by Brea Brown
In case you ever change your mind… J
I look around, feeling like I might be on camera. I stare at the precise block lettering on the sticky note. It’s his handwriting, all right. I tear the blueprint away carefully, so that a strip of bright orange peeks out from underneath it. When the rest of the wrapping falls away, the Kit Kat is revealed.
I smile and take a breath when I realize this must have been in my desk for months, waiting for me to find it. Since our fight about my brother. Or maybe he found the candy bar when he was packing up his office, wrapped it, and stuck it in my drawer. Kind of a going-away present from him. After I speculate about it for a while, I bite my lip and stare at my computer.
What would it hurt? I finally decide, opening an instant message window.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 4, 10:21 A.M.
Libby.Foster:
Thank you
Jude.Weatherington:
??
Libby.Foster:
I just found the present you left me
Kit Kat
My favorite
Jude.Weatherington:
Yre wlcme. Tht was donkeys ages ago, tho
Libby.Foster:
Clever packaging
Jude.Weatherington:
Tht’s me… cleevr
Libby.Foster:
Still a great typist, I see
Jude.Weatherington:
V
Libby.Foster:
Not nice
Jude.Weatherington:
How r u?
Libby.Foster:
Okay. You?
Jude.Weatherington:
Busy. TTYL?
Libby.Foster:
Sure
TTYL
THURSDAY, MARCH 5, 11:47 A.M.
Jude.Weatherington:
What did u hurt?
I stare at my computer screen for several seconds, first making sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me, that Jude really is initiating communication with me. Then I try to figure out what he means. Finally, I give up.
Libby.Foster:
??
Jude.Weatherington:
N the accdient
Oh. Hm.
Libby.Foster:
I thought I said no follow-up questions
Jude.Weatherington:
Dont anwer then
I cup my hands over my nose and mouth, my middle fingers stroking my eyebrows as I deliberate.
Jude.Weatherington:
U there?
Libby.Foster:
Shattered tibia, cracked ribs, broken hip, fractured skull. Various other broken bones in hands and feet. Bruises, cuts, and abrasions
Jude.Weatherington says:
Shit
U brke ur head?
I laugh out loud and cover my mouth so I don’t draw any attention to myself while I’m slacking off.
Libby.Foster:
Yes. Metal plate up there
Jude.Weatherington:
Tht explians a lot
Libby.Foster:
Doesn’t it?
Jude.Weatherington:
I’m still angry with you
Libby.Foster:
Understandable
I’m still a little mad at you, too
Jude.Weatherington:
Did I gve u blu-balls and break ur heart?
The smile dies on my face as my heart starts beating a little harder.
Libby.Foster:
No. Not the first part, anyway
Jude.Weatherington:
I dnt remember doing either
But I’ve tried to forget a lot
maybe I’m misremembering
It’s a lot easier to end an IM conversation that’s not going the way I want it to go. I simply don’t respond.
My morning chats with Jude are becoming a regular thing. If I don’t hear from him by noon, I feel compelled to send him a message, knowing that it’s 6 p.m. there, and he’s probably getting ready to go home. Or not. Once he IMed me at 4:00, which is 10:00 his time. When I asked him about it, he said, “Oh, is this weird? I hardly ever leave work before 11.” Of course, he didn’t type that neatly, and it took me a while to translate it, but that was the gist.
Since the day he asked about my accident, we haven’t discussed anything important or serious. But I’ve learned a lot about him and his life there. He still plays rugby, only with a “better group of blokes.” He visits his parents nearly every weekend, because “I have fuck-all else to do.” And he hates his “flat,” because it’s not his style at all, but he’s hardly ever there, anyway.
It’s fascinating stuff. Seriously. I have a hard time imagining him in any setting besides Chicago, even though I know he was a complete fish out of water here. But it sounds like he’s not really any more in his element over there, which is befuddling to me. I wish I could rig up a Jude Cam to follow him around and get a better idea of what’s going on in his life.
Today I get the next best thing. I get to set up a videoconference call between him and Gary. For the privilege, I have to arrive at work at 7:30, but it’s worth it. It was originally Lisa’s responsibility, but she had a conflict with her step-daughter’s school carpool, so I readily volunteered to step in.
“Are you sure?” she’d asked. “I can ask Zoe. Or Leslie.”
“No! I’m all over it!” I’d replied. “Really. As a matter of fact, I’d be glad to always be in charge of early meeting set-ups.” Because I know the earliest meetings are scheduled for Jude’s benefit.
“O…kay,” she said, but I walked off before she could ask any questions.
I’ve been here this morning since 7:15, awake since 4:30. I couldn’t sleep, knowing I was actually going to lay eyes on him for the first time in months. And he’s going to see me. But I didn’t spend a lot of time getting ready this morning. (Yeah, by this morning, I only had a few things left to do. I’d done all the other stuff last night before I went to bed.) Turns out I could have waited, since I had plenty of time after taking sleep off the to-do list. Oh, well. Better safe than sorry. I think I did a good job of making it look like I didn’t try too hard, though. That’s what’s most important.
