Chapter Fifteen Paul #2
“Is any of this relevant? Paul’s personal relationship with his ex-fiancée should not factor into this,” Darren speaks up then, in defense of me.
It should make me feel good to have at least someone in my corner, but it doesn’t, because Joe’s words are true, and his disappointment is more than warranted.
“No, there is no relevance,” Rue says, glancing at the phone before looking back up to me. “Mr. O’Connor’s infidelity is not the issue here.”
Rue flashes a quick look to Joe, reminding him not to get off track. The older man nods his head and scrubs his hand down his face.
"What I want to focus on is the facts. You two are engaged in a relationship that explicitly violates the terms of your employee contracts. Per subsection 4.3 of your employee contract, violating this constitutes a terminable offense with no requirement for progressive discipline."
The words hang like the blade of a guillotine above us.
"Besides the letters, we've had many constituents calling, expressing concern about integrity and judgment, and whether you're even qualified for the job.
Paul, one even asked me who you and Elise slept with to get your jobs because," he picks up a piece of paper in front of him, pulling his reading glasses on.
"and I quote, 'I would be surprised about the free-for-all fucking, but you do work for the government, so you're used to fucking people over. '"
I couldn’t get any lower, unless the ground opened underneath me and swallowed me.
"With all due respect, my personal life doesn't diminish my skill set. You can't fire us for falling in love," Elise's voice is reaching a sharper pitch now, but it’s not the tone that sends an unpleasant jolt through me. It’s the word she uses.
Love?
"We are not firing you for falling in 'love', Ms. Cabot. We are firing you because you are an at-will employee, and you violated your employee contract," Joe's voice is firm and final.
Elise's sun-kissed skin blanches, and she looks at me for help, for support, for defense.
"Effective immediately, Ms. Cabot, your employment is terminated. Security will escort you to your desk to collect your belongings."
"You can't be serious!" Elise screeches, her chair toppling over as she stands. "I've led three successful campaigns this year! My work speaks for itself—"
"We are very appreciative of your contributions." Rue’s voice is unaffected by Elise's volume, and she gestures to the door where the security is already waiting. "But even the most successful performance won't excuse your blatant lack of respect for ethics. You are dismissed."
Elise glances at all of us, looking for support, but doesn't find any. Her eyes land on me, but I can't meet her eyes. She huffs, and I hear her stomp out of the room and slam the door shut. The sound makes me flinch, but Rue just shakes her head in annoyance.
"As for you, Mr. O'Connor," Rue says, catching my attention. "Sixty-day suspension. You will return to work after two months and enter a 90-day probationary period. Darren?"
“That sounds fair,” his voice says. There's a brief pause on the line, and then, softer, “Paul, given what they had on file, this is the best outcome we could’ve hoped for.”
Relief floods me that I at least still have my job, but Rue leans forward in her chair. "Paul, I want to be clear. If you step out of line once during that period, you will be terminated. Do you have any other questions?"
"No," I force out through a closed throat. "Thank you. Joe, Rue... thank you."
"Then we're done here. Suspension starts today. I will email the paperwork to you and Darren. Try to read and abide by this one, at least. Darren, make sure it really sticks this time."
“Got it. Paul, I’ll call you later,” Darren says, before hanging up. Rue stands, gathering her papers in her hands. She leaves without a parting glance at me, but Joe remains in his seat, disappointment clear on his face.
"Paul, take these two months to really think about your choices," Joe says, his voice low. "Take a good look in the mirror, look at the man in it, and really consider if you like what you see. Because, to tell you the truth, kid, I don't like what I see when I look at you right now."
...
"I get fired, you get a slap on the wrist? How's that fair?"
Elise’s voice is razor-sharp now, almost shrill. She stomps over to me as I walk into the parking garage, where she's been waiting by my car, holding a box of items from her desk.
"It's not like I wanted this, Elise," I mutter while running a shaky hand down my face, the adrenaline leaving my body and not allowing the full relief to flow into me yet.
