His eyes bulged as I smiled broadly and sailed out of the door with my head held high.
7
Mimi
I closed the door and raced to my cubicle. One of my other superiors jumped out of the way just in time to avoid getting run over. Great. Now, I’d have to explain why I was a total mess when I next saw him.
My hands were shaking with nerves, but I felt strangely victorious as I sank onto my chair. I had a ton of things I need to get through. There was a report that had to be in before lunchtime tomorrow and I was nowhere near ready to present it. I still had to attend the crappy status meeting at half-past twelve, but I didn’t feel any pressure.
Instead, I knew I had to get out of the office. There was a cute little bar down the road. I should go and have a glass of something to settle my nerves. I picked up my purse. My cell phone rang.
“Have you done it?” Megan asked in an awed voice.
“Yes,” I said coolly.
“What happened?” she whispered back. “Did you get fired?”
“No.”
“Did you quit?”
“No, but I thought about it for a split second.”
“Do we need to meet for lunch? Maybe a liquid lunch?”
“Hell, yes.” I checked the time and told Megan I’d meet her at our favorite spot, situated halfway between our offices. Then I left my cubicle holding my stomach as I did. I made it a point to walk slowly past my direct boss’s office.
“Mimi?” Tracee called.
I turned to look at her. “Yes?”
“Come in here, please.”
I walked in with my hand still placed on my stomach.
“Are you all right?”
I shook my head, wincing as I did. “I’m not feeling very well,” I whispered. “I thought I could push through and come in and be fine, but I think I ate something bad over the weekend.”
“Oh, no. You should get out of here, just in case it’s contagious.” Bingo. The biggest germaphobe in the office. She even stood and increased the distance between us.
“If you can spare me, that would be amazing.”
“Sure. You never call out. Go home, get some rest.” I thanked her and walked out. I could see her rushing to open one of her drawers. Probably to disinfect herself. I didn’t care. I shut down my laptop, got my things and hauled ass.
8
Mimi
“He said that?” Megan’s mouth fell open. She was already holding a glass of wine since I’d ordered for her. I hadn’t even waited for her to show up. I was on glass number two.
I nodded, my head resting on one hand. “He didn’t even try to explain. I think he was too busy flipping out over the baby. You know?”
“That douchebag! What a complete fucking tool!” she ranted. Typical Megan, never pulling punches. Normally, I’d giggle and remind her we were in public, but I didn’t care just then.
“How could I have let him trick me like that? I thought I was too smart to fall for a guy like him.”
“Did you really fall for him?” she asked.
I saw sympathy written all over her face and felt a bit sorry for myself “I don’t know. I thought I could have been, I guess. I thought we were about to take things to the next level.”
“Oh, honey.” She put a hand over mine. “I could fucking kill that man for what he did to you.” She raised her other hand and signaled for more drinks. I didn’t bother to stop her. My work day was officially over, anyway.
“I wonder how the girlfriend found out about you?” she asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t care, but I’m glad she did. I am. I really am. It makes my skin crawl to think I was the other woman this whole time. I hate that I let him do that to me.” I shivered at the thought.
“You’ll get through this,” she said, nodding her head so hard her springy red curls shook in every direction. “It’s not your fault, either, so I won’t hear any of that. You didn’t walk into this meaning to hurt anybody. He lied to you. You thought you were starting something good. Nobody could blame you for that. Besides,” she added with a wink, “being the other woman isn’t the end of the world.”
I blinked once, then twice. “Wait. What?”
“What?” she asked, shrugging.
“You were the other woman?”
“I thought you knew that story!” She took off her blazer, which was a clue that the story was going to be a good one, then pulled her curls into a loose twist. I settled in for the story, grateful for the excuse to stop thinking about my own misery.
“Okay. So, you remember my first boss at the ad agency?”
“The one who reminded you of Jon Hamm in Mad Men?” I rolled my eyes, remembering the hours I had to listen to her going on about what a genius he was and how incredibly lucky she was to have such a brilliant mentor. And, of course, all about what a gorgeous hunk of man he was. Then, I gasped. “Wait. Are you telling me you slept with him?”
She smirked.
“You didn’t tell me!”
“I knew you’d get all judgy.”
“I wouldn’t have! I swear to God! Do you think I’m that sort of person?” I asked, aghast.
“Okay, so maybe I was projecting. I don’t know. I think deep down I was feeling guilty. It wasn’t a secret that he was married—his wife’s picture was on his desk.” She crinkled her nose. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but at the end of the day, I justified it to myself that I didn’t owe her any loyalty. I didn’t put the ring on her finger. If he wanted to cheat on her, it was between the two of them.”
“But you always said sleeping with the boss was a disaster waiting to happen.”
She took a sip of her wine. “It is. Why do you think I left?”
“Did she find out?”
“No idea. I knew I didn’t want to do it anymore, and being in the same space as he was had become awkward. So, I left but the end wasn’t pretty.”
