Double Grades

by Kristine Robinson

  After turning up the heat and slipping into her most comfortable sweatpants and sweater, she poured herself a glass of Pinot Noir and plopped down on the couch. She looked forward to a relaxing weekend. She had just completed the final paperwork on a six-month, multi-million dollar deal for a major Quebecois seafood distributor.

  Next week she would be assigned a new project.

  So far the money had been great, much more than she had ever made in her life, she kept in great shape physically swimming four times a week, doing yoga, and rarely eating meat but still she couldn’t help feeling that something was missing. Every now and then she would get nostalgic about New York. She still had so many friends there, so many good memories.

  Anxious to find out if she had received the critical email yet, she carried her half-filled wine glass over to her laptop. One new message. It was from her company. She clicked on it and nearly fainted when she saw the name of the company that she would be working with.

  The next morning, Claire stayed in bed until noon, something that she never did. Is this some cruel joke? She wondered. Why the hell are they sending me to New York? Yes, she would be headed to New York, her old stomping ground, to consult with a rapidly expanding and high-earning pastry company looking to break into the Canadian market via Quebec. But it wasn’t just any pastry company.

  Claire had never asked out of an assignment before. She was always willing to do whatever bosses asked. But as she rode the train to work Monday morning, she kept trying to craft an argument to present to her bosses. She couldn't go to New York, not now. Couldn’t they send someone else?

  Nope! By the time she arrived at the downtown Montreal office, she had been unable to come up with a reasonable excuse. She was headed to New York! She would be working side by side with the woman who had thrown away their relationship, the woman who had broken her heart, right when she thought that they were on the cusp of building something truly special.

  She had no idea how she was going to control her emotions and fight through the intense pain that she still felt.

  Chapter 9

  While she was happy to be back in New York, Claire couldn't get over the pain that she felt realizing that she would have to work with Emily over the next several weeks. What a cruel twist of fate! Yet she had to admit that she was curious as to why Emily hadn't gotten married to Eric Anderson. Had she found another way to pay back the debt? Was it all just some sick joke? None of that really made any sense to her. That was a chapter in her life, an incredibly painful one, which she hated remembering. For the next few weeks, she wouldn’t have a choice.

  Every time she looked into Emily’s sparkling green eyes, every time she caught a whiff of her lavender scented perfume, she was transported back to the many weekends they'd spent together in the city, either kissing and cuddling in one of their apartments, or strolling through the West Village hand-in-hand, planning on spending the rest of their life together.

  They'd only been dating five months when things had broken off so abruptly. But in the space of those months, Claire had experienced a level of intimacy and comfort, that she never would've imagined possible.

  The next day she would be going to Emily's office. That would be the beginning. She didn't know how she was going to make it to the next few weeks.

  Once the project got under way, she had a bad feeling that Michael would end up leaving early, forcing her and Emily to spend time together. If things got tense, she could always come up with some excuse about why she couldn’t stay past normal working hours.

  But she knew that she wouldn't do that. She wouldn’t let Emily think that she was slacking off, that she had lost any of her discipline and passion. If Emily was going to stay and work past midnight, then Claire was going to do the same. That was the only way it could be.

  A little bit after 8 o'clock Sunday evening, Claire's phone beeped several times. She quickly picked it up and froze as she saw the name of the screen.

  Emily: I'm really looking forward to working together :-) I think you're the perfect person to take us to another level.

  Claire stared at the screen, wondering if there were more messages to come.

  “Is that really all she has to say for herself?” Claire said out loud, getting off the couch, then throwing the phone down, and pacing. She bit down on her bottom lip, rubbed her temples. She would've liked to gulp down a drink or two or maybe head out to a bar. But she was never one for drinking on a Sunday. And she wouldn't break that personal rule today. No way. Tomorrow, she would need her mind to be sharp, tiptop. She also knew that once the alcohol had lowered her inhibitions, she might end up sending a stream of emotional text messages to Emily, revealing… What? That she was still hopelessly attracted to her? That she had never stopped thinking about her over the last three years? Or maybe something even more painful to admit…

  Claire sighed deeply. She felt like a fool. She had no idea whether Amy was single or what she had been up to in her social life. Images of them walking hand-in-hand at the pride parade kept flashing back into her mind. They had been so happy that day, so free, so in love.

  Her phone beeped again. She stared at it, crossed her arms against her chest.

  She briefly considered not even looking at the message, going out for a walk, getting some fresh air, reconnecting to the world. But she quickly abandoned those thoughts and rushed to the phone, picked it up.

  Emily: I missed you a lot. Sleep tight:)

  The next morning as she rode the subway to Emily’s office, Claire’s entire body tingled with excitement and apprehension. When the train arrived at 14th Street she got off but didn't immediately leave the station. She had to sit down to gather her thoughts and fight back the tears that tried to push their way out of her eyes. Suddenly she realized just how emotionally deadened she had been over the last several years. She had put up walls, hardening her heart, trying to keep any serious feelings out of her relationships with people. And for the most part, she had been successful. She had done some casual dating, had a few flings her and there, but nothing that came close to a serious relationship.

