Going Wild

by Gretchen Galway

  But for him to tell their grandfather…

  Rage percolating, Grant gripped his thigh to keep his voice level. “He shouldn’t have bothered you with gossip about my sordid love life.”

  “Love life? Is that what your new book is about?”

  Grant stared, feeling the blood coming to his face. “He talked to you about my book. Right.” Better than his love life, but not great. “Forget what I said about the love life thing.”

  “Sordid love life.”

  “Not really,” he said. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked at his grandfather’s feet.

  Then looked more closely. They were Birkenstock Arizonas in natural. “Those aren’t the ones,” Grant began. “That was too long ago for them to be… Are those…?”

  Grandfather held up his foot. “If you treat a shoe right, it can last damn near forever.”

  Grant had given him that pair of Birks after his first book hit the New York Times. Even now he wasn’t sure what he’d meant by it—a peace gesture, a poke in the eye, he wasn’t sure. It had been Christmas, and he’d been expected to join the family here in their new home, with gifts for everyone.

  “You actually wear them?” Grant asked.

  Looking away, Grandfather rubbed his lips. “I’m wearing them now.”

  “They’ve been sitting in a box for ten years, haven’t they?”

  “Be happy I didn’t throw them out.”

  Grant laughed. “I am happy.” At least about that.

  “Tell me about the sordid love life.”

  Shaking his head, Grant got to his feet and began to pace under the canopy.

  “Spit it out. I can tell you want to tell me.”

  “I don’t,” Grant said. “I really don’t.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “I’d rather talk about the book.”

  “Sounds boring. If you don’t want to write it, I probably don’t want to hear about it.”

  Grant sank down onto the stool. His grandfather’s comment probably would’ve upset him months ago, but not now. The book was shorter than he’d planned but interesting. Different. It might not sell, but he wasn’t embarrassed to have his name printed on the cover. “It’s not too bad, actually.”

  “Great. Tell me about the girl.”

  Grant had to smile. “She’s smart. Conscientious. Beautiful.” He didn’t know how to describe how she always looked good, put together. “She’s a very snappy dresser. She’s unhappy at her job but just works harder to make it better. She puts her feelings last, her job and duties first.”

  “I like her already.”

  Grant looked at him, thinking about all the trouble his grandfather had caused without knowing it. If he hadn’t fired Jane, Grant wouldn’t have convinced her to rent him the room, and what had happened later wouldn’t have happened at all.

  It was a terrible thought, the worst he’d had in a long time. Ever.

  He fixed his gaze on his own feet, also in Birks. Even though he felt like death, he wouldn’t go back and do anything differently.

  Except the bear thing. Both bears. If he could go back, he’d join her in screaming at the bear cub on the opposite side of the river and then encourage the bigger one at the campsite to help himself to her entire pack and his too. Right now they’d be making love on an air mattress, drunk on fresh air and rehydrated meat loaf stew.

  “Her name’s Jane,” Grant said. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her.”

  32

  “But you screwed up,” his grandfather said.

  Grant opened his mouth and began to explain that he’d known a backpacking trip was too dangerous at this stage in their relationship. But his grandfather never liked to hear excuses. “Yeah, I screwed up.”

  “If you hadn’t, you’d look a lot better,” Grandfather said. “You’d certainly smell better.”

  “I thought old people lost their sense of smell.”

  “They do,” his grandfather said. “Which just proves how much you stink.”

  Grant smiled. “Mom said you’d make fun of me.”

  “Remember what I said about taking care of her.”

  “I’ll remember,” Grant said.

  “Does she know about Jane?”

  “No.”

  “Probably for the best,” Grandfather said. “You know how nosy women can be.”

  They both nodded their heads.

  “There’s not much to tell her,” Grant said. “Not now.”

  “Because you screwed up.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to fix it?” his grandfather asked.

  Grant remembered the smell of toothpaste in Jane’s hair. “She’d never settle for me long term. I just got swept up in her midlife crisis.”

  Grandfather snorted in disgust. “Don’t fall for that bull. It’s all midlife until you’re dead.”

  “What she wants is a guy like her, some suit working his way up the corporate ladder the way she is.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Not in any words, I bet,” Grandfather said.

  “Just today, when she kicked me out, she said we were incompatible.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re saying. Sounds like you agree on that. Start there.”

  “She’s mad I got upset about her screaming at a bear. It was just a little one, on the opposite side of a creek.”

  “Why’d you get upset?”

  “I was afraid she’d gotten hurt.” He’d imagined blood, broken bones, impending death. “I apologized right away.”

  “Did you tell her you care about her?”

  “Obviously I care about her. I’ve dropped everything to be with her whenever I can.”

  “You didn’t tell her.”

  Grant shook his head. “She never would’ve gotten involved with me at all if she’d thought I was serious,” he said. “She broke up with a guy recently who hurt her badly. She hasn’t gotten over it. I’m her fun, meaningless rebound guy.”

  “You’re making excuses. Sounds like you’re the one afraid of getting hurt.”

  Grant considered that. It was difficult to hear, a bad sign it was true. “Maybe a little.”

  “If you want her, go for it. Don’t be a chickenshit.”

