“I am. It’s like a freaking divorce. He’s still friends with Matthew, you know. And when they’re together, I can’t be there. That’s a big reason why I ended up getting this place. It was too uncomfortable walking around on eggshells all the time. Matthew couldn’t have his best friend over because I was there. They always had to find somewhere to go, or go over to Chris’s place. I was the third wheel and I hated it.”
“Did you ever try talking to him about it?”
She pulled away and stared at me like I was crazy.
“I’ll take that as a no. Maybe you should.”
“Are you shitting me? He hates me. And he has every right to. I broke his heart and trampled it. I was angry and scared and alone and I took it out on him. I was stupid and mean and I deserve every bad thing that happens to me because of it. He was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I ruined it.”
I took a deep breath, my head spinning. I wanted to tell her that I suspected differently, but that would open a whole other can of worms. When I had told her the story of my old tired Honda and how I had gotten home that fateful night, I had conveniently neglected to mention that Chris was a part of it. At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do. I had mentioned my omission to Matthew lest he unintentionally bring it up, and he had agreed to go along with the story that he alone had come to my rescue. Unless I could suddenly convince her that I was psychic I would have to come clean in order to share my impressions.
“What if I told you that he doesn’t hate you?” I said finally. The truth had won out.
“Yeah, right, whatever,” she responded, dabbing at her moist eyes with her sleeve.
“I think he has forgiven you long ago, if he even was mad at you at all.”
“That’s really nice of you to say, but you don’t have to try to make me feel better.”
“Blake, I mean it. The guy still drives your old Civic and cares for it like it’s a classic car. I’ve seen it. It’s endearing in a stalkerish sort of way.”
“What?”
The entire story came spilling out of my mouth, and she sat in wide-eyed disbelief, listening. When I was done, I apologized profusely for keeping secrets, but she just stared at me. I waited for a reaction of any sort but got nothing.
“Blake, you might have broken his heart, but he also broke yours. You may have had unrealistic expectations when it came to him, but when you love someone, that’s what happens. You think that they are way more powerful than they really are. But he was only human, and so are you. You both made a mistake. And you are both still grieving for that innocence that you lost.”
“That sounds all nice and good, Lauren. I’m glad that you believe that after spending like fifteen minutes with him. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate the gesture. But if he was really that distraught, don’t you think he would have mentioned it to Matthew? Don’t you think they would have planned some sort of intervention to make a discussion happen? Don’t you think one night he would have worked up enough courage to drunk dial me? I never changed my phone number. He knows where I work and now where I live. He could ambush me and make me listen.”
“Maybe he doesn’t think you want to hear it. Maybe he’s afraid of rejection.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Just consider it, please. It could be like a New Year’s resolution. You don’t have to get back together or anything, but you could at least bury the hatchet. It sounds like he has been a good friend to your brother, and it would make things a lot easier on that front.”
“Me buying my house made things a lot easier on that front. I don’t know, Lauren. Sometimes it’s just easier to let things die. And we died a long time ago. I’m not anywhere close to the same person that I was. He might not be who he used to be. Who’s to say that we wouldn’t bite each other’s heads off just on general principles? It’s not high school anymore. We’re not two adolescents who think they know what love is. Maybe it works for you and Eric, but it’s not the answer for everyone. Maybe my high school romance was just that, nothing more. A little something to get misty eyed over now and again, but in the end of slight lasting significance.”
I winced, uncertain that it was the answer for me either. Her rebuttal had brought me to question my own motives with Eric. Was I holding on to the past, afraid of rejecting him because I didn’t want to be alone? Had we changed so much that we were no longer who we were when we got together ten years ago? Was that the reason that Eric never told me he loved me? Did he not know if he did? Did I know?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Despite Blake’s apparent aversion to Christmas, she never again breathed a word of her torment in the weeks leading up to it. For this reason, and because of Matthew’s insistence, I forged ahead with my idea of making her home a tribute of sorts to the holiday. During lunch breaks I would make trips to buy decorations, stashing them everywhere I could think of that she wouldn’t look. Soon my trunk, my closet and my office at work were filled with ornaments, tinsel, artificial wreaths and multicolored twinkling lights.
The night before Christmas Eve, things had all seemed to fall into place. George had all but shooed me out of the office at five on the nose. Matthew had met me at a roadside Christmas tree stand and dutifully tethered a six foot evergreen to the roof of his Camry. He followed me home, unloaded the tree and assisted me in setting it up. After an hour or so of helping, he excused himself to attend to Blake.
Somehow he had been able to convince his sister to spend the night at his place. I hadn’t asked him how, but I was eternally grateful. I wanted her to walk into the house on Christmas Eve and be completely shocked. In a good way, of course. I might not have her formal training, but Christmas was one thing I knew how to decorate for.
Prior to leaving for work the following morning, I stood in the living room to admire my handiwork. I hadn’t gone over the top, preferring the classy traditional look to the gaudy one. The tree was dressed in red and gold ornaments. An old fashioned train set circled the skirt, weaving in and out between the packages displayed. Even with just the three of us celebrating here, it appeared that we had quite a haul. To be fair, I had set out the gifts I was taking to Indy. Matthew had brought over his contribution and added it to the pile as well.
