Next Year I'll be Perfect

by Laura Kilmartin

  “Maybe it's not your goal anymore, though. Have you thought of that? It's okay for a person's goals to change over the years.”

  “I know that.”

  I began to trace the pattern in the counter with my thumbnail, avoiding further eye contact. “I know that, but when I was 25, the items on that list were very important to me. I don't think my goals have changed since then. I think maybe I've just settled for less than what I truly want somewhere along the way.”

  Livvie pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and gestured for me to do the same. “Can I say something that's going to piss you off?”

  “Oh, sure.” I rolled my eyes. “That sounds promising.”

  “I don't think you ever wanted to buy a house. Not at 25, not at 29, and you still won't at thirty. I think you wanted to buy a house with Ryan at 25. Now that he's out of the picture, it really is alright to let go of the rest of it.”

  Livvie's words didn't piss me off. Quite the contrary – they made a lot of sense. I loved my apartment and as inconvenient as living over the diner could be from time to time, none of the houses we'd looked at so far had come even close to making me feel so cozy and warm as my little apartment did.

  “Ryan, huh?”

  “Ryan.” Livvie confirmed. “And, before you even ask, you did the right thing by blowing him off at the party. From what I hear, he's already moved on to an associate in his firm. They might have been together already when he came to the diner that night.”

  Hurt, but not terrifically surprised by the news, I almost missed the fact that it had been delivered by someone who should have no more insight into Ryan's dating life than I did. “How do you know who Ryan is dating?”

  “Oh.” Livvie rose and placed the kitchen chair back to its place under the oak table. “Well, um, I had dinner with Donnie last week.”

  “You had dinner with Donnie? Were there drugs involved? Did he force you at knifepoint?”

  “No, nothing like that.” She walked toward the refrigerator and began arranging the letter magnet in alphabetical order. “His aunt Grace died last week, so when I read it in the paper and called to offer my sympathy, he asked me out to dinner. She was always very nice to me.”

  “Nicer than her nephew, probably.”

  “Probably.” She grinned. “But this conversation is not about me. The point is, Ryan is out of the picture. You need to let go of him and let go of the things you wanted only because of him.”

  I considered my friend's words and slowly stood up, looking around a perfectly lovely home that I had absolutely no interest in purchasing. “I don't really want to buy a house, do I? I don't want to move from the diner.”

  “No, sweetie. I don't think you do.”

  “So what do I do now?”

  “Well, eventually we have to go out and face Eliot to tell him we've wasted his day. For the moment, though, we could always go down the hall and snoop through the medicine cabinet to cheer you up.”

  I shook my head, appreciating Livvie's gesture but just not in the mood.

  “We could peek in their bedroom dresser drawers,” she suggested, poking me in the shoulder. “Come on. They had a leopard-skin bedspread. They've got to be hiding something good. You know you want to look.”

  I'd forgotten about the leopard skin bedspread.

  Pushing my chair back under the table, I allowed my friend to gently push me down the hall. “Livvie, what about the rest of my list? It wasn't all about Ryan, you know.”

  “I know. We'll just reprint the list, Sarah. Leave off the item about buying a house. It's not that hard.”

  “The list is laminated, you know.” I whined. Reprinting the list may not be physically difficult, but symbolically was another matter.

  “It also has freezer burn. We'll re-laminate it.” She steered me into the bedroom. “Just think how thrilled Jeremy will be to know you're not moving.”

  I nodded at her words and how right they were. I wasn't moving. Not at all. Not away from the diner and not toward anything that I had once considered important. My life, my weight, my relationships, they were all standing still. In fact, it seemed nothing around me was moving. Nothing except the days ticking ever more quickly toward my thirtieth birthday.

  April

  LIVVIE WAS RIGHT AS USUAL. My scene with David at the bar had gone a long way toward ratcheting my already shaky work environment to new levels of discomfort. Weeks passed with virtually no contact between Morgan and me due to well-orchestrated court and library visits on both of our parts.

