Chapter 47
“I don’t know what the fuck you want from me, Bex! I was just joking around and now you’re acting like a total bitch.”
“That’s enough, Jack. Just because I don’t want to sleep with you tonight doesn’t make me a bitch. I think you need to leave.” I’m about to cry and I don’t want to in front of him. We’ve been together for a year and yet, I don’t want him to see this vulnerability, knowing he’ll find a way to use it against me.
He walks closer to me and I instinctively take a step back. “C’mon, Bex. You’re overreacting. We’re good together, yeah?” His hand comes up to wipe a tear away. A movement that should be sweet but feels condescending.
I’d rather keep him calm, though, so I nod my head. “Yeah, I’m just tired. That’s all.”
“Okay. I’ll come check on you tomorrow.” He kisses me, a touch too rough, and walks out.
Sunday 1:17 AM
Anders
I miss you.
Monday 10:32 AM
Anders
I want to give you space and I don’t need you to respond.
But we both know that I have zero chill when it comes to you
So here’s one thing for today that I love about you…
You have this heart shaped freckle on your hip. I could spend all day tracing it.
Tuesday 3:26 PM
Anders
I love the shirts you wear with the funny sayings. They’ve always made me laugh.
Wednesday 12:01 PM
Anders
I love your hair. It’s wild and unpredictable and so incredibly you.
Thursday 2:54 AM
Anders
I love your stubbornness. I don’t like it right now, but I love that you see something you want and you work hard for it.
Friday 11:11 PM
Anders
Wishing for you.
I look at my phone again before Riz takes it from me. “Hey! Give that back!”
“Well, are you going to finally respond to him?” she asks.
I hesitate because I want to, but I don’t know what I would say. I’m rotating through feelings of giving in and texting him back because I miss him so deeply, but also knowing that I refuse to be the cause of him losing everything he’s worked for. I need to find a solution, I just don’t know what that is yet, and I can”t go back to him until I’ve figured it out. My shoulders slump under the weight of this decision.
“That’s what I thought,” Riz responds.
We’re having an emergency Margarita Friday, though I’m not drinking much because I have to wake up early and head into the city for my second interview with SchoolsFirst. It’s a two day process, helping out with a few of their weekend events and then another formal interview with the board. I was surprised to get a call from Claudette on Wednesday asking me to come back in—I would have bet money on Erik Olsson finding a way to ruin this opportunity for me after what happened on Saturday night.
There’s a quiet knock at the door and then Jules lets himself into the apartment. “I brought provisions,” he says, his eyebrows rising as he takes in the kitchen and living room, both scattered with various snacks and drinks. “But it looks like you guys are doing just fine in that department.”
“Hi, JuJu.” I give him a pitiful wave. “What are you doing here?”
“I just thought I’d come check on you.” He plops down on the couch next to me, scrubbing his hand over the top of my head before I can reach up and bat him away.
“I’m fine,” I reply, sounding unconvincing even to my own ears.
“Mhmm…” he hums. “Are you going to fill me in on what happened?”
“She hasn’t told us, either,” Luci chimes in.
No, I haven’t told anyone except Anders, and I’m not really sure why. All of this feels deeply personal and even though these are the people I love the most, opening up to them seems like exposing too much. What if I misjudged and I am actually the one in the wrong here? What if I overreacted to the situation and I’m just being silly? But I know right now I’m a boiling pot of water and if I don’t tell them soon, I’m going to boil over.
Sighing, I lean back against the couch and close my eyes. I don’t want to see anyone’s face while I tell them this. “Anders’ dad made a move on me? I think? I’m still sort of fuzzy on what actually happened.”
“Holy shit,” Jules’ voice comes from beside me, his hand coming over the top of mine with a reassuring squeeze.
“Will you walk us through what you remember? If you want to,” Luci adds, her voice soothing in a way I didn’t know I needed.
“I was supposed to go see Anders before the show. I had a gift for him and we hadn”t been together all day because of the interview so I just wanted to see him before this big, important thing he was about to do. When I got to the backstage door, Anders’ dad, Erik, was there arguing with Professor Callahan. I should have turned around then.” Everyone is silent, allowing me time to put my thoughts together.
“Once I got near him, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He said some things about how pretty I was and how he was in control of Anders’ career and inheritance. He kept getting closer and closer, finally catching my wrist and grabbing me around the waist. He said he had certain ‘tastes’ for women and apparently I fit the bill.” I’ve started crying by the time my eyes open to take in the look of alarm on everyone’s face.
“Growing up with three brothers came in handy, though.” I give Jules a sad smile. “I learned how easily you can take a man down if you know where to put your knee. After he let go, I ran. I had to get out of there—had to be far away from him… from everything.”
The silence that seeps in fills all the nooks and crannies until I feel like it might pull me under, that I might sink completely into my devastation.
“Say something,” I urge.
“That is so fucked up.” And at this moment, I appreciate Riz’s candor more than usual.
A tight breath leaves me. “Yes, it is.”
“I’m still a little confused on why you aren’t talking to Anders though…” Jules wonders, and I watch as a thought passes through his eyes. “Wait, how did Anders react when you told him? He took your side, right?”
“Oh God, of course! Anders hates his father. He was ready to call the police and file a report.” The relief comes off Jules in waves. “I just… I still have this unshakable feeling of not being worth it. Worth losing his family or his career.”
“From what I know, Anders lost his family a long time ago.” Jules lifts one shoulder in a shrug and says the next statement like it should be obvious. “And don’t you think you should let him make the decisions he needs to make about whether or not you’re ‘worth it’?” He adds air quotes for emphasis, letting me know he thinks the idea that I might not be worth it is so far off base.
