Chapter 18 Will
Chapter eighteen
Will had traveled internationally often enough to have become accustomed to reading words that he couldn’t understand. But he had never had that experience with words that were in English.
However, since his wedding day, he had found that his brain had become disinterested in concentrating on or comprehending words.
Text messages, letters, articles, and, in this case, work e-mails were nothing more than a collection of jumbled lines in various shapes that he knew were supposed to have meaning but did not.
Now, staring at an e-mail that he had been looking at for almost an hour, he knew he probably shouldn’t even be back at work.
Freya had told him to take at least a week off, with heavy emphasis on the at least part.
And he had taken a week off. But that week had moved like molasses, not only infinitesimally slow, but thick and suffocating.
Each second that passed felt like he was sinking deeper into the unyielding grip of a relentless abyss.
To avoid the hounding press, the rabid Internet, the nosy public, and even his out-of-their-depth family, he had retreated to his bed.
This left him with only his thoughts which, it turned out, were worse than all those things combined.
So, when his week was up, he skipped the ‘at least’ part and returned to work.
Because even though Freya gave him a disapproving side eye when he arrived that Monday morning, he knew she, of all people, would never try to stop him from working.
He suspected she was doing more than merely letting him sort of, barely, do his job.
Not one executive producer had appeared at his desk the entire week, suggesting that she was protecting him too.
He’d seen the dozens of missed calls from upstairs and listened to a handful of their voicemails, so he knew what they wanted.
They wanted what everyone else wanted. They wanted him to talk.
They wanted him to go through every moment of that day, no, of their entire relationship, with a fine-tooth comb and dissect it, looking for clues, for answers, for next steps.
They wanted him to examine how he was feeling and explore what he was going to do next.
But he wasn’t ready to do that for himself, much less for the public whose only stake in all this was likes, views, clicks, and plain old curiosity.
The memories of that day weren’t clear enough to dissect, though.
They played in his head like a stop-motion video; soundless pictures that flashed before his mind’s eye.
The crowd. Riley and Freya smiling. Someone in the audience.
The tablet at his feet. The pictures. Naomi running down the aisle. Her face as the elevator door closed.
It seemed, in exchange for understanding basic English words, his brain had been doing its best to keep him from having to relive that day.
Seeing it in anything more than fits and spurts would have been as blinding as staring into the sun.
He had to look away or be seared by the anger and betrayal.
And the questions. So many questions. Why had she done this to him?
Didn’t they have something special that had been worth protecting?
Why didn’t she love him enough to tell him the truth?
Why hadn’t he been what she needed, what she wanted, enough for her to choose him over whatever had made her believe she couldn’t? Had she ever really chosen him at all?
“You look like you could use a break.”
Freya was standing in front of his desk.
Despite not being able to focus on a single e-mail, he had no idea when she came into his office or how long she had been standing there.
She was wearing red and gold Lululemon pants and a matching shirt, which told him he also had no idea what day it was because she only wore workout clothes to the office on the weekend, and he would have guessed it was Thursday.
He wasn’t sure if Freya had meant her comment to be humorous, but he found himself smiling nonetheless. “Considering I haven’t gotten any work done today or really this whole week, I’m not sure stopping would constitute a break.”
“I didn’t say what you should take a break from,” Freya said, a knowing look on her face.
“Fair enough.”
“Come grab some coffee with me.” When he hesitated, she added. “Or a drink?”
“It’s only eleven o’clock.”
“On a Saturday. Of what might end up taking first place as being the worst month of your entire life. You still have a lot of life to get through, so it’s possible you’ll find a way to outdo this, but it’s going to be a pretty strong contender to beat.”
It felt strangely comforting to hear someone else say it out loud rather than only in the echo chamber of his own head. Maybe he needed more of that.
“I guess I could do with a cup of coffee.”
“Great, I’ve got the perfect place in mind.”
He pushed up from his seat and reached for his phone, where it was currently serving its main purpose as a paperweight.
