“And I specifically remember us starting to talk at some point the following day, which was also yesterday. You’ve had plenty of occasions since then,” I said.
“I tried talking to you and then a murder happened!”
“No, no, no.” I held up a finger. “Don’t twist reality on me. A murder happened, and that trauma led us to talk again.”
“Could you please stop breaking down our lives as if they were the scenes in one of your scripts?” He had the gall to tell me.
“And could you stop stalling? Why didn’t you tell me that the newspaper of your dreams, the place you’ve been wanting to work at since you were a kid, was offering you a staff position? Not a contractor one but one with silly perks, health insurance, and a good salary.”
“Decent salary,” he corrected.
“But health insurance?” I needed to double-check.
“Health insurance,” he confirmed.
“So why didn’t you share the good news?” My bad feeling was starting to morph and causing me to go from anger to fear. He didn’t share the news because he was going to leave me.
“Because it wasn’t actually good news,” he finally said. And when he did, I could almost see the relief on his face.
“You’re going to have to keep talking because I’m not getting it,” I said. I needed to hear him saying it.
“I was told in so many words that the only reason a position was now being offered to me was the fact that I had beenseparatedfrom you for an extended period of time.”
“Because I’m tainted,” I said.
“Because of your link to city hall,” he explained. “A metro reporter can’t be entangled with city hall.”
“That’s ridiculous. Lots of journalists have conflicts of interest. That’s what author pages are for. You disclose all the reasons why you shouldn’t be objective and write about what you’re writing about nonetheless. Didn’t you tell them that?”
“I didn’t because when the offer was extended to me, you and I weren’ttechnicallyhaving a”—I could see him thinking and measuring each one of his words—“common relationship.”
“Are you kidding me? We were fucking on a daily or bi-daily basis.” I fumed. “It doesn’t get more common than that.”
“You weren’t talking to me, and you were seeing someone else in an official capacity.”
I could hear my heart beating so hard, I was sure it would burst from my chest.
“So what, you were going to break up with me? Are you breaking up with me?”
“Elena, I don’t know what I was going to do,” he said. “I couldn’t break up with you because we were nothing. I couldn’t even have a conversation about it with you. You’d made sure of that. But I also didn’t want to give up whatever crumbs of a connection we had.”
“But you thought about it,” I said. “Oh my god! I’ve been so stupid. All this time, I thought you were as mad at theVoiceas I was because they published that awful article. But it wasn’t that. You couldn’t care less about what they were saying about me, about you, even. You were mad because you realized they’d found out about us, and they would no longer want you in their ranks!”
“You’re making it sound very calculating on my part. I’m not as obsessed with my career.” I probably gave him the vilest of looks. “Don’t get mad at me because I love my job. You do too!”
“But no one at my job tells me who I can and cannot fuck!”
“Elena, conflict of interest policies are common at all workplaces. You just don’t have to observe one because you don’t have a job,” he said, and he only realized the blow he’d just dealt me after he saw my face.
The man I had adored, and who I somehow had allowed back in my life, also believed that I was nothing but a silly, jobless nepo baby. One who deluded herself into thinking she was a screenwriter even when everyone else knew that, at present, she was simply a professional procrastinator.
I recall him trying to apologize. I just didn’t pay him any more attention. He even followed me around the place and probably tried dissuading me from leaving, but I grabbed my cell phone, got out, jumped in the car, and headed home.
31
Iknow I shouldn’t have been behind the wheel considering I was angry and in shock—and that my abilities as a driver are already somewhat impaired on a good day because I get easily distracted. It’s possible that I was also crying, but I would prefer not to acknowledge it. While my head was still going over the argument I just had with David, I decided not to take the freeway and to let the car do most of the steering.
Breaking up with two boyfriends on the same day had been mentally but also physically exhausting. Then again, that’s what you get when you’re a morally dubious woman, I guess. One who keeps two men on the side. I’m sure Marky Fitzsimmons would tell me that served me right for my impropriety and sluttery.
