Kat Fight (15 page)

Ryan and I had talked a couple times over the weekend but we never had the chance to get together, so I was really looking forward to seeing his face today at the office. I managed to tell him what went down between Julie and me over the phone, and his reaction was comforting and perfect. He was really encouraging and did whatever he could to assure me that everything would work out beautifully in the end. I want to believe him, but I haven’t talked to Julie since I left her apartment on Saturday. I tried texting her a couple times but I didn’t want to annoy her any more than I already have. She needs time to get past it on her own and I want to give that to her.

As I enter my cubicle I notice a Post-it on my computer screen that reads
come see me when you get in. Ryan
. I kiss the pale yellow piece of paper then gently tuck it away in my top drawer. There’s nothing I want more than to go see him right now. I put my purse away and turn my computer on first before heading over there, and just as I’m about to exit my cube, Brooke appears.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks solemnly.

Terrific, all I need now is to lose my job, too.

“Of course, uh, right this minute?” I ask.

“Just meet me in my office when you can,” she answers and walks away.

I send Ryan a quick email before heading to her office.

Brooke
needs
me, probably getting fired, office romance no longer an obstacle. I’ll come by as soon as I can.

I don’t have time to wait for a response, but I know he’s in his office so I assume he’ll be reading it within seconds. I decide to also text Adam before heading in to see Brooke.

On my way to get sacked.

I text.

Man he’s good.

Adam replies.

Not the good kind.

I tell him.

Then please don’t bother me. Luv u.

He texts.

Why I continually look to Adam for comfort is beyond me. Brooke’s office is located across the floor near Dave’s. Pretty much all of the senior people are clustered together. Clueless and Cubeless, as we underlings like to joke. I don’t seriously think I’m going to get fired, but with the way things have been going for me these days it wouldn’t surprise me, and Brooke’s mood swings coupled with my personal distractions make for a bad combination. Her door is shut so I knock before entering.

“It’s me,” I call out.

“Come in,” Brooke says. “Close the door behind you, please.”

I do as she asks and then stand in front of her desk and rest my hands on the back of one of the guest chairs. She is typing on her computer and has yet to make eye contact.

“Should I be nervous?” I blurt out.

“Why?” She looks up from her keyboard with a sad, confused look on her face.

“Am I getting fired?”

“Good Lord, Kat, do you really think you’re getting fired?” Now she’s just looking at me like I’m an idiot.

I take a seat and collapse into the chair. “Well, it’s been a rough week,” I say.

“Tell me about it,” she responds then takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “Drew is cheating on me.”

I rewind my brain to make sure I just heard her correctly. My eyes widen and my lips part. I’m not shocked that he would do such a thing, but hearing her say it has definitely caught me off guard.

“What?! Oh my God. How do you know?” I question her.

“I just know,” she says quietly and glances up at the ceiling before turning her gaze back to her computer screen.

“Brooke, I am so sorry. Did he tell you?” I ask and lean forward to the edge of my seat.

“No, he did not. I’ve been checking his phone for the last couple weeks and figured it out.”

That ungrateful, fat piece of shit, I think to myself. “I am so sorry, Brooke, did you confront him?”

“Yes, and he told me it’s someone from work and it’s nothing, and I’m being paranoid,
and
I should mind my own fucking business.”

“Is there a chance he’s telling the truth?” I ask even though I know the answer.

“No.”

I wait a moment before continuing. “What are you going to do?”

She folds her hands on her desk and faces me but doesn’t look me in the eyes. “I don’t know. I asked him if he wants a divorce and he said no. And I asked him if he’d go to counseling and he said no. Then I asked him to stop communicating with this tramp and he said no. He said they work together and he can’t,” she says blankly.

I can tell she’s been crying and I’m equally certain that admitting all of this to me is extremely painful for her. However, Brooke knows I’ve never held Drew in the highest regard, so that must be of some comfort to her now.

“What an ass,” I say.

“Yeah, it’s pretty mortifying,” she adds, nodding.