“I cannot believe you let five years pass without telling me this. What else have you been holding back?” I leaned forward, suddenly more interested in her life than I was in my own.
Her green eyes sparkled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yes. I would like to know. Which is why I’m asking.”
“What about you?” she countered. “You always get all shaky and jumpy whenever I mention Rich’s friend, Alex.”
I felt my cheeks go red. “That was a long time ago.”
“So, you did sleep with him, you little liar! I knew it!”
“I wasn’t exactly proud of myself,” I said, looking around as if anybody would care even if they overheard. The lunch crowd was heavy, but it seemed like everybody was too busy with their own lives to care about mine. That was one thing about living in the city: rarely, if ever, did people waste their time paying attention to what happened around them. There were just too many people, too many conversations.
“Gee, I can’t imagine why. He was living on Rich’s couch at the time. Oh, God, please tell me you didn’t do it on the couch.” When I squirmed, and looked at the floor, she squealed, waving her hands around. “Oh, gross, Mims!”
“We got caught up in the moment,” I said, wincing.
“I used to hang out on that couch with Rich after Alex left,” she said, groaning.
“Oh, please, tell me you guys didn’t do it on there.”
She squinted, wrinkling her nose. “Not after he moved out…”
“Ew! Before! I had sex where you had sex!”
She waved her hands frantically, grossed out. The glass of wine I had drunk took effect and we both dissolved into giggles.
She started her second glass of wine, raising it to me before taking a sip. “Remember Bradford?” She rolled her eyes, affecting a strong, WASP-y accent when she said his name.
“Oh, him. I tried to forget him. What a stuck-up prick.”
“Remember that time you tried to call him Brad?” she giggled.
“Yeah, and then he launched into a twenty-mi
nute monologue about the origin of his name and how it stretched back to the Revolution. Talk about insufferable. He’s probably engaged to a girl named Angelina or Muffy or something.”
“Muffy?” We both burst out laughing. I should have known then that it was time to slow down. It wasn’t all that funny, but we leaned on each other and cracked up like it was.
“I think we should get something to eat,” Megan suggested, wiping tears from her eyes. “I need to soak up all this wine.”
“Agreed.” We ordered a plate of French fry nachos, which was basically nothing more than nachos with fries in place of chips. A work of genius, in other words.
“Okay, I’ve gotta ask.” She folded her arms on the table, leaning forward. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but what are you going to do about your job after this?”
9
Mimi
“I’m not leaving, if that’s what you’re hinting at,” I said fiercely.
“You’re sure you can face him?”
“He’s not my boss. It’s a big department. I don’t have to deal closely with him if I don’t want to. I can still be professional.”
She frowned. “Mimi. Not that you’re immature or unprofessional, but you’re going to need time to get over what happened.”
“I’ll be just fine. I refuse to let him ruin things for me. I’ve worked too damn hard to earn respect in that job, and I’m so close to that promotion.” I sat back in my chair, swirling the Pinot Grigio in my glass. “I don’t want him to win. He lied and cheated. I know he’ll keep going on with his life like nothing happened between us. He’s just that oblivious. So why should my career suffer if his doesn’t?”
“Damn straight, girl.” She clicked her glass against mine. “Don’t let him determine what happens with your life. You’re the one in control. You call the shots.”
“Why do I feel like I keep running up against the same issues over and over again?” I mused.
“What do you mean?”
“Between this and the bullshit with the buyer in my building.”
“Oh, that.” She waved a dismissive hand. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“But it reminds me that there are people in the world who think they can do whatever they want. They can force people out of their homes, they can cheat on their girlfriend. Their pregnant girlfriend.”
“Then again, there are people like you who are stronger and better than all that. You’ll come out on top because it’s where you belong.”
“You’re right.”
She cupped a hand around her ear. “I’m sorry? I didn’t hear you.”
“You’re right!”
“As always.”
Our nachos came, and for a little while, there was nothing else in the world except for them. And more wine. Before I knew it, the lunch crowd was long gone and the Happy Hour crowd had started to trickle in. After we’d killed our nachos, we followed it with an order of chicken fingers. We’d also consumed enough wine to make the room spin.
“I guess I should’ve gone back to work,” Megan muttered.
“One of the perks of being a manager,” I grinned, leaning my head on my hand. Everything was awesome. I was in a great mood. I had the best friend in the world, I had a great apartment, I had a great life in the best city in the world. Life was beautiful from where I sat.
Then I stood up, and things got a lot less beautiful. I realized, dimly, somewhere in the teeny tiny corner of my mind where sobriety still existed, that I’d spent the entire afternoon sitting in one spot. I had no idea how drunk I was until I stood up. And then? Oh, boy.
“Shit, I’m wasted.” I heard myself slurring. I told myself to stop slurring, which, of course, only made things worse.
“You want me to take a cab with you?” Megan asked.
