Nine
SAWYER
I’m scared.
I’m embarrassed.
I can’t keep living my life this way.
Daniel refused to let me explain to him what happened.
I tried to tell him that Jackson showed up there, unannounced.
That I didn’t feel right turning away business, turning away my other boss.
He wouldn’t let me get one word in, he just told me that if I didn’t leave the office immediately, he would see to it that I wouldn’t be able to return for a long time.
I know Daniel well enough to know what he meant, and the look in his eye terrified me enough not to want to challenge him further.
My phone rings as I race my car down Sunset Boulevard toward home. One look at the screen and my fear increases.
It’s Jackson.
I click the button on the side of the phone to ignore the call.
Again, I don’t know if I’m more afraid to talk to him at the moment or ashamed.
I took things too far by moving forward with our meeting.
I never should have allowed him to stay.
I knew what would happen when Daniel found out, but I did it anyway.
If I were smart, I would have apologized to Jackson for not being able to help him today, and explained the process for scheduling an appointment for a meeting with one of our more senior account managers.
What was I thinking? Did I really just want to prove that I could land an account on my own? Or did this have something specifically to do with Jackson?
I could feel myself loosening up at the table next to him with each minute that passed. As he talked to me about his new product and what his hopes are for his company, I caught myself staring at the chiseled profile of his face.
He reminded me of the way I used to talk about racing.
And the way I felt in the early days of college when Daniel would go out with his friends and leave me home alone.
I would play around on my computer, coming up with different design ideas, pretending that I owned my own company and that it was one of the most sought-after graphic design and marketing firms in the industry.
My heart weeps thinking about the time when I was openly passionate about my dreams.
My phone rings again as I pull my car into the garage beneath our building.
Again, it’s Jackson, and again, I send him to voicemail.
I’ll need to go through my phone and delete all of his calls and messages before Daniel gets home.
I wish I knew when that would be. He could have me sitting upstairs alone, in agony for hours, wondering when he’s going to walk through the door.
Or he could come home within the next few minutes.
Did he leave right after I did? I overheard him confronting Jackson when he called out after me. Daniel must have stopped him to talk, otherwise Jackson probably would have been right on my heels. I’m glad he was kept from chasing me. That would have made things much worse than they already are.
As I get into the elevator, my phone beeps notifying me that I’ve received a text message. I know it’s from Jackson without even having to look. I unlock my phone and pull up the messaging app.
Jackson Powell:
I need to know that you’re okay. Please call me.
Me:
I’m fine. Came down with a migraine and needed to leave. I’m home now and about to go lie down. My phone will be off.
I beg him to get the hint and leave this alone. The elevator doors open, and I enter the hallway. My phone beeps again as I slide my key into the lock. I enter my condo, closing and locking the door behind me. Then I pull up my messages.
Jackson Powell:
Can I see you?
My heart clenches knowing that he may very well never see me again. I’ll be lucky if my racing career can withstand the fallout of the situation I’ve gotten myself into.
I begin to type out my reply, telling Jackson it’s not a good idea, but I delete it before I hit send. I can’t respond to him.
Within seconds, another beep sounds from my phone.
Jackson Powell:
Call me if you need anything at all. I can be there in a heartbeat.
I delete our text message thread from my phone.
Then I pull up my call history and erase the two phone calls he made to me as well as the voicemails he just left.
I don’t listen to them. I think if I were to hear his concerned tone and caring disposition right now, it would reduce me to tears.
It hurts knowing someone as genuine as Jackson is out there, but I’ll never have anyone like him in my life.
My phone beeps again, and my heart leaps. I want it to be Jackson. I want him to give me a way out. I want him to tell me that he stood up to Daniel and … and ...
And what?
I look at my text messages. This time it’s not Jackson, it’s Daniel.
Daniel:
I’ll be home at 5. Dinner better be ready when I get there.
Tears I didn’t want to cry start to fall. I look at the time on my phone. It’s 2:30 P.M. Slowly, I remove my jacket and shoes and place them in the coat closet. Then I decide to lie down for a little while before I get dinner started.
