41. Connor
Shit. Chris is already here to pick me up, but I’m not ready to leave the office yet. I have at least two more hours of work to finish. I try to focus and pretend I can’t hear him talking to Lisa outside my door.
“How’s Mr. Hyde today?” he asks her.
“Turning into a bigger ogre all the time,” she replies.
“I can hear you both,” I yell from my desk.
“I should hope so,” Lisa calls back. “We’re not being quiet.”
But then suddenly they are being quiet, and I’m straining to listen despite myself.
“Seriously, how’s he been doing?” Chris grills.
“Uh, seriously, he’s a prickasaurus. You can’t breathe wrong around here without him biting your head off. Are you sure she’s not coming back? He was so much nicer when they were together.”
She’s talking about Jess. I drop all pretense that I’m working and fully invest myself in trying to hear what they’re saying.
Except I can’t hear what Chris says next, and Lisa’s responding tone makes it sound like something is wrong. What did she mean, “are you sure she’s not coming back?” Is Jess okay? Someone would have told me if she wasn’t, right?
I’m practically cutting myself off at the waist, sitting at my desk and leaning over to eavesdrop. Then Chris’ voice picks up. “Who knows?” he says more audibly before he appears in my office doorway. “You ready to head out, little brother?”
I immediately straighten up and shuffle some papers, like that’s definitely something I would do if I wasn’t sticking my nose into their conversation. “Uh, not quite. If you can just give me like thirty more minutes.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll give you ten.”
“Twenty.”
“Lisa?” he calls over his shoulder.
“He can leave now!” she answers.
He turns back and smirks at me. “Wrap it up.”
Don’t ask about Jess, don’t ask about Jess, don’t ask about Jess. “Is she okay?” Dammit! I couldn’t stop the words from leaving my mouth.
“Lisa? Yeah, I think so. You okay, out there?”
“Never better!”
“Why wouldn’t you ask her yourself? That’s so weird.”
“Shut the fuck up, you know exactly who I meant.” I glare at him.
He considers his words. “She’s not great,” he finally says. “She’s had a rough month. Seems like you both have.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. The look on her face that night in the hospital still haunts me every time I close my eyes. And knowing I was responsible for it makes things so much worse.
“I’m a mess,” I declare.
“Yeah, no, I know.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Might not be the worst thing if you called her,” he offers.
I throw up my hands. “I don’t even know what I’d say. Where would I start?”
He closes one eye and looks to the ceiling with the other. “I’ve heard chicks dig apologies.”
“True story!” Lisa calls. “Especially when there’s groveling!”
Chris points over his shoulder to the door, backing her up.
“When was the last time you apologized for anything?” I ask him.
“When was the last time I did anything wrong?”
I ignore his question because we both know it’s rhetorical. Instead, I open my laptop back up. “I can show her,” I say. “We’re just weeks away from closing this deal, if I can get this done, I can?—”
“Ohhhh no, no, no,” he runs over and slams the laptop shut again. “Sorry, wrong answer. Work is done for the day.”
“Jesus Christ, I’m fine. Stop treating me like I’m eleven years old and listen!”
“Connor, there is nothing you can say to me that’s going to make any sense. Talk. To. Her. Work will be here tomorrow.”
“Right, well, that’s easy for you to say, Peter Pan, but some of us are trying to build a life for ourselves.”
It’s a dick thing to say, I know it is. But one thing Chris prides himself on is the fact that he never yells. And what kind of little brother would I be if I didn’t poke the shit out of that bear when I’m itching for a fight?
I see the red climb up his face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You don’t think I have a real job? A real life?”
“Dad busted his ass day after day to give us a foundation—give us a future—and you sell insurance with your high school friend. All the advice he offered, and you pissed it away. He must be so proud.”
See, now the vein in his neck is prominent, so yelling has to be on the horizon. “You don’t know shit about Dad,” he growls. “Because you’re never around. You’ve never been around. Spending more than three hours over one holiday season does not mean you suddenly know everybody. Do you really think he wants this for you? Do you think Mom would have wanted this for you?”
The muscles in my own neck are tightening, and I flex my fist. “At least I’m following through on my goals! Do you think Mom would have wanted to see you abandon all your dreams because of one fucking woman?”
“Now would be a real good time for you to stop talking,” he warns.
I don’t listen. “Look where you are now!” I yell. “Such a success story! No wife, no kids. Just a mediocre job and a gig as my personal driver.”
That has to be it. The final blow. The line that will send him over the edge, yelling and taking a swing at me. Landing a solid punch right to my jaw.
Because I need it. I deserve it.
But that’s not what he does.
His shoulders drop and his expression is blank. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small drawstring pouch, and throws it on my desk. “Find your own way home.”
He walks out without saying another word to me, though I hear him tell Lisa to please make sure I get an Uber.
I let out a breath and fall back into my chair, the adrenaline draining out of me. I grab the pouch and run my thumb over the burgundy velvet. I know what it is, but the longer I keep it closed, the easier it’ll be to deny everything.
“Your ride should be here in five minutes, boss.” Lisa’s so quiet it bothers me.
“Thank you,” I say, twisting the bag between my fingers. She moves to leave, but I stop her. “Lisa?”
She steps back and looks at me.
“I’m sorry you had to hear all of that. I should never have fought with my brother here at work and with you here. It was really unprofessional and I swear to you it won’t happen again. I hope you can…I hope you can forgive me.” I’m saying all the right business things, but it feels forced, so I add, “I’m sorry I fucked up.”
She smiles gently at me. “We all fuck up. Sir.”
I slowly stand and gather my things to leave. Chris’ words swirl through my head all the way home and through most of the evening. I have a lot of work to do, and for once I don’t mean at the office.
Connor:
Hey what are you doing for dinner on Wednesday?