5. Savannah
Chapter 5
Savannah
“ I ’m leaving,” I say stubbornly, and turn to leave.
“Good,” Michael replies. “But the next time you come into my office without permission, or if we cross paths and you decide you want to say something to me that doesn’t involve a case you are working on, you’re fired.”
I turn and open my mouth to argue and shut it the moment I see that he means it. I nod.
“My apologies.”
Then I walk out of his office defeated, catching a glimpse of Brenda shaking her head when I walk past her desk. She must think there’s something wrong with me.
After all, my interactions with Michael have been anything but ordinary. And from someone on the outside looking in, I’m sure I seem like the crazy one.
The new paralegal who doesn’t know her place.
But I do. I just…why does he get under my skin so much? It's infuriating!
Perhaps it is because he’s like every other man who has one-upped me in my life. Cocky, confident, popular, and irritatingly smug.
My father. Peter. Brandon. And now Michael.
I turn around and march back to Brenda’s desk.
“Oh!” She says, surprised that I returned. “What can I help you with, Savannah?”
“I need to ask you something,” I say, resting my elbows on her desk.
She nods. “Alright, go ahead.”
“What do you think about Michael Stone? Scratch that,” I add almost immediately. “I know you’re only going to say nice things about him because you don’t want to lose your job.”
“So, I’ll ask another question. What do you think about me? Do you think I’m crazy? That I have issues? That maybe,” I pause for a second, “I deserve a fiancé who cheated on me?”
“No.”
“No?” My eyes widen.
“It may not be my place to say it but, I think Brandon is an asshole.”
“You know him?”
She nods. “I know of him. And, he’s been in here a couple of times, and I’ve heard the rumors. He did a shitty thing to you.”
“Thank you,” I say eagerly, happy to have someone see my side.
“But—”
“But?”
“I know Michael well and he is nothing like Brandon. I have worked for him for many years, and I know he might be tough sometimes, but you haven’t given him a chance to show you the kind of person he truly is.”
I lean toward her. “So, you’re saying he’s a good person?”
Brenda nods.
“Yes, I know he is. He has a lot of flaws, but he didn’t fire you after you barged into his office and accused him of doing something he didn’t. Then you snuck into his office today, which is unacceptable, and you still work here.”
Coming from Michael or Peter, I might have ignored the words and walked away. But Brenda says it in such a way that it strikes a chord.
Am I the nagging type, like he said? I mean, I know I shouldn’t have snuck into his office. And maybe I should have been less hasty to falsely accuse him of being someone he’s not.
But I was livid that day, and I did apologize.
And today…I technically didn’t sneak in. I was worked up that he made Peter partner, and I ended up at his office, only to find it open and empty.
And any sensible person in a panic would have hidden under the desk. I open my mouth to defend myself when my phone rings.
Giving Brenda a polite nod, I turn away, grabbing my phone from my pants pocket while I head down the hallway. My eyes narrow, and smoke pours from my ears when I see who is calling.
I ignore the first ring and contemplate ending the second one, but remembering how persistent Brandon can be, I answer.
“What do you want?”
“My ring, Savannah.”
“Yeah. Hello to you, too,” I say, dipping my words in a deep pool of sarcasm.
He ignores it. “My lawyer sent you a demand letter, asking for my ring, now where is it.”
“I will return it on one condition, you write letters to everybody we invited to our wedding, explaining that we had to call it off because you cheated with my best friend for a year,” I hiss.
“I thought you handled that?” He asks like the oblivious, entitled person that he is. “You said you wrote letters and sent back the gifts.”
“Exactly!” I yell just as the elevator doors open. I take a deep breath as I hear footsteps approaching, jump into the elevator, and press the button for my floor. “I did everything.”
“You went off with her to God knows where while I took all the responsibility. I will not give you the ring back just so you can give it to her. Instead, I’ll sell it.”
“No!” He shouts in my ear, and I have to hold the phone at arm’s length. “Don’t do that. Don’t sell the ring. I need it,” he adds in a pleading tone.
Something about his tone makes me curious.
“Why? Do you want to give it to her?”
