She shook her head, eyes glued to the windshield, and then her face scrunched in pain, dripped with heavy tears. Although, her silent agony didn’t last long; a gasping sob tore through her chest and filled the car faster than a pop-up tent. Had we not been barely inching along the highway, I would’ve instructed her to pull over.
“I couldn’t, Chris,” she cried, heartache and pain laden in her desperate voice. “My mom passed away days before your graduation, so I couldn’t leave—no matter how badly I had wanted to be there.”
My mouth opened and closed while words evaded me. Finally, I’d choked on her admission long enough to ask, “Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve been on the next flight out to be there for you. I must’ve told you that a thousand times.”
“In the process of switching out the SIM cards when we all had our numbers changed, I lost all my contacts. I did my best to try to find yours, or find someone who had it, but with everything going on, I couldn’t focus enough to track it down. And honestly, once my mom died, regardless of how much I needed you, I refused to chase you.”
“Why?” Between the news, her tears, the pain in her voice, and the broken pieces of information she gave me like a trail of breadcrumbs, my whole world spun me into a cocoon of chaos, confusion, and unprecedented grief.
“Because, Chris…I knew you’d drop everything to be with me. It was two days before you walked the stage, and there was no way in hell I’d take that from you. To me, that would’ve made the previous two years meaningless.”
We spent the next several minutes lost in thought, her hand in mine, our gazes cast somewhere outside of the car. There was so much to say, to explain, so many questions that should’ve required answers, but at the same time, no words were needed.
Finally breaking the silence we’d entombed ourselves in, she sniffled and whispered, “All of this could’ve been avoided. It’s one big cluster of roadblocks that snowballed into five miserable years. And now, all I can think about is how unnecessary it was. How I cried for no reason. How I’ve been stuck in this perpetual state of numbness when I didn’t have to be.”
She wasn’t angry, that much was proven when she didn’t pull her hand away. She was sad, sure, but that wasn’t the emotion I picked up in her soft words. More than anything, I heard defeat, and that was undoubtedly worse than any other sentiment she could’ve shown me.
“You gave me the best three years of my life, Chris,” she continued. “But you’re also responsible for the worst five. I understand I played a part in that. I didn’t speak up or protest when you decided to take a break. I wasn’t honest with you about how I was feeling. I can own that. But you can’t argue that my hands were tied. You can’t sit here and tell me that had I voiced my concerns, you wouldn’t have thrown everything away to satisfy me.”
She was right. It had taken everything in me to focus on the endgame, because if I’d dwelled too much on what I had left behind, nothing would’ve stopped me from packing my bags, dropping out, and settling for a lesser job just so I could be with her. Because that was all I cared about. Lexi was the reason I’d gone there instead of rejecting their acceptance, and as long as I’d told myself I was doing it for her—for us and our future—I knew I’d make it one more day.
The only reason I’d even allowed us to go so long between phone calls was because if I’d thought too much about it, the reality would’ve crushed me, and once again, I would’ve packed my bags and left. It was far easier to tell myself that I’d make it right at the end of DIT. But by that point, the reality I’d shoved into the back of the closet for almost two years came rushing out, knocking me on my ass. It had become so much larger than I remembered—like a landfill, just because you can’t see it grow doesn’t negate the logic that if you continue to add to something without ever removing any part of it, it will, in fact, get bigger.
And my reality was suffocating.
“I had put you first.” Her voice was subdued and heavy with sorrow, which twisted my heart into an unrecognizable knot at the thought of this being her goodbye. “And I did so because you would’ve done the same. I’d foolishly believed that there was no way two years could destroy us. We were stronger than that. A three-hour time difference was no match for what we had together. We’d played our cards right, followed the rules, did everything we were supposed to. We loved, we trusted, we thought about the other first. And despite all the things we kept from the other in the name of sacrifice, we communicated. Yet it didn’t matter how perfect we were or how much we always tried to stay one step ahead, because in the end, we were destroyed anyhow.” She turned to regard me and added, “You ruined me, Chris.”