  When we were in the office at the same time, things had settled into what could only be described as hideously distressing. I stayed in my office as much as possible if only to avoid Morgan's startled deer-in-the-headlights look every time he saw me, followed by a crab-like scuttle back to his own office whenever I attempted actual contact.

  Stockpiling my copy jobs so I would only need to visit Gloria's desk once, I realized things couldn't go on as they were. My future as a partner in Frank's office depended upon my ability to deal with personnel matters and I needed to try to get things back to pleasant with my co-worker.

  If not pleasant, than at least bearable.

  Unable to stand the environment for one more day, I waited until Frank left for court and Gloria went downstairs to sneak her daily cigarette, a habit she thought was much better hidden than it was, before squaring my shoulders and heading into the lion's den. I tapped at the frame outside Morgan's office door until he looked up.

  “Oh, hey, Sarah.” The look in his eye was on par with that poor squirrel I had seen on my last drive to Boston, an instant too late, just before he became part of the pavement on I-95. Morgan dropped his eyes again quickly, but it was at least progress that he hadn't shimmied open the window and risked the four story drop.

  “Hi. Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure. If you're looking for the Marrick brief, though, I haven't quite finished. I still need to investigate the…”

  I closed the office door behind me with a quiet click, causing Morgan to stop talking, cut off all pretense that the two of us had a normal working relationship and look at me with alarm.

  “Don't panic.” I held my hand up. “I just wanted to say a few things in private.”

  “Okay, sure.” His tone was wary, but since he appeared at least willing to hear me out, I ripped the band aid clean off.

  “I want to apologize for a few things. I'm sorry about my performance at the bar the other night.”

  “You don't owe me an explanation.” Morgan held up his hands. “I figured you and that Thornton guy had something going on. You know – between the flowers he sent you and the fact he was all over you.”

  “But we're not…” I stammered, trying and failing to find the right words.

  “You're not?”

  “No. You know my tendency to grab the closest guy in sight when I don't know how to deal with a situation. That was just me being stupid.”

  “Oh.” Morgan blew out a breath and rubbed his hand through his close cropped hair. “I see. You used me as a shield against Ryan at the diner. I guess this time you felt you needed to be shielded from me and used your friend David.”

  Shit.

  “No, wait. That's not it either. That was what Livvie was afraid you'd think. That wasn't what I was doing, I swear.”

  Morgan tilted his head in confusion. “It wasn't?”

  “No.”

  “I'll bite, then. What was your intention?” Morgan made little air quotes as he said “intention”.

  I tried to ignore the fact that I usually hated people who made air quotes and decided to be honest. That's right; I was going to give honesty a try. Any port in a storm, right?

  “I wasn't trying to get rid of you. I was trying to make you jealous.”

  “You were?” He didn't even try to hide the surprise in his voice. He shook his head murmuring to himself quietly, as if trying to make the pieces of some puzzle slip into place.

  Not wanting t
o chicken out before I finished my story, I continued, “so, that's your first apology for petty, stupid behavior. Are you ready for seconds?”

  “I get a second apology? I'm intrigued.” With the small crooked smile I received, for just a moment, I felt the crackle of chemistry between us again.

  “I want to apologize for our date a few weeks ago.”

  “Oh.” And with that word, the electricity in the air went from crackle to pop to fizzle in the space of a heartbeat.

  Morgan picked up his pen, dropped his eyes again and gestured to the papers in front of him. “No worries. Look, I really need to finish this up for Frank.”

  “I'm not apologizing for the date itself,” I clarified. “I'm apologizing for freaking you out.”

  “You didn't freak me out.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “No you didn't.”

  “Yes, I did, Morgan.” I insisted, bringing my hand down hard on his desk.

  “Fine!” Morgan threw down his pen and finally met my eyes. “You freaked me out. You freaked me out on our date and you freaked me out at the bar. If you want me to be entirely honest, you're kind of freaking me out now.”

