Chapter 36
Chapter
Unfortunately the goddamn contract specifies that the relationship cannot be terminated by electronic means, including phone calls. At the time, when I skimmed over it, I thought, Good, he won’t be able to dump me with a text. That’s happened to me a couple times before, and I wasn’t exactly a fan.
But I didn’t imagine I’d be lurking in the stairwell, hoping to intercept him.
Or that I’d be constantly texting him asking to meet up and getting evasive replies.
Hey this project is crazy, I’m probably not going to make it home at all tonight, or I’m at an offsite and won’t be back till late.
I even wait outside his place in my car one evening, but when midnight approaches and he still hasn’t shown up, I throw in the towel and head home.
Who knew breaking up with him would be this much work?
Days pass, and now it’s Thursday evening, and I’m the last one at the office, finishing a research memo Erica asked for.
I’m going through it with a fine-tooth comb, making sure there’s nary a comma out of place.
I’ve been staring at the screen for so long—I need to look at something else for a few minutes, so I get up and pace around the empty eighth floor.
Some new flowers on Sarah’s desk catch my eye, and after double-checking that no one else is around, I lean into her empty cubicle. There’s a tiny heart-shaped card dangling from the bouquet, this time with a handwritten note inside:
Picked these ones myself!
Happy two months
Love, G
But that’s not Greg’s handwriting? It’s too neat and looping, where his is more of a scrawl.
I hurry back to my desk. Maybe it’s time to get out of here.
I’m so antsy on the drive home, fingers tapping the wheel as I pass by the high school, by Sterling Field, by the boba place I used to go to with Greg. And—
Wait. There’s Greg?
He’s standing outside the old diner we would go to sometimes after class.
I hit the brakes irresponsibly, and the car behind me honks. With a grimace and a sheepish wave, I make a left into the diner parking lot. The asphalt is littered with bright purple petals from the jacaranda trees around the edge.
Greg’s gone now, but there’s Morgan and Sarah, heading inside. And a few more people from work I recognize are also getting out of their cars and drifting over: more of the accountants, and some of the people I saw on pub trivia night. Adam holds the door open for Carol.
I follow them inside, and there are a few dozen more people from work, gathered around a series of tables they’ve pushed together in the center of the dining room.
Some of them I never work with, but I recognize them from when we were in school together.
It’s empty in here, other than this crowd—it’s a wonder the diner stays in business.
There’s Greg, back turned to me, talking and gesturing at a piece of paper. Next to him, Morgan has her laptop open, and—I move closer to see—there’s a very detailed, color-coded spreadsheet on her screen.
Sarah sees me and reaches across the table to close Morgan’s laptop.
“Hey!” Morgan says, before she turns around and startles at the sight of me.
Wow, I’m the jump scare.
“Ruby!” she squeaks. “Hi! What are you doing here?”
“I, um…come here often?”
Greg turns toward me, and the tension on his face is hard to read.
“Okay, that’s a lie, I just…I saw you guys and felt left out?”
I look from face to face uncertainly. Everyone is eyeing me like a stray dog who wandered in—or maybe a coyote.
Steve the Project Manager nudges Greg. “We can’t tell her!” he whispers—or at least, he probably thinks he’s whispering, but he’s bad at it. “She’s dating management!”
Greg sighs wearily, the way he does when he’s heard something too many times.
Sam from Sales sneezes, and some cards he was holding in one hand scatter. Sarah dives for them, but before she can snatch them up, I grab one by my foot.
There’s a lot of text on it, but my eyes gravitate to a few words across the top:
AUTHORIZATION FOR REPRESENTATION
It all falls together—the time I thought Greg was handing out business cards at the reunion. All the times he stayed late for mysterious reasons. Mark Winterson’s weird remarks at the all-hands.
“You guys are forming a union?”
Greg stands and pulls me to the side, by the pie case.
“You can’t tell anyone. And I mean anyone.” The urgency in his voice, and the stern look on his face—it’s an unfamiliar side of him.
“Or you’ll what?”
“Or—” Greg glances at the ceiling and lets out a long breath that puffs his cheeks. “Or it’ll kill me and I’ll haunt you.”
I laugh despite myself. “Wow, too soon.”