“It’s not too late,” I begged.
Something I said caused an unsettling reaction, as if my words had physically slapped her in the face. “It is too late. You ruined me for every other guy.”
I couldn’t convincingly say that was hard to hear. If anything, it was the only positive thing that had come out of this entire conversation. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’ve ruined me the same way.”
She rolled her eyes, but not out of annoyance. It was a quick dismissal coupled with an adamant shake of her head. “I doubt that. Have you been with another woman since me?” She immediately pulled her hand out of my grasp and held it up between us. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. The point is, you had carefully crafted every ounce of my sexual experiences. And it goes beyond the normal virgin who only has one partner to compare anything to. You made sure everything I knew about sex, about making love, about pleasing a man and gaining the right attention was centered around you. I’m sure you’re not the only guy who likes those things, but I can’t even bring myself to imagine what it would be like with anyone else. Because you didn’t simply program me to know and understand your every like, your every desire, what turns you on and what turns you off. You also programmed me only to work for you. It’s like you installed a switch that only you can reach. So no, Chris, don’t sit here and tell me I’ve ruined you the way you’ve destroyed me.”
“So, where do we go from here?” I was almost afraid to hear her answer.
And I certainly wasn’t expecting it. “Well, you, Mr. Moore, are going to California.”
I glanced around and realized she’d pulled up to the departure terminal. I hadn’t paid any attention to where we were once she dropped the bomb about when her mother had passed away. I had no idea we’d made it to the airport, and all I wanted to do was tell her to turn around and drive me home. If I could’ve called the corporate office and told them I wasn’t coming, I would have. But like three years ago, it wasn’t that easy to decide to stay in Atlanta.
“I can’t leave like this. I need to know there’s still a chance.”
Lexi ran her fingers below her eyes, wiping away any remaining evidence of her pain. “I can’t tell you that, Chris. I believe there’s such a thing as too much hurt, and while that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way to be in each other’s lives, I don’t think there’s ever a way to get past what’s happened.”
I pulled my torso over the console, nearly trapping her behind the steering wheel, and cradled her cheek in my hand. Her breath hitched when I brought her face closer to mine, but rather than kiss her like I knew she’d prepared herself for, I held my lips just beyond the corner of her mouth and said, “Doubt me all you want, Lexi…but I wasn’t lying when I said you’ve ruined me for anyone else, too.” And then I slowly backed away, holding her gaze while I opened the door and unfolded myself from the seat.
We weren’t together anymore because we had loved each other too much. And by making decisions and keeping our feelings inside, thinking we were protecting the other, we ended up imploding. Our selfless choices were to prevent the other from making their own selfless decisions, each of us wanting to be the martyr for the betterment of the one we loved more than anything else. I wasn’t sure how to fix that, but I had no doubt we’d be able to find a way.
I had two weeks to prove to her that even though I’d allowed her to slip through my fingers the last time I was on the other coast, I’d never make that mistake again. And that mission started before I lost sight of her taillights in the airport traffic.
Me: I’ve loved you for 70,280 hours. In 336 hours when I return, I will have loved you for 70,616 hours. And as long as I’m still breathing, and the earth still circles the sun, that number will continue to grow.
8
Lexi
Coming into the building this morning felt like a covert operation, I didn’t want any chance encounters before I’d had coffee. Taking the stairs, I avoided the possibility of any elevator chatter. The moment I opened the door to my floor, I let out a sigh of relief knowing the breakroom was just around the corner. I didn’t bother wasting time dropping my bag off at my desk in favor of caffeine.
Jasmine had left this morning before I did, which caused the coffee delay and rush to find my keys. It was her week to drive, and I hadn’t anticipated needing gas to get here or the traffic accident on I-85. She hadn’t even left a note to indicate she wasn’t home or woken me up to tell me she came in early. My friend could be flighty, but she was rarely inconsiderate.
