For her consideration, p.23
For Her Consideration, page 23
“What about not saying something for like the one hour duration of your meeting and then telling me when you got back?”
“Because I already knew how that would go! You’d say you weren’t comfortable yet, but, Jesus Christ, Nina. If we waited for you to get comfortable with things, we’d be waiting forever.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, though I knew. How could I not know?
“The script that you’ve been writing for, what, four years? Us? You won’t even let me tell Joyce we’re together. You’re not comfortable with anything, so what was I supposed to do?”
I blinked back tears. “You could listen to me. It wasn’t that simple. My career and my current job are on the line.”
“Let’s just—anyway, fine. I’ll let Peyton know you’re finishing a revision and can send it before long. We’ll figure out Joyce later. You can manage that, right?”
“I handled it already,” I snapped.
Ari audibly inhaled. “What does that mean?”
“It means I handled it. I responded to Peyton and let her know you’d misspoke, the script isn’t anywhere close to ready, and you shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“Nina, what the fuck,” Ari said. “You don’t get to make those kind of choices for me. I thought my emails coming out of Exemplar—”
“Weren’t written by your girlfriend who you just betrayed?”
She sighed loudly. “Betrayed is pretty dramatic for trying to help you with your career. I can’t believe you sent that without asking me.”
“Really?” I asked. “Do you of all people want to talk about doing things without asking right now?”
“Seriously, Nina, the only demand I’ve ever made in my career, as you know, is to have control over shit like this. It matters to me above just about anything. And you just decided, fuck that, you’re mad so who cares.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“You’re right,” I said quickly, as an icy feeling spread through me.
The countdown clock hadn’t been to shared furniture. It had been to me, the time bomb. Ari had only asked one single thing of me, from before we were even together, and I’d fucked up. Worse, I’d been warned long ago I’d fuck up again, and I’d thought some time away in the suburbs and a respite from dating would … what? Fix me? Push back my worst traits into the faraway future?
I’d been so fucking stupid.
“Ari, I’m sorry.”
“So where does it stand with Peyton right now?” Ari asked.
“I said you’d reconnect about everything else when you were back from your feature.”
“OK,” she said.
“I—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have—I shouldn’t—anyway.” A loud, wet sob escaped from me. “I hope I didn’t fuck things up for you too much. You can request Joyce take me off your communications. I—”
“Nina,” she said. “Let’s—”
“Ari, I’m sorry for everything,” I said. “This has been—”
But I didn’t know what to say. Because maybe these shouldn’t have been the best months of my life. What right did I have now?
So I just clicked end.
Chapter 21
An URGENT Request
It was a lot easier this time. I was already in the condo, far away from everything. No one could check in on me when I begged out of the next Sunday brunch. No one could check in on anything.
On Thursday I drove to Oaken Troves, even though I now hated the parking lot where I’d first kissed Ari, and I hated that I knew I’d be letting down the whole table with my breakup and my general state of—well, whatever I was. I missed Ari at any given moment, missed the texts and the emails and the way she let me sleep against her shoulder. I missed the sex and I missed the dinners out and I missed when she’d casually wrap her arm around me in public and draw me close. I missed thinking about shared furniture and babies and retirement cottages in Palm Springs. I missed every single part.
Except, also, that I didn’t. What was there to miss about monitoring myself for whatever ugly truths awaited? How was I ever truly myself with Ari when she didn’t know Taylor’s warning, didn’t know that she had been spared? I’d been living a double life this year, trying not to enjoy things too much and usually failing. I’d always known it, deep down, and though hiding it had worked for a while, now the truth was out. I wasn’t to be trusted. And so now I simply wouldn’t trust myself, period, no hard choices to make anymore. Life, I was sure, would get easier.
“Nina Louise, hello,” Lorna greeted me, and then studied me for a moment. “How are you, my dear?”
I shrugged and let her hug me.
“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” she asked, and I shook my head. “Well, I have an idea, and it’s a pretty good one, if I do say so myself.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“Well, it’s a boring day on the menu, chicken noodle soup and those sandwiches I’m not particularly fond of, so why don’t you drive me to that little restaurant we went to for your birthday the other year and I’ll treat.”
“Lorna, you don’t have to—”
“I want to! I didn’t save up my whole life to end up eating cafeteria soup and forcing my beautiful niece to do the same. No, let’s have a fun day out.”
It wasn’t a fun day out, of course, but I knew Lorna had saved me from a thousand questions from Choon Hee and Nat about Ari. I knew that by next Thursday, they would have been filled in and appropriately silent on the topic. And, amazingly, I felt lucky. If one had to be this way—and I clearly had to be this way—it was incredible, beautiful luck that my one exception was Lorna. I knew I wouldn’t have Lorna forever, but I had Lorna right now.
“What’s that coffee place you’re always talking about?” Lorna asked when we were in the Honda on our way back to Oaken Troves. “I’ll treat to that too.”
“Starbucks?” I asked, and actually found myself laughing. “I don’t think I’m always talking about it. But, yes, we can go to Starbucks. There’s a good one near you.”
“It’s true, even with chains, there’s always good ones,” Lorna said.