“It probably would kill him, honestly,” Sarah pipes up from where she’s sitting. “Greg really made this happen. Brought all of us together. We’ve been working on this for years.”
My heart swells with pride for him. “Damn, Greg, you’ve been busy!” I exclaim so vigorously, it makes him laugh.
I want to shout: See, Mom! Greg does apply himself when it counts!
“You have to keep this to yourself, okay?” His eyes are pleading. “We’re so close, and—” Greg glances at Sarah, and she gives him a meaningful look. “It matters for everyone here. For everyone’s jobs. And we’re racing the clock, trying to get this together before the next round of layoffs hits.”
“You think there’s one coming?”
“Yeah.” Greg sounds so tired. “Much worse than the last one.”
Time slows, and I’m very aware of everyone I spend most of my waking hours with, watching us from the tables.
Al is peering over here sadly, and my chest tightens at the idea of him losing his job.
Carol and Morgan are whispering to each other.
Sarah’s arms are wrapped around her middle like she has a stomachache.
From the seat beside her, Grace from Sales puts an arm around her shoulders, and as Sarah leans into her, Grace plants a light kiss on the top of her head.
Wait. Love, G?
So much for my psychic link with Greg! I read this situation completely wrong.
Greg is standing with his arms crossed in front of me, and my heart hurts, thinking about him being unemployed and Tita Wendy having to worry about their mortgage payments, after they already lost their house once.
“Look, I’m not going to tell Mark Winterson anything.” My eyes dart between Greg and the group at the tables, sizing me up. “I’ve been trying to break up with him.”
“You have?” Greg says with sudden enthusiasm.
“You’ve been trying?” Carol from Legal arches an eyebrow. She seems out of place in this diner, with her sleek blond bob and black pin-striped pantsuit, her short pumps and skeptical expression. She has a permanent let-me-speak-to-the-manager voice going on.
“Yeah, he’s been…hard to pin down recently.” My heart seems to beat louder and louder, the longer I stand in front of everyone. And a wild idea starts to form in my head. “Maybe I could help you.”
Morgan turns in her seat, peering at me curiously.
“I…found some weird stuff at Mark Winterson’s house,” I say. “It seems like something strange is going on.”
“Strange, like…?” Sarah says.
“Financially?” I laugh nervously. “Like…is this a crime?”
Morgan’s eyes widen. Carol’s jaw drops. Greg looks like he’s seen a ghost.
“It’s that thing you were talking about—” Sarah starts, turning to Greg.
“We’ve already told her enough!” Steve the Project Manager cuts in. “How do we know we can trust her?”
“Let her finish,” Greg says firmly. “I’ve known her my whole life, okay? If you trust me, you can trust her.”
“Sorry to interrupt!” A woman with an apron around her hips and a pad in hand comes by. “Are we ready?”
Morgan picks up a menu, but Carol cuts her off, orders enough fries for the whole table, and gives the waitress a tight smile that says, Please leave now.
“Ruby?” Carol prompts. “What are you suggesting?”
Adam from Accounting pulls out an empty chair, gesturing for me to sit. So I do, scooting in nervously.
“Maybe I could put off breaking up with him for a couple weeks. And try to notice what I can, in the meantime. And tell you about it. Maybe get you something you can use.”
I glance at Greg, still standing behind me, looking skeptical and confused.
The list of my self-limiting beliefs that Trisha made me write is running through my head:
I am selfish
I am lazy
I am a mess
Maybe I can accept myself. Use my inertia, be selfish and messy for a good cause.
“I mean, lord knows I’ve stayed in relationships past their expiration date before,” I add. Around the table, that gets a couple nervous laughs. “Maybe I can put that to good use. I got myself into a weird situation, but…maybe I can use it to help you guys out, before I extract myself from it.”
Greg walks around the table so he’s facing me, expression flat, annoyed. “What exactly are you saying?”
Sarah looks concerned, and Morgan looks like she’s about to reach for some popcorn.
“Maybe I can spy on him for you guys. Or throw him off your trail. Buy you some time, at least.”
“Are you sure about this, Ruby?” Al asks.
Greg scoffs and looks at me like I’ve lost it. “Are you kidding? That’s insane.”
“I’m dead serious, Greg!” And then I start to sweat, thinking of the paperwork. “Um, there’s just—there’s this thing I signed.”