  I stumbled back a step and clutched the door knob, almost ready to bolt from the room. Because, really, that was probably a little more honesty than I had been looking for.

  “I have pretty crappy social skills,” I blurted, staring at the ugly bamboo rug at my feet. “I like you and had fun when we went out, but I think I have a deep-seated self-destruct mechanism in my brain. If things seem like they're going well, I have a perverse need to screw them up.”

  Risking a peek, I saw that at least I had Morgan's full attention. “I think our date was going pretty well before I screwed it up.”

  He nodded in agreement, but remained silent.

  “I just wanted to admit it was my fault. I came on too strong and made a royal mess of things that night. Then, at the bar when I saw you walk in with…” I shook my head, not quite ready for that amount of honesty. “When I saw you walk in, all I could think was how embarrassed I was by the way I acted. Instead of owning up to that, I decided to pretend that I didn't care at all what you thought of me. I latched onto David which made things about a hundred times worse. And, well…”

  Morgan remained silent, waiting expectantly for my next words, but I was at the end of my monologue.

  “That's it. I just…I know I'm a hopeless case, but I try to admit my faults when I see them, and I admit that my faults lately have been pretty apparent. Especially to you. Maybe I should come with a warning label. Something like, ‘objects in the rear view mirror may be crazier than they appear’.”

  That line earned me a grin and reluctant chuckle, followed by a very serious question. “So where do we go from here, Sarah?”

  At least it was a question that I knew how to answer. “Let's just forget the last several weeks altogether. Let's forget everything and go back to how things were when you first started working here last fall.”

  “I'm sorry, but I don't think I can do that.”

  “Oh. Well. Okay then.” I nodded my head reluctantly. It appeared that I really had burned my bridges with Morgan. Not only was he not interested in dating me, but he wasn't going to be able to get past my erratic, psychotic behavior in order to be my co-worker, either. I opened the door and began to flee the room in search of a pint of Chunky Monkey when his voice stopped me.

  “Sarah, wait!” I turned and found him rounding the desk anxiously. “What I meant was, I don't want to go back to the days when I just started working here. Things were lousy back then, too. You hated me and we barely spoke.”

  “Oh yeah. Good point.” How soon we forget.

  “Maybe we can move the timeline up a bit? Remember the truce you and I struck in the courthouse back in January? The beginning of a beautiful friendship?”

  I nodded my head, remembering.

  “Great, then. Let's go back to January when we were friends and co-workers. You know, before there were any messy complications.”

  His nervous smile was so endearing it almost soothed the bristle I felt at his words. ‘Messy complications’? Going out with me had been a messy complication?

  Oh well. I swallowed down the insult and decided to be satisfied that Morgan wasn't filing either a sexual harassment suit or false imprisonment charges against me for trapping him in his office.

  “Deal.” I held out my hand until Morgan grasped it with a smile. Full-wattage this time.

  “Deal.”

  * * *

  Feeling generally positive about my conversation – by shoving the ‘messy complications’ line into a dark, unused corner of my brain – and wanting to share my glory with someone, I dialed the number to Livvie's office.

  A gratingly cheerful voice answered the phone. “Good morning. Olivia DiMarco's office.”

  Of all the people working for the District Attorney that could have picked up Livvie's line today, it figured it would have to be Cory Latham. I hoped against hope she wouldn't recognize my voice. “Could I please speak to Ms. DiMarco?”

  “Sarah!” She giggled, apparently overflowing with joy to hear from me. “Is that you?”

  Busted. “Yes, Cory, it's me. Could you please put Livvie on the phone?”

  There was a slight pause before Cory spoke again, any trace of warmth swept away by a frosty chill. “You know Sarah, you could at least try to be pleasant to me. It's been years since we had our differences and I just don't see why you have to be so hostile every time we speak.”

  Since we had our differences? For the love of God! She was acting like we'd had a petty quarrel. I felt fairly secure that 4 out of 5 dentists would agree that holding a grudge against someone who knowingly slept with your boyfriend could not be considered ‘petty’.

