Snow Falling on Bluegrass (10 page)

7

In Which Everything Gets Much, Much Worse

To say our time in snow lockdown moved at a glacial pace would be an insult to both time management and puns.

Life became much more complicated, but somehow simpler. We were hygiene conscious, but attention to eyeliner tends to fade when you're drying your underwear and socks over a utility sink. The beard-growing contest got off to an abrupt start, with Tom waking up the next morning with what looked like a full Amish scruff. Apparently Tom was half werewolf.

I captured our struggles on film, documenting each day's beard growth, the meals we cobbled together, the expressions on my coworkers' faces when they realized I had my camera. So far, it was a study in ill-kempt people who were alternately amused and irritable in each frame.

The idea board grew exponentially as earning the coveted gift cards became the most entertainment we saw all day. Some suggested campaign themes were better than others—frankly, “Kentucky: At Least We're Not Arkansas” seemed sort of mean-spirited—but the work kept us distracted and productive. And yet, I couldn't help but feel that there was some reason we were stuck up here together, stretching a weekend out into an indefinite sentence—er, experience. There had to be some lesson to learn or future robotic world takeover I could prevent in order to free us from Work Retreat Groundhog Day.

I made a more concerted effort to get to know my “fringe” colleagues, the people I hadn't bonded with as closely as Sadie and Bonnie. We always felt so rushed at the office that I didn't bother making conversation with them. I managed to pry out Jacob's worst work-related memory, which involved his trying to power through the flu because a senator was expected to visit the biodiesel company he was working for and vomiting on the senator's shoes. I found out that Tom used to work for Apple and had once survived a project supervised directly by Steve Jobs, but he had moved home to Kentucky when his wife's parents needed more care. I talked more to Theresa and Dorie Ann, who always seemed a bit standoffish at the office, like their own little clique of two. It took me a few days to figure out that they weren't a clique,
they were a
couple
, and they weren't quite ready for the others to know. I felt a little ashamed that I'd missed this development, and that I'd mistaken Jacob's nerves for cockiness and Tom's disappointed hopes for premature crotchetiness. I'd thought I shared important, close relationships with my coworkers, but I'd only skimmed the surface with some of them. I resolved to change that and asked more involved questions of them during our downtime.

I chastised myself thoroughly for how much I took my electronics for granted. My phone might as well have been a plastic paperweight. I couldn't charge it. I couldn't send e-mail. I knew I didn't necessarily
need
those things. They weren't as essential as keeping warm or clean or fed. But I missed them. Clearly my chances of surviving a zombie apocalypse would be hindered by my attachment to technology. It's hard to run from hordes of the undead if you're pining for Wi-Fi.

Then again, the upside of being trapped in the middle of nowhere with no phone was that I couldn't check my voice mail, e-mail, or text messages. So I couldn't be bombarded with “Oh baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it” messages when Darrell figured out that his latest squeeze wouldn't put up with his bullshit. It was like detox, only less painful. Eventually, I barely noticed the absence.

It took me days to get over the sensation that I should be doing something work-related instead of chores. I'd been working to support myself since I was twenty. I worked holidays to stay away from home. I couldn't afford vacations, thanks to Darrell's spending habits. I wasn't used to this sort of downtime.

Behind closed doors, I watched Sadie slowly but surely lose her freaking mind. At first I thought it was just the isolation, the cold, and the stress of trying to keep it together for the rest of us. But then I found her in the dining room going through Josh's bag, throwing his stuff around like a crazy woman.

“Whatcha doin'?” I asked, dodging the necktie she threw past my head.

“Where is it?” she hissed.

“Sweetie, did you lose your backup flash drive again? Because we agreed not to hide that in things Josh loves after the last time.”

“I found the ring,” Sadie grumbled under her breath so the others couldn't hear us. The rest of the team was involved in a spirited game of Boggle in front of the lobby fireplace. “Three weeks ago, I was looking through Josh's old T-shirt drawer for something to sleep in and I found the box.”

“What ring?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.

