“Are you okay sir?”
“Yes I am fine.” Annoyed at her interference he repeats, “I am fine, thank you.”
“Very well, do let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.” she insists.
“OK”, he nods.
The truth is he is far from being fine. A truly fine Alex would have noticed that she was actually flirting with him. He would have seen her look of disappointment at being dismissed. He finds waiting around for Joanna’s call to be quite the nail biting experience and whenever he thinks of the gut wrenching prospect that she might deny his request his disposition becomes borderline frenetic. Why she left him without an explanation is now clearer to him than it has ever been. He knew he was responsible for her leaving. Guilt he has silently carried with him all this while. Who was he going to confide in, Valde? Certainly not Brittany, she needs not know of this indiscretion. In the days following Joanna’s departure when Valde came to him filled with self-loathing and remorse seeking solace and wishing he had been a better boyfriend to her, the guilt within was even more piercing. There he was assuring his best friend that he shouldn’t blame himself. “Joanna had the perfect boyfriend” he would repeat, “Val you are being too hard on yourself.” Still he could never tell him the truth. He could never tell Val that he Alex was the real reason why she left. Did he at times feel anger towards her for taking what he believed was the easy way out? Yes he has. Could they have magically worked things out and be together without compromising invaluable friendships? The answer to that he doesn’t have but at least he was willing to find out. He didn’t pack up and run. So his anger towards her leaving was based on his resenting that she didn’t stick around to try. She didn’t fight for them, something which he was wholly prepared to do at the time. Now as he dips in and out of stores trying to pass the time he realizes that for each instance that he spent being angry instead of empathetic he was only being selfish. Her leaving must not have been an easy decision to make, it was quite sacrificial of her to have done so and he now recognizes this.
As he makes his way out of the store, he feels his phone vibrate. Before reaching into his pocket he says a silent prayer. He answers, “Hello this is Alex.”
“Hi, Alex it’s me, Joanna.”
His prayer is answered as he replies, “Hi Joanna.”
“I don’t have long so I will be quick. I thought about what you asked and I think I want to see you.”
“You do! Great I am happy to hear that.”
“I will meet you in your hotel lobby at nine.”
“That’s great, I will be there,” he says gladly, “I can’t wait to see you.”
“And I you,” she replies.
Chapter 9
Val had to leave Brittany soon after arriving at her apartment, something about having to get back to his responsibilities, an excuse for leaving to which she could relate. She too has work related issues that need to being tended to however for right now as far as she is concerned the world will have to wait. Lately her mind has been in a state of flux, at work she tries her best to remain focused and unaffected by the drama in her personal life. Still she knows that her usual productivity has decreased and time that was formerly spent networking was now being wasted curled up on her couch watching reality television. Much to her surprise she is especially fond of the ones where celebrities compete in dancing competitions. For that hour she allows herself to be swept away. She is even more fascinated by their willingness to put themselves out there like that for all to see, and equally impressed by their accomplishments on the dance floor. This distraction is great when it’s on, however, right now she is standing there in the middle of her living room, and the television is off. There are no dancers in their flashy costumes, no judges, one of which almost certainly has to have a European accent and there is no host with his boyish smile and time filling banter steering the audiences’ woos and awes. Except for the sound of pigeons taking flight and landing outside her window, it seems as if her world is completely still.
A sense of loneliness is seeping in, and she is quite aware of its advances. She decides to shrug this off. Refusing to yield to the heaviness of her situation, she insists that she must lighten her mood and pamper herself a bit. Hours of hop skipping along 5th and Madison Avenues in four inch stilettos was no luxury on a girl's feet so relaxation is now the order of the moment. Mindful of this she makes herself some peppermint tea and decides to sink back into her couch with her feet up.
Moments later as she rifles through the day's papers, wanting to catch up on the world around her, she passionately peruses each article of interest then discerningly skips through those that fail to grab her. This reading trend continues until she happens on the start of the finance pages. She arrives at a story, or rather a photo that does more than grab her. It demands her attention! Undoing the promise of her overpriced anti-wrinkling and skin firming facial creams she raises her eyebrows as her expression becomes a grimace. What could be the cause of such growing intensity?
There it is, the pixilated image of Phillip charmingly smiling at her from the main page headlined Fiscal Maestro Conducts His Greatest Overture Yet. Immediately upset, she grasps for breath then brings herself to a calm in an attempt to read the article. The writer generously chronicles Phillip's career, listing his accomplishments and also stating his plans for fulfilling his new position. A position he attained by successfully rallying the board around him, ousting his predecessor to become his firms youngest and fastest risen CEO. Except for his bold and tactical move, most of the article was filled with information that she already knew. There was no mention of him having a wife or children. Only family allusion made by the writer was the probability that the board’s decision was somehow influenced by its own composition. The board is strongly made-up of Phillip’s father’s friends.