Nevertheless, if she’d come in ahead of schedule, she hadn’t started any coffee—and neither had any of the other twenty-nine juniors. I rolled my eyes at the sight of the empty pot and wondered if these people could be any more helpless. Instead of trying to fumble with my purse and my bag to deal with a fresh brew, I turned to set my things down on one of the tables behind me. Jasmine took two steps into the room and then pivoted on the ball of her foot like a runway model, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and pranced back out the way she’d come.
“Jasmine.”
There was no way she hadn’t heard me, but the fog in my head refused to allow me to dwell on her odd behavior. Once I had the machine started, I picked up my things and went to my desk to log in.
“Hey, Carl.”
“Late night?”
It hadn’t been a particularly late night, just one filled with tears and contemplation over events that had plagued me for years. I wasn’t able to shut my brain down after dropping Chris off at the airport and spent most of the night tossing and turning. His parting words affected me in ways I didn’t want to consider and my heart refused to ignore. Although, I wasn’t about to tell Carl any of that.
I sat down and tossed my stuff into my desk drawer. While I turned on my computer, I rotated my chair toward my cubie. “No, why?”
Without responding, Carl stood and grabbed a putter from under his desk and walked out of our office. He’d always been an odd bird. His dry wit and haphazard social skills made me grin. My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts over Carl’s departure, and I moaned, knowing it was after eight so I had to answer it…before coffee.
“This is Alex.”
“Crowzenski.” Martin’s inability to pronounce my last name caused me to close my eyes and pinch my brow. He hadn’t learned anything from the last couple days about getting names correct. But, other than Jasmine and Chris, I doubted there was anyone in the company who actually knew what mine was, much less how to pronounce or spell it.
I didn’t bother to correct him. He’d just mess it up again tomorrow. “Yes, sir?”
“Come to my office.”
“I’ll be there in just a few minutes.” I prayed Tracy was later than I was and that was the reason Martin called me himself. The time I’d spent in his office hadn’t been good, and I groaned at the thought of a repeat.
“What’s got you all growly this morning?” My cubie returned, minus the putter, but carrying what looked like a calendar.
“Martin wants me in his office.”
He quirked his lips to the side and tilted his head. “Lover’s quarrel? Is that the reason for the luggage?”
Jesus, I needed coffee. Nothing Carl said made any sense. “What are you talking about? I didn’t bring anything in.”
He pointed to my face and circled his finger in the air. “You’ve got military-issue duffle bags under your eyes. You should check the fridge in the breakroom, I bet someone has a salad in there you could pull the cucumber off of.”
There was no way I looked that bad. I stared at him with my mouth slightly ajar in disbelief and blinked several times slowly. Carl couldn’t have been any more oblivious to my shock. He turned and pinned his paper calendar on our cubicle wall with tacks he had in his hand. Still not having gotten my coffee, I chose to ignore him and race to the breakroom.
By the time I’d gotten back, the pot sat empty, and no one had bothered to start a new one. Once again, I added the coffee to the machine and pressed the button. But before I put the can away, I stuck my nose as close to the grounds as I could get without actually touching them. With a deep breath in, I prayed for a contact buzz. Sadly, I got nothing other than disappointment. Not knowing what Martin wanted, I couldn’t afford to keep him waiting. Reluctantly, I left the pot brewing and looked at it longingly over my shoulder as I left.
When I passed Jasmine’s cube, I stopped to say hello and ask her where she’d gone this morning, but the second she saw me, she answered a phone that hadn’t rung. My brow furrowed at her strange behavior, but she shrugged and pointed to the headset as if the conversation on the other end were vitally important. While she sat there pretending to talk to a dead line, the receiver rang, blowing her pathetic cover. The two of us had been friends since childhood, and the older we got, the more eccentric she became. But like Carl, those nuances made her who she was. She balanced me out—the yin to my yang.