Drawn to the package labeled with my name, I knelt at the tree and picked it up. Like a child, I shook it gently to try to deduce what was inside. The box itself was massive, but it was light as air. Deciding that it wasn’t a bowling ball, I set it back down in frustration. I giggled at my immaturity as I stood up to survey the room one last time.
Everything appeared to be in order and I swallowed down my nervousness, silently praying that she wouldn’t be offended. Matthew had done all he could to assure me that she wouldn’t be. I knew that nobody knew her better than he did, but I still couldn’t quiet the nagging feeling that I was flirting with disaster. Knowing it was too late to change my mind, I headed to the bank.
Feeling a little guilty about not staying over the previous evening, I had set my alarm extra early. I wanted to attend to the slew of emails I knew would be waiting in my inbox prior to the rest of the staff showing up. Getting a good head start on the day would help me to feel less guilty about rushing out of the office again at noon. Plus, I wanted to be a little more festive than I had been on Black Friday. No closed office door for me today. If the rest of the office was taking it easy and discussing their plans, I would, too.
Traffic was light, a testament to the early hour. The people who had to work today were still getting ready, and those lucky enough to have the day off were likely still in bed. The roads were clear pavement, no snow in sight. I sighed, more than a little disappointed. I could probably count on one hand the number of times I remembered having a white Christmas. This year looked to be lacking in that department as well. Knowing Indiana weather, we’d have a massive blizzard the day after.
As expected, the parking lot was empty save for George’s Lincoln in its usual spot. I
had half expected to beat him here, but realized that I should have known better. My dedication to the bank paled in comparison with his. As much as Eric joked about the bank closing its doors because I took the day off, I believed it might be true in George’s case. A creature of habit, I pulled into my own favorite spot and shut off the engine.
Even though it hadn’t snowed, the wind was still bitter cold. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and mocked myself for the decision to wear a skirt. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and with parking in the garage at home I hadn’t given any thought to the blustery conditions. By the time I reached the door, I resembled a Lauren sized popsicle. Hopefully the temperature would raise a few degrees by the time I was ready to leave.
Instrumental Christmas music greeted me as I entered. The volume was turned up a few notches louder than normal. I wondered if it would stay that way all day or get switched to a lower volume once the masses appeared. In any case, it meant that George was undoubtedly a Christmas person. I smiled to myself at the thought and caught myself humming a few bars horribly off-key. What I lacked in talent I made up for with spirit.
I rounded the corner to my office, squinting as I approached. Funny, I hadn’t remembered closing the door when I left last night. In fact, it wasn’t ever part of my routine. However, the door was most certainly closed when I reached it. Maybe the cleaning crew had gotten new instructions or something. I placed my hand hesitantly on the doorknob and turned. I must have been watching too many horror movies in my down time. It wasn’t as though a dead body was going to jump out at me or anything.
I shook my head and flicked on the light switch. Then I froze in place at the threshold. Someone had most definitely been in my office after my departure. I didn’t have to venture a guess to determine who that was. Blake’s presence radiated from the walls. While I had been decorating her house, she had been slaving away at my place of employment.
The old standard issue office furniture was gone, replaced with pieces that were decidedly more modern. New artwork had been mounted, adding color to the otherwise drab walls. I was half surprised that she hadn’t managed to sneak in a couple cans of paint to spruce things up. I imagined if she had she would have been handily turned down. Banks were funny about that kind of thing.
I strode over to my new desk to find a set of keys placed atop an unnecessary greeting card. As I suspected, the keys belonged to the top two drawers. I unlocked them to find all of my things had been neatly transferred over and organized just so. If she didn’t know me, no one did. I shut the drawer of pens and pencils and noticed something else out of the corner of my eye. A picture frame stood guard over my workstation. I reached for it to pull it closer. Inside was a candid shot of Blake, Matthew and me taken on Thanksgiving.
I remembered Gracie carrying around her camera at Matthew’s house that day, but for the life of me didn’t recall that picture being snapped. The three of us were standing around his concrete island, deep in an animated conversation. The way our eyes sparkled, the expressions on our faces would lead anyone to believe that we had known each other for years, not weeks. It surprised me to have a visual of how at home I felt in my new surroundings. To realize that Gracie had been in on this in at least a small role made it all the more special.
I had just opened Blake’s card, a traditional Christmas greeting with the words “Please don’t be mad! Love, Blake” scrawled across it when I noticed George hovering in the doorway. Our eyes met and he walked the rest of the way in the room, perching on one of the undoubtedly designer chairs across from me. Any doubt that possibly existed in regards to his being an accomplice to the redecoration efforts were effectively erased by the smirk across his otherwise distinguished face.
“Merry Christmas, Lauren,” he grinned.
I set the card down on the desktop and responded with my own smile. “Merry Christmas, George. I guess it’s no longer a secret why you were so eager for me to get out of here last night.”