“No. I’m not giving it to her. We broke up last week, and I wouldn’t marry her anyway.”
“So?”
“I lost my job,” he confesses.
A snicker wrenches out of my mouth—a snicker accompanied by disbelief.
“You lost your job? How? Why?”
“My boss is a traditional man. He heard that we canceled the wedding and why. He fired me because he didn’t think he could trust a man who would cheat on his fiancée.” he says dejectedly. “And now I have someone who wants to buy the ring.”
“If I sell it to them, I might be able to pay my rent next month. Please, don’t sell the ring or throw it away. I beg you.” The desperation is evident in his tone.
I laugh loudly, and when I see myself in the mirror, I look like a woman finally getting her revenge.
“I don’t care if you are locked out of your apartment or forced to live on the street. I will not give you the ring, Brandon. You have made my life a living hell.”
“I’ll write the letters. I’ll do anything you want me to do,” he says pleadingly. “Please, Savannah. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
I feel the seed of revenge germinating into a tree that grows through my body.
It feels amazing!
Amazing!
I pump my fist in the air.
“Alright, let’s meet,” I say.
“Today?” He asks.
“OK, today if you insist. Get your shit together Brandon so I don’t have to hear that you’re living in a tent under a bridge,” I giggle.
“Where do you want to meet?”
***
I see Brandon as I walk into the restaurant. The man I used to know, confident, and charming, did not look back at me.
Instead, a pathetic person with sad eyes and slumped shoulders stares at me as I walk towards the table. I place my bag on the table and sit down, crossing my legs.
“That suit looks familiar. Hmm,” I wonder.
“Oh,” I snap my fingers, “I know. I bought it for you. Did you wear it to tug at my emotions? I’m sorry, but the Savannah that had feelings for you lives no more. If anything, I loathe the day I set eyes on you.”
“I shouldn’t have let my father pressure me into getting engaged,” I continue.
“Savannah, I—"
I raise a hand. “I’m not done. Remember what you said to me when I confronted you? You said that you fell out of love with me a long time ago. I stood there, crying, and you didn’t feel even the slightest remorse for me. Why should I feel—”
Noticing the waitstaff approaching our table, I stop talking. When he gets to us, I tell him we will not have anything except water.
“Because I won’t spend any more time than necessary seated across from you. The moment I’m done saying my peace, I’m leaving,” I make it clear to Brandon.
I see the fear in his eyes. “What about the ring?”
Opening my bag, I bring out a beautiful blue velvet box.
“The ring is in here. But I’m not certain I want to give it to you just yet. I’d like for you to suffer just a little bit more. For you to feel what it’s like when your life is crumbling around you.”
“I lost my job, Savannah.”
I shrug. “Not my problem. Sounds like your boss sees it my way too. I mean ex-boss. Looks like you are racking up the exes. I’m just here to get my pound of flesh before the line forms.”
“What do you want from me?” He asks in frustration, and I see—if I’m not mistaken—tears in his eyes.
The need to make him suffer dies and is replaced with pity.
“You know what,” I say “I’ll give you the ring. I don’t think I care about you enough to take a personal interest in your life any longer. If selling the ring helps you, fine. If it doesn’t, fine. I don’t care.”
“Here,” I hand it over.
He snatches it from my hand.
“Thank you!”
His voice is loud enough that it attracts attention from other people in the restaurant, and I shake my head. The Brandon I knew would never raise his voice for fear of being seen as anything other than a man in total control.
Brandon always watched how people perceived his manners in public. That and the fact that he knew how to please my father was why he pushed me toward marriage.
My father was adamant that I wouldn’t find anyone better than Brandon. Then when I found out that Brandon was cheating on me, my father acted as if nothing happened.
And so did his wife.
What was she going to say anyway when my father always had the last word?
Tired all of a sudden—of having to live up to the expectations of men—I push the chair backward and get up.
“I hope I never see you again. In this life or the next.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“I don’t want your pity. I hope you get exactly what you deserve. Goodbye, Brandon.”
With that, I head out of the restaurant, aware of the eyes on me as I leave. It is only when I get into my car, safe from public scrutiny, that I let the tears flow.