After reading the article Brittany can feel her loneliness gaining strength. There is no shrugging it off this time. This is the kind of loneliness she hasn’t felt since she was a little girl and her first aupair who had been with the family since she was a toddler left for France. Then, she thought it was her fault that Chloe left, and blamed herself for being a bad little girl. Ironically, now here she is, a grown woman feeling like that same little girl and can't help wondering if this too is her fault. Could she and Phillip have had a future if she had been more careful and had not gotten herself pregnant? He could have carried on lying to her and keeping that other side of him secret, or perhaps maybe just maybe he would have eventually left his wife for her. They could have made the perfect life together. Would he have left his wife for her? These questions and others like them form circles in her head. Plagued by the ‘what ifs’ she feels overwhelmed. Tortured by the loneliness she is ready to succumb.
Twice she reaches for the phone. On both instances nervousness hijacks her motor skills so she fumbles and watches as it falls. Twice she tells herself that this was the heavens telling her not to make the call. Twice she dismisses that notion rationalizing that it is only the manifestation of her fear of doing something foolish which could cause her to appear desperate if not weak. On the third instance she takes control of her nerves and makes silent the heavens as she listens to the phone at the other end of the line ring.
“Hello this is Phillip,” answers a smooth and confident male voice.
Something within has again triggered her loss of control, she is filled with intent minus the nerves so her lips take form however the words just won’t come out.
“Brittany is that you?” he asks, “I know it’s you. Your number is on the caller id. Please do say something?”
She wants to answer. The words still doesn’t exit her lips, instead she grasps for breath. Another panic attack ensues.
Drowning in her own silence, she disappointingly hangs up the phone.
Breathing heavily she breaks down sobbing. It is simultaneously unbelievable and disturbing the effect that he has on her. In spite of her resolve to remain stalwart, she feels a
s if his voice has totally dented her enamel, one which she had spent the last few weeks reinforcing and hammering out. She rushes off to the kitchen to pour herself some water. As her last gulp causes her to raise the bottom of her glass towards the ceiling, she can’t help thinking that she heard a longing in his voice. Maybe it was her nerves or maybe just wishful thinking still it sounded as if he was earnestly glad that she was calling. Within minutes her nerves had failed her thrice, she wasn’t about to make it a fourth time. “Now there is another accomplishment to celebrate”, she berates herself, “I am now such a mess that I don’t even know what it is that I heard. I am going to need something stronger than water to make it through this night and it is barely evening. Oh gosh, what am I to do?”
Chapter 10
It is now later that evening and Valde sits snuggly in the back of a town car. He is being chauffeured across town to meet with Brea on the upper west side of Manhattan. Earlier in the afternoon they had agreed to get together at a cozy little restaurant nearby her place. Truthfully the location was Brea’s suggestion and having no pre-selected venue of his own he gingerly went along with her planning. Left up to Valde this evening’s plans wouldn't have come to fruition for he very much felt like cancelling. During his sojourn he repeatedly shares with his driver that he would rather be heading home, but couldn’t continue to bail on his date without further hurting her feelings. Besides at this point he is tired from his and Brittany’s gallivanting around the city earlier and is tragically no longer in the mood for Brea.
His cell phone rings as he is about to shoot off another email asking Alex where in the world he might be.
“Hello this is Val.”
“Hi Valde, this is Mr. Morgan.”
“Hi sir, let me apologize for the rescheduling of our meetings, which was due to unforeseen circumstances.”
“So I take it that you are still interested.”
“I would be a fool to not be. I wouldn't have wooed you over to my firm if there was no real interest there sir. There is a lot of money on the table, would be stupid of me to suddenly lose interest so deep into our venture.”
“Good, I am glad to hear of your commitment to the project. Now I hope you will start acting that way.”
“I can assure you that you are first on my agenda, first thing in the morning. Also let me take this time to reassure you that not even for one second has my interest faded. In fact I already have some exciting news for you.”
“Good, well I say we discuss it tomorrow.”
“You have extended your trip to New York?”
“I had to. Besides seeing my daughter, who convinced me to stay out here longer, meeting up with the extremely elusive and talented Valde is the other reason why I am here. So I don’t leave until I see you, unless of course there is no deal.”
“I see.”
“In the morning meet me in my hotel lobby at 10, you can bring me up-to-date at breakfast.”
“Yes sir, I will be there.”
“My daughter mentioned to me that you two are meeting up later.”
“Yes, we are. In fact I am on my way to see her as we speak.” Valde hates this complication, the direct result of letting his penis get carried away. He knows that severing ties with Brea could potentially undermine his position in this project. Looking down at his crotch he mouths, “I hope the fun you had was worth it.”
“In that case I won’t keep you,” says Mr. Morgan, “however don't make it a long night we have serious issues to discuss in the morning and I expect you to bring you’re ‘A’ game.”
“Yes sir, I won’t, and we will.”
Upon arriving at the restaurant Valde is quickly escorted by an amazing brunette, who he couldn’t help checking out from behind, to Brea’s table. As he takes his seat he winks at the hostess, who blushes and hands him a menu. “Lovely girl”, he comments as she walks away, “Speaking of lovely, you look exceptionally radiant tonight.” He leans in to kiss Brea who meets him half-way.