“Nah. We’re in opposite directions,” I said, stumbling towards the door. I laughed at myself, then hated myself for laughing. I didn’t like getting this drunk when I was out and about in the world. If I was at a friend’s place and could crash, awesome. Otherwise, I tried to maintain a buzz. Then again, I didn’t normally find out the guy I was ready to become exclusive with had just impregnated his girlfriend. It was a big day of firsts for me.
I managed to get my address right after falling into a cab, which as far as I was concerned was a good step in the right direction. The ride to my building was sort of a blur, during which I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the closed window. I already imagined calling out the next morning. It would have to be a long-lasting stomach bug. I’d probably sound like hell when I called Tracee, so that was a plus.
Only one problem. When I reached my front stoop and dug through my purse for my keys, my hand touched nothing that resembled keys.
“What the hell?” I muttered, finally sitting down on the steps with my purse spread open. I used my phone’s flashlight to get a better look. Drunkenly, I upended my purse. Huh. Wallet, makeup, tissue, mints.
Then I remembered putting my keys down on my desk that morning, having used the electronic fob on my keychain to get into the building. And I’d never picked them back up.
“Shit! What an idiot?” I cursed my head in my hands. “Damn and hell!” What did I do now? I was wasted on my front stoop with no way to get into my apartment.
10
Mimi
Sitting on the front stoop, feeling drunker than I’d been in a very long time, I hazily tried to think of what to do. I couldn’t even get through the entrance door without my key, much less my apartment. The idea of climbing up the fire escape and trying my bedroom window occurred to me, but even I wasn’t drunk enough to think that might be a good idea in my condition. I wasn’t the most coordinated person while sober.
This was probably the worst day of my life in years, and it was only getting worse. I was dangerously close to crossing the line from fun drunk into depressed drunk—actually, no, I was actively stepping over the line at that point.
I leaned against the stone banister with a sigh. Why me?
Should I call Megan and ask to crash with her? I dreaded the thought of the cab journey all the way to her place. I should call the building supervisor, I decided. Only I couldn’t remember his number and wasn’t sure I could make sense of my contact list just then. I was sure the Universe was watching me as the subject of an intergalactic prank show. My episode had finally come up.
“Hello?”
I opened my eyes, squinting to focus on the figure standing at the foot of the steps. When he came into focus, my stomach sank. Yep. A bunch of unseen beings were laughing their butts off at me just then. Because it was him. My neighbor. Mr. My Shit Doesn’t Stink.
Of course, he looked just as yummy as he had that morning, only he’d lost the tie at some point. His shirt was open at the collar—in other words, just when I thought he couldn’t get more ridiculously handsome, he showed me how little I knew.
“Hello,” I said, sitting up and gathering my dignity.
He looked back and forth, then up at me. “Do you need help with something?”
“Does it look like I need help?”
“Are you really asking me that question?” I thought I saw a smile on his face. I knew I heard it in his voice. Still, I couldn’t tell if he was laughing at me to be mean, or just because I looked like a hot mess. He hadn’t exactly proven himself to be a nice guy up to that point.
“I thought I would sit outside for a while,” I explained.
“To clear your head a little? It usually helps me after I’ve had too much to drink.”
“Wow,” I said, eyes wide. “Judgmental much?”
“Excuse me?”
“You just assumed I’ve had too much to drink.”
“It wasn’t an assumption. You’re slurring all over the place.”
“I’m not slurring. I’m talking in cursive.”
“I can smell the alcohol from up here.”
“You so cannot.” I held a hand in front of my mouth and breathed
on it, then breathed in. “Yep. You probably can.”
“And I’m not judging. I’ve seen some pretty wasted chicks in my time, and you don’t even rank.”
“Oh, I’m sure you have,” I said, rolling my eyes. I leaned against the banister again, deciding what the hell. He knew I was drunk. I didn’t care anymore.
“Haven’t you?” He started up the steps, slowly. “It’s New York. All you have to do is hang out in front of a club on a Saturday night. Any club.” He sat down beside me, forearms on his knees. “I’d give you a hundred bucks for every girl who walks out with her shoes on her feet instead of in her hands.”
I didn’t mean to laugh. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But I did, snorting loudly for good measure. That made him laugh, too. He had a nice laugh. It made my toes curl.
“I’ll have to take you up on that,” I said.
“You should. I don’t expect to lose much money.” He looked around again. “So, you’re locked out?”
I nodded. “I left my keys at work.”
“And then you sucked down a few bottles of wine.”
I lifted my forefinger and pointed it at him. “That sounds pretty judgmental for a person who’s not judging me.”
“But it’s also probably a fact.” He slid a sleek phone from his pants pocket. “I’ll call the Super for you.”
“You will?” I couldn’t have explained why that touched me the way it did, but I felt all fluttery at the offer. There are some kind people left in the world.
“No problem.” He looked over at me. “By the way, I’m Max.”
Max, short for Maximus. “I’m Mimi Young”
He reached the Super. I listened to him ask him to come by. Then he nodded a few times and hung up. “Mimi Young, this is not your night. I’m sorry to tell you that.”
I groaned, throwing my head back. “Why?”
Dear Neighbor Page 3