“Brooke, he is the one that should be mortified! You have nothing to be ashamed of, he does,” I try and convey to her.

“For him to look me in the eye and lie to my face after I’ve spent two weeks listening to voicemails from this woman and reading the texts that he’s sent her. It’s… it’s… I just can’t even put into words what I’m feeling right now.”

“Did you kick him out?” I ask with hope.

“No, not yet. I don’t know what to do,” she says, defeated.

I place my palms on her desk. “You need to kick him out.”

“I want to burn that whore’s house down is what I want. I want to call their boss and tell him about all the afternoons she’s been out screwing my husband when she should be working. I have to find out who it is. I don’t know if she works with him or if she’s a client or what,” she says with a wild look in her eye. “I need to find her name. She has messed with the wrong person.”

There is a fire in Brooke’s eyes, and I can tell I’m going to need to find the right words to talk her off the edge. Her focus has shifted from Drew to this other woman, when clearly she needs to concentrate on extricating him from her life. “Brooke, I know she’s a filthy piece of shit too, whoever she is, but don’t waste your time on her. She didn’t cheat on you—Drew did,” I state, trying to keep her thoughts on track. “Who knows what he’s been saying to her, what lies he’s been telling her. Drew is the one who is at fault here.”

Her eyebrows elevate as she continues to concentrate on revenge, and instead stays intent on ruining Drew’s mistress. “She’s going to pay for this. I’m sure she’s been saying she’s out on sales calls when she’s with Drew. She messed with the wrong person,” she repeats.

I pause before speaking again to determine the best way to keep her from getting off track. I can see how she could easily overlook what Drew has done to her and focus solely on making life miserable for this—obviously blind—other woman. Because that’s where Brooke’s comfort zone lies, in ignoring and accepting Drew’s faults. “I understand you want this woman to suffer, but she did not break any vows with you, Drew did,” I remind her.

She shakes her head. “I know that, and he’s a piece of shit too,” she says. “Look, I just wanted you to know what’s going on because I’m evidently not myself lately and thought you might want to know why.” She musters a smile and continues. “So since you thought you were getting canned when you walked in, this must be great news for you.” Enter self-deprecation.

“Please, Brooke.”

“I’m kidding,” she says and rubs her temples.

“What can I do for you?” I ask.

“Nothing, just let me apologize in advance for making your life hell around here. I can’t be expected to handle this misery alone.”

“No apologies necessary. Run me over the coals as many times as you need until you feel better. And I wish I could say that I’m surprised, Brooke, but I’m not. He’s an asshole and you deserve so much better.” That felt great to say to her face.

“Thank you.”

I walk around the desk and give her a hug. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do,” I repeat.

She gives me a nod. “Just promise not to look at me that way. I don’t want anyone’s pity.”

“I promise.”

When I walk out of Brooke’s office, I suddenly feel the need to reach out to Julie again. I guess Drew’s infidelity has left me feeling guilty about my own indiscretions. Thankful for the crutch that is email, I sit down and compose a more heartfelt apology than my earlier one.

Julie,

Please
forgive my cowardly attempt at reaching you through email, but I’m really not sure if you would take my call or not. First of all, I should have been more sensitive to your feelings and shouldn’t have dumped things on you before we were headed out to the Old Town Art Fair. I apologize for my poor timing. Secondly, I apologize for doing anything that would ever hurt you or make you look at me the way you did last weekend. I treasure your friendship and would NEVER want to lose it or do something that I thought would jeopardize it. I hope you truly understand that. Please let me know when we can get together. Don’t hate me.

-Kat

Just as I’m about to begin doing actual work, I get another email on my personal account, this time from Marc. He’s building a reputation for ambushing me and I need to work on being better prepared for these things. The subject line reads “us.”

I shouldn’t have walked out on you the other day. The thought of you with someone else is not easy for me to digest. I can’t tell if you’re doing this to make me appreciate you or what, but I can’t promise I’ll still be here when you make up your mind. Come on, Kat, let’s patch things up and move forward.

