new diamond ring. As my relationship with Douglas crept up to the two-year mark, my outfits on the nights we were going to Pastis got more and more “special” as I deluded myself further and further into thinking that my fantasy could become reality.
I used to tell myself that it was okay to have harmless little fantasies like that. Who were they hurting, anyway? And who
I heard the apartment door slam shut and I hurriedly threw more clothing and assorted pairs of shoes into my suitcase. I was packing so fast that I had no idea what I was putting inside the case. Somehow, I remembered to grab my jewelry, which I threw on top, zipped the suitcase shut and wheeled it out of the bedroom. When I walked into the living room, I saw an enormous crystal vase filled with three majestic calla lilies, arranged neatly.
I rushed back to the car, threw myself into Vanessa’s arms, and cried the whole way back uptown.
6
From: “Brooke Miller” <[email protected]>
To: “Douglas MacGregor” <douglas.macgregor@ waldmansecurities.com>
Subject: I miss you
Do you miss me, too?
Brooke Miller
Gilson, Hecht and Trattner
425 Park Avenue
11th Floor
New York, New York 10022
*****CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE*****
The information contained in this e-mail message is confidential and is intended only for the use of the individual or entity named above. If you are not the intended recipient, we would request you delete this communication without reading it or any attachment, not forward or otherwise distribute it, and kindly advise Gilson, Hecht and Trattner by return e-mail to the sender or a telephone call to 1 (800) GILSON. Thank you in advance.
Delete.
It was the fourteenth e-mail message that I’d drafted and then deleted so far. But it wasn’t as if I could concentrate on work two days after Douglas threw me out of our apartment. My assignment for the day — talk to Douglas and clear this whole mess up.
From: “Brooke Miller” <[email protected]>
To: “Douglas MacGregor” <douglas.macgregor@ waldmansecurities.com>
Subject: hey
We need to talk.
Brooke Miller
Gilson, Hecht and Trattner
425 Park Avenue
11th Floor
New York, New York 10022
*****CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE*****
The information contained in this e-mail message is confidential and is intended only for the use of the individual or entity named above. If you are not the intended recipient, we would request you delete this communication without reading it or any attachment, not forward or otherwise distribute it, and kindly advise Gilson, Hecht and Trattner by return e-mail to the sender or a telephone call to 1 (800) GILSON. Thank you in advance.
Too angry and defensive. Men hate angry and defensive.
From: “Brooke Miller” <[email protected]>
To: “Douglas MacGregor” <douglas.macgregor@ waldmansecurities.com>
Subject: hi
Can we talk?
Brooke Miller
Gilson, Hecht and Trattner
425 Park Avenue
11th Floor
New York, New York 10022
*****CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE*****
The information contained in this e-mail message is confidential and is intended only for the use of the individual or entity named above. If you are not the intended recipient, we would request you delete this communication without reading it or any attachment, not forward or otherwise distribute it, and kindly advise Gilson, Hecht and Trattner by return e-mail to the sender or a telephone call to 1 (800) GILSON. Thank you in advance.
Send. A screen popped up asking, “Are you sure you want to send this message?” Normally, I just click
I clicked
“Do you think that we’ll get back together in time for Trip’s wedding?” I asked.
“You asked the man why he hates America,” Vanessa said, barely looking up from the document she was typing.
“Mistakes were made,” I said.
“You think?” Vanessa asked me, still typing away furiously on her computer.
“I can’t believe that I have no boyfriend,” I said. I eyed the photograph of Vanessa and Marcus at their college graduation that was on her bulletin board. They were holding on to each other for dear life, cheeks pressed together, smiling like two little kids. It was the day Marcus proposed to her.
“And apparently,” Vanessa kindly pointed out, “you may be a racist, or a nationalist. Or some sort of Scotsman-hater in general.”
“I just wanted the man to wear pants. Who knew that once you found a man in Manhattan who was straight and single, you then had to worry about whether or not he wanted to wear pants?”
“The things we take for granted.” Vanessa sighed.
“Are we still talking about Douglas?” Jack asked, walking into Vanessa’s office, balancing three coffee cups in his hands. I picked a paper clip up off of her desk and began to unravel it. Vanessa’s desk was always neat and ordered with everything in its proper spot. The paper clips had their own tiny tray right next to her stapler and tape dispenser. She kept her pens and highlighters in a Howard University mug, right next to her Rolodex, right next to her
“It’s not like I’m obsessed with him, or anything,” I explained. I didn’t want Jack to worry about me. Or see how pathetic I was being. Jack had broken off an engagement six months prior and he never became completely unhinged about it the way I was over Douglas. In fact, six months later, he seemed totally fine about it. Well, I mean, I’m sure he was upset at the time — I’m not meaning to say he’s cold or some sort of monster or anything. It’s just that he didn’t seem to have to discuss it constantly with his friends in the ensuing days. Although maybe
