Blogger Girl (28 page)

“Lofty aspirations! How many more pages is that?” my dad asked, his head peeking over the paper.

“Less than a hundred, I think.” I still had what remained of Thursday, all of Saturday and whatever writing time I could fit in before my flight on Sunday. Friday was a bust because my mom and I had massage appointments in the morning and shopping in the afternoon. And my parents’ over-50 community had a Friday happy hour that, according to my mom, was not to be missed. “I think I can do it.”

My mom stood up and began clearing the table. “I
know
you can do it!”

I smiled broadly at my mom. “Thanks for your faith, Mom!”

“Like I said, it’s about fucking time.”

***

Approximately 72 hours later, I typed “The end” right as the pilot announced we were beginning our descent into New York and LaGuardia Airport. I shut down my laptop and stored it in my carry-on bag which was stowed under my seat. My heart beat rapidly in excitement and I took a few deep breaths in and out to calm myself down. Then I leaned back against my seat, closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep that lasted the twenty remaining minutes of the flight. When I woke up, the other passengers were busy unlocking seatbelts and checking cell phones. Feeling hazy from my deep slumber, I practically slept-walked to baggage claim before waiting on the line for a cab to take me back home.

As I sat in the taxi, my fingers firmly gripped my carry-on bag as if I thought someone would reach into the car and steal it from me. I looked out the window toward the New York City skyline that awaited me and smiled even though I felt tears brewing behind my eyelids. Inside my carry-on bag was my computer and within the hardware of my computer laid my first completed novel. In the time I had been away, I had transformed from a chronic beginner of novels to a finisher.

I couldn’t wait to tell Nicholas.

WHEN I ARRIVED AT WORK
the next morning, I plopped a hard copy of my manuscript on my desk and immediately logged on to my computer to see what I had missed being out of the office for almost a week. The position of my keyboard and mouse pad had been shifted and so I knew a floater had sat at my desk, but Rob never asked floaters to do anything besides answer his phone and scan documents unless it absolutely could not await my return.

I deleted the “out of the office” and “available Rangers tickets” messages without bothering to read them and began scrolling through the remaining emails. My eyes darted up and down the list of bolded unread messages until one with the name “Nicholas” in the subject line came into my focus. I rushed back to the email and reading it more closely, saw that it said “Nicholas’ going-away party.” Feeling my heart in my throat, I steadied my trembling hands and opened the email.

Please join us on Thursday, June 21
^st
as we bid adieu to Nicholas as he embarks on his newest adventure. Our loss is The Soap Company’s gain. Destination TBD.

I let go of the mouse, dropped my hands to my sides and leaned back in the chair with my eyes closed as I let the news of Nicholas’ resignation sink in. Even though Nicholas hadn’t spoken to me in over a month, I had remained comforted by the fact that we worked together. Sharing an employer came with a built-in opportunity to see each other on a daily basis and I hadn’t lost hope that seeing him regularly might eventually lend itself to the possibility of reconciliation. But once Nicholas left the firm to work with the client, the best I could hope for was connecting his phone calls to Rob or putting him through to voicemail.

I opened my eyes and squeezed back the tears just as Rob came rushing around the corner on the way to his office. When he saw me, he stopped short in front of my desk, reminding me of Kramer from
Seinfeld
. “Long!” he said. “You’re back!”

I faked a smile. “You’re very observant, boss man.”

Pointing toward his office, Rob said, “Come in. I want to hear all about why it was imperative you take four days off with no notice.” He spoke in a stern voice but I could see from his twinkling eyes that he was joking.

I stood up and followed him to his office.

“Close the door,” he said. “Don’t want to be interrupted from quality time with my right hand.”

Already emotional over the news of Nicholas’ resignation, I hoped Rob’s kind words wouldn’t propel me over the edge. Hannah was right. I had never been much of a crier until I started dating Nicholas. I sat down on one of Rob’s guest chairs and watched him straighten out some files before leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on the desk. “So what’s the story?”

“The story is that I wrote a novel,” I said matter-of-factly.