Instead of feeling slighted or unwanted, the side of my mouth rose in a quirky grin, and I shook my head in disbelief—she never ceased to amaze or entertain me. I wiggled my fingers goodbye and turned in the direction of my boss’s office.
I hadn’t spoken to Tracy since Martin confronted me about the website issues, and she’d avoided eye contact on my departure. Any hope that the awkward vibe I’d felt that day had gone, disappeared the second she picked up her phone. I could only assume she believed I was on the verge of termination, and she was afraid I’d pry for insider information, although I didn’t ask.
“Yes, sir. Alex Cachezick is here to see you.” Just once, I’d like someone to come close to getting my name right. Tracy sent me private messages regularly, the letters were spelled out on the screen for the love of God—all she had to do was sound it out.
Phonetics was a lost art.
Martin’s door swung open. “Alex, come in.” He appeared to be in better spirits than he had in recent days, so hopefully, this wouldn’t turn into round two of let’s use Alex as a scapegoat.
I assumed the chair he pointed to and waited for him to speak. He took his time getting around the desk, trailing his fingers along the edge in an oddly seductive exchange with the wood. When he finally sat in the leather chair, a smile tugged at his lips, and he winked at me.
No. Carl had gotten in my head. His eye twitched—he did not wink.
“Vitamin C.” Mentally, I kicked myself for acknowledging the gesture. If it were a wink, he would now know, that I knew, that he had flirted with me. If it wasn’t, then I might have embarrassed him. God, it was hot in here.
“Come again?”
Taking a page from Carl’s book, I swirled my finger in a circle indicating his eye. “That twitch. Vitamin C will cure it.”
His head bobbed slowly as though he were uncertain of the movement I referred to or possibly not knowing what Vitamin C was. It was time to change the subject. “You wanted to see me?”
“Oh, yes.” He sat up quickly, lifting his hands off the desk to look for something in the stacks of documents strewn all over the top. “I wanted to talk to you about—where’s that paper?” Martin’s desk was a disaster, but he’d likely argue it was organized chaos. “Ah, here we go.” He let the page float toward me as he released it in my direction.
Before I could read anything on i
t, he started talking again. I tried to focus, but without any coffee, my mind strayed. There was a scar on the tip of his nose I’d never noticed, and now it acted as a beacon drawing my attention to the unusual zigzag pattern of the mark. My eyes dropped from his nose to his lips where I studied them moving and then heard the words.
“You’ve been here a long time, Ceviche.”
I wasn’t sure if that was another feeble attempt at my last name or if he had handed me a dinner menu when he sat down.
“Five years.”
“I heard about your meeting with Patrick, and since then, I’ve thought a lot about how you conducted yourself.”
Shit. He was going to fire me. “I know, I’m sorry—”
“What are you apologizing for? You got the situation resolved. And I got the impression Patrick was impressed, too.”
My brow furrowed, and I silently wondered what Chris told him about our discussion. Clearly, he hadn’t communicated just how unprofessional I’d been.
“Look, Alex. I wasn’t sure you had that fight in you. The truth is, clients are not only demanding, they can be brutal. Without a thick skin, account reps would be eaten alive. I don’t have an AR position open, but another team is being added in the next six to eight months.”
An additional team would mean five spots open for juniors to fill. I listened eagerly without giving away my excitement. In the years I’d been here, not one time had anyone talked to me about a promotion. And to my knowledge, none of the other twenty-nine people who held my title had been, either. It was one of the reasons for the ongoing turnover in our department.
“It’s going to mean more work for you, although there will be a salary increase. I’d like for you to join F’s team meetings going forward. You will be there to observe, learn the process, take notes, and experience what ARs do from pitch to launch. That way when I have the green light to start the new team, you’ll have the knowledge to contribute as an active member. I’ve never been concerned that you lacked the skills; I wasn’t sure you could handle the demands.”
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