  Chapter 10

  “Michael, I'm still waiting for the file on Francophone liaison in Québec. We're still meeting with them today, aren't we?”

  Michael looked up from his desk and stared at her with a strange expression, cocking his head slightly to the side.

  Emily crossed her arms against her chest. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “Nothing. Don't worry. It's not a big deal.”

  “What do you mean, it's not a big deal? This is potentially a ten million dollar deal. What's wrong with you?”

  She fixed her eyes on him. This wasn’t like him at all.

  “It’s nothing,” he replied. “I’ve just been really stressed. And you have too.”

  Two knocks sounded against the door.

  “I think that's them,” he said, smiling slyly.

  The door opened. Emily dropped the file that she was holding. Documents spilled onto the floor. Her mouth dropped open, eyes opened wide. Claire!

  Emily's eyes slowly strolled up and down her body. Michael pushed past her and greeted them. Emily didn't move. Her eyes had hooked onto Claire. A montage of memories flickered before her eyes. Despite how intensely Emily stared at her, Claire refused to make eye contact.

  As a montage of memories flickered through Emily’s mind, the middle-aged man accompanying Claire introduced himself and extended his hand. Emily’s eyes remained fixed on Claire who was coming towards her, not smiling, her eyes cold, hard, and jagged.

  Five minutes later the four of them settled into the conference room. Emily and Claire sat directly across from each other. For nearly twenty minutes both of the men did most of the talking, something that neither Emily or Claire would have allowed under normal circumstances. But these circumstances were anything but normal. Emily struggled to keep her eyes off of Claire. The harder she tried not to look at her, the stronger the magnetic force pu
lled her back to that beautifully sculpted jaw, those dark green, those full, soft, pulpy lips.

  When Claire did finally add her input to the discussion, she seemed to do everything in her power not to look at Emily. Why is she treating me like this? Emily wondered. Has she still not forgiven me for the way that things ended between us?

  When the meeting finally ended they all shook hands and headed out into the hallway. Emily closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She had to get a hold of herself, and she also had to say something. There was no way she could let this moment slip. If she did, she wouldn't be able to forgive herself.

  “Claire!” She called out a bit too loudly, a bit too desperately. The two men turned and stared at them. Michael had a worried look in his eyes as if he were telling her to keep her calm, not to mess this up, not to let her personal feelings get in the way of the deal.

  But she would have words with him later. Why had he kept this secret from her? How could he let her walk into this situation unprepared? There would be plenty of time for her to deal with him.

  Claire turned, sighed, and directed her eyes towards the ceiling—contempt and disdain etched on her face. Suddenly Emily regretted having said anything. But it was too late now.

  “Yes, Emily, is there something that you would like to say?” Claire asked in a jagged edged tone, raising her eyebrows.

  Instinctively, Emily took a step backward. Her tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I just wanted to say that I'm… I'm really sorry.”

  Claire's mouth opened slightly. Her eyes softened. But within seconds her face darkened and hardened again.

  “Would you like to maybe get coffee or something?” Emily asked.

  “No, I don't want to get coffee.”

  “Why not? We haven't seen each other…”

  “Five years. It's been five years. I’m not the same person I was before. But I look forward to working together on this project.”

  “Do you?”

  Claire sighed and raised her eyes to the ceiling again. “Do I what?”

  Emily could hardly bring herself to answer. She felt like dropping to the floor and begging for forgiveness. “Do you really look forward to working with me or are you just doing this for the money?”

  Claire snickered, crossed her arms against her chest. “I make plenty of money. Plenty. I like helping companies go to the next level. It’s something that I’m damn good at. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  Emily's lips quivered as she watched Claire walk down the hallway and disappear into the elevator.

  Chapter 11

  For the next couple of days, no matter what Emily did, she couldn’t get Claire's face out of her mind. So much time had passed since the traumatic night that had ended their relationship. But for some reason that gulf of time, five years, didn't quite seem real to her. So many events from the evening still felt fresh and raw in her mind—closing the first major deal with investors, receiving the desperate call from her father, reluctantly driving to her suburban hometown, then crying her way back to the city in search of solace and comfort, hoping to find it in Claire’s arms. And then it had ended.

  Get out!

  “She must completely hate me,” Emily repeated to herself over and over again as she paced around her apartment, biting her nails, constantly checking her cell phone, foolishly holding out hope that maybe Claire would send her a message, some sign that maybe things weren't over between them, that maybe she was ready to forgive. Every time she picked up the phone, she sighed heavily, then tossed it aside. But she couldn’t go on living like this. The jumble of emotions was too much. Eventually, she would crack, break down, completely lose her mind.

  For the first time in years, she began frantically searching for her running gear. Jogging had never been her thing. Usually, after a few minutes, once the initial adrenaline rush had worn off, boredom quickly set in. But she couldn’t think of anything else that could possibly help to relieve the tension that gnawed away at her.

  Five years apart and now they would be forced to work side-by-side, from morning late until the evening… Just like the old days. Michael had set the whole thing up!

  Over the last few weeks, whenever she would ask him for more information about their Quebecois liaison, he would give her strange looks—sometimes averting his eyes, other times biting down on his bottom lip as if he were trying to keep from saying something She should’ve known that he was up to something!