I laughed. I really couldn’t believe that I was laughing. “Very wise.”
After getting my chai and her cappuccino, I was ready to take her back, but she asked to sit at one of the outdoor tables. It wasn’t exactly scenic; the shopping plaza was on a major thoroughfare. But it was hard not to enjoy the sunshine and Lorna’s presence even with the traffic noise and smells.
“How are your friends?” Lorna asked. “Is CJ still with that artist?”
“As far as I know,” I said. “I’m … taking a little time away from everyone right now.”
She frowned. “Are you sure there’s nothing you’d like to discuss?”
“I’m positive. Except …” I tried to wipe my eyes under my sunglasses without looking like I was crying. I was fairly certain it wasn’t successful. “Lorna, if I ever do anything to stress you out or make you worried or—well, you’ll let me know, right?”
“Nina Louise,” she said with a sigh. “Well, of course I would! Have you ever heard me hold in my feelings about any subject?”
I let out a laugh. “OK, fair point.”
“My dear, I know you’re hurting today, but hopefully that means tomorrow will be a little easier, and soon it’ll all be—well, not fine, of course, life can be rough that way. But better.”
I squeezed Lorna’s hand. “Thank you. I really hope you’re right.”
But the thing was, I already knew she was right. Being alone was getting easier every day.
Work kept rolling in. Every time my inbox chimed I assumed it would be Joyce, or Max setting up a call with Joyce, but workdays crept by as if nothing had changed. I still had access to Ari’s inbox, which stayed busy with meetings leading up to her departure for Georgia. I thought about those two months, and the time I was supposed to spend there with her. Already it seemed like another lifetime. Every night when I crawled into bed alone I was grateful we hadn’t spent any full nights together here, that this was all just mine. It’d be just mine forever.
My second workweek after the breakup was winding to a close when I saw it. The thing I’d feared was in my inbox.
This Message Was Sent with High Importance
To: nrice@gmail.com
From: mvandoren@exemplar.com
Subject: URGENT Joyce call request
Message: Hi Nina,
Joyce needs to talk to you immediately. Call me as soon as you can and I’ll patch you though.
(Sorry. Hope you’re doing OK!)
Thanks,
Max
“Fuck,” I muttered, icy cold and hot all at once. This, like my breakup, was the other shoe I’d been waiting to drop, but it might have been even worse. If I lost my income—which I was about to, obviously—I didn’t know what my next steps were. It wasn’t as if Joyce was going to provide a good reference after this mess, and unfortunately this was a part of the industry that really required a good reference.
I picked up my phone with shaking hands and saw that my notifications screen was lit up more than usual. Of course, I’d muted my old group text long ago, but everyone had texted individually too, every last one of them, even Sofia. There was a lot of confusion and a lot of I know you’re not on social media but—statements, and I didn’t know where to begin with figuring out what the hell was going on. I dialed into Exemplar instead.
“Hey, Nina,” Max said in a whisper, which was rough because her little voice wasn’t easy to hear anyway. “Just a heads-up that Joyce is pretty upset.”
“OK,” I said, nodding though no one could see me. “Thanks, Max.”
“For what it’s worth I think you’re really cute together,” she said in one quick, barely understandable gulp—What??—and then I was holding for Joyce. Countdown to my unemployment.
“Nina, hello.” Joyce sighed loudly. “I’m sure you’ve seen social media this afternoon.”
“No, I—why is everyone asking me that?”
“The short version of the story is that some LGBTQ influencer-type retweeted a friend who posted that they saw Ari Fox out the other night and that she seemed to be very cozy with a beautiful curvy femme.”
Oh god, I wasn’t ready for Ari to have moved on. No matter how much it was over—how much all of it was over for me—it was impossibly terrible. How had we been making plans for the future just the other week and now—though, wait. Why was Joyce mad about Ari dating someone? Joyce wouldn’t know how fast and shitty this seemed.
“And there are pictures, but I’m not an idiot, Nina, or at least I didn’t think I was. The second I read beautiful curvy I knew.”
“You knew what?” I asked, increasingly confused by this conversation.
“That one of the people I trusted most in my department had been secretly sleeping with talent,” Joyce snapped. “Why are you trying to get out of this now, Nina?”
“Oh, I—” I exhaled while trying not to let out any other sounds like sobbing or relieved sighs. It didn’t matter that the person was me, Ari and I were over. And it was inappropriate to be flattered that Joyce saw me as curvy and beautiful, but I was, at least a little. “I didn’t realize—Joyce, I’m sorry.”
“Nina, I’m not sure what to do here. We’re lucky that no one here really knows your face, and that Ari’s not the kind of public figure inspiring any frantic search for her girlfriend’s identity. As you’re aware, I’m in the middle of perhaps my most high-profile year since getting into this business, and the last thing I need is the appearance that I don’t even know what’s happening in my own department with my own team.”
“I understand.”
“And the truth is, right now, Nina, I still need you. You’re the best person who’s ever been in this role, and I practically get hives thinking of getting through the rest of the year and awards season without you. So I don’t know what I do now.”
