Chapter 51 Andrea #2
Of course I was—I’d stayed up all night thinking about it. What I’d done, how everything had seemed so black and white when we’d drafted the damn thing, and how wrong I’d been.
Was that how Liam felt about his choices for Novexia? Did it still seem clear to him that his way was the only way, that he was right, and that harm on your front doorstep didn’t matter if the cause was noble enough?
But those were his choices to make, not mine.
I’d made the wrong one before. The damage I’d caused with the letter was unintentional, but that didn’t excuse it.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll log this today.”
She looked at me like she expected me to leave. “Anything else?”
I reached into my bag and took out the second document.
She glanced at the first line, then looked back at me.
“Are you sure?”
“I am,” I said.
She nodded, then stacked the papers and slid them into the folder.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”
I turned to go, my hand on the door.
“And Andrea?” she said.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
I nodded and walked out.
*
The Banana Store was almost empty, and I took a table by the window and set my bag on the chair opposite. James’s last meeting would be done by five fifteen, so he’d be here any minute.
“Can I get you something?” The waitress was standing next to the table.
I looked up.
“Oh,” she said.
It was the one with the pink hair. Except now it was blue. God, I hadn’t thought of her in a while. Was she still with Rudy? She was welcome to him.
“Just a soda and lime, please.”
I unlocked my phone, and the blue-haired waitress slinked off.
The draft was still open in my Gmail, half-written.
Application: Autumn Residency.
I read it again, and a second time.
If I waited for the right moment, I’d still be waiting in five years.
Fuck it.
I hit Send and placed the phone face down.
A chair was pulled out next to me. James arrived in a flurry of bags and mild panic.
“Sorry I’m late, hon. I just spent forty minutes explaining that putting ‘people first’ in a slide deck doesn’t legally count as putting people first.”
“People first. Always right before the asterisk with the disclaimer.”
He grimaced. “Sorry I’ve been so busy.” He’d already grabbed a beer on the way to the table and plonked it down. “Prima von Donna’s got us running around like headless chickens. Everything’s such a bloody mess.”
He looked at me. “Sorry, Andy, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I can see HR’s been busy.”
“Yeah. It’s fucked up.”
The waitress reappeared and placed my drink on the table.
“They pulled something of mine,” I said. “Yesterday.”
James’s hand paused midair, bottle of Peroni inches from his lips.
“What?”
“The letter in my file. About Liam. Bonnie called me into a meeting.”
“Oh,” he said. “Oh, fuck.”
He put the bottle down without drinking and rubbed his forehead with two fingers.
“Okay. Right. So. Before you freak out—”
“I’m not freaking out,” I said. I’d already done that. For hours.
“Right. No.” He paused. “Shit, Andy. I thought we’d shredded it.”
“I thought you had.”
“So did I. I didn’t, did I? I didn’t fucking do it. Oh my God. Oh my God! Andy!”
“I thought you said not to freak out?”
“I’m not.” He made his mouth into an O and blew out slowly. “Okay, let’s think about this. Bonnie’s involved, which is good. Or maybe not. No. It might be terrible, actually. But the letter was … fair, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t think it was, honestly.”
“No. But it doesn’t mean anyone’s done anything wrong, technically. Either of us. You were perfectly entitled to have concerns. And to log them. It was just—”
“Insurance,” I said.
“Right. Yes. Insurance.” James picked up his beer and tipped half of it down his throat. “And it doesn’t mean von Roth—Liam—knows. Or that he will. Or that it’ll go anywhere.” He looked at me. “We can still manage this.”
I took a sip of my soda. It was refreshing, the bubbles crisp, like they washed away something I wasn’t going to worry about anymore. The cold liquid slid down easily, something finally settling into place. Clarity.
“Liam will find out,” I said. “It’s inevitable. But I’ve already dealt with it.”
“What do you mean, dealt with it?”
“I clarified the record.”
His mouth dropped open. “You—what?”
“I went to Bonnie this morning,” I said. “I corrected it. In writing.”
He stared at me. “Andy, you shouldn’t have done that without—”
“Well, I’ve done it,” I said. “The problem was mine to fix. I didn’t want it sitting there anymore.”
“Jesus, Andy. How did Bonnie take it?”
“Okay.” I looked out the window. Commuters were streaming past in lanyards and half-undone jackets, heading for the station. “And I resigned.”
“You did what?”
“I handed in my notice.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” He dragged a hand down his face. “You didn’t have to torch yourself to clean this up.”
“I didn’t,” I said. “I decided it was time to stop faking.”
“What do you mean, faking? How can you—” He ran his fingers through his hair, turning it into a mop.
He wouldn’t be happy when he saw that. “No. It’s okay.
You’re having a breakdown. Perfectly understandable.
I’ll talk to Bonnie and tell her you were under enormous stress—personal stuff, mental health, possibly undiagnosed mania—”
“I’m not manic.”
“We can undo this. It’s not too late.”
“I don’t want to undo it, James,” I said. “I’m done with it. Novexia. Pharma sales. It’s not for me. I’ve got enough saved up, along with the proceeds from the portrait and the NDA payout. And when my sister moves out—”
“Eliza’s what?”
“I’ll fill you in later. She’s going to India.”
“India? As in … yoga retreats? Gap-year vibes? India, the country?”
“Yes, James. The big one. Next to Pakistan.”
“But … her law degree?”
“I know. But that’s her call to make.”
“What in the living fuck, Andy—”
“As I was saying, with Eliza gone, I can rent out the other room in my flat, which will help with the mortgage. I can get by for a few months. And Kelly can move in now for as long as Eliza’s away, if she needs to.”
“Right, of course, Kelly, yes. Well, that’s great, Andy. But what about you … what are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure yet, exactly. Paint. Pick up where I left off.”
“Mother of God.” He looked at the table. “This is my fault, isn’t it? I thought if it was on file, just a printout, you’d be safe—”
“I was safe,” I said. “I just wasn’t honest.”
“We didn’t lie in the letter, Andy.”
“No,” I said. “But we definitely curated the truth.”
Maybe everyone was capable of that, not just Liam.
“Well. Fuck.”
Behind the bar, something shattered.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “The letter was my idea.”
“It’s okay. It was my decision to file it.”
James reached across the table and squeezed my hand. It felt good to have him on my team.
I couldn’t imagine how I could ever make it right with Liam once he saw the letter, especially on top of how I’d accused him about my painting.
And it wouldn’t be long till Eliza was gone, too. I’d miss her more than I wanted to think about, but I was glad she was doing what she wanted to do.
“You’ll be all right,” he said.
“I know.”