"You'll still have a paycheck coming in, Paul!" She jabs a finger at me, eyes wild and wide with anger. I walk toward my car and unlock it, placing my bag in the backseat as she follows behind me.
"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" Elise demands. She throws the box on the ground and runs her hands through her hair, frantic. When I don’t answer quickly enough, she stomps her foot, looking so much like a child throwing a tantrum.
I've never seen her like this before. "What am I supposed to tell people?
That I was fired because I fucked my coworker? "
"You're smart and good at your job," I try to soothe her, because she looks on the verge of exploding. "You'll find something else, Elise."
"Oh, really?" she laughs, but it’s a bitter sound. "Do you have any idea what my credit cards look like? Do you have any idea how much it costs to maintain my lifestyle? What the hell am I going to do for money?"
I frown as I take in her words. She said her parents are wealthy, and she would often talk about glamorous vacations, trust funds, and designer clothes and bags they gifted her. "What about your parents?"
She freezes, eyes going wide for a brief moment. Her expression reads like she’s been caught, and the hair on the back of my neck rises. Realization hits me like a punch. She’s been lying to me.
“They cut me off."
The words slice through the air like a knife.
"What?"
"They cut me off," she digs her nails into her temple, massaging away a headache. "Last year. That's why I've been living with Rhea. You think I'd ever live with her if I had options? Get real."
I can see Elise clearly now, and the ugliness of the clarity burns through me.
At this moment, Elise is not the glamorous, beautiful, and confident woman I thought I'd been drawn to. She's desperate and unravelling before my very eyes. It's like she's fine porcelain, cracking open right in front of my eyes, and I can finally see her for who she is.
Every smooth word she told me, which was supposed to be comfort, now sounds like facilitation. Every friendly gesture now feels like a maneuver. Everything about Elise in the last six months was calculated to get me to fall for her.
No, it’s even worse. I sprinted toward her willingly. I blew up my entire life because she had told me I could, not that I should.
I'm the one who let my fear, my cowardice, push away the best goddamn thing that ever happened to me.
I buried my fear in sex. I betrayed my Sophie in the most cruel way. I pushed her away to escape the possibility of her being sick and dying. I played the part of a loving, supportive man to my fiancée while I was planning my escape. I told Sophie that her breasts being cut off is a problem for me.
Sophie, oh God, my Sophie. Her sweet little face fills my mind, her smile so bright and beautiful when we were happy, and her devastation when I told her I cheated, and that her getting her breasts cut off changes things for me. Her righteous fury when telling me to get out of the apartment.
I destroyed the sweetest woman I've ever known, and now my career is hanging by a thread, held up only because a union contract makes me just that much harder to fire.
"Is that why you wanted me? Because of my job? Because of money?" I ask Elise finally.
The question weighs heavily between us, and I already know the answer. I know why Elise wanted me, why she pursued me. There are countless single men in Starling Cove, but she pursued me.
And I let her.
Her face blanches, and she steps toward me, but I just step back, out of reach.
"Paul, no," Elise coos, her eyes wide as she tries to smile at me. "No, I... what we have is real. You said it yourself, you can breathe with me. You're happy with me. You said that, remember?"
"Yeah, I did say that."
Did I mean it?
I convinced myself I did, now with the fog lifted...
Was Elise air, or was she a way out that I mistook for salvation?
"We'll figure this out," she insists, smiling at me, calm and assured, but her voice shakes at the edges.
I can see her so clearly, but I can also see myself, and we're both absolute disasters that destroy anything unfortunate enough to cross our paths.
She reaches for me, but I move away from her touch once more.
"You still have your job. Once this probation thing blows over, we'll be fine. We just need to keep our heads down—"
The cracks deepen when I step back a couple of steps and head toward the car. She quickens her pace and steps beside me.
Her grin becomes reptilian as she hisses at me, "Don't you dare go soft on me now, Paul.
You don't get to leave me in this mess alone.
Don't you forget that I just listened to your sob stories—you're the one who panted after me like a dog.
