that in the pigeonhole for you, by the way.”
Confusion clouds my mind for a moment, but then I spot it.
There’s a gleaming white envelope, almost blending in with the polished white desk.
My name is clearly written on the front of the envelope, our company address beneath it.
I take my seat and pick up the post. The all-too-familiar scrawl glares at me.
I’m already holding my breath, but when I slip my finger under the folded corner, when I slip out the first sheet of paper, my heart stops.
In the end, my humiliation was so complete that I died a little before you did. And I wish I could say that when I heard you were dead, I was sorry.
“Anything interesting?” Molly asks.
Panic and fury flare in my chest. I fold up the contents.
“No, just…” I rack my brain for something she won’t want to see. She’s unendingly curious. “Just an overdue invoice from one of the freelancers.”
“Oh! Printed? Old-school. Which one?”
For god’s sake.
“Jess Williams.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Oh god.”
And that’s the end of that, at least, her attention firmly on her screen again.
I fire up my own laptop, forcing myself to wait a couple of minutes before slipping the letter into my bag in a way that I hope is surreptitious.
The rest of the afternoon is ruined, my thoughts preoccupied with Will.
From my desk, I can see into James’s office, see him hunched over his computer.
I want him to look up, try to catch my eye like he used to when we’d just started connecting.
I want him to notice something’s wrong, pull me into a conference room, pull me into a hug, tell me everything’s going to be okay.
But he’s more distant from me than he’s ever been.
As for Will, proving he had copies by sending them to my home was one thing, but calling up the office? Sending copies here? That’s unconscionable. Even for him. It’s clear he’s trying to scare me, but all he’s succeeded in doing is firing me up. This simply can’t continue.
The rational part of my brain advises caution, wants me to think things through. But I’m tired of thinking and waiting. Tired of hoping James will somehow fix things.
I quietly slip away from my desk, phone in hand. Outside, I dial James’s number once. No answer. I try again. More of the same. On the third attempt, he picks up.
“Is everything okay? I’m about to go into a meeting, so if it can—”
“I’m outside. Can you spare five minutes to just come talk to me?”
“Nat…”
“Please.”
“This meeting’s important. If anyone else in the office asked, I’d give them the same answer. I promised no special treatment.”
“James, I’m your wife.”
“Nat, please. Can you just tell me what it is?”
I’m frustrated, but James’s unwavering sense of fairness is not going to let him budge on this.
“He’s sent copies of the letters to the office.”
A beat. “What?”
“Will. And he called. I came back from lunch and…Jesus, James, he bloody called the office phone and Molly picked up. He told her my time’s running out, whatever that means. Has something happened? Why is he doing this?”
“Shit.”
That’s a “shit” pregnant with meaning.
“What is it, James?”
He’s silent.
“James!”
“God, I didn’t think he would— Bloody hell.”
“James.” A “James” pregnant with warning.
“I sent him the money, but I was a little short. Just a few hundred pounds.”
“James…”
His voice is pained. “I know.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t think it was enough for him to be unhappy about it. I’d obviously tried.”
“So this is him retaliating, then? This is a nightmare. At least for now, no one’s seen the contents of the envelope. I think I managed to fob Molly off with a story about Will drinking. I’m okay.”
“Thank god.”
“Look, we can talk about this later. I’ve got to get back to my desk and you’ve got your meeting.”
“Oka—”
I’m quick with my next line. “Actually, I’ll be back a little late. I think I need to take myself off for a massage, maybe even a film or something on the way home. My mind’s racing. It will make me feel better.”
I almost feel guilty for lying to him. Almost.
“Sure, whatever you need to do.” A beat. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The hours ticking down to home time stretch longer than ever.
I’m usually one of the last to leave, but today, I’m the first, bolting out of my seat as soon as the clock strikes five.
I notice Molly’s eyebrows shoot up as I shoot out.
A question that approximates concern for my well-being chases me through the dusty office air as I race toward the exit.
Outside, my fingers jab at my phone screen as I pace along the pavement. I need to know how to get to Will’s new place without my car. An ugly idea is forming, half-baked but there. It relies on a lot of luck—more than I should be comfortable with—but I’m determined to make this work for me.
Before I know it, I’m out of the city and into the suburbs, knee almost tired from all the jostling it’s been doing while I’ve been sitting on the train.
It’s only as I near Will’s street that anxiety begins to peek over the ledge of my anger.
I’m very exposed here. If he’s out anywhere, I’m easy to spot outside the confines of my car.
This is blatantly stupid. I wonder if Claire was as reckless as this, or whether she enacted her plans with more meticulousness and attention to detail. I wonder if I’ll ever know.