by Kat T. Masen
“We promised minimal redundancy,” I speak up, confidently. “So, before the two of you decide to lose the entire workforce, think about how difficult it is to retain good staff. We can’t sacrifice the quality of our work. And since you’re discussing cutting from my team, I believe all these matters should be addressed to me. Am I making myself clear, John?”
“Yes, Presley.”
I turn to look at Haden, ignoring the fierce stare and meeting his stance. “Are we clear?”
Haden doesn’t say a word underneath his stony expression. His rage seems pointless to me, although I choose not to air my further concerns in public. I want what is best for this company, just like him. Put simply, I don’t need to be an asshole to prove it.
“This meeting has ended,” I announce.
Everyone begins to pack up as Sandy whispers in my ear, “Way to go, Wonder Woman. Drinks tonight?”
I nod, with a smile. “I’ll text you. I’ll try to get Masen to sleep then sneak out.”
She leaves the room, along with everyone else as I grab my things only for Haden to shut the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he grits.
“I don’t have time for this, Haden. I need to go home.”
He laughs, almost a shrill. “You undermine me in front of my staff. You disobey my direction.”
“Oh, c’mon,” I sneer impatiently. “Everything you do is behind my back. I don’t know who I married anymore.”
“And I could say the same for you.”
“You know what, you’re such a jerk. I’m going home,” I argue, my anger spiking the longer I stand in his presence.
“And ever since you lost the baby, you’ve been nothing but a cold-hearted bitch.”
I stare into those hazel eyes burning with anger, and my heart falls silent. The missing beat of my heart for a man who has always consumed me, gnaws at my insides. It hangs in the air like the suspended moment before falling glass shatters on the ground.
There is the unspoken void, needing to be filled with sounds, words, anything. But all that comes is resentment.
Resentment toward a man who brings my failures to the light, exposing it for all its glory.
I’m the bitch.
I’m the one who lost the baby.
Nothing I do or say will ever erase that.
“I won’t be home ‘til late,” he mumbles, head down. “I don’t know what time.”
He doesn’t need to explain why or where he’s going.
We are falling apart.
I don’t know how to fix it, nor turn back the hands of time.
And the worst part, I don’t even know if that’s what I want anymore.
#JERK
Charlie and Lex walk around the house, admiring the place before we sit in the kitchen with a congratulatory bottle of wine.
After spending last night out with Noah at some bar near Malibu, wine is the last thing on my mind, but I don’t want to appear disrespectful. I wasn’t completely sober from the shots Noah made me take last night. The guy is fucking relentless when we’re out drinking.
“The house is beautiful, Haden.” Charlie smiles, pouring the wine into Lex’s and my glass, and some juice for herself. “I wish Presley were here to celebrate with us.”
I told Presley I would pick up the keys, and she simply replied okay. When I mentioned Lex and Charlie visiting, she told me she needed to stay home and pack the house. It isn’t worth the argument. I am tired of trying to make her do anything anymore.
Lex told me that Presley has been ignoring Charlie’s calls, and Charlie knows exactly why. She just feels helpless when it comes to her best friend hurting. The girls have always had a tight bond, and despite my loyalty to my wife, she has no excuse for treating her best friend like this. I tried to bring it up last week, only to get shut down.
“Oh, well, it is what it is,” I mutter.
She reaches out her hand, placing it on mine. “It’ll get better. I promise. She just needs to grieve. It’s part of the process to moving on.”
“How long did it take you to get over it?”
“Let’s see… what’s today’s date?”
“Oh… I didn’t realize.”
“It gets easier with time, but if I’m being honest, it never leaves me. It took me a long time to learn not to blame myself and realize it was out of my control. God needed an angel, and that’s what he got.”
Lex places his arms around Charlie as she speaks, kissing the top of her head. The guy is a shark in the business world, but when it comes to his family, he is a straight-up pussy. Those girls have him wrapped around his finger. I respect the guy. It’s why we get along well.
I know this happened to Charlie and Lex a long time ago, and judging by her pained expression, it is still a difficult thing to speak about. The subject makes me uncomfortable.
“As for Presley, she needs time to get through this, with you, of course.”
My lips part slightly, letting out a huff. “Presley is more interested in spending time with Sandy.”
This has been the first time I have openly admitted it to anyone. But Charlie and Lex are close friends who I trust, and I know will support me without judgment. While I’ve said a few things to Noah, his answer was always to give Presley time.
“I noticed,” Charlie admits, with a saddened face. “You’re not the only one who feels like they’ve lost someone.”
“I’m sorry… I don’t know what to do.”
“She’s your wife. She’ll come around,” Lex explains, parting his wisdom. “If you push her, she will run toward someone who doesn’t have her best interest at heart. This is life. We make mistakes, we grieve, it makes us stronger. Now, let’s celebrate this. To a life of memories and good business.”
Charlie pinches her lips while shaking her head. “Of course, you had to throw business in there.”
