The Other Other Woman (11 page)

The next few days passed by at a snail’s pace. I tried to keep myself busy with my kids over the weekend, but I missed his Saturday call and Sunday texts. Maybe Monday…

Monday came and went too, but at least I was back in the routine at work. I started talking to Brooke more and more and thought she was a hoot. I was so glad to have a new friend and even more so to have a distraction.

I had set the clock on my phone so I could keep track of what time it was over in Ukraine. If I was getting ready to go to bed, he was probably just waking up. If I was waking up, he was probably at an orphanage. If I was eating lunch, he was probably getting shit-faced on Horilka (vodka) and whooping it up at some crazy party with his Ukrainian friends. From the way he had described it to me, they drink Horilka like water over there and it does a real number on him. He joked that he felt like he needed to check himself into rehab by the time he got back in the States.

On Tuesday evening I finally got a text from him.

Hey Mal, visited Kirovograd orphanage for girls yesterday, very productive trip, gave them art supplies and took care of some much needed repairs. Went to dinner party in a cabin out in middle of the woods. Hope you are okay. Phone calls can’t connect. IMU, Mattie.

That didn’t exactly fill me with the warm fuzzies I was looking for after not speaking for four days. But I was glad to hear from him nonetheless, and sent him one back.
Hope you’re having a good time, babe! Be safe, go easy on the vodka! I miss you!

No response.

The next afternoon, I happened to check my secret email account. Not because I expected anything to be there, but just because I missed him and wanted to re-read some previous emails. To my surprise, there was an email from his work address asking me if I had gotten his text. I couldn’t help but smile. I guess he hadn’t gotten my response after all. I had to be careful what I said. Not that anyone would know who Zoopie was, but I didn’t want to send anything inappropriate to his work address either. I was probably the only one that would see it, but sometimes my boss would go through my emails if things got really busy. I sent back a simple reply:
Yes, I responded… do I need to resend?

No answer. Boy, he wasn’t kidding about communication being spotty.

A day later I got another text, but it was more of the same:
Hey Mal, went to Pantaijvka today, the whole place is in terrible shape and the kids need so much. Need to have a long talk with director to get a plan in place, so sad and disappointing. Matt

My heart sank. Cripes, man, throw me a friggin’ bone here. Are you my uncle now or something? All I wanted was for him to miss me just a little bit. I was falling apart over here missing him. I responded:
Sorry to hear that, hope you can get them straight.

Well, this is stupid
, I thought. I wasn’t going to worry about it anymore and just see how things were once he got back. He obviously had a lot going on over there and a lot on his mind.

Friday I was in my office going through emails. I was habitually bad about putting them off until the week’s end and then would have to spend several hours Sunday night trying to get caught up. It didn’t take me long to notice that my old friend Katya was back, emailing him constantly. What I noticed even faster, though, was that he was quickly responding to her within minutes of her email, all throughout the day. Communication is spotty, MY ASS.

Now I know he couldn’t email me anytime he wanted because it was coming from his work address. I got that. But I was getting these business-like texts every few days and he was talking to her nearly every day?! To be fair, they were all about her job. She had finally gotten a job with an annuity company, which was conveniently located in the very same office building as him. She had just started it and was already having second thoughts about her ability to stay there. Welcome to the real world, toots.

But her emails had this sense of intimacy toward him that I just couldn’t shake. She seemed unjustifiably upset that she wasn’t able to talk to him.

__________________________

From: Katya Batsevich

Sent: Sunday, June 17th. 7:54 p.m.

To: Wynne, Matt

Subject:

I don’t think I can do this job… I’m scared

__________________________

From: Wynne, Matt

Sent: Monday, June 18th. 4:50 a.m.

To: Katya Batsevich

Subject:

You can TOTALLY do it, have a great first day

__________________________

From: Katya Batsevich

Sent: Tuesday, June 19th. 6:51 p.m.

To: Wynne, Matt

Subject:

It is so frustrating I can never TTY anymore. I don’t think I can do this. Was listening to this guy cold calling… This SUX! I don’t know anyone here! :(((

__________________________

From: Wynne, Matt

Sent: Wednesday, June 20th. 1:30 a.m.

To: Katya Batsevich

Subject:

Cold calling is a minor part of the business! You’ll be fine!

__________________________

From: Katya Batsevich

Sent: Wednesday, June 20th. 11:19 a.m.

To: Wynne, Matt

Subject:

I am super frustrated and disappointed this can’t work out. I can’t do this. Nothing matters anymore.

__________________________

From: Wynne, Matt

Sent: Wednesday, June 20th. 7:36 p.m.

To: Katya Batsevich

Subject:

It is going to work out. I need it to work out.

I need it to?!
I’m sorry, but what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Why did HE need this job to work out so well for her? My heart began pounding and I felt like my blood was about to bubble over in my veins. I didn’t know what the hell he had going on with this chick, but I didn’t like it one bit. I’m a fairly laid-back individual. I don’t completely lose my shit that often, but when I do, it’s impressive. And I was about to impress the hell out of him at that moment. Without even thinking, I shot off a text to him immediately. He was probably heading to bed for the evening.
Good, maybe he’ll lose some sleep over it,
I thought.

Just what the hell is