Rob’s eyes bugged out in surprise and he returned his feet to the ground. Placing his elbows on the desk, he leaned towards me. “You wrote a novel?”

I nodded.

His eyes still wide, Rob said, “This week?”

At last a genuine smile escaped my lips. “Yup! Well, technically I didn’t write the entire novel this week since I had started it in high school, but I re-wrote it and finished a first draft while I was in Florida at my folks’ house.”

Rob grinned. “Kim! That is amazing.”

Not used to accomplishing anything described as “amazing,” I started to choke up again. “Thanks.”

“But what was with the urgency?”

“I was afraid if I didn’t strike while the iron was hot, I would change my mind. And I have been putting this off for ten years now already,” I confessed.

Rob nodded in understanding.

I bit my lower lip. “Please don’t tell anyone, okay? At least not until I’ve had a chance to tell Nicholas.”

Rob studied me for a moment and I was afraid he was going to ask for more details. “No problem,” he said.

My left leg tapping involuntarily, I said, “So Nicholas is leaving us, huh?” I cast my gaze downward for a beat, embarrassed by the thought of Rob knowing I was upset about it.

Studying me again, he said, “Yes. He got a really great offer.” He gave me a sly grin. “Normally I would be pissed about losing my best associate, but since he’s leaving to go with a client, it will solidify their relationship with the firm.” More to himself, he said, “I guess I should make some sort of formal announcement to the squad.”

I tried to summon an appropriate response but when none came, I nodded to show I was at least listening. Then I placed my hands on the chair and lifted myself up to a standing position. “I should get back to work.” I started walking out.

“Long.”

I turned around. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t you tell Nicholas about your amazing accomplishment? I’m sure it will make his day.”

Even though I wasn’t so sure I agreed with Rob, I gave him a closed-mouth smile. “I will.”

Before I could chicken out, I grabbed the copy I had made of my manuscript from my desk, placed it in a large manila folder and walked slowly to Nicholas’ side of the floor, feeling my hands shake with each step. I hadn’t so much as passed by his office since the morning after our argument, when I had overheard him laughing with Daneen.

He was reading a document with one hand scratching his head, and looked to be in deep concentration. I licked my dry lips, took a deep inhale and knocked softly on his open door.

His fingers still combing through his dark hair, Nicholas lifted his head. Looking a bit taken aback to see me standing there, he said, “Hi,” but it sounded more like a question than a greeting.

I planted a smile on my face. “I heard you were leaving us.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

Nicholas nodded. “Yeah. I got an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Attempting a joke, I said, “Is your new boss The Godfather? Did they threaten to kill you?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Nope. Not yet at least.”

“Well, I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” he said with a half smile.

“You’ll be missed.” I cleared my throat wishing I hadn’t said that.

Nicholas said, “Thanks,” again, sounding every bit as uncomfortable as me. Clearing his throat as well, he said, “Did you have a nice vacation?”

Happy my four-day absence had not gone unnoticed, I said with renewed confidence, “Yes! That’s one of the reasons I’m here actually.”

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “Oh?”

“You were right.”

“Oh yeah? What was I right about?

I took a deep breath and exhaled before confessing, “I do want to be a writer. I’ve
always
wanted to be a writer.” Butterflies did gymnastics in my belly as if they were training for the Olympics.

Nicholas touched his pointer and middle fingers to his bottom lip and smugly responded, “No shit,” but his eyes looked sad even as the corners of his mouth curled up in a smile.

I giggled. “That’s what my mom said. Well her words, to be exact, were, ‘it’s about fucking time.’”

Nicholas laughed but then closed his mouth and looked at me again with sad eyes. “Very cool, Kim.”

“There’s more,” I said. “I spent the week finishing the first draft of the novel I started in high school.” I placed the folder on his desk.

Running his hands along the folder, Nicholas’ jaw dropped as he stared at me for a moment. At last, he smiled wide, his brown eyes reflecting what appeared to be sincere happiness. “Wow, Kim. That’s really great!”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I said softly.

Nicholas argued, “Of course you could have.”

Not removing eye contact, I said, “But I
wouldn’t
have. Thank you.”