  She was both angered and delighted that he hadn't said anything. She didn't even want to consider how irrationally she would have reacted if he had told her beforehand that Claire would be sauntering through their office door, looking sexier and more confident than ever.

  When she finally found a pair of yoga pants, running shoes, winter hat, and gloves, Emily headed to Central Park. During the walk, she felt a sense of freedom and relief. Getting out of her apartment, was definitely what she needed to. Despite the December cold, a warm energy radiated through her body. And when she got her arms pumping, feet pounding the pavement, all her worries and concerns drifted away. The cool air brushing up against her skin made her feel alive, immersed in the moment, made one with her surroundings, something that she could hardly ever experienced in the hectic, hypercompetitive metropolis. She couldn't help wondering if maybe there was more to life than being in business. Maybe she was neglecting her mental health. Maybe work was the drug that allowed her to escape into her own world. Maybe it was her addiction. It only seemed natural that she, like so many other people in her family, most notably her mother and father, suffered from some sort of addiction.

  40 minutes of adrenaline inducing running later, Emily finally came to a stop, bent over, hands on her knees, sweating, panting, exhausted, yet also exhilarated. She had forgotten how thrilling physical exercise could be, how it could transport you away from your mundane worries and concerns. She bought a bottle of water and a salad from a Korean market across the street, then began the trek back to her apartment.

  When she got home, she poured herself a glass of wine, plopped down on the couch, and began scrolling through Netflix. Only a couple of hours earlier, she had found it impossible to sit still, mind empty, body relaxed, soul at peace. She looked forward to her next run. She would go even longer, pump her arms even faster, push herself, even further. A couple glasses of wine later, she dozed off, sinking into a deep and soothing sleep.

  The next day, she couldn't believe how sore she was. Every single muscle in her body ached, especially her legs and feet. During the run, she hadn't felt anything, except bliss, pure, sweet and desperately needed. But the reality of her aging body—31st birthday only months away—slapped her hard in the face, stinging her ego. She should've known that once the surge of adrenaline wore off, her body would tell her what it really felt. But despite hardly being able to move, all she could do was laugh at herself, not regretting a single thing that she done the previous day. Her only regret was that she had no one to share her soreness with, no one to curl up with on the couch, sipping hot cocoa laced with rum, flipping through channels, chatting, flirting, kissing and cuddling the day away. Those thoughts evoked images— gentle and sweet with a tinge of melancholy—of the weekends that she and Claire had spent together all those years ago. Finally, she couldn't resist. She had to reach out, had to say something before they saw each other the next day in the office. There was no way that Emily was going to be able to pretend that she didn't still have very strong feelings for her. But would those feeling be reciprocated?

  Would Claire mind that Emily had put on a couple of pounds over the last few years? Did she have a sexy French-speaking girlfriend back in Montréal? There was no way to know, at least not yet. But none of that mattered. Emily realized that if there was any chance of rekindling their relationship, she would have to reach out and make herself vulnerable, risking a potentially crushing rejection.

  Over the next several weeks, Emily and Claire spent most of the day from 9 AM
until about 630 PM in a private conference room, parsing through a tangled web of legal and business documents.

  Every now and then, Emily would look up from the mountain of paperwork in front of her and admire just how determined and brilliant Claire was. Without her, there was no way that she would've gotten through this project. But that wasn’t the only thing on her mind.

  Every stare, every smile—real or fake—, every sigh, every word—and there weren’t many—they exchanged seemed loaded with so much meaning, so much pain. There is no way around it. Neither one of them had recovered from their breakup. During their time working together alone, while Michael handled affairs in the main office, Emily paid particular attention to how Claire reacted when her phone beeped or buzzed. She was desperate to know, despite fearing the truth, whether or not Claire had a significant other back in Montréal. Did she even have time for a social life, given how dedicated she was to her work?

  “Another few days and we should have everything wrapped up, right?” Emily said smiling and raising her eyes.

  Claire didn't immediately look up from the two documents that she was meticulously analyzing, softly reading from one in English, then the other in French. Emily considered repeating herself, uncertain whether or not Claire had heard her.

  “I don't know about that. Unless you willing to stay here late into the evening.”

  As she finished speaking, Claire slowly lifted her eyes and stared at Emily as if she were challenging, taunting, testing her. Emily's face turned red. Of course, she was willing to work well into the night. She wasn't the one who for the last two weeks had promptly left the conference room every day at 630 as if she absolutely had somewhere else to be. Why was Claire talking to her like that?

  “Yes, that's fine by me,” Emily said, holding her head high and meeting Claire's gaze. So they stayed and they worked, well past normal closing time, each one of them burrowing deeper into their specific pile of documents, hardly making eye contact, hardly exchanging a word. For Emily, all the joy and excitement that she had felt about working together had painfully drained away, leaving behind something undesirable and bitter. She no longer felt like they were working together but as if they were competing, trying to see who would outlast the other, who could keep their eyes open and brain functioning, without respite deep into the night. But maybe this is what she should've expected. Maybe she had been foolish to expect anymore, to somehow still hold on to the hope that there was a way to heal the wound that separated them.