I’m awoken to the sound of my phone ringing. Reaching out, I feel around on my nightstand. When my hand finally lands on it, I pick it up and accept the call.
“Hello?”
“Are you sick? What’s the matter?” I hear my sister’s voice on the other end.
“What? No, why?”
I look across the room at my alarm clock. It’s 3:57 P.M.
“Because it’s four in the afternoon, and you sound like you just woke up. I thought you were working.”
It’s then that the events from earlier come flooding back. In my groggy, beaten down state, I’d momentarily forgotten what happened. I wish it was just a bad dream, but no such luck.
“If you thought I was working, then why did you call me?”
My older sister, Carissa, and I always joke about how we’re twins separated by three years. When one of us isn’t feeling well or has bad news, the other one can sense it.
“I just … wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Oh, yeah, no. I’m okay. I got a migraine at work and came home early.”
I don’t know why we insist on lying to one another when each of us knows the other isn’t telling the truth.
“Alright, cut the shit, Sassy.”
My middle name is Anne, making my initials SAS. Hearing her call me by the nickname she gave me when we were little puts a smile on my face like it always does.
I take a deep breath before I describe the epic mess that I got myself into with Daniel.
“Sawyer, you know I love you, but I still don’t understand why you stay with him. Can you honestly tell me you love him?”
I think back to when we were little kids and the three of us would run around each other’s houses, not a care in the world.
We would do everything together. I miss the smaller versions of the people we used to be.
Back then, there wasn’t anything that Daniel wouldn’t do for me.
Even though he’s closer in age to Carissa, I was the one he held a soft spot for.
“I’ll take your silence as your answer.”
“It’s complicated, Riss. You know that.”
“What I know is that you feel obligated to him. Obligated to the boy he used to be. The one you made a promise to when you were sixteen and didn’t know what the hell you were talking about.
The one who took your virginity and promised you the world.
I understand the attachment that some women have to men they believe care about them, but he’s not that guy.
” Carissa expresses. “Daniel is not worth it.”
If she even knew half of what I deal with from Daniel, she’d probably kill him. She hates the Kramers, and she’s not shy about hiding her feelings, even when we’re in their presence.
I wish it were that simple. I wish leaving Daniel was even an option, but it’s not.
I know because I’ve tried. Not only did he physically prevent me from leaving, but I barely have enough money to be able to survive on my own.
Daniel doesn’t know about my private account.
If he did, he would see it as a threat and have it closed down immediately. He likes to control all of our money.
“There are so many people out there. One of them is the one for you. Not Daniel.”
Closing my eyes, I see Jackson’s face flash in my mind. My heart clenches again. I tell myself it’s because I may have ended my racing career today and not because of the feelings for him that have started to blossom. Feelings I’m having a harder time denying every second that goes by.
“Hey, I need to go get dinner started,” I change the subject. “Daniel is going to be home in an hour.”
She doesn’t answer. The only reason I know she heard me is from the loud sigh of annoyance that I hear from the other end of the phone.
“I love you, Sas. Call if you need anything.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
When I got off the phone with my sister, I quickly showered then put some chicken and broccoli in the oven to bake.
I am now leaning against the countertop, holding onto my glass of wine, staring at the timer as it counts down the time until dinner will be ready.
As it counts down the time remaining until Daniel will walk through that door and finally get his chance to confront me in private about what happened earlier.
Finally, at five minutes to five, I remove our dinner from the oven.
Placing a piece of chicken and some broccoli on each of our plates, I stand next to my chair and wait for Daniel to walk through the door.
I loathe every second that passes, each moment sounding like a gunshot going off in my ears as the seconds tick away from under the faceplate of my watch.
Five comes and goes.
Five fifteen passes.
Five-thirty.
Quarter to six rolls around, and it’s then I know.
My punishment has already started. It started the moment I walked out of the office today. I am being held hostage by my fear of him walking through that door and finding me anywhere but standing next to my chair, dinner on the table, waiting for him to get home.