Chapter 11 Consequences #2
"Everything. I know the savings account had twenty-eight thousand dollars withdrawn.
I know about the credit card charges. The hotels.
The restaurants. The jewelry store. I know the affair started at least five months ago.
I know you told Kallie we were basically over.
I know you were planning to leave me and string me along at the same time because you wanted to keep your options open until the last possible moment. "
His hands are flat on the table and I can see them trembling slightly. Good. He should be trembling. Not because I want him to suffer. But because the truth should make people uncomfortable when they've spent months running from it.
"Fiona Grant is going to send your attorney a revised demand this week," I say. "I suggest you take it seriously."
"Brook, please. Can we just talk about this without lawyers?"
"No. We can't. Because talking to you without lawyers is how I ended up twenty-three thousand dollars poorer and eleven thousand dollars in debt. This goes through Fiona from now on. Every conversation. Every negotiation. Every dollar."
I stand up and put a ten-dollar bill on the table for my half of the lunch. Carol comes over with the check and I tell her Amanda's is on me too. Kirk stays seated in the booth looking up at me.
"Is this really how you want to end things?" he asks.
"I didn't end things, Kirk. You did. I'm just the one who finally noticed."
I walk away from the table. Amanda is already off her stool and meeting me at the door. She puts her arm through mine and we walk outside together into the afternoon sun.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"I'm good."
"What did he say?"
"He said it was a mistake. He said we should try to work through it."
"And what did you say?"
"I said no."
Amanda stops walking. She turns to face me. Her eyes are bright and her face is flushed and she looks at me with an expression I haven't seen from her in a long time. Pride.
"That's the Brook Walker I've been waiting to see for nine years."
"She's been here the whole time. She just forgot how to say no."
We walk back to City Hall together. The afternoon is warm and the street is busy with lunchtime traffic.
People going about their normal lives. Picking up dry cleaning.
Walking dogs. Buying coffee. The world hasn't changed.
Kirk is still sitting in that diner booth realizing that nothing he says is going to bring me back.
And I'm walking down Main Street with my best friend feeling lighter than I've felt in months.
"Tell me everything," Amanda says. "Every word."
So I do. I tell her everything Kirk said and everything I said back to him.
About the mistakes and the working through it and the counseling suggestion.
About the money and the bracelet and the look on his face when he realized I knew about the Valentine's Day charges.
About the way he flinched when I mentioned the dollar amounts.
About the way he tried to be charming and how it didn't work.
About the word no and how it came out of my mouth without any effort at all.
Amanda listens to everything. When I'm done she shakes her head slowly.
"Nine years," she says. "I watched you spend nine years with that man. And in all that time I never once heard you stand up to him the way you just did."
"I never had a reason to before."
"You had plenty of reasons. You just didn't see them. He was so good at making everything seem fine that you believed it was fine even when it clearly wasn't."
"I know that now."
"I know you do. And I'm proud of you for knowing it."
We walk the rest of the way in silence. When we get to City Hall Amanda hugs me in the parking lot. Not the quick kind. The real kind. The kind that says I'm here and I've always been here and I'm not going anywhere.
I go back to the Records Department and spend the rest of the afternoon working.
I process six deed requests and update the preservation project inventory.
Roger reads me a passage from a 1974 city council meeting about a proposed leash law that sparked what he describes as the most contentious public comment period in Wildhorse history.
I listen and laugh and contribute commentary and for three hours I don't think about Kirk at all.
When I get home I call Fiona and tell her about the encounter. She listens carefully.
"It's not ideal for you to have direct conversations with him while negotiations are ongoing," she says. "But nothing you described is problematic. You didn't make any commitments or concessions. You told him the truth. That's fine."
"He asked if we could handle things without lawyers."
"Of course he did. People who've been caught doing dishonest things always prefer to negotiate without witnesses. That's precisely why we don't."
I smile. I've grown to appreciate Fiona's directness.
She doesn't soften things for my benefit.
She tells me what's happening and what needs to happen next and she does it without emotion or drama.
She's the opposite of Kirk in every way that matters.
She says what she means. She does what she says.
She doesn't waste time performing sincerity.
"I'll have the revised demand letter ready by Friday," she says. "I'll send you a copy before it goes to his attorney."
"Thank you, Fiona."
After I hang up I sit on the garden bench and call Ross. He answers on the second ring.
"How was your day?" he asks.
"I ran into Kirk at the diner."
There's a brief pause. "Are you okay?"
"I'm okay. Better than okay actually. He asked me to give him another chance. I said no. And I meant it. Completely."
"Good."
"That's all you have to say? Good?"
"What else is there to say? You knew what you wanted. You said it. That takes strength. I'm not going to pile on with opinions about someone I've never met."
I lean back on the bench and look up at the sky.
Ross doesn't trash Kirk. He never has. He doesn't make jokes about him or call him names or try to position himself as the superior alternative.
He just listens when I talk about it and responds with whatever he actually thinks.
No performance. No competition. Just honesty.
"Can I see you this weekend?" I ask.
"Saturday morning. I'll bring coffee."
"You always bring coffee."
"And I always will."
Not happy exactly. Not yet. But lighter.
Because the conversation I've been dreading for weeks just happened and it was manageable.
Kirk didn't break me. He didn't charm me back.
He didn't make me doubt the decisions I've made since the night I walked away from his apartment.
He just sat there and proved everything I already knew about him.
He's not a terrible person. I don't believe that.
He's just a weak one. He's a man who wanted everything without working for any of it.
He wanted a loyal girlfriend and an exciting affair and enough money to fund both without consequences.
And when the consequences came anyway he wanted forgiveness without accountability.
I don't hate him. I don't need to. I just don't need him anymore.
That's enough. That's more than enough.