“I thought you were at a meeting. Or does a booty call qualify as your meeting these days?” I ask, glaring at him. “Good times.”
“You wouldn’t know a good time if it hit you in the face.”
I roll my eyes and scoff at him as I cross my arms over my chest. “Ok, whatever you say.” I look past him to see that our fighting has drawn a bit of a crowd. Peeking around the corner is Carmen, along with Steven and Barbara, who is standing there watching us over the glasses perched on the tip of her nose. “You had sex in your office and now my car. Jesus. Can’t you control yourself?” I grab my keys off my desk while I lean down to grab my purse.
“Are you always this uptight?” My body stills while he continues, “Maybe if you loosened up a little, you would still be married.”
The minute the words leave his mouth, I hear a gasp from Barbara, but that isn’t what gets me. What gets me is the fact that he is right. Maybe if I weren’t so uptight, I would still be married. Maybe if I lived a little, Jake wouldn’t have cheated. I don’t know what hurts me more, the fact that I’m questioning myself or that he thinks these things of me. All I know is that my heart just hurts.
I place my purse on my desk as I gather my things. I do not make eye contact with him or acknowledge him in any way.
My coffee cup, my Post-it notes, the picture of my kids that I put next to the computer all get tossed into my purse, overfilling it.
I grab my keys off the desk and walk away from him, never once looking at him. Not once giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he hit his mark and hurt me. All the pranks in the world couldn’t have come close to hurting me as much as the words he just spoke did.
“Lauren,” he says softly right when I’m about to turn the corner. “I didn’t—”
I turn around, the hurt now mixed with anger. “You didn’t, what, Austin? You didn’t mean to insinuate that I’m uptight and that’s the reason my husband had an affair and left me? Well, good job, Austin, you guessed it in one,” I hiss at him, trying to keep my voice from cracking.
“Lauren, I didn’t mean—” He walks up to me and reaches out with one hand to touch me.
“No, no, it’s fine. And you’re right, that’s what happened.” I side-step him and use my hands to block him from touching me. I hear the elevator ping and turn to hurry around the corner to slip inside the open door right before it slides shut.
The last thing I see before the elevator door closes is Austin turning the corner quickly, racing up to the door. He’s too late, though; it closes in his face, right before I hear what I assume is his hand slapping the closed door.
I press the button for the lobby repeatedly, ridiculously hoping it will make the elevator go faster than it is. I know it won’t work, I know this, everyone knows this, but I keep pressing the button anyway.
The door opens to the lobby, and I’m thankful that it is empty. I run toward my car and don’t look back. Austin parked it exactly where I left it this morning. Thank god for small favors.
Opening the door, I throw everything inside as I rush to get in the car, get going, get the hell out of there before I can allow the first tear to fall. Because it will. It’s just a matter of time.
My eyes fill with tears, blurring my vision. Starting the car and making my way out of the parking lot, I pull up Penelope’s number on my phone.
If I’m on Bluetooth and on my phone, thankfully that overrides the music.
“Hey,” she answers cheerily.
“Hey.” I angrily wipe away the tear that has made its way over my lashes and onto my cheek. “I’m not going back. I’m sorry. I really tried to tough it out. I hate to put you in this position, but I…I just can’t go back,” I finish as my voice cracks.
“Hey, now,” she whispers, her voice softening. “I don’t give a fuck about the job. Are you okay?” I shake my head no while more tears fall freely.
“I’m going to hang up now. I’ll grab a couple of bottles of wine and head to your place. Is this a case for Alanis Morissette?” She asks, because everyone knows Alanis Morissette is the wronged, hurt woman’s anthem, no matter how old they are.
“I already have the CD in my player at home,” I sniffle.
The phone beeps and I see it’s Austin calling me on the other line. I quickly decline his ass.
“Okay, I’m going to go call Barbara and let her know that you aren’t coming back,” she assures me. “See you in an hour.”
“I think she probably knows. There was a scene.” I’m not sure how much of a scene it actually was, but to me, it felt like all of my co-workers were there to witness my humiliation.
“Oh fuck. No worries, hon, I’ll take care of it.” And she clicks off just in time for the fucking “Let it Go” chorus to ring, loud and clear, through my car.
I make it home in record time, climbing out and thanking the powers that be that the kids are staying with Jake tonight. Every second week, he gets a mid-week sleepover, and tonight is that night.
I open the door, letting myself in, dumping everything down by the door. I walk straight to the kitchen, open the fridge, and grab the open bottle of wine from the door.
Ripping the cork out of the bottle and not bothering with a glass, I bring the bottle to my lips, gulping down enough wine to begin the
