Stay Tuned (23 page)

“Melissa!” Chris was breathing hard and disheveled, his collar folded up in the back and a smudge of something dark near his tie. He looked like he’d been in a bar fight. “Let me explain.”

Beyond furious, I steeled myself, especially now that he was causing a scene. All over the restaurant, people stared. My pulse beat double-time and my hands shook as I steadied myself and sat back down the table.

“Why should I let you explain?” I whispered, trying to keep my emotions in check. “You’re almost an hour late and didn’t even bother to call.”

Chris hung his head. His shoulders slumped.

“I can’t stay here. I’m too upset.” I picked up his empty wine glass and waved it an inch from Chris’s face. “And I still have to do the ten with Rick.”

Eyes red-rimmed, he clenched his fists. “If you would just cool off for a second, and let me explain—”

“C-cool off?” I stammered and set the glass down. My eyes came to rest on the dirt spot on his shirt, which looked strangely like lipstick. Dark lipstick that wasn’t anything like the shade I wore. I couldn’t breathe.

He looked up at me, and then followed my eyes to the smudge.

Before Chris could react, I reached back, scooped up a huge handful of half-melted ice from the bucket, and didn’t bother to aim. Chris winced visibly when it hit his skin.

I raised an eyebrow and held one finger near the mark next to his tie. “Try taking a cold shower next time,” I whispered angrily.

“Melissa.”

“I have to go back to work.”

Eyes straight ahead, I stormed out of Blue Bistro with my head held high. My husband sat motionless where I left him.

Once outside, I fell apart and stumbled to the car, tears blinding me. Thankfully, it was getting dark. Maybe the few people still waiting for a table on the veranda couldn’t see my face.

My hands trembled as I reached for my keys and fumbled for the button to unlock the car door. Shaking, I managed to climb into the driver’s seat. Hands clutched to the wheel, I pulled out of the parking lot so fast I heard gravel kick up behind my wheels.

My rearview mirror caught a disheveled Chris coming out of the restaurant, his cell phone clutched in his hand.

I accelerated and sped down the street. My cell phone began to buzz. Chris, I saw from the caller ID. When I didn’t answer, he hung up and called again. And again.

As I pulled into the station parking lot, I switched off the phone. Talking to Chris wasn’t going to do any good right now. I didn’t want to listen. What was the truth? What was a lie? There was some point in time when I used to be able to tell the difference. Now I wasn’t sure anymore.

After the ten o’clock news, I went straight home. Chris was downstairs in the office, waiting for me. It was late, almost midnight; he was probably dozing.

I managed to get up the stairs and lock him out of the bedroom before he realized I was in the house. I switched off the light, crawled under the sheets, and turned up the volume on the television.

Minutes later, I could see the shadow of his feet where he stood. He hesitated before he put his hand on the doorknob and tried to turn it. He knocked once, twice, then again, louder.

I didn’t answer or move.

“Melissa.” Chris’s voice sounded garbled and broken. “Open the door. I need to talk to you.”

I inhaled and blew out the air in my lungs before I tried to speak. Every word hurt. “No.”

Chris was quiet then. His hand slid down the door. He jiggled the doorknob again. It wouldn’t budge more than a few millimeters in any direction, though I knew if he wanted to get inside the room bad enough, he could smash the door down or break the lock.

“Melissa. You have good reason to be upset with me,” he called. “I know that. I’m sorry I was late. I apologize a thousand times. I couldn’t get to the phone. I thought you’d already left the restaurant until I saw your car in the parking lot.”

A likely story. No phone? At a meeting? How much of his story did he think I was going to buy into?

Every muscle in my body ached. I rolled over on my side. It wasn’t healthy to be this upset, Dr. Freeman said so. I closed my eyes and pressed my head into the pillow. Legs curled up, I pulled the blanket over me and held the edge under my chin.

“Melissa—”

I sat up and cleared my throat. With the remote, I turned down the volume of the television low enough so that he could hear me clearly. “Chris. Go away.”

“I’m not leaving. Now or later.”

That was Chris’s answer. Fine. He could rot out there and lie in the hallway all night if that’s what he wanted to do.

One last time, I took the remote and turned up the volume loud enough to drown out anything Chris tried to say. He could beg all he wanted. He could cry and scream. With the pillow over my head, I tried to sleep. Except that didn’t work. Every time I drifted off into what seemed like a peaceful slumber, five minutes later I’d jerk awake with some horrible thought.

How long has this been going on? Why didn’t I know? How am I going to explain this to Kelly? To Candace? Where am I going to live? Should I move out? I can move to California, to be near Kelly. But wait. Shouldn’t Chris be the one to leave? He’s the one who screwed up, after all.

No, I wasn’t going to even think about it now. I just wanted to be left alone.

Propped up on my elbows on the bed, I peered into the darkness at the sliver of light from the hallway. No visible shoes or feet. Not even a hint of a shadow.

What time was it anyway? Infomercials were on instead of the news or sitcoms, so it had to be late. I squinted at the clock on the dresser, but couldn’t make out any numbers.

I grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels aimlessly. It was one o’clock in the morning. I had to get some sleep. I turned down the volume, a little at a time, expecting Chris to be in the hallway and start in again with the begging and pleading.

Nothing. The house was still. He’d probably left.

On tiptoes, I made it into the kitchen without making a sound. When I flipped on the light, Chris was waiting.

“Melissa.”

“Chris, I said no.”

“Please. Five minutes.”

I was wide-awake and angry. He might as well give me all of the rotten news all at once. “Fine. I’m listening.”

Chris paused and cleared his throat. He leaned back and put his head against the wall. “I’ve had some time to think about how this all must have appeared to you. How I’ve behaved. I’m not sure what you think, but I’d like the chance to clear a few things up. About work. About Tyler. And about my parents.”

I poured myself a glass of ginger ale and watched the bubbles as they rose to the surface and popped. “All right.”

Relief flooded Chris’s face. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Remember when I said something wasn’t right about Tyler’s promotion?”

I hugged my arms to my chest, listening.

“After that, I started doing some checking. I looked at business plans and proposals, went over my notes from meetings. Even talked to some clients about any recent adjustments to how the company’s been handling their financial goals. And specifically, any major changes that Tyler initiated.” Chris frowned and crossed his arms. “You’ve heard about some of the controversial issues with hedge funds?”

I nodded. “Sure. The Madoff Ponzi scheme.” I looked up at Chris. “But I’m sure some hedge funds are legit.”

“Sure. But they’re very volatile. You have to assume a ton of risk.” Chris ran a hand through his hair. “Here’s what I found out:
 
Tyler gathered up a bunch of clients, told them she’d invest in this very conservative fund that promised great returns. The idea was to get great returns with little chance of losing their investment.”

“Too good to be true?”

“Yeah, you could say that. The bottom line is that she lied and put all of the money into a hedge fund.” Chris paused and heaved a sigh. “If this comes out, Tyler could be looking at mail fraud and securities violations. Not to mention that if the hedge fund tanks, everyone loses their money, the company gets a huge black eye, we lose clients, and maybe our jobs.”

I let this digest. Oh, wow. I tried to comprehend what it all meant. “You have proof, right? What did everyone say?”

Chris shook his head. “They don’t know. Not yet anyway.”

“Go and tell them!” I urged. “You’ve got to!”

Silence hung in the air after my outburst. I watched Chris’s face flush and turn pale.

“What is it?” I asked quietly. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“There’s more,” he started, then hung his head. “Tyler, she wanted to…she tried to seduce me.”

Oh. The wind had been knocked out of me. I bit my lip to keep from crying.

Chris covered his face with his hands. “Nothing happened, Melissa. You’ve got to believe me. She tried to coerce me. Threatened to have my position eliminated if I told anyone what she’d done.”

I couldn’t stop the swirl of confusion in my head, like I was being sucked into a whirlpool.
Divorce. Move away. California. Kelly. New job.

Chris struggled to tell me the rest. “About a week ago, I confronted Tyler about the hedge fund and she twisted everything. She told me not to worry about it. Then, she started coming on to me.”

I pushed myself back and leaned on the counter, not sure if I wanted to hear the rest. It was as if I were hearing a story about some other couple. Friends, a neighbor, or a co-worker. Not us.

“Since then, she’s been touching me, suggesting we meet up after work, trying to get me to stay late. I avoided her until one of the other partners asked for help finishing a project. He wanted it done that night because he and Tyler needed to present it the next morning.”

Chris frowned. “Tyler knew all about it. She stayed late, too. She walked by my office ten times an hour. Right then, I knew she’d requested that I make the changes. They could have had any of the other associates finish up the presentation.”

I couldn’t say a word. I wanted to cover my ears and go back to bed, not listen to this. And it was only going to get worse.

“So, there’s a DVD camcorder in the boardroom. It’s used to tape and critique presentations.” Chris looked into my eyes. “I set it up to record, right before I went into the room to run through the changes.”

My hand flew to my lips.

Chris continued, “She didn’t have any idea, of course. Then, when everyone left the office and she came in, I recorded it all.”

“All…of what?” I was afraid to ask, but had to know.

“The whole thing.” Chris’ eyes narrowed. “She asked me to keep quiet about the hedge fund. When I said no, she started taking off her clothes.”

His words spilled out, quickly now. “I asked her to leave. She wouldn’t. She tried to kiss me. She told me she wanted to have sex in the boardroom. Right then and there. When I said no again, she lost it.”

“That…was all…recorded?” I felt sick. I could barely get the words out.

Chris nodded emphatically. “I’m positive. I checked, after Tyler finally left the room. She was in a rage. She threatened to have me fired if I didn’t do what she wanted.”

I closed my eyes to shut out the image.
Thank God I walked away from Rick. Thank God I didn’t let it go that far.

Chris sat silent, his eyes focused on the glow of the lamp.

“So what now?” I asked quietly. I wanted to believe that it happened the way he said.