The three of us raise our glasses and cheers to that.
I toss and turn, pulling the sheets off, then back on, unable to fucking sleep.
Ever since our fight after the meeting two days ago, we barely communicate with each other unless it involves Masen.
This loneliness has become a vice on my heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant pain. It kills me every day just a little bit more, knowing we are moving past a point of being fixable. It fuels my nightmares, kills my concentration and desperation to hold onto what we have, driving her away. I can’t say, nor do, anything to please her. What should have been a time for us to grow together has torn us apart.
With barely any sleep, I make my way into the office early after hitting the gym. I push myself beyond my normal means, but it becomes the only thing I can control in my life.
There are a few staff here this early, but I don’t say hello, retreating to the solitude of my office with a coffee, my only diet of late. They know better than to bother me, especially when I am in this mood.
With my door shut, I spend most of the morning staring out the window in the company of my grief and sorrow.
I’m broken.
And I don’t know how to begin to repair the pieces of me which belong to her.
We have been through things, many things, but nothing to this extent. Never to the point where our marriage is actually on the line.
The pain consumes me in ways I never imagined possible. It drives my erratic behavior and my mind. It plays dirty tricks. I have become my own worst enemy. Little things spark my jealousy, such as when Presley affectionately lays her hand on Cassandra’s in the middle of our meeting. A gesture, while simple to many, is the beginning to the madness playing in my head. She is my fucking wife. Those hands should have been comforting me, not some old friend who happens to show up at the right time.
She fights hard for Cassandra, arguing until she is blue in the face. It’s me against her, and in Presley’s eyes, it’s no longer me she sides with. I can’t say or do a goddamn thing right.
It’s almost as if she has bee
n poisoned against me.
I shake my head, trying to erase the vile thoughts from my overactive mind. It becomes hopeless, and all I can do is throw myself into work to feed the distraction. My fucking saving grace.
For the rest of the day, I don’t hear from Presley. According to Maria, she’s in her office and asked not to be interrupted. In a way, I don’t want to face her.
There’s a knock on my door, and Clint is standing beside it waiting to enter.
“Can I speak to you for a minute?”
“If this is about my dick being pierced, for the hundredth time, yes, it fucking hurt like hell, but it’s worth the pain.”
Clint chuckles, closing the door behind him. “Actually, no, but thanks for the visual. It’s about Presley.”
I gesture for him to take a seat, leaning back in my chair as I cross my arms beneath my chest. Clint and Presley have been friends since back in our Manhattan office. I’ve known him for years, long before I stepped into this role.
“I thought I should warn you. I know this is none of my business, but if I’m being honest, Presley has been a rotten boss of late, and I think I know why.”
“Clint,” I warn him. “It is none of your business.”
“Just hear me out, please?”
I let out a frustrated sigh, nodding for him to go ahead.
“I was talking to Cassandra, and I know you will think this is beyond far-fetched, but I think she has a thing for Presley.”
His words catch my attention like a gun pointing straight into my temple.
“You know, I kind of pried, asked Cassandra why they had a fall-out since she always skated over the topic, and Presley never really understood why either…” he pauses, watching me until my eyes widen prompting him to continue, “Cassandra kinda had a thing for Presley in college, though Presley never knew that. She was dating some guy, Ken or Kyle… whatever. And Cassandra admitted to me that she was jealous but laughed it off.”
“So, she had a crush on her. I don’t blame her,” I retort, showing no emotion yet the voices in my head are clawing their way to front row and center, demanding I fucking listen because my instinct has been right all along
“Yeah, but Presley has changed. When I’m with them, Cassandra is pushing Presley to make decisions which go against you. She’s a narcissist, almost trying to push you out of the picture…”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m warning you. When it comes to matters of the heart, for some reason, Presley is only listening to her.”
I hear every word he says, tapping my fingers against the table with an idea to end this madness. If for one second someone thinks they can get between us, they are very fucking wrong. The more his words resonate, the more my anger swells like a tide.
“So, what you’re saying is we need to eliminate the instigator immediately, so to speak?”
Clint nods. “You eliminate the instigator, problem solved. Your wife will come running back to you, back to all her friends. It’ll be as if this never happened.”
I grab my phone and dial Charlie’s number.
“Hello, Haden,” she answers.
“I need you in the office. Are you free now?”
“Sure, I can be there in say twenty minutes. Is everything okay?”
“It will be.”
All I need is Charlie to go through the legalities of the dismissal and John to clear the financials.
And soon, the instigator will be out of my life, and my wife will be back in my arms.
For good.
#BITCH
I am grateful Haden left for work early, leaving me alone without our usual fight.
Our morning bickering always involves Masen. We disagree, only to agree moments later, and by the time we leave for work, we have usually forgotten about it and end the morning with a goodbye kiss.
But things have changed between us.
Our pointless quarrels have now turned into full-blown arguments. Our words have become nastier. We both take a simple argument, such as who picks up Masen, into something far greater. I find myself constantly irritated by his selfish behavior, questioning why I have allowed him to act this way for such a long time.