You're the one who left your precious Sophie. You kissed me first."
"You're right," I nod, slide into the driver's seat, and don't say another word.
She quickly slides into the passenger seat, and her smile falters for the first time, panic flickering through her eyes like a candle in a draft.
She doesn't want me. She wants what I can still give her—money, stability, a place to land, a moldable man.
And I let her use me, because deep down, I wanted to be used.
◆◆◆
"Pack your shit and get out."
"You can't just kick me out!" Elise shrieks.
"Uh, I actually can, since your name isn't on the lease, and even if it was, you violated it by moving someone in without permission," Rhea smiles sweetly, tossing another box in the pile and dusting off her hands. "Here, I even got boxes for you and labeled them. Now pack up and get the fuck out."
We had just gotten home, and Rhea was already waiting for us in the living room, placing a cardboard box on a stack of boxes already labeled She-Devil and Dickless Wonder.
I guess I'm Dickless Wonder.
"I let you live here because you were desperate and I was feeling charitable," Rhea says, her lip curling in disgust as she looks at us. "But that's over. Time for you to go."
"I'll call Don—" Elise hisses at Rhea, who shrugs, crossing her tattooed arms over her chest.
"Told him all about you and Romeo over here.
And I mean everything. Every grimy little detail.
" She smirks, her voice laced with a delighted glee.
"He said not to let the door hit you on the way out.
Also said—and I quote—'Tell those cheating assholes not to try to rent in this town again because hell will freeze over before they find willing tenancy. '"
Elise lets out a strangled scream, but I'm moving down the hallway to the bedroom, the sound of them going back and forth becoming muffled.
My bags are still in the corner of the room, and I grab them before I walk to the closet, grabbing my clothes and shoving them in.
When I grab my Red Sox hoodie, I freeze, before bringing it to my nose and catching a very faint scent of Sophie's favorite laundry detergent still clinging to the threads.
Deja vu floods me.
Only weeks ago, I was doing the same thing, packing up my entire life in silence and leaving the apartment I shared with the woman I love. But then it was Sophie's sobs echoing from the living room, not Elise and Rhea’s screaming.
This time hurts significantly less. Honestly, not at all.
I don't really feel anything but the nausea burning my stomach.
Guilt, I think, or maybe just the realization that I've run out of delusional lies to tell myself.
I keep moving, walking into the bathroom, grabbing everything of mine—razor, toothbrush, aftershave, and shoving it all in my bag.
I sling my bags over my shoulders, passing by the women still arguing, and head right out the door without another word.
"Paul, where are you going? Paul!" Elise's voice screeches after me.
I keep walking, heading toward the stairwell, hearing Rhea's voice fade as she snarls at Elise.
"No, Elise, I'm dead fucking serious—you have ten minutes, or you can find all your shit at Goodwill!"
When I reach my car, I toss in my bags and slide into the driver's seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly, the leather cool against my palms.
And then I just drive.
I drive and drive, mindless and numb, until I realize where I'm headed. Somewhere safe. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere where I can still almost hear her laugh. The beach.
I find a parking space and step out into the biting wind, fall coming in fast and sharp this year.
God, Sophie probably loves this.
I don't feel the cold, all I feel is the agony cracking open my chest, and I don't stop walking until I reach the water.
Sophie.
Memories assault me of us sitting on this beach together, her fingers wrapped around mine, her head on my shoulder. I can practically feel it still, and I reach up to my shoulder to try to capture the warmth. I can’t, because she’s gone, and it’s all my fault.
I had a pure diamond in my hands and all I had to do was hold her gently.
Instead, I dropped her.
No, I threw her away, like she was nothing.
Because she was sick, she was scared, and I was scared of hurting.
I made her pain all about me.
I grab at my hair, pulling until it hurts, and my tears fall unbidden.
I want to hurt, I want to bleed, I deserve to for what I've done.
Oh God...
What have I done?
"Sophie..." I cry into the wind, sitting there and praying for a way to reset time.