They are seated in a cozy little corner at the rear of the restaurant. Looking over at Brea he feels slightly uncomfortable and increasingly ambushed. Perhaps he was right for feeling this way. The plummeting neckline of her dress which dangerously dangles between her already thinly veiled breasts leaving very little to the imagination is as ominous to him as a loaded revolver aimed at his head. It is quite possible that she meticulously calculated the romantic ambiance of this venue, with its dimly lit private rooms illuminated only by flickering candles. Did she purposely choose that shade lipstick to center his attention at her increasingly inviting lips? He wonders if when she got out of her shower and sprayed on her perfume did she do so with the intent of making his mind turn to mush upon sitting across from her this evening. With each flicker of their candle the richness of her eyes are revealed, and as the light breeze gently lifts her hair, he is momentarily carried away by the gracefulness with which she tames her locks. He is quite convinced that she is doing it to him. She is purposely seducing him. Somehow, he believes, she got wind of his true motive for being here this evening. Chock it up to a woman’s intuition, she must have discovered his plot to break up, and using her beguiling femininity she is now intent on thwarting his attempt. Like a madman, in the back of his head he rambles on in this fashion.
In spite of his twisted thoughts urging him to keep up his defenses and not succumb to her wiles, he feels his desires changing. Why break up with her, look at her, she is nothing short of stunning. Yes like many others he has dated she too is clingy, but when such a woman is this hot, such a petty flaw can easily be overlooked. Well in this case it can be tolerated for at least until he grows tired of sleeping with her, which is certainly not the issue here. His motivation for wanting to break up is that he just doesn’t see them growing old together and he can tell that she has already developed strong feelings for him. Catch and release them before they bite too deeply into the hook has always been a part of his dating creed. “What the heck”, he wonders, “I am here so I might as well enjoy it. He orders a drink which helps him relax and dinner proceeds agreeable for them both. However half-way through, with wine glasses half filled and raised in a toast, she stops him short and says.
“Val, I won’t be seeing you anymore.”
Once again today he is rendered speechless by one of the women in his life. He sits in disbelief, not attempting to utter a word. Instead he resorts to thinking quickly. His innate ability of lightning fast deduction and execution fails him so he resolves to just sitting there. He smiles a smile which could be mistaken as callous, however beneath his cool exterior he was beginning to ache. No not only his ego, but his whole being feels bruised knowing that he was the catalyst that did himself in. Immediately he is haunted by the same thoughts that plagued him at this morning’s workout. Still, now was not the time for him to question himself, instead he attempts with dignity and a touch of humility, not his usual bravado, to salvage with her what he can.
As it turns out for him crossing an arid dessert in the midst of a sand storm sans water and visor without any likelihood of precipitation would have been a much simpler task. His hopes for immediate conciliation and possibly passionate post-coital nestling are crushed.
“Valde why should I listen to anything you have to tell me?”
“You are a selfish bastard who cares about no one but himself.”
“I can do, have done, and will do much better than you.”
“I seriously believe that you care so little about anyone that I doubt that you truly love yourself.”
“You deserve to die a lonely bugger if this is the way you plan on treating women.”
“No self-respecting woman would continue being with you knowing what you’re truly like.”
“Give you a chance. I gave you a chance, and I ended up being hurt.”
“What I already know of you I find so repulsive and grotesque, no I don’t want to get to know the real you. I fear you can only get worse. I can see through your smooth t
alk and that charm of yours. You’re a pig, no that’s too kind, you are worse than scum; I want absolutely nothing to do with you. I shall advise my father to do the same.”
Like a brow whipped prize fighter who has lost this bout, he retires to his corner, with hopes of some day re-emerging victorious. This match would have to continue another day as she excuses herself from the table, from the rest of dinner, and quite possibly from his life. “What the hell just happened?” he asks in disbelief. With any remaining hope obliterated he wonders how strangely the tables turned. How did she get the upper hand on him, it was he who had come here to break up with her and not the other way around. Luckily for him there was no one near enough to hear them, such an embarrassment would have been a bit much to bear.
“Would you like dessert sir?” asks his waitress. Normally, he would skip dessert but what just happened isn’t the norm for him so keeping with one of the day’s concurrent theme he decides, “Yes please I am in great need of something sweet.”
Later that evening after arriving home he kicks off his shoes, and sullenly goes through his mail, nothing of interest there, only the ubiquitous presence of oft unwanted bills. As he throws the mail onto his desk he notices that a postcard had fallen from the pile onto the floor. While on his knees he observes the card's artwork. It was a photograph of an angel holding a baby. He stands bent over staring at this card as if nothing else matters. At this moment for him nothing else does. He suddenly feels that there might be hope for him, there is no way he could be as bad as Brea had made him out to be. This card is proof that salvation could be his. This card is a sign. So caught up is he in his article of divine confidence that he almost forgets to read who it‘s from. It was postmarked a few days ago and was a sweet wishing you well gesture from Joanna.
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