“Listen,” Jules continues, his face coming down so he’s eye level with me. “I understand more than anyone what it can feel like to question your worth. You saw me fall into the shadows cast by the light of our golden brothers. But Anders… he loves you. He will choose you if you let him—but you have to be willing to let him. To take that risk.”
“I… I want that. I really do. I don’t know how to take the risk—I’ve taken so many lately, and I’m so tired.”
“How about we focus on getting you ready for this weekend? We know you’d be a great fit for this new job, so how do we make sure they know that, too?” Luci asks, swiftly moving us into what she thinks are safer waters.
“Oh!” I pop up, lifting my finger into the air, looking like some sort of deranged bobble-head with my top-knot swaying back and forth. “I almost forgot the best part,” I add, sarcastically. “The Olssons are major donors for SchoolsFirst.”
“How the hell did you pick the one non-profit that those shitty people donate to?!” Riz asks, indignant on my behalf.
“Unfortunately, ‘those shitty people’ donate to several non-profits around the city. A side effect of having more money than you know what to do with, while also wanting to give the appearance of being half-way decent people.” I reach down and shuffle through the mess to find a pink starburst on the coffee table, unwrapping it and quickly popping it into my mouth.
“Claudette didn’t seem to mind the fact that I was dating Anders,” I continue. “But I can see this going terribly wrong for everyone involved. I’m not sure if I should bring it up tomorrow or not.”
Thinking about losing out on this job almost makes me cry again. I’ve been tearing up randomly all week; when I walked into Intro to Acting class Monday and my coffee was waiting for me, when Mom texted asking if I would be at family dinner, and most notably, for absolutely no reason at all. Surely my body is almost out of tears.
“Why don’t you see how the weekend goes before you bring anything up?” Jules cuts into my thoughts. “If Claudette says something or the moment feels right, ask her if she is concerned about your personal relationship with a donor. I’m guessing as long as the money is still coming in, it’s not a major concern.”
And that right there is exactly why I’m worried. It would be the next logical place for Erik to try to target Anders, taking down an entire non-profit with him. And it would be my fault a great organization loses one of its main sources of income.
This weekend has cemented the fact that SchoolsFirst is where I want to be. It’s the oddest juxtaposition of feelings—while the feeling of rightness increases, so does my unease.
I can’t take this job if it’s offered to me. And I know that it will be offered to me. Everyone I’ve met has welcomed me in a way that makes me feel like I’m already a part of the team.
The last part of the weekend is a Sunday lunch with members of the board. I triple checked that the Olssons were only donors and not on the board, but for some reason I’m unsurprised when I walk into the restaurant and spot a familiar head of red hair.
Alice Olsson is apparently joining us for lunch today.
I make a hard left as soon as I spot her, heading toward the restrooms instead. Blissfully, no one else is in here so I take a second to run cold water over my hands.
Breathe in, hold for three. Breathe out, hold for three.
This technique just makes me think of Anders and the breath work he’d make us do in class.
Which makes me want to cry again.
I look at myself in the mirror and try some positive self-talk instead.
“You will not cry inside this public restroom, Rebecca Bardot. You are a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man.” But then I start thinking about how nice it would be to have Anders here… or at least to be able to call him. “Okay, maybe you need a man. Or want a man… I don’t fucking know!” I scrunch my face up and stick out my tongue at my mirror self.
Right then, the bathroom door swings open, and I was not aware it was possible for that motion to be elegant until just now. I freeze, staring at Alice’s reflection in the mirror. It’s like my entire body has decided now is the time to glitch, and even though my brain is screaming at my feet to RUN!, my body doesn’t get the message.
“Hello, Rebecca,” she intones, and I can immediately picture a version of her, thirty years her junior. The kind of woman Anders’ parents probably hoped he would marry one day.
In present day, she reminds me vaguely of Emily Gilmore.
I glance back at myself in the mirror and see my biggest insecurities. My frizzy curls—random pieces sticking out in every direction—the freckles dotted across my face and chest, the bra strap that’s peeking out from under my boat neck top. I tuck that in as inconspicuously as possible and turn toward her. “Mrs. Olsson. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
She lifts a single botoxed eyebrow. “Yes, I gathered that when I saw you make a dash toward the restrooms.”
I hesitate, unsure of how to proceed from here. “I—I’ll… I won’t take the job. Is that what you want?” My arms cross over my chest, like a disgruntled toddler.
Green eyes appraise me from head to toe. She walks over and begins washing her hands in the sink next to me. Again, I’m struck by total confusion on how the hell someone can wash their hands primly. She takes a towel from the counter to dry off, turning toward me in the same motion.
“I never thought Anders would choose a coward.”
Her words hit me like a slap, my head rearing back. “Excuse me?”
“I also will be unable to recommend you for the position if you quit before I have that opportunity.”
“Rec—recommend me? I thought you were here to make sure I didn’t get the job.”
Her lips press together and she hums, considering me. She turns back toward the mirror fishing her lipstick out of her purse even though her make-up looks as if a professional just applied it. “It might behoove you to know,” she muses, “that Anders’ father and I are separating.”
It feels as though a bomb just detonated in the middle of the bathroom. Alice apparently decides she doesn’t need to reapply her lipstick after all, placing it back in her purse as she walks toward the door.
“Oh, and Rebecca dear?” My head whips in her direction, noting the conspiratorial glint in her eyes. “Do tell my son I’d like to see him next time he’s in town.”
Before I can reply, she’s gone.
I get the job.