Instant stomachache.

I understand that it would never occur to Marc that I might seriously decide to break away from him and forge a new life for myself. I understand this because I’ve never given him reason to believe it or to doubt my loyalty to him. As much as I have counted on him to be there for me in the past, he’s relied on me even more. And his use of the word “appreciate” is too perfect for him to have come up with on his own. Which only means that he must have gotten some advice from one of his friends or sisters or something. Once again I have no idea how to respond to his passive aggressive approach. Is this the subtle ultimatum Megan had warned me about?

Marc,

You know me well enough to know that I would never do anything to hurt you intentionally, or bring someone else into the picture for the sake of making a point. I had a very difficult time when we broke up, but I have been working on healing myself. I promise you that none of this is about hurting you. It’s about me trying to move forward like you mentioned. I have never stopped caring about you, and I hope you understand how difficult this is for me too.

-K

I wait all day for a response, but never get one from either Marc or Julie. I decide that I need some fun back in my routine. Less drama, more fun. I’ve let myself get sucked into such an indecisive state lately that I’ve lost the pleasure of my friends’ company. I set out to arrange a girls’ night out and decide to invite Brooke along to cheer her up and get her mind off things. I’m going to plan everything and quit waiting for people to make decisions for me. I’m also going to include Megan because she keeps complaining to me about being confined to the house. I feel good about my plan and send emails out to Megan, Brooke and Beth. The decision not to include Julie is a hard one.

Although my attempts at hosting an evening of fun are met with gratitude, Beth declines due to work-related commitments. So I beg Adam to join Brooke, Megan, and me on our girls’ night, but he says he has no interest in listening to Brooke complain about losing her useless husband or Megan complain about having to sleep with hers.

I stop by Megan’s house first to pick her up at seven o’clock and find that she’s not ready to go as I had expected. When I walk in she has Miles under one arm and a bowl of oatmeal in the other.

“Can you hand me that bib on the counter?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say and grab the bib. “Are you almost ready?”

“I’m dressed, I just have to feed him quickly and then we should be good to go.”

“Where’s Henry?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes and gestures to the stairwell. “He’s upstairs on the computer.”

“I see.”

“Just… here you feed him and I’ll go find my shoes.” She plops Miles in his high chair and he immediately starts banging on his tray.

“Will bang for food!” I say to him and he gives me a disgruntled look. Megan hands me the bowl.

I start to feed Miles and can hardly keep up as he’s inhaling every rubber tipped spoonful like a vacuum. I can’t imagine how pissed he’s going to be when he gets a full set of teeth and is forced to chew before swallowing. As I’m feeding Miles I notice Megan running back and forth like a squirrel behind me.

“What are you doing?” I shout over my shoulder, careful not to miss Miles’s tiny mouth.

“Every damn pair of shoes I have is an uglier version of the next! It’s like a clog factory blew up in here,” she panics. “I have no shoes to wear.”

“What about those Stuart Weitzman slides I used to borrow from you? The red ones with the wedge heel.”

“They don’t fit anymore.”

“How about the camel suede platforms?”

“They don’t fit, Kat. My feet grew when I had Miles and never recovered. I can’t go,” she says wryly and puts her hands on her hips. “Unless we’re headed to the beach, where I can either go barefoot or in rubber flip-flops, I can’t go.”

“You’re being ridiculous. We’re going for dinner and cocktails and your fat feet will be tucked away under the table where no one will even notice. Just find a pair of black anything,” I tell her as Miles lunges at me for what little bit of food is left in the rabbit-shaped bowl.

“This is ruining my night,” she whines.

“Do you think you’re possibly overreacting?” I ask calmly. “Would you rather slap on those nurse shoes or stay home tonight?”

“I’ll be down in one second.” She smartly gives in.

We leave Megan’s house by seven thirty and head over to pick up Brooke. Of course, when we arrive she’s waiting out front looking annoyed. She is wearing cute shoes, however.

“Hi, Brooke!” Megan yells out the window. “Sorry we’re late, my fault. I was having shoe drama.”