Since the wedding, his phone had been on silent, which had been his only line of defense against the constant stream of calls and texts and notifications from the studio, reporters, family, friends, and fans.
Even Naomi. Though the latter had stopped coming in.
He carried it with him only to call Ubers, order delivery, and occasionally let his mother know he was still alive.
His phone lit up as he picked it up, revealing stacks of notifications and reminding him of what was waiting for him outside his office.
“I’m not sure we can go anywhere without getting chased down. ”
“That’s why I reserved a conference room, and I’ve got Starbucks waiting for us back at my desk.”
Will had always prided himself on being one step ahead what Freya needed. But it was moments like this that made him wonder if all this time she had only let him think he was.
“And before you ask,” Freya reached into the pocket of her hoodie and produced a silver flask. “I’m also ready if you decide to take me up on that drink.”
It was such a relief to laugh. A part of him had wondered if he knew how to anymore. Without another word, he followed Freya until they were settled into their makeshift café.
“Thank you for this. I didn’t realize how much I needed it,” Will said after his first sip. “The coffee, but also the …” He gestured vaguely at their setup with his cup.
“I’m sorry I didn’t suggest it sooner. I’m not very good at …” Freya returned the vague gesture. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not here to talk. Or listen. I’m sure you have lots of people to talk to, but I wanted to make sure you knew I was here too.”
“I do, but I don’t know what to say to any of them, that’s the problem.
I literally told my mom, ‘no comment.’ Which isn’t a lie.
I don’t have a comment. A comment would suggest that I have something to say about all this, and I don’t know how to form a single coherent thought around it yet.
Which is absurd because it’s been, well, considering it’s Saturday and not Thursday, that means it’s been two weeks.
” As the words started flowing, he looked down at his cup.
“Are you sure you didn’t sneak that something extra in here to get me to talk? ”
Freya wasn’t distracted by his attempts at misdirection. “Two weeks is rounding up.”
“I guess, but—”
“It took you longer to grow a beard. Remember that?”
“I wish I could.” Will chuckled. The beard had eventually grown in, but not before he earned the nickname Stubble Trouble from his coworkers.
“Stop me if this isn’t helpful, but maybe you don’t know what to say because you’re trying to write the story before you’ve done the investigation.”
“I’m not sure I totally follow.”
“Everything that went down at your wedding?” Freya shifted in her chair. “You know, as a journalist, that’s not really the lede, that's only the reason to ask, ‘How did this happen?’ Have you asked that yet?”
The question sliced through him like an icy gust of wind, so sharp it left him breathless.. He thought about the unanswered texts from Naomi asking him to give her a chance to explain. “I … don’t know if I want the answer to that.”
“Because”
The words were already there, waiting for him to give them voice. “Because what if I find out that it’s true and I only confirm that all of it, our whole relationship, was a lie.”
Freya murmured in agreement as she sipped her drink. Or at least he thought she was agreeing with him, but then she smacked her lips and said, “But what if it wasn’t?”
“How could it not be? You were there. You saw the pictures. You heard Naomi admit she had been married before. What am I supposed to …” He put both hands over his face and shook his head rather than try to finish that sentence.
“Do I dare disturb the universe? In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse,” Freya said. “T.S. Eliot described this moment, getting out of the inner turmoil and stepping into the courage to move forward, as disturbing the universe. Which is my point, Will.”
At the sound of his name, Will pulled his hands away from his eyes.
Freya was looking at him, her gaze as steady as her voice.
“You have to take the risk. Disturb the universe and start asking questions. Yes, maybe it’s all a lie.
Maybe those photos are really her. And maybe Naomi played you from the beginning.
But maybe not. Maybe she had a reason for keeping things from you, and there’s more going on than you realize.
I don’t know which one it is, but as a journalist, it seems to me like there are too many loose ends and too many maybes.
And there must be a part of you that feels the same way.
Is the love you had worth giving up on before you get those answers? Is Naomi worth it?”