27. Taylor
Twenty-Seven
Taylor
I’m stupidly standing on the corner with smeared mascara and a red nose, looking like a hooker who’s fallen on hard times when Carrie pulls up.
She pulls up along the curb and rolls down her window calling out, “Hey, sugar, you lookin’ for a date?”
And despite how completely shitty I feel, she gets a small chuckle out of me before I climb into the passenger seat and start sobbing.
Silence passes between us because Carrie knows better than to give advice and she also knows I won’t say a word. I’ll spend the next week in emotional survival mode. I’ll house vodka for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’ll cry on the kitchen floor and wallow in my own stupidity, but then I’ll pick myself back up. I’ll remind myself that I can’t be broken and that from this disaster will come something amazing.
If you fuck me over, I’ll come back stronger.
“He’s married,” I eventually mutter out, and again Carrie says nothing. Her diplomacy is brewing in her head right now, and while she would never defend the men I’ve been with, she knows I’m manic right now.
We pull in my driveway, and I know I can’t stay at my house because it will be the first place Jake will look. He’s probably already on his way here, processing and rehearsing what he’s going to say to me to defend his typical shitty behavior, so I move quickly into the house.
I have no idea how I didn’t see this coming. After Trent, I had my guard up, never letting anyone get close enough to hurt me. But dropping that wall just set me up for the same lying and cheating.
“Are you staying with us tonight?” Carrie calls after me as I take the steps two at a time up to my bedroom.
“Yeah, if that’s okay.”
I’m even starting to wonder why Crescent Airways doesn’t have a no fraternization policy. It might be the only thing that keeps me from making idiotic mistakes like this again. There’d be a load of pissed off people, though, given this career is known for being free and loose on layovers.
I toss everything I’ll need in a bag, including my uniform, even though I’m starting to wonder if Jake will bother pursuing me since I’m supposed to be flying with him in just a bit. The idea of being trapped with him in that tiny-ass cockpit is not my idea of a good time. I need to put in for a reserve pilot, and I send up a silent thank you that I’m flying out of LAX. Not all airports have pilots on reserve for things like this and will tend to cancel a flight when the pilot is unable to get there. At least I won’t have a cancellation hanging over my head in addition to this shit show.
If he cares anything about his job, he’ll move on and make sure he gets on his flight to Tahiti, even if I don’t show up.
“Carrie,” I call to her from the top of my stairs, “you can go. I’ll meet you at your house later.”
“You sure?” she asks back. “You want to talk about what happened?”
“What do you think?”
She laughs a little, and I can picture her face: her eyes wrinkling up a little at the corners, her mouth slipping up into a small smile. Carrie and Charlie have been the only constant in my life for the last ten years, my supporters, my cheerleaders, my family. This job is lonely, and I don’t get home often enough, and without Carrie and Charlie, I would be alone. They’ve proven time and time again that they will drop everything for me, and they have never once broken that trust. They know I would do the same for them.
“I’m here when you’re ready,” Carrie announces, and I hear her feet on the wood floor as she makes her way to the front door.
“I know you are and there will come a time when I’m ready to obsess over it and analyze it, but now’s not the time.”
As I stand here looking at myself in the mirror with my smeared makeup and my blotchy face, I snap a picture as a reminder to myself that I won’t ever let anyone fuck with me or my emotions again. When I’ve long since forgotten the pain of being cheated on once again, I’ll pull out this picture to slap me across the face and bring me back to reality that men lie, men manipulate women and leave them with a chip on their shoulder.
My phone chimes out, and I hate to even look at it, expecting to see a text from Jake. But what I get is a quick note from my supervisor asking me to stop by so I can pick up a copy of my evaluation and sign off on my next step on the salary scale.
He thinks I’ll be at the airport today and his text reminds me to login to set up a reserve pilot for my flight to Tahiti. As I do, I pick up a new flight to Anchorage tomorrow morning in its place.
Before heading over to Carrie and Charlie’s, I decide to stop by and see my supervisor to gather everything I need to finalize my evaluation.
I feel like I’m walking through a fog, heavy and thick, clouding my thoughts and at times making me wonder how I even got to where I am. It’s like my body is going through the motions, but I can’t recall any of it.
My chest aches, dull and continuous, and as much as I don’t want to think about Jake, I find my thoughts consumed with him. I hate that he has this control over me and when I walk into my supervisor’s office, I suck in a hard breath determined not to let it show that I’m floundering.
“Hey, Taylor,” he says, glancing up briefly from his computer screen. “Thought you’d be on your way to beautiful sunny Tahiti by now.”
“Change of plans,” I mutter out, shrugging my shoulders as I take a seat in the chair across from his desk.
He slides a printed copy of my evaluation across the desk and motions with his head to a cup full of pens.
“Just need you to sign off on it. Same as what we discussed the other day.” His tone is casual, as if he’s talking with an old friend, and for a split second, I feel myself relax. “I said it before, you’re a great pilot, one of our best. Your commitment and service to Crescent Airways is unmatched.”
