But life was good, right? I wasn't really sure.
Even with all of my woes, sleep came quickly after the movie ended.
***
The weekend was uneventful—Jack didn't call, and I barely got out of bed. Jesse took off to see Laura on Saturday morning, so I had the apartment to myself. I got Chinese food on Saturday night and stayed glued to my computer screen, munching chow mein noodles like my life depended on it. I wanted to live in other peoples' worlds, not my own. I couldn't even remember all of the movies I watched.
I thought about Jack a lot. Once again, I didn't know much of anything that was happening. I assumed he'd probably reach out to me at some point—even if I wasn't going to try to pursue something with him, it would still be nice to hear what was up with the mysterious girl outside the door—so I'd just have to hear his side of the story and then let him know how it was going to be.
No, I was certain that I couldn't risk it all for some hot, presumably emotionally unstable guy. I had this job and my new life to deal with. It felt like too much was at stake.
Sunday turned out pretty typical too. Jesse got back later than he usually did, but he had to get up extra early on Monday morning so he went to bed shortly after arriving home. We talked a little. And there was still nothing from Jack.
He had probably just forgotten about me entirely. Hell, what good did it do him to remember me at all? Jack had much better things to do with his time. Much prettier women to sleep with as well. God, I felt so naive.
On Monday morning, I got to work early, more of a random occurrence than anything else that I blamed on the randomly overly efficient public transportation system. Sam was still visibly stressed out, so I assumed that nothing had happened with Jack over the weekend. I tried to avoid him as I came in, worried that he'd somehow verbally extract what had taken place on Friday night.
As he slowly approached my desk, I feared that I was about to face the wrath of Sam.
You turned him down? the Wrathful Sam screamed. That man gets what he wants! You're fired!
Nope. Nothing like that.
Sam asked me about my weekend, and I almost accidentally told him about the New York Palace party. Oh yes, I was glad that I caught myself. His questioning was brief and concise.
I did some busy work—well, that usually meant basic accounting and number-crunching—until lunch. When I got back, things started to get a little confusing.
"Someone's got a secret admirer," Sam said from across the room. "Did you lie to me about this weekend, Effie?" He pointed to the dozen roses sitting on my desk. "You've got some fancy new boyfriend you're not telling me about, huh?"
My cheeks immediately flushed as red as the flowers on my desk and I desperately wished I could disappear. "No." The word came out sounding stupid and ditzy. "I don't know who they'd be from."
I leaned forward and opened the card, my curiosity almost morbid.
I'm sorry.
-J
Obviously, I knew what the J stood for, but I wasn't about to speak a word of it. It didn't say anything else. No call me or we've got to talk, like most folks would do. Just sorry. Cryptic, actually. I couldn't really even get mad about it, although I didn't like being the center of attention in the office.
"C'mon, Effie," he said. "We're friends, right? Tell me who it is. It's cool." His brow furrowed, as if it were punctuating the end of his sentence.
"I don't know!" I tried to be assertive without sounding angry. "I really don't know who these are from." I smelled them—God, and they smelled amazing—and then pathetically pushed them to the side of my desk so I could keep working. "I know you're dying to find out, so I'll let you know as soon as I do."
Sam grinned at me and then headed back to his office, dragging his feet as he walked.
It was a nice gesture by Jack, but it rubbed me in a way I couldn't describe. I was just lost for words. Not happy or sad, complacent or desperate. I wasn't numb either.
How did it make me feel? I couldn't really elaborate at all.
It was also pretty much anonymous, so no one was really pointing any fingers, even though Sam really wanted to know.
I just couldn't figure out Jack's motive. What was he after here? Forgiveness was the obvious answer, but it seemed superficial, too diluted. Did he want us to become something else? Was he just having difficulty with the fact that I had said no? It could have meant literally anything.
At the end of the day, I left the flowers on my desk, because frankly, I didn't want to carry them on the subway. Drawing that much attention to myself felt awkward, so I decided I'd keep them at the office for as long as I could. The whole day I obsessively checked my phone, certain that Jack would call me and beg for mercy. It didn't happen.
Why didn't he do what I expected? I really wished I could call the shots sometimes. Maybe that meant that management was my thing...
***
That night I had trouble sleeping. I kept thinking about how Jack had talked to me, how he had touched me, made me come. I went back and forth, sometimes convinced that he was he was perfect and then seconds later shifting one-hundred eighty degrees and thinking that I had just been vulnerable and taken advantage of. Any girl would have liked attention like that, right? Plus, he was