“Oh, Kelsey, please, I saw that gorgeous setting. There's no way he picked that without you.”

“Okay, yes, I helped,” I said.

“Of course, none of that matters now, because he hasn't proposed. Who holds on to a ring for three weeks and doesn't pop the question?”

“Maybe he's just trying to find the right moment,” I suggested.

“He's had three weeks to pick the right moment,” she whispered. “What if he's decided that there is no right moment, because he doesn't want to marry me? What if he's realized that I exceed the recommended daily allowance of crazy most men want in their lives? I mean, let's face it: I'm controlling and rigid and I schedule away most people's will to live.”

“Sadie, I'm sorry, this has to be done,” I said, tweaking her nose.

“Ow!” she yelped, drawing the attention of our coworkers.

“It's fine,” I told them, stuffing Josh's clothes back into his bag. “Sadie just bumped her nose.”

“You tweaked my nose, you lunatic,” she said, clutching her face.

“Because you are talking crazy, lady,” I told her. “You are fantastic. You are creative and brave and generous and an awesome friend, not to mention sexy as hell. Any man in his right mind would be thrilled to be married to you.”

“Do you want to be married to me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

I smacked her arm. “You know what I mean.”

“Stop hitting me!”

“Not until you stop freaking out over Josh's bad timing,” I said, smacking her arm again.

“Hey!” She gasped. “You're being supportive
and
violent. You're only supportive and violent when you're trying to keep something from me.”

“Well, that's not true.”

Sadie's eyes narrowed. “What aren't you telling me? What's going on with you and Darrell? Something is going on and I want you to tell me right now. Oh my God, Kelsey, if you tell me you're pregnant, I'm going to murder you. No jury would find me guilty under these extenuating circumstances. We had the ‘you can't have babies with Darrell' talk. I brought out the demonstration banana and the condoms and everything—”

“Shh,” I hissed at her. “We broke up, okay? A few weeks ago.”

Please don't notice that I didn't mention who was the breaker and who was the breakee.

“Really?!” She squealed like a little kid, throwing her arms around me in a mama-bear hug. “Forget my ring freakout. I am so happy right now!”

“Please try to contain your joy.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” she exclaimed, her bright hazel eyes sparkling as she hopped up and down. “And why the hell did he come to see you off when we left the office parking lot?”

“Because I didn't want to see that look on your face. That triumphant, ‘Christmas has come eleven months early and Santa brought me a big bag of “I was right” for my stocking' look. And because he needed to give me bills for accounts he opened in my name without telling me, which sort of leads back into the ‘I told you so' thing.”

Sadie put a tight damper on said triumph and gave me her best supportive face. She squeezed my arm. “I wouldn't say ‘I told you so,' Kels, you know that.”

“I don't know that, because you did tell me so,” I retorted. “You told me Darrell was no good over and over again. But I didn't listen and I don't know why. Frankly, an ‘I told you so' billboard wouldn't be overkill in this situation.”

“You weren't ready to hear it yet, that's all.” The temporary lid on Sadie's glee busted loose and she ran to the lobby and yelled to Bonnie and Josh, “Guys! Guess what? Darrell and Kelsey broke up! Weeks ago!”

“Shh! Sadie, hush!” I cast a nervous glance at the lobby. I didn't particularly want the others knowing my business. Tom and Jacob flashed me the thumbs-up. Bonnie squealed and threw her Boggle pad into the air. Gina, as expected, rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine.

But it was Josh's response that surprised me. Grinning broadly, he jumped from his seat and threw his arms around me. It was my first real hug from Josh, which made me feel sort of warm and fuzzy. He'd always been friendly, but appropriately office-distant. I hadn't known he cared that much. “Good to know! I guess that means I can call off that amateur hit squad I booked.”

“
Amateur
hit squad?” I asked, arching a brow.

“College kids who live in my building,” he said, shaking his head. “They're looking for beer money. They wouldn't have actually killed him, just gone after his kneecaps.”

I gave him a little squeeze. “Well, it's the thought that counts.”