A faint blush painted Nicholas’ cheeks. “I feel silly taking any credit for such a major accomplishment on your part, but you’re welcome.”

“Nicholas, I’m so sorry.” I paused. “For everything.”

Nicholas nodded and looked down at the documents on his desk. “No worries.”

There was so much more I wanted to say like, “I miss you,” “I’m nothing like Amanda” and “Please forgive me” but I couldn’t bring myself to go there. I already felt extremely vulnerable as it was. I motioned my head towards the folder. “I printed out that copy for you. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to.” I shrugged.

He smiled again. “I would love to read it, Kim. You’re a talented writer and I’m sure it’s terrific.”

Feeling myself blush, I said, “Be kind. It’s just a first draft.”

Rolling his eyes, Nicholas chuckled. “I promise to give it 5 pink champagne flutes.”

I jerked my head back at his unexpected reference to my blog. Embarrassed, I said, “Okay, I should get back to work. I seriously doubt Rob gave the floater any work last week, which means it’s probably waiting for me.” I started to turn around.

“Kim?”

I looked at him, hoping he could read my mind and know how much I still liked him. I also wished he’d call me “Kimmie” again. Practically in a whisper, I said, “Yeah?”

Nicholas’ eyes met mine. “I’m sorry too.”

I swallowed hard. “For what?”

Scratching his head again, he said, “Daneen’s treatment of you was completely deplorable and I’m sorry I dismissed it. I should have stuck up for you.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay.” I wished I could tell him the shitter story but figured Daneen had been humiliated enough. I also wanted something to hold over her head indefinitely.

“I doubt she’ll treat you as badly once I leave.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Why’s that?” If he only knew that I would gladly be on the receiving end of Daneen’s condescension if it meant Nicholas wouldn’t quit.

“She was jealous.” A film of red blanketed Nicholas’ face and he smiled at me sheepishly. “I think she liked me.”

I nodded. “I know…”

“And I liked
you
,” Nicholas interrupted.

Not expecting to hear that, my mouth opened while I desperately searched for an appropriate response.
What about, “I liked you too. I still do.” Say it. Say it!

Breaking the awkward silence, Nicholas said, “I should get back to work.” Nicholas shifted his chair, turned toward his keyboard and without looking back at me said, “Congratulations again, Kim.”

As he began typing on his computer, I watched him in silence until I found my voice. I croaked out, “Um, thanks,” and walked back to my desk.

I SAT FORWARD
in the passenger seat, impatient to release my seatbelt as Caroline pulled into the parking lot of Palace Spa in Brooklyn. Although it was more like a European bathing house than a luxury spa, Caroline’s friend had raved about the place and at only $45 for unlimited use of the various hot tubs and outdoor pools for the day (massages were extra), it seemed reasonable enough for my limited budget. Caroline and Bridget were both stressed out over sudden growth in their careers, and between revising my novel, keeping up with my reviews and trying not to think about Nicholas’ impending last day of work, my stomach was in knots. We all needed pampering big-time.

After turning off her car, Caroline looked at me and then through her rearview mirror at Bridget. “Ready guys?”

Bridget squealed in excitement as she bolted out of the car. “Everyone out of the pool! Or in our case, everyone
in
the pool!”

I stepped outside and lifted my arms in a stretch. “
So
ready!”

Throwing her beach bag over her shoulder, Caroline grinned, said, “Let’s go then!” and started walking. Bridget and I locked arms and followed behind her. We looked at each other and giggled in anticipation of our afternoon of self-indulgence.

When we entered the facility, which looked more like a large warehouse than a palace, we were greeted by a young woman sitting behind a desk. My lips trembled as I glanced at Bridget out of the corner of my eye. The woman was wearing a bright pink and orange striped shirt and shorts set. I could tell Bridget was purposely avoiding eye contact with me, but her face was red and she was biting her lip. Grateful that at least Caroline was capable of showing some semblance of maturity, I followed her lead as we showed our driver’s licenses, paid our $45 fee and signed medical release forms. “Who knew European bathing houses were such serious business?” I muttered.