  Grant got to his feet but stopped himself from storming off like a child. His grandfather had a point. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “Are you going to take it?”

  After this, he’d never be able to convince his grandfather he hadn’t needed his bullying. “Yes.”

  “Good man. I told Troy you didn’t need my help.”

  “Wait a minute—”

  “He seemed to think I bore some responsibility for the whole mess,” Grandfather said. “If I’d thought you were going to fall for the girl, I never would’ve fired her.”

  All this time, he’d known who Jane was. The old devil. “Troy told you everything, I take it.”

  “Had you fooled, didn’t I?”

  Grant sat down again. “You shouldn’t fire people like that.”

  His grandfather pressed his lips together, his face turning red. “That SOB Frank Bostock fed me a line, and I swallowed every bit of it,” he said tightly. “I wasn’t such an easy mark when I was younger.”

  “I get it. You thought she’d screwed up. But even if she had, the way you handled it was—”

  “Shabby. Yes, I know. In spite of what you might think, I do regret it,” his grandfather said. “I was doped up on some pills Rachelle gave me for my cough, could barely see straight. And there were all those young faces around I didn’t recognize. I felt old and angry.”

  Grant remembered the way Jane had looked storming out to her minivan, swearing, right after she’d been fired in front of her colleagues. He’d thought then, and still did, that the swearing was her way of keeping her head up.

  “You owe her an apology,” Grant said.

  With a haughty shrug, his grandfather
brought a crumpled tissue to his nose and honked loudly. “Find a way to get her here, and I’ll give her one.”

  After her cold night alone, Jane went to the office on Friday morning determined to lose herself in work.

  There were clients and meetings and emails, and she kept busy through lunch, trying to focus on her clients’ business and not her own. The super burrito she got at the taco truck would have fulfilled her nutritional needs, but she couldn’t enjoy it, not even with extra guacamole, and she threw it in the trash.

  At four, enduring the scent of refried beans still wafting up from under her desk, Jane felt Sydney tap her on the shoulder.

  “Well, this is it.” Wrinkling her nose, Sydney looked into her trash basket. “I can’t say I’m going to miss the smell of those burritos.”

  Jane jumped up. “What?”

  “I’m giving notice.”

  “Already?”

  “I start at the new place in two weeks.” Sydney checked over her shoulder. “But keep your voice down. I want them to hear it from me. That new guy is just over there. He’s trying to figure out how to use the printer.”

  “The broken one?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Sydney held up her hand and adjusted one of her bracelets, a silver chain with charms made from beaded zodiac symbols—all except Scorpio, which had been her ex-boyfriend’s sign. She’d thrown that one down a storm drain.

  “Nobody told him to use the one in the conference room?”

  “Guess we forgot,” Sydney said with a shrug.

  Jane laughed. Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I can’t believe you found another job already.”

  “I’ve had some feelers out for months. It was just one of those things that was meant to be.”

  “You’re going to talk to Troy?”

  Sydney dropped her smile. “I don’t think so. Nicole is gone, so the meeting is with HR.” She twirled a beaded ring around her finger. “I expect they’ll want me to clear out right away. I might not see you, so here I am.”

  “They asked Richard to stay two weeks when he quit last year.”

  “He was leaving accounting altogether,” Sydney said. “I’m not. Besides, Nicole thought I was disgruntled. She put it on my performance review. They won’t want me hanging around. I bet my password will be changed before I leave the HR office.”

  “What will you be doing? I thought you wanted to go private or work in tech. Or become a therapist.”

  “Or all three,” Sydney said, smiling. “Maybe in a few years I’ll try something new, but like I said, this seems meant to be. They offered me senior manager, a huge raise—huge—and a room with a view. Reverse commute, too. Walnut Creek. I’ll finally be able to get a seat on BART every day.”

  Jane whistled. “Congratulations, Sydney. That’s great.”

  “I’d try to recruit you, but I know it’s hopeless.”

  “Sure, that’s why I suddenly took off camping in the middle of the week, because I’m so happy with my job.”

  “And you lasted one day. And here you are at your desk, working through lunch. In the dead days of summer,” Sydney said. “You may not know yourself, Jane, but I do. You’re here for the long haul.”

  Jane looked around to confirm they were still alone. “The fact that I’m here now doesn’t mean I’ll be here forever.”

  “Admit it, Jane. You’re addicted to Whitman. Just one more day, one more week, one more year. You won’t walk away. You’re too stubborn to quit. You want to win, and you will.” Sydney held out her arms and smiled. “Give me a hug. We might not get a chance later.”

  Jane wanted to argue, but Sydney was wiggling her fingers impatiently, glancing at the door.

  After a short but firm embrace, Sydney left Jane alone with her spreadsheets, coffee, and broken heart. Fifteen minutes later, unable to concentrate, Jane picked up the trash can holding the burrito and carried it to the lunchroom, walking past the new guy, who continued to struggle with the printer.

  On her way back, her trash can emptied, she succumbed to her conscience and stopped to tell him, “It’s broken.”

  He barely spared her a glance. “No shit.”

  “There’s another one in the conference room.”