Bonnie threw her arms around the pair of us and squeezed for all her tiny, bony arms were worth. “I'm so happy!” She sighed, resting her head against Josh's back. “Ignore what Sadie is going to say about your being stubborn and immature and keeping this from us for no reason. This was definitely the right time to share, Kelsey. We needed some good news.”

I frowned at Bonnie over Josh's shoulder. “Stubborn and immature? That seems unfair.”

“No, it's about right,” Sadie told me.

“Not that I mind being the sandwich filling, but this hug is starting to feel inappropriate,” Josh muttered.

Charlie walked in from the lobby just before the Josh sandwich split apart.

“Uh, what's going on?” he asked, eyeing the way Bonnie and I were wrapped around Josh. He shot a curious look at Sadie, who simply beamed at us.

“Darrell and I aren't together anymore. It's not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Bonnie scoffed. “I feel like I should get you an ice-cream cake or a fruit basket or something. Personal growth like this should be rewarded.” She turned to Charlie. “They've broken up before, but never for longer than a few days. It's been
weeks
. And we probably won't get out of here for another week. I think we may be reaching the detox stage. It's so exciting!”

Charlie's eyebrows winged up. I shot Bonnie a stern look, which she blithely ignored. “I don't think Will is a good influence on you,” I said.

Still seated at the table, Will threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. Bonnie jabbed a finger at me, grinning at Will. “He's an awesome influence on me. You want to know why? Because he showed me the difference between the kind of relationship where two people stimulate each other through occasional disagreements and the kind where one person being an enormous douche bag drags the other down.”

“Bonnie said ‘douche bag,' ” Sadie whispered to Josh. “Bonnie never says ‘douche bag.' This could be the beginning of snow madness!”

“Which kind is yours?” I asked Bonnie.

“The stimulating kind,” Bonnie retorted, while Will beamed cheekily.

I smirked at her. “Oh, you lucky girl.”

Bonnie poked my shoulder. “I'm going to ignore your feeble attempt to distract me with crude jokes because I am so very happy that you and Darrell are no more. Finito. Kaput. Finished. A thing of the past. Ancient history.”

Sadie rubbed her hands together gleefully. “We should make a Darrell piñata.”

“Oh, sure,
now
you want to use my arts and crafts expertise,” Bonnie shot back. “But when I want to collage, it's all ‘this is lame' and ‘the adhesive is giving me a contact high.' ”

I pouted, sticking out an exaggerated bottom lip. “My attempts weren't feeble. I didn't . . . feeble.”

I glanced toward Charlie, embarrassed. He was just grinning like crazy at our antics. Behind Sadie's back, he mouthed the words
Thanks for telling me first.

I didn't have time to process this gesture, as Sadie had side-tackled me into another fierce hug. If I wasn't mistaken, my sweater was growing damp at the neck.

“Are
you
crying now?” I asked her. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate Sadie's enthusiasm. I recognized that there were many benefits to a Darrell-free life (clean apartment, full purse, laptop uncorrupted by viruses accumulated in Darrell's search for naked pictures of Heidi Klum). But I'd processed all this already, and hearing Sadie's raptures felt like just a little bit too much positive reinforcement.

“No!” Sadie insisted, but when she pulled back, her eyes were shiny. “Do you promise this is the last time? And this isn't me joking around, here. Bonnie and I were on the verge of staging an intervention. Darrell is no good for you. In fact, he is bad for you. Actively bad. Please, I'm begging you. We may joke around about you rebounding or relocating to a Darrell-proof containment facility, but you don't have to do any of that. Just please, please don't go back to him. Change your number. Move in with me if you want. Just don't go back to him.”

“Thank you,” I told her. “Although I can't move out of my building. I love the Mayfair. And I couldn't leave my boys. But I won't go back.”

“Since you didn't give us a chance to give you a proper postmortem of the Darrell breakup, Sadie and I are going to take you to one of the nicest rooms on this floor, liberate one of the better bottles of vodka from the bar, and get you rip-snorting drunk.”