“If it matters,” I said, “Ari and I aren’t—it’s no longer—”
“And that’s true?” Joyce asked. “I’m sorry, but you can see why that’s difficult for me to believe after however many months this must have been kept from me.”
“It’s true,” I said with more confidence now. “It’s completely over. And if you don’t want me on her communications—”
“Oh, god, no, Nina, what am I going to do, put Max on them? I don’t think so. For now, please continue as you’ve been, while I sort out this situation.”
“OK,” I said, counting weeks and paychecks in my head. How long would it take her to sort out the situation? How much longer was I guaranteed this income?
“Actually,” she said, “why don’t you bcc Max on everything for the time being. If someone connects the dots between you and Ari, I’d like to show that I did something internally to guard against potential impropriety here.”
“Sure,” I said. “Max on everything.”
“I’m pissed, Nina, if I’m being honest,” she said, and by now fat tears were rolling down my face and dripping onto my T-shirt like rain. “And I’m disappointed. You’ve been part of my team for years—longer than anyone in this role—and you know how important professionalism is. To me, to the talent, to the other teams handling the talent. To risk all of that for—”
Joyce stopped herself and actually started laughing. “I mean, to risk that all for love or sex or whatever you were up to, honestly, that’s what people always risk it for. I mean it’s always that or it’s power and money, and I sure respect love and sex a lot more. But, obviously—”
“I won’t again,” I said, unsure of where we were in this conversation. It was more comfortable for me when she was flat-out pissed. Pissed, disappointed, and laughing was an unsettling combination.
“Well, luckily the rest of my roster doesn’t seem as much a temptation for you,” she said, still laughing. “Gregory Hart will be fine. Anyway, Nina, it’s four p.m. on a Friday, why don’t you call it a week and we’ll get back to work on Monday morning. And I’ll be in touch next week or so about—well, with any changes to your responsibilities or employment status.”
“OK,” I said. “Joyce, truly, I’m—I’m so sorry.”
“Have a good weekend, Nina,” she said.
I clicked off of the call and opened my texts, which currently numbered an improbable 333. I marked the group text as read, did the same to each individual chain with the brunch crew, and then saw it, buried beneath them all, the fox emoji. I slid my thumb to delete the message without even looking at it. I realized our whole text history would be deleted with it, the logistical texts like I just parked, should I come in? and the random thoughts like Is it weird I love chai but I hate hot tea? And the late night messages like I wish you were in my bed tonight instead of your suburban abode . Every single one of them, gone.
“Good,” I muttered, the opposite of what I was thinking, and left my phone there on my desk in search of a long hot bath that would take my mind off of everything. But in the hot sudsy water, I was just an idiot who’d fucked up her job, ruined things for a really good person, and was immersed in water on a Friday afternoon like someone who’d lost their tether to functional productive society.
I tried to give myself the weekend off from worrying, but I wasn’t great at it. The writing seemed to be on the wall, so I googled career ideas and redid my résumé. I didn’t really want another job like I had now, but the future where I got to go onward and upward from here was gone, and suddenly I couldn’t imagine a better fit.
So I abandoned my updated résumé and open browser tabs on ZipRecruiter, and drew up my budget instead. I saved different versions, anywhere from me fired next week to hanging on through the Oscars. Seeing my life listed out in terms of the stark numbers was calming, actually. If I could hang in through March, I’d definitely be OK, especially now that I’d stopped using money on brunches and nights out. It was easy to save money when you sat home doing nothing, which was good news for me because I was great at sitting home and doing nothing.
But if Joyce decided next week that I was out, the numbers were scarier, even without a social life draining any of my income. Without a job I could probably put off the student loan people for a while, and I supposed that unemployment would cover my rent-free life, though I wasn’t sure. And the last thing I wanted to do was pull Lorna into any of this. The free place to live was more than a gift; if I couldn’t keep up with what remained—well, I was determined not to tell her. I was determined, no matter how right Taylor had been about me, not to spread that into Lorna’s life. I wouldn’t let my failings become hers. I’d figure out a way through.
By Sunday night, once the daily crossword had been completed, I couldn’t hold back my sick, masochistic, unrelenting curiosity any longer. I pulled up my browser and typed into the search bar: ari fox beautiful curvy femme.
It was mainly on Twitter, though a few gossip and queer blogs had picked it up too. The photos had been snapped, obviously, surreptitiously, so they were dim, lit only by the Mermaid’s blue-green lights, and one would have to know what to look for. I was facing Ari in all of them, my hair waving down my profile, just a glimmer of my face shown. I hardly recognized myself, this smiling radiant woman tucked into Ari’s side. It felt like years had passed since I’d been her. I tried not to look at Ari’s face, the way her gaze was on mine like I was someone special. She hadn’t known then, of course, that she was only days away from getting hurt. She’d had no idea just how dangerous I was.
Chapter 22
Running To or From
Magically, miraculously, mercifully, I made it through another week without losing my job. Bcc’ing Max was not a new favorite task, but somehow I felt that Max didn’t like it much either, or at least wordlessly acknowledged that this was mildly humiliating, and that did help somehow.