  “If I need help, I’ll ask for it,” he said, not turning around.

  She resumed walking. Three steps away, she pivoted on her heel and gave him the finger. The guy was hunched over the machine and didn’t see her, but she felt better.

  “Jane?” Troy asked. He stood in the doorway of the office to her left, his facial expression indicating he’d seen her hand gesture. Sydney stood inside the HR office behind him, absorbed in their conversation.

  “The new guy’s an asshole,” Jane said. “Thought you should know.” She continued walking to her desk.

  Her heart was pounding. Sure, she was frequently a potty mouth but not at work. And her curses were usually vague, spoken in private, and aimed at inanimate objects.

  But she’d just told the boss that the new senior manager was an asshole.

  “Come on, Jane,” Troy said, a nice guy trying to be tough. “You know language like that is unprofessional.”

  “No shit,” she said.

  Hm. Maybe she should go home. Jane smiled at Troy as if it had all been a fun joke and then strode to her desk. She flung the empty trash can under her desk, letting it topple to one side, and packed up her things for the day.

  Just as she was slipping her laptop into her bag, she thought better of it and returned it to her desk.

  Then she walked out of the office.

  And down the elevator.

  Across the lobby.

  Out to the street.

  The aroma of cold burrito was blissfully absent.

  Without her laptop, she felt weightless. The bag on her shoulder was as light as an empty water bottle. The kind you bring down to a mountain stream to filter water into.

  There was a cart on the corner selling coffee, donuts, bags of chips, other things she didn’t usually buy. Today she got the coffee and a pastry with some kind of pink fruit in the middle. She didn’t ask what it was.

  She was eating the last bite—it turned out to be raspberry—when Sydney came out of the front doors of their building, saw Jane leaning against the glass, and came over to her.

  “How’d it go?” Jane asked.

  “It went.” Sydney let out a long breath. “And now I will.”

  Jane smiled. “How do you feel?”

  “Good. Very good.”

  “Was it hard? You know.”

  “What?”

  Jane didn’t know how to mention Troy without being obnoxious. “Saying goodbye. To… Whitman.” She raised her eyebrows.

  “No problem. I wish I’d done it a year ago.”

  “Now you can pursue other opportunities,” Jane said. “Both at your new job and with a certain someone.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Sydney sighed. Shrugged. “Not our moment, I guess. He’s cute though. Shame.”

  “What? But— You— I thought you were going to go for it when you had nothing left to lose.”

  “But now I do have something to lose. This job. It’s what I’ve been waiting for. I’m not going to blow it.”

  Jane had never thought of herself as a romantic—the idea was laughable—but she was disappointed her friend was going to just… walk away. Jane had the strangest impulse to encourage her to reconsider.

  “How about I buy you a drink to celebrate?” Jane asked.

  Sydney patted her on the arm. “Sweet, but I’ve got plans. How about next week?”

  Jane nodded, and Sydney strode away, humming to herself.

  Just like that. She’d gone for it.

  Feeling as weightless as her bag, Jane walked to the BART train, bumping into people who walked too fast, in lines that were too straight, and made her way home.

  His Land Rover was gone, his windows were dark, his room was empty.

  Pausing with her hand on his door, she didn’t feel wei
ghtless anymore, only hollow.

  What was the relationship advice they were always giving out? You weren’t ready for love until you fulfilled yourself. Only after she took charge of her career and day-to-day happiness would she be ready for a serious relationship. Billie was younger than she was but years and years ahead when it came to risk taking and loving. Jane had been living half a life since she was eighteen, always protecting herself, a wounded heart swaddled in Bubble Wrap.

  She wasn’t ready for a man she could love. Having sent Grant away was proof of that.

  But she could fix a few other things.

  To her shame, she had to search her email for his current phone number. He picked up on the second ring, which surprised her; she’d expected voice mail. He was a busy, important man.

  “Jane?”

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Is everything OK?”

  “Yes, it’s fine.” Although it wasn’t. Oh God, her eyes were filling with tears. She prayed he couldn’t hear her emotion in her voice. “Bit of a cold”—she forced a cough—“but good. Listen, I have a favor to ask.”

  Silence. “Really?”

  Her courage wavered. “Is this a bad time? It’s not urgent. It’s not anything, really.”

  “It’s not a bad time. I was just wasting hours reading the news. You’ve rescued me.”

  She smiled at the sincere gratitude she heard in his voice. “Glad to help.”

  “It was nice seeing you at Billie’s party,” he said. “I was hoping to see you at the brunch in San Francisco, but I guess she and Ian wanted to keep it small. Not easy to do with our family, is it?”

  “No, not easy.” Jane paced the kitchen, tempted to take out the cream cheese. “I’m thinking— No, I’ve decided to move into private accounting. I wanted to ask if you knew any companies I should approach. People I could talk to.”

  The silence that followed was long enough for Jane to open the fridge and take out the Philadelphia. Loaf, not tub.

  “What led you to this decision?” her father asked.

  “Look, never mind, you’re only the first person I’ve reached out to—”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I’m glad you did. I’d love to help. I’ll be more effective if I know what you’re looking for. What got you to this point? Why now?”