The more he talks, the more anxious I grow. He’s placating me with his words, trying to make me feel important before he hits me with something disappointing.
Today is the wrong day for this shit.
I straighten up in my chair, sitting taller as I uncross my legs and lift my chin in his direction. My eyes close slowly, a deep breath being drawn in as he continues.
“But this year…” he pauses, clearing his throat, “you’ll receive your yearly step on the salary scale, but there is no money for an increase…”
This time, it’s me who creates his next pause, stopping him at his next word and reminding him of his poor choice of words previously.
“So my commitment and service to this airline being unmatched means nothing. My salary will still fall below my male counterparts and I’ll still put in the same effort, the same drive to be successful, but I’ll make seventy-three cents for every dollar the men at this airline make. Honestly, that’s just the average; it’s totally possible that I make less than that even. You can take your words and shove…”
“Taylor,” he snaps, his eyes wide and his tone clipped. “I tried, I really did because I know you’re an asset to our team, but the money just isn’t there.”
“You’re sitting here telling me that you were given no money for raises this year? No money for defined contribution or from profit-sharing?” I lean forward, my eyebrows going up as I ask my questions and knowing his answers are going to be bullshit.
“Well, yes, but you know I can’t discuss other employees’ salaries with you.”
“That’s a cop-out, and you know it. I’m not asking you to discuss someone’s salary with me. I’m asking you to explain to me why I make less than, let’s say, Tom Smith? We have the same experience, the same number of flight hours logged, the same title, but he’ll get that eighteen percent profit-share that I won’t.”
“You’ll get yours, Taylor. No one is keeping that from you.”
I laugh out loud at his comment. There’s truth in his words but there’s also manipulation. That pool of money will be divided up and I’ll get a percentage, yes, but no matter how well I do my job or how many hours I log, I’ll still end up with less.
“I can’t keep having this conversation,” I announce, my hand flying up to stop him from continuing to speak. “I’ve gone every route in this industry to be respected, even losing my own self-respect in the process, but I’m done.”
“Taylor!” he calls after me, and while I made some pretty rash statements, he knows I won’t quit, but I’m definitely going to raise hell.
Carrie is waiting for me at the door with a glass of wine and a smile on her face when I arrive.
“What a welcome,” I say, but my voice lacks the excitement that wine and a smile should bring. I’m still fuming over my job, and any disappointment or sadness I had over Jake has been replaced by anger.
“It’s a school holiday, and I’ve been drinking since noon,” Carrie jokes, grabbing the bottle of wine from the kitchen island and taking a swig. “So you ready to unload yet?”
“Ready to unload a bottle of wine into my glass.” I roll my eyes and take a seat at the kitchen table while Carrie digs around in the pantry, pulling out a bowl filled with old Halloween candy.
“So, seriously, what the hell happened? I feel like you’re a pretty good judge of character at this point…”
“Ugh…right? How the hell did this one get past me?”
“Did his house look like someone else lived there? Like he had a wife?”
“That was the first time I’d been there, but it was a tiny guest house. Not really the kind of place that two people live, but she was in his fucking kitchen!” The rage blossoms in my body, coursing through my veins and making everything in me feel like it has been turned up a notch. Like I could breathe fire if I opened my mouth.
I tug a hand through my hair, pulling at it and shaking my head.
“So she was sitting at the table? Paying bills? On her computer?” Carrie asks, her eyes narrowed as she processes her questions.
“No, none of those things. She was just staring at the door when he walked in.”
“She was waiting for him.”
“Of course she was waiting for him. She lives there.”
“Nah, she doesn’t live there. She wouldn’t have just been sitting there staring at the door. She would’ve been doing laundry or watching TV or cooking or, fuck, I don’t know, but not just sitting.”
“What are you saying?” I question, getting annoyed as I begin to feel like Carrie is about to defend Jake and his actions.
“I’m saying that you need to let him explain.”
“Why are you taking his side?” I wail, my anger now projected onto Carrie, and wanting her to side with me.
“Taylor, I know you’re mad, but he went out of his way to show you he cares, to support the things you do, to be with you. Why would someone go to that trouble just to decide to fuck you over?”
“I don’t know, but he did.”
“Okay, let me ask you this. Would you have even given him a chance if he had told you he was married?”
“No.”
“Exactly and no offense, but you can be unapproachable and closed off. I’m sure he knew he didn’t stand a chance if he told you he was in the middle of a divorce. You exude that ‘don’t bring your drama near me’ vibe.”
“Thanks, Care. You’re really making me feel better.”
“I’m just saying, I think you should hear him out, and then, after that, if you still feel the same way then move on. But I’m going to predict that he has his reasons for doing what he did.”
“I’m going to let him figure out what that looks like. Let him find me, because I’m not setting myself up to be shit on.”
“Drink your wine,” Carrie replies with an eye roll as she tops off my glass.