At 7:45, I’m still the only person on the floor that I know of. I do one last touch-up of my lip gloss and stride to the videoconference room. In there, I pick up the remote and consult the list to make sure I have the right number to dial in to get Jude. I press the numerical buttons and hit the green “call” button. After a series of beeps, I see a room with a round table and six chairs around it. But I don’t see anybody in the room.
“Cheers, Lisa,” Jude says dully from somewhere off-camera. “How’re things in the good ole U-S of A?”
My heart flutters when I say, “That’s twice now you’ve called me ‘Lisa.’”
Suddenly he ducks into the camera’s view. “Crikey! Libby! I didn’t even look up at the telly. I thought Lisa was setting this up.”
“She couldn’t make it,” I explain simply. I don’t want to waste time talking about her.
“A big sacrifice for you, I take it?” he says, joking about the early hour as he dunks a teabag up and down in the mug in his hand.
I’m too uncool to play it cool convincingly. “No. I, uh, volunteered. I don’t mind.”
He laughs. “Oh, is ‘early riser’ a new personality trait?”
I blush and hope it’s not visible on camera. “No, I just meant, I was happy to get a chance to see you.”
“Ah,” he nods. “Right. Well, you look well. All suited and booted, aren’t we?” When I stare blankly at the camera, he interprets, “Dressed up.”
“Not really,” I deny lamely, chagrined at how obvious I am. “Anyway, you look good too. Only six more months of winter there in the U.K., right?”
We joke about the weather some more while I examine him from head to toe. His hair is longer again; probably no time to “faff around” with haircuts. He’s wearing a suit with a vest, although it’s a gray one I’ve never seen before. It’s slightly shiny and
cut a lot slimmer in the legs. European, I’m guessing. It’s nothing I would have picked out for him, but he wears it well.
He inquires, “What’s the latest gossip there in the Windy City office? Anybody giving someone else a good seeing to? Who’s the current office fanny magnet? I always thought that Bruce bloke in the mailroom fancied you.”
I laugh nervously. “I don’t know. I don’t really socialize much. I think there’s a guy in IT who’s popular, since he’s under 25 and has a full head of hair.”
“Ah, yes. I seem to remember him. Ginger bloke,” Jude acknowledges. “I feel so out of it over here. I see Lisa once in a while when she sets up these calls, but she’s not very chatty with me. Did you tell her something nasty about me, Foster?”
I know he’s joking, but his question reminds me of the make-believe conversation I had with him. “I haven’t told anyone anything,” I say a touch more defensively than I intend to. “I mean, like I said, I pretty much come to work, do my job, and go home.”
“Yeah? And how’s Sandberg, the pompous bastard? Glad to be shot of me, I’m sure.”
Just then, Gary walks into the conference room. “Jude! Sorry I’m late. Bad accident on the highway this morning. Traffic back to BFE… Anyway, how are things there? I got a call from a Geoffrey something-or-other…”
“Haversham,” Jude supplies smoothly. “Right. He wants us to submit a proposal on a project in a very up-and-coming part of the city. Plenty of potential for other jobs if developers there see and like what we’ve done.”
“Excellent. That’s what I like to hear. Oh, excuse me a minute, Jude.” He turns to me as I’m exiting the room. “Libby, you mind grabbing me a cup of coffee? There wasn’t any made yet.”
“No problem,” I reply brightly. “I’ll be right back.” As soon as I clear the door, I grit my teeth and mumble, “Anything else? A shoe shine, perhaps?”
The office is filling up now, a lot of people talking about the accident that Gary mentioned to Jude. While I make the coffee, I wonder—as I always do—about the people involved. To everyone else, a traffic accident seems to be just a major inconvenience, something that causes them to be late for work. But I always whisper a little prayer to help those involved get through what may be the worst day—or several days, weeks, months, and years—of their lives.
As I’m pouring Gary’s coffee and putting two scoops of sugar in it, as he likes (and ruing the fact that I know this), Leslie walks in, giggling with the computer guy I was telling Jude about. When she sees me, she mock-sobers. “Oh, Libby. There you are. Jude was asking for you.”
I can’t resist perking up at the news, but I immediately regret it when she continues, “Yeah, he asked for me first, but I was busy, so he said you would do in a pinch.”
Her barely post-pubescent companion snickers as he buys a pop for breakfast. Leslie smirks and licks her lips to try to keep from laughing out loud.
“Funny. I get it.”
She looks concerned. “Are you sure? Because I can explain it to you: he slept with me first, but I found him boring, so he moved onto you. And you seemed to suit him just fine, for a while.”
It takes every ounce of my self-control to resist splashing Gary’s scalding coffee into her face. But rent’s due in a week.
I do say, though: “Leslie, is this ever going to get old for you? Because I have to tell you, it’s not very classy for you to be so proud of being a one-night stand.”