Chris looked at me, then at the floor. “Melissa, I quit. The DVD will be delivered to the president of the company tomorrow—at his house—with my resignation letter. I explained about Tyler and the hedge fund. I made it clear that I couldn’t work for a manager who uses those sort of tactics.”

My head ached.
Is he telling the truth? What will happen now?

Chris kept talking. “I don’t want you to worry. We have savings and several mutual funds. And I can get something else. There are other opportunities; plenty of companies have approached me in the past. Hopefully, someone will hire me, even in this economy.”

He took a breath. “And, so, while we’re on the subject of money and people, if you still want to know, I’ll tell you what happened with my parents—”

The phone on the counter started to ring.

“Mrs. Moore?” It was the nursing home. The woman on the other line rushed to speak. “I apologize for the late call. It’s about your mother.”

“What’s wrong?” My heart contracted and released. I motioned to Chris. “Did something happen to Mother? Is she all right?”

“She started being a bit combative last night. Your mother wouldn’t eat, pushed her dinner away, threw her plate on the floor. Later, she slapped one of the nurses who tried to help her comb her hair and brush her teeth.”

I winced, the thought painful. “I’m so sorry.”

My regret was a minor speed bump.

“About twenty minutes ago, your mother tried to get out of bed. We think she fell, then tried to crawl toward the door. The nurses doing rounds found her on the floor. There’s a small bruise on her elbow. We just wanted to let you know what was going on. The doctor on call is checking on her now.”

“Thank you,” I said, already walking toward the door. “I’ll be there soon. I’d like to see her.” I looked at Chris. “Mother fell out of her bed and bumped her elbow. Her behavior’s getting worse. I need to see her.”

Chris blocked my way with his arm. “I’m going with you. I’ll drive.” He grabbed the keys to the car and hit the stairs. I gathered a comb from my purse and raked it through my hair.

Chris, already in the garage, cranked the engine when he saw me. The dashboard lit up and cast an orange glow as I slid into my seat and buckled in. We backed out of the driveway and onto the street. Chris didn’t hesitate, didn’t turn on the radio. The Volvo’s tires gripped the asphalt as we sped off.

I cursed Mother’s dementia. The disease. Cells being killed, hundreds at a time. The subtle changes were easier to overlook in the noise and daylight. More memory loss, confusion. Mother’s disconnect was easy to explain.

But what about Chris? When had this all happened? Why hadn’t he told me sooner?

In the darkness of the car, I searched for words, other explanations. For Mother, for Chris. All of it.

I stole a glance at Chris. He stayed focused, hands on the wheel, eyes on the street signs. One final turn.

Chris jerked the car to an awkward stop and cut the engine. The slam of our car doors echoed across the empty parking lot.

At the nursing home entrance, huge glass double-doors whisked open. The smell of antiseptic and cleaning solution permeated the air.

The doctor met us at Mother’s door. He talked quickly, in short bursts of medical jargon. Mother appeared to be fine. “We’ll do an x-ray in the morning to be safe, but her elbow doesn’t appear to be bothering her. Just bruised and tender.”

Chris and I exchanged a relieved look.

The doctor glanced at Mother’s chart. His thick finger ran down the top page. “The dementia. Diagnosed more than two years ago?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Sometimes, she’s her old self. She recognizes me and talks like nothing’s wrong. Then, other times, it’s like I’m a stranger and she gets upset and overreacts to things, even when people are trying to help her.”

“She is very confused tonight,” the doctor agreed, “which has made her agitated. We gave her something to help her rest and relax.” He stopped and made a note on Mother’s chart. “You can go in and see her now. Just for a moment, though. She’ll be sleepy. I’ll be back to check on her in a bit.”

Chris’s keys jingled as he set them down on the table next to Mother’s bed. Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, Mother seemed to recognize me. She blinked several times, as if she were trying to bring my face into focus, raised one hand, and started to speak.

“Nurse,
please,
could you bring me something to drink?” she asked, her voice weak. One finger lifted from the bed and pointed at the water pitcher. “I’ve asked so many times and no one will help me.”

“Mother, it’s me, Melissa.” I reached for the water pitcher carefully. “And Chris.”

Mother regarded us both with suspicion. “I don’t remember you.” She squinted at my husband. “What are you doing here? What do you want? Her voice raised an octave and her mouth started to quiver.

“Mother,” I repeated slowly, one hand on my chest. “Don’t you remember? I’m your daughter. Chris is your son-in-law.”

Mother twitched with confusion. “Nurse,” she called out.

The nurse on duty appeared in the doorway. It wasn’t Sharice. “It’s late. Everyone’s tired. I can understand you’d like to visit with your mother. But she’s in no condition to have visitors right now. After she gets some sleep, she’ll feel better.”

“All right,” I agreed.

The nurse’s eyes were full of empathy. “Maybe she’ll recognize you then.”

Chris led me back to the car. I was overwhelmed with disappointment. We rode home, the nurse’s words playing over in my head. Every now and then, Chris reached over and patted my hand. He didn’t need to say a thing. He knew.

Maybe she’ll recognize you then.