Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Ed
“Are you okay?" Bess asks, her brows knitted in concern. Her voice sounds as if she’s speaking from the other end of a long tube.
The room closes in on me, squeezing the light out.
"Wow," says Mistral from half a world away. "It's already getting thousands of likes."
"Ed?" Bess moves towards me and the room snaps back to its normal dimensions.
I try to answer her, but all my saliva has dried up and glued my tongue to the roof of my mouth. It pops when I release it. "Ah, no. I'm not feeling well, actually. I'm going to take a moment out the back."
I have to concentrate really hard on putting one foot in front of the other, but I make it to the door to the back area, and then the office without collapsing.
The office is a cell. A small, breeze block room with one tiny window high on the wall. Ordinarily, I try to spend as little time in here as possible, but right now its compact, dark interior feels safe.
Shutting the door behind me, I allow everything to rush in.
It does in one violent, roaring sweep, and whirls and twists inside my skin. I can't pin down a single coherent thought except, "How has this happened? How can it be happening?"
I know why. I know exactly why. Because I invited it to happen by gambling on Mistral when I should have known so much better. This is all on me.
I make it to the chair and my legs collapse from under me.
Bess' mouth, her voice speaking my words. Words I'd written about her, ones she was never meant to hear.
The things you do to me.
...sliding my fingertip over your skin.
...my heart stuttering when you look at me.
I feel like my sternum has been cracked and my rib cage prised open, all my glistening innards on display.
This changes everything.
How can I pretend around Bess like I haven't written her a love letter under the guise of a soldier, and that she hasn't read it? It's going to be impossible. She was moved by it. She was so touched by what the letter said, she was nearly brought to tears.
I made that happen. And I made it with sentiment I truly feel. She's never going to move past it when she finds out who authored it.
We are not going to be able to move past it.
There's a knock on the door and Mistral's muffled voice. "Ed?"
Not knowing what's going to burst out of me, I wrench the door open and half-yell, half-whisper, "What kind of human being are you?" My voice cracks on the last word.
Mistral raises her hands. "I know you're angry right now, okay? But it's going to all work out. Just wait and see."
"Work out? How is you betraying me, making a deeply personal and very intimate expression of emotion not only public, but giving it to the person it's written about and who won't welcome it, and then lying to her and, by implication, all her viewers about it, going to 'all work out'?"
"Because it has to. Besides, she doesn’t know who wrote it. It’s no biggie."
"No biggie? Did you hear anything I just said?"
Mistral doesn’t answer.
“Who’s looking after the library?”
“Bess. She can handle it until we get back.”
I eye her for several seconds before turning my back on her and retreating into the room.
She follows and closes the door behind her. She doesn't turn the light on, so we look at each other in the gloom, waiting for the next words.
I speak first. "How did you get it?"
"There's honestly nothing to worry about."
"How did you get it?"
Mistral hesitates before saying in a rush, "I saw you pull it out of your pocket and read it. I guessed what it might be by the look on your face. Then I pick-pocketed you when you didn't put it back properly and it was poking out."
I shake my head at her. "But it never went missing. I still have it."
"That's because I photocopied it and put it back when I pretended to lose my balance and fall into you. Remember? At the front counter yesterday?"
Christ. The level of deception. I knew Mistral was a stirrer, a meddler, but I never thought her capable of this.
"You are playing with both our lives – mine and Bess' – and you've done it without our permission. I don't understand how you have that capacity. What kind of person thinks that's okay?"
Mistral has the indecency to place her hands on her hips. "I’m sorry, okay? But this is for the greater good."
"What? The greater good of the community?
None of this affects you, Mistral. You have no right to make a decision about it on their behalf.
" If I had the ability to fire her, I would.
But, unfortunately, this is not a matter of inappropriate work conduct and I couldn't make an argument for it if I tried.
"It does affect me, actually. I live in this community, too. I care about Bess and all the artists she supports. They're my friends and I want them to continue to be able to live and flourish in this community."
"But, apparently, you don't care about me.
Am I just collateral damage to reach that greater good?
" I place my palms on my temples. "I wrote about tracing her skin with my finger, Mistral. That kind of thing coming from someone you have no feelings for, is creepy as hell.” I slide my hands down over my eyes.
“Oh God! Our friendship will be over in a heartbeat.
My life here will become..." I drop my arms. It's too awful to contemplate.
She works across the road from me. There's no escaping her and the awkwardness that'll pervade everything.
No more Tuesday Night Art Fights. I could potentially lose the whole friendship group.
"You're so unbelievably selfish and thoughtless. "
Mistral tosses her ponytail over her shoulder with a flick of her head. "She won’t find out, Ed."
I stare at her for a beat. "You haven't thought about the smaller picture, have you? It didn’t occur to you this would affect our working relationship?
" I point at her, then me, and back again.
"That by breaking my trust, you would taint the place you love working in.
Is that a sacrifice you intended to make? "
Mistral doesn't respond.
"You can't even apologise to me for throwing me under the bus." I pause to give her opportunity. She doesn't take it. "What I'm really struggling to understand is how you don't see the wrong in what you've done."
"Look. She'll never know. There's not a single thing in there that suggests it's either written by you or that it's about her. Even the eye colour's wrong."
"Oh, you think you can keep this from her? That the truth of it won't come out at some point?"
"If it does, we can either say someone else wrote them –"
"So, lying to cover your lie."
"– or we can say you did, she realises she's been in love with you for the last year, too, and you both live happily ever after until you die."
I refrain from hitting my head, or better yet, Mistral's against the concrete wall.
"We've shared everything for the last year.
Don't you think if she had feelings for me, she'd have realised them by now?
All your meddling will do is ruin our friendship.
Jesus, Mistral, you haven't thought any of this through, have you? "
"I'm...taking it one step at a time."
I eye her for five long seconds of disbelief.
"What you are doing is building a house of cards that is going to come tumbling down.
And here's the first casualty. Our relationship is entirely professional from this moment onwards.
Don't expect anything more – anything that might resemble friendship – because you won't get it. You just proved you don't deserve it."
Mistral is quiet for a moment. When she speaks, her voice is low. "I'm not sorry for doing it to save Bess' business, but I am sorry I ruined your trust by doing it."
I don't say anything. Right now, I don't feel inclined to acknowledge her apology. It will never be enough.
Mistral must know this, but she doubles down on it anyway. "It's such a beautiful letter. I couldn't not use it. You're a very good writer, Ed."
I snort at her attempt to smooth things over with flattery, and pace to the other end of the room and back again. "How did you get it to look like the original?"
Mistral gives a little humourless laugh. "We're a community of artists. Elly copied the writing style, Jeanette made it all look old."
Another two arrows to the heart. I stagger backwards a step, like I've actually been shot, and place a hand on the desk to steady myself. "Jeanette and Elly were in on it, too?"
"Not exactly. I told them you changed your mind and it was with your consent."
Sitting down on the chair, I run a hand through my hair and look up at her. "Christ, Mistral.”
Straightening her back, she says, "It might be alright. It has to be alright. The damage is done now. The only way is up."
It's my turn to laugh. "You're delusional. There's only one direction this can possibly head and it's not up."