Haden distances himself from me, limiting our interaction to the bare minimum. I watch him slowly pull away, unlike his usual overbearing self. We barely sleep in the same bed, using Masen as an excuse. He doesn’t dare touch me nor even make any sexual innuendos. I thought it would pain me to see him this way, but all I feel is numb.
It has been another late night, packing box after box after we accepted an offer on the house. Time is of the essence, sorting through our belongings, trying to discard what we no longer need and packing what we are taking to the new place.
Somewhere, after midnight, I come across our wedding album. Sitting inside our spare bedroom, I open the album slowly to a photograph of Haden and me. Our faces are beaming, joyous smiles and eyes stare at each other with a loving gaze. Every emotion I felt at that moment comes crashing back like a giant wave of nostalgia—the way he ran his thumb across my bottom lip, promising to always protect our family, to love us unconditionally.
His vows replay inside my head, the voice so loud and clear it’s as if he is whispering it to me.
I promise to be your best friend.
Support you, respect you.
Be there for you in the good times and the bad.
I shake my head in an effort to drown out the sounds. The picture feels like a lifetime ago, and perhaps, we are naïve to think we’re strong enough to make it through anything. He promised to be my best friend, and sadly, he isn’t because I didn’t live up to his standards.
I failed to give him the one thing he begged for from the second we said, ‘I do.’
It’s all my fault.
He never said the words, but I can see it every time he looks at me. His stare burns with resentment.
Refusing to torture myself, I throw the album into the box and go to bed.
Word around the office this morning is that Haden is in his office with a strict do-not-disturb rule. I have no business with him today, or rather, I postpone anything to do with him. Clint is on my nerves, and after I berated him yesterday for a poor effort on a piece he was working on, my frustration with this place escalates.
No one can do their job properly. I constantly have to check people’s work only to have to redo it to meet my standards. The only one who understands my frustration is Sandy.
I dial her number, knowing she will be out of her meeting since it as almost lunchtime.
“Hey, you,” she greets, her voice pleasing me.
“How was your meeting?”
“Great, actually. You know when you get that spark of an idea, and it sends your brain into overdrive? Well, that’s how great it was.”
I sigh. “I miss that. Lately, it’s just been me trying to get everyone to sharpen their game. You should have seen the rubbish Clint showed me. I really gave it to him.”
“You’ve got standards, Elvis. You’re incredibly smart, and beautiful, of course. The whole package. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise. You didn’t get to where you are by letting others dictate your standards.”
I relax into my chair with a smile. “No, apparently I got to where I am by marrying the boss.”
Silence falls over the speaker. Sandy keeps quiet when I speak about Haden, and to be honest, I don’t blame her. He has been a complete dick to her, dismissing her ideas and her ability to run Indie Press. After our meeting where Haden humiliated her, everything just blew up. The two of them clash, and I am the one caught in the middle.
“You don’t need him, everything you achieve is all you. And even if he weren’t around, you’d still be great.”
“Sometimes, I think it would be easier,” I admit, my voice croaking slightly as I stare at the wedding band nestled on my finger. “Everything about us feels too hard right now. He’s impossible, and I can never do anything right.”
Sandy has never held my vulnerability against me, especially when it comes to Haden. I have lost count of the hours in which I speak about him and our marriage. It’s always at the forefront of my mind. The timing of her return is perfect.
Charlie and the rest of our friends are getting on my nerves, treating me like a porcelain doll, and I am so sick of hearing the same broken record.
I need to grieve.
I don’t need to grieve.
What I need is for everyone to back off and just let me get on with life.
So, I avoid everyone for my own sanity.
However, I value Sandy’s opinion, even when at times, it causes an argument with Haden.
“You know what you need?”
I grin, knowing whatever she says will be exactly what I need. She knows me that well.
“A trip. You and me,” she suggests, with an enthusiastic tone. “Just like our road trips to Atlantic City, but maybe we could plane it since road trips cramp my style.”
“I don’t think I can. Masen and Haden—”
“Screw him. You do everything in your marriage. He can live without you for a few days.”
I do need a break.
It will help to clear my mind and really think long and hard about my needs and not Haden’s.
“Where are you thinking?”
“Manhattan,” she says. “I could meet with Natasha Summers. She’s planning to write a series, and I’d love some insight into what exactly she’s thinking.”
Natasha Summers is Indie Press’s bestselling author, so it makes sense for us to meet with her. I can sell this as a business trip.
“So, what you’re saying is a little bit of work and a lot of play?”
“That’s exactly right,” Sandy insists. “So, what do you say?”
The old Haden will argue me leaving Masen along with company costs. His jealous streak of men trying to get their hands on me is always the real reason, although he never admits it. But he no longer cares, so I don’t see this being a real issue.
“Let me talk to Haden tonight, okay? He needs to be the one to take care of Masen.”