“Who said anything about one night, honey?”
Her comeback throws me. I’d always assumed…
As I mope off, no witty insult at the ready, every good feeling I’ve been collecting for the past couple of weeks of cyber-flirting with Jude disintegrates.
But after I quietly deliver Gary’s coffee, I decide I’m not finished with Leslie. It’s not fair for her to torment me with these details. I don’t have to put up with what amounts to harassment. Feeling empowered, I go back to the break room, where I hear her and her new boyfriend murmuring and snickering, no doubt about me.
Just as I’m about to round the corner and confront her, I hear her say quietly, “I can’t believe it still bothers her after all this time. I mean, talk about lame!”
He says something I can’t make out and then she laughs. “Whatever. And, no, it’s not getting old. It’s amazing how entertaining it is. To think that I could get so much material from a couple of emails. What? Well, it serves her right for leaving her computer logged on overnight. That’s against the rules, you know. I was actually trying to help her when she called in sick that day. How is it my fault that when I went to turn off her computer, her email was up for anyone to read?”
This time I hear him say, “Yeah, but you had to open several files to find the emails you’ve been using to fuck with her.”
“Hey, she and Lover Boy shouldn’t have been using work email on work time to talk about their sex life. I’m just having a little fun with it.” I hear her heels clacking against the tile floor, getting closer to me.
Quickly, I duck into the ladies’ room, my heart flapping like a deranged bird. The first thing I think when I realize she’s not going to find out I was listening is, That bitch! The second is, Oh, shit! What else did Jude and I talk about in those emails? I’m suddenly thankful he never confided in me about his promotion. She would have spread it all over the office, and he would have been fired for leaking it. I might have been fired, too, for that matter. My third thought is, I can’t believe Leslie knows anything about my sex life! How mortifying! But the fourth, strongest thought is, I’m so sorry, Jude, followed closely by How do I make this right?
29
My first instinct—after I recover from the shock—is to go straight to Leslie and punch her in the face. Thanks to her snooping and her lies, I’ve been through one of the worst periods of my life, which is saying a lot, considering my life so far.
Fortunately for Leslie, though, Lisa walks into the bathroom before I can get up the nerve for physical violence.
“I have to get a passport!” I blurt to her, encouraged by her bright smile as she passes me on the way into one of the stalls.
She doesn’t even pause, but as she locks the stall door, she asks, “Why? Gonna go abroad and find someone to replace that man-whore Jude?”
I probably shock her by replying, “Hey! Don’t call him that,” but before she can ask what’s gotten into me, I say, “He never, ever, ever, ever, never touched her!” My elated statement echoes loudly off the glass tiles. Quickly, I explain to her what I overheard Leslie and IT-boy talking about, but when Zoe walks in halfway through the telling, I start over again. And I don’t even care. I could repeat this wonderful story a hundred times and never get sick of it.
Lisa says to Zoe as she washes her hands, “Did you notice that we were entering a parallel dimension when we stepped off the elevator this morning?”
Zoe smiles at both of us in the mirror and shakes her head. “No. But I think Libby just volunteered something personal, so we must have been.”
“What I don’t get,” Lisa says, “is why you didn’t tell Jude right away what Leslie was saying about him. I mean, you could have saved yourself a whole lotta heartache, sweetie.”
I’m too happy to dwell on that right now. I wave it away. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to discuss his and Leslie’s supposed sex life. Oh my gosh! I have so much to do, including getting a passport and eating a lot of crow.” I’ve never been so happy to swallow my pride, though. “And talking to Gary about taking some time off!”
Wincing, Lisa informs me, “Ahh, well, that’s probably not going to happen today… talking to Gary, that is. He just popped in for his meeting with Jude, but he’s out of the office at off-site meetings with clients the rest of the day.”
Not letting it discourage me, I say, “Oh, well. I guess I don’t have to talk to him right away. I have plenty of other things to do.”
Zoe clears her throat. “What if… I mean, don’t get mad when I say this, b
ut what if…?”
Lisa finishes for her, “What if Jude’s moved on? It’s been a while.”
My heart sinks at the prospect, but I say bravely, “Well, that’s his loss. I have to stop waiting for other people to rescue me. I have to start being proactive and help myself.”
“Atta girl!” Zoe cheers.
On cue, Wanda pokes her head into the ladies room, but our boss doesn’t have to say anything to get us to scatter. Lisa and Zoe retreat to their own cubicles, where they start typing loudly and frantically to make themselves sound busy.
I really am busy. Just not with work. I spend the rest of the morning researching how to get a passport as quickly as possible. Then I look into how many vacation days I have left, how much money I have available to me right away, and how much a flight to London will set me back.
Right before noon, an IM almost makes me jump from my chair when it pops up on my screen.
TUESDAY, MARCH 30, 11:56 A.M.
Jude.Weatherington:
U there?
Libby.Foster:
Hi!
Jude.Weatherington:
It was good to c u this a.m./p.m.
And nice to hear u