  I did not have the patience to deal with Cory acting like a poor wounded doe while casting me in the role as the evil hunter standing over her with a crossbow.

  Sorry, Bambi, but that attitude was not going to fly.

  “I'm not acting hostile, Cory. I actually am hostile every time we speak. Please put Livvie on the phone.”

  “I can't. She's out of town until next Tuesday. As her best friend, I would think you'd know that,” she sneered.

  I slumped in my chair and gave myself the V-8 slap for forgetting. Of course I knew Livvie was spending a week with her parents biking and camping at the State Park. While I felt stupid for forgetting my friend's plans, the image of Livvie clomping around the woods in her Juicy Couture outerwear while trying not to break a nail cheered me almost to the point where I could cope with Cory.

  “Never mind, then. I'll leave her a message at home.”

  I had the receiver nearly to the cradle when I heard Cory whine, “I just don't understand why you're so unwilling to make amends. I know I've made some mistakes, but I just want us to be friends.”

  And to think that the day had started out on such a positive note.

  Unfortunately for the world at large, I had used up all of my grace, humility and compassion during my conversation with Morgan and I didn't have a drop in me for the rest of humanity.

  Not that I considered Cory Latham human, but even so, I felt the elastic band that was my patience snap. “Look Cory, I have no idea why you want to be my friend, but let me assure you it is never going to happen. I have no desire to make amends with you. You slept with my boyfriend, you cow! Most people smarter than a speed bump would be able to figure that out.”

  “God, Sarah, I apologized for that a hundred years ago! Besides, it was just one of those drunken mistakes. It didn't mean a thing.”

  “It may not have meant a thing to you, but to me it meant the end of a two-year relationship. I thought Ryan and I were going to be together forever, and in one fell swoop the two of you…”

  No. I was not going to give this vile woman the satisfaction of knowing how deeply she and Ryan had hurt me. My anger raged once again as I all but yelled, “I am not going to hav
e this discussion with you. You, Cory Latham, are a boyfriend-stealing tramp and we are never going to be friends. Tell Livvie I called or don't. I really don't care.”

  With that, I slammed the phone back in its cradle and jumped up from my desk, adrenaline coursing through my body. Wow that felt really good.

  It felt good for a moment, anyway. That was as long as it took for me to look up and see Morgan and Gloria standing outside my office door which I had carelessly neglected to shut before making my phone call. Morgan's wide eyes and stunned look showed that he had heard every word of my conversation. Gloria just looked mildly amused as she deadpanned, “I take it Livvie was out of the office?”

  “Yes.” I straightened up the post-it notes and other bits of papers scattered about my desk as I tried to regain my dignity. “I left a message, though.”

  “So, we heard.” Gloria chuckled and went back to the reception area while Morgan remained in the doorway.

  Morgan continued to just lean against my door frame. “So, um…the other night at the bar. When my friends and I walked in. You know, before your little freak out. Did you happen to see that Cory was with us?”

  I tucked my hair nervously behind my ears. “Oh, was that her? Really? I thought it might have been.”

  “You thought it might have been?” Morgan repeated, again not moving from my door, although I thought I caught the hint of a smile in his eyes.

  Finally, he stood upright and remarked, “Yeah, well, anyway. I'm glad we made up. You're kind of scary when you're mad.”

  With an unexpected wink he was gone and I sat down in my office chair with a thunk, adrenaline finally and suddenly zapped from my system.

  Jesus. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet and it had been a hell of a morning.

  * * *

  “Meet me at the diner for breakfast.”

  I had left that message on Frank's voice mail and could only assume he would be in equal parts intrigued and annoyed. I'd done my homework and made sure he had no meetings or court appearances scheduled until much later in the day. According to my calculations, Frank had no idea that my first effort in regrouping my focus on my life's goals was to propose he make me a partner in his firm.