Brooke gets in the car. “No worries.”

Brooke and Megan have met a few times, yet the three of us have never hung out socially before. But since Drew is wreaking havoc on Brooke’s life—and in turn making mine miserable at the office, Megan and I have agreed this will be a nice thing for her. Brooke has asked Drew to move out, but he’s refused. So the poor girl is basically living at the office and doing whatever she can to avoid spending any time at home.

We head over to Scoozi for dinner before hitting the bars. The plan is to have a nice meal and then lift everyone’s spirits with some cocktails and cute bartenders at P.J. Clarke’s afterward. As we enter the revolving door to the restaurant, we walk into an expansive, open dining hall that is packed with hungry patrons and buzzing with energy. There’s an enormous papier-mâché tomato hanging from the ceiling, and hundreds of bottles of wine lining each wall. We’re given a booth in the center of the room, and as I’m conditioned to do, I become unbearably famished as soon as I am handed the menu.

“The prosciutto-wrapped mozzarella appetizer is beyond amazing. We have to start with one of those,” I announce.

“Sounds good, and I’m definitely getting pasta for my entrée. I’ve been craving a vodka cream sauce,” Megan chimes in.

We order a bottle of wine and continue to have a combination of great conversation and great food. Brooke had asked me not to tell Megan about her problems with Drew, so of course, I told Megan—but made her promise to act like she didn’t know anything about it. It’s not like Megan would’ve asked Brooke about him anyway. Asshole.

Bored?

Adam interrupts my meal with a text.

Nope, go bother someone else. You had your chance
.

I reply.

I don’t believe you.

Adam says.

Swear, having a blast.

Okay, that’s a stretch but he’ll never know.

Just as I’m texting Adam I realize that Megan is angrily texting Henry, who’s been pestering her throughout the meal with child-rearing questions that, according to Megan, he should have the answers to. Meanwhile, neither of us is talking to Brooke so I place my phone down and convince the ladies it’s time for dessert.

When we finish our profiteroles and fried doughnuts, a symphony of yawns escape both Brooke and Megan’s mouths at the same time.

“Oh, no you don’t! We’re just getting started,” I point at them.

“Sorry, Kat. You picked the wrong gal for dinner, desserts,
and
drinks,” Megan says. “I told you not to bring me here first if you wanted a late night.”

Brooke laughs. “I agree. Pasta, wine, profiteroles. I think I’m done too,” she states and gives Megan a knowing smile.

I shake my head in dismay. “Are you two kidding me? First of all, these are
starter
cocktails and the carbs are for energy.”

“Don’t be mad, Kat, but I’m exhausted,” Megan says. “I’m really tired, and Henry’s having a tough time getting Miles down.” Her voice trails off as she checks her phone again.

“Oh my God, if you leave me now I do not want to hear
one word
about how jealous you are of my single status,” I say to Megan. “Ever.”

“Fine.” She yawns and then her eyes immediately go wide with a look of astonishment as she forcibly squeezes my leg under the table.

“Ow, what the…?” I look at her, and her eyes are transfixed on the entrance to the restaurant.

“Marc is here,” she whispers, as if he might hear.

My neck freezes. “What?”

“Marc just walked in with a group of people,” Megan says urgently as she retracts her hand from my leg.

“Did he see us?” I ask, panicked. “Is this the only place to get a bowl of pasta in this city?” I stay firmly planted with my body facing Megan and my back to the front door.

“I don’t think he saw us, but don’t stress out. We’re about to leave anyway, so we’ll pop by his table and say hello and then goodbye. Okay?”

“When’s the last time you’ve seen him?” Brooke asks.

“Last week. We met for coffee one night after work,” I answer.

“Well then, it shouldn’t be too awkward,” Brooke offers.

Megan interjects. “Except for the fact that he wants to get back together with her.”

“Ahhh,” Brooke nods.

“Which reminds me, Brooke, you’ll have to give me the scoop on this Ryan guy before we leave,” she says.

“Would you two just stop for a second,” I call out.