“The cat is pretty much out of the bag, yes. Let’s just say that your roommate is both talented and persuasive. I think she felt a little bad about asking me to stay late, but it really was no bother. I had plenty to do here, and she worked faster than I thought was possible. Of course, her brother did come a little bit later to help, too.”
“That explains it,” I said more to myself than to him. When George looked at me quizzically, I felt the need to elaborate. “Matthew met me after work and I got about an hour of labor out of him before he left to help her. The funny thing is, I decorated our house for Christmas.”
“Ironic, huh? They seem like good people. But don’t think she left without giving a sales pitch. She made sure to give me her business card just in case the bank is interested in some redecorating in general.”
I smiled. The few times she had met me for lunch she had always commented on how bleak and uninspired our surroundings were here. My retort was usually along the lines of bankers not being creative types. She did have a point though. The changes she had made in my office transformed it entirely. The space around me felt warm and inviting, no longer cold and imposing.
“Think we’ll take her up on it?” I asked, referring to the bank as a whole.
George responded with a shrug. “Not really my call. I’m sure her services don’t come cheap.”
“I don’t know. Everything she does for me is free. Perhaps I could negotiate a family discount.”
He chuckled. “I won’t hold my breath. So, big plans for the holiday?”
I shrugged. “I guess you could call it that. Blake and Matthew and I are having our gift exchange this afternoon. Then tomorrow it’s down to Indy with my dad and boyfriend. Depending on how things go, I might head down there tonight. I’m not sure yet.”
“Well, whatever happens, make sure you enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”
“Thanks. What about you?”
“The kids and grandkids will be over tonight. Tomorrow will be a nice, quiet day with just me and the wife.”
“Sounds good. You have fun yourself.”
“We always do.”
He rose from the chair and placed his hand on the edge of my desk. “Don’t work too hard today.”
I looked up at him with a twinkle in my eye. “I would tell you that I never do, but something seems wrong about saying that to your boss. So instead, I’ll just let that go.”
“And I would know that you were lying, anyway,” he retorted.
I watched as he retreated back to his own substantially less decorated office. Settling back in my soft leather chair, I took in my surroundings once more just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. With a space like this, it was easy to pretend that I had reached the big time. So what if this wasn’t a corner office with a view of the downtown skyline like our colleagues at the main office had? My little portion of the banking world now more resembled that of high level executive than middle management. If I squeezed my eyes shut hard enough, I could pretend anyway.
I dug my cell out of my purse and texted Blake a simple “Love it!” before stashing it away. It was just now nearing eight in the morning, and the rest of my coworkers were filing in. I doubted that Blake would have returned home yet, so her surprise hadn’t yet been revealed. I would thank her in person later, but something this monumental just couldn’t be ignored for a few hours. I had to give her at least a taste of gratification now. I realized that a little piece of her went into everything she created, and doing this for me was almost as much of a gift to herself.
Despite her mad talent, she had been so brainwashed by her parents’ abandonment that deep down she didn’t believe her own hype. Sure she could turn on the charm like George had mentioned earlier, but I knew better. She had a hard time accepting other people’s praise of her work. That, coupled with her tendency towards perfectionism led her to think that nothing was ever good enough, that the job was never truly finished. I supposed that everyone who was creative by nature shared a little bit of that sent
iment, but for her the feeling was multiplied tenfold.
As George had alluded to earlier, a bare minimum amount of work was accomplished during the four hours we were there. Several employees had taken vacation time to extend their holiday and the rest of us that were there had only shown up physically. The festive spirit flowed throughout the building and no one seemed to mind the lack of production. Compared to the branch setting, where the tellers were typically slammed with customers on a day like this, the atmosphere here was decidedly more laid back. Corporate had supplied us with quite a spread of donuts, fruit, bagels and coffee cake. George made the rounds with our Christmas bonus checks. Tucked into the envelopes along with the checks were scratch-off lottery tickets. The entire office went silent as everyone pulled out coins and set to work seeing if they had a winner. Occasional cheers would ring out as people scratched off prizes. I was not one of them.
Unlike the day after Thanksgiving, I kept my office door open. As word of Blake’s gift spread, a steady stream of people came through to inspect the goods. Ever the dutiful roommate, I supplied some of the most impressed with Blake’s business cards, which I had found handily stored in my top drawer. I guessed I owed her the free marketing. She really had done an awesome job. I had told some people about her already and the awesome bedroom that she had created for me, but it wasn’t like I felt comfortable inviting them to our house to show it off. Here her talents were on display for everyone to see.
For perhaps the first time since I had transferred here, I really felt like part of the team. The joyful atmosphere had permeated my mental wall and broken down my guard. I had always felt like I deserved the promotion, had never doubted my ability to do the job, but had felt like I had so much to prove. With my desire to be taken seriously, I had shut off my own personality. Today I was smiling and laughing and genuinely having a good time.
Out of the corner of my eye I had noticed George watching me closely as I flitted from group to group, commenting appropriately during some exchanges, merely listening in to others. I saw him nod approvingly in my direction at one point and it filled me with a surge of pride. Never had I felt such a sense of belonging. Any doubt that had been placed in my mind by Eric had been erased.
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