I never seem to be at ease where Marc is concerned lately, and seeing him always makes me question everything else in my life. I gather a drop of confidence, turn my head and glance toward the entrance. He has moved from the front and is now standing in the large bar area with three other men and one woman. He doesn’t know I’m here. But there are no walls in this place, so sneaking out like a thief in the night is not an option. We’ll definitely have to walk past them as we leave. Megan is right. I should just go say hello and be done with it.

“Kat, I can tell you’re nervous,” Megan says to me. “And there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just go over there, I’ll lead the way.”

I tug on my napkin. “I just wasn’t expecting him to be here, that’s all.”

“Well he is, and it’s no big thing, just try and be chill,” she reassures me. “This is a small city, and you’re bound to run into him from time to time.”

“I’m fine,” I say. Marc looks great, and warm, and comfortable, and it’s killing me. He’s leaning against a bar table with one hand in his pocket, wearing dark pants and a striped dress shirt, no tie. All eyes in the group are on him, and he’s clearly leading the conversation as usual.

Brooke and Megan gather their purses while I gather my strength, and the three of us head over to where he’s standing. As soon as we’re about ten feet away, he spots me. I see him lift a finger to his group and excuse himself before walking toward us.

“Hey there, Meg, long time,” he greets her first with a strong embrace.

She pulls back with her hands still on his shoulders. “Nice to see you, Marc,” she says. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, thanks. Hi, Brooke, how’s it going?” They shake hands.

“Just fine.” She smiles at him and then at me.

“Hey, you,” he says and gives me a hug similar to the one he just gave Megan. And as expected, he smells delicious. Freshly showered and gelled.

“Hi, Marc,” I say.

“Looks like girls’ night out.”

“It was, until these two began yawn-a-palooza about ten minutes ago,” I tell him.

“Bummer, you all heading home already?” he asks.

“I’m afraid so,” Megan says.

“Well, why don’t you stay and hang out for a little while?” Marc turns to me and offers. “I’m here with some guys from work, and I’m sure these two big girls can find their way home.” He looks to them for support.

Megan answers before I have a chance to respond. “Yes, of course we can. That’s totally fine; Brooke and I can jump in a cab.”

Brooke nods.

I interject. “Oh, no, I don’t want you two to have to do that.”

Megan brushes me off with a wave of her hand. “It’s no big thing. We were feeling terrible about ending your night early, so why don’t you stay with Marc and have fun,” Megan says and grabs Brooke’s purse strap.

They walk away leaving Marc and me standing there.

He gently touches my elbow. “Will you come join us for a drink?”

Despite my mess of nerves, being close to him still brings me a sense of contentment.

“I probably shouldn’t,” I say. My feet feel like I’m wearing cement boots. I want to take a step, in either direction quite frankly, but my stance is frozen with uncertainty. Marc and I aren’t casual friends—we never have been, and it would be ridiculous to pretend otherwise. In fact, I can’t think of one instance where the two of us have spent time together in a bar that wasn’t immediately followed by a sleepover.

He senses my hesitation. “Have one drink with me. I promise to behave,” he says and smiles.

I follow him over to where his friends are standing and he does a round of introductions. He orders me a glass of wine, and I position myself next to him as I’ve done so many times before and listen to him engage everyone in story after story. Marc has a knack for conversation and does an exceptional job of making any topic sound interesting. I can’t help but marvel at him completely at ease in his element. Periodically he makes eye contact with me when someone else is doing the talking.

After about an hour, it’s time for me to leave. I’ve now had two more glasses of wine since finishing dinner, and Marc is looking more and more attractive with every one of them.

I place my glass on the highboy table in front of us. “Thanks for the wine, Marc.”

“You heading out?” He looks surprised.

“Yeah, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Well, thanks for staying and hanging out with me.”

“Sure, it was really nice,” I say.

Marc leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek close enough to my lips that the corners of our mouths gently graze each other. “See you around,” he says, then turns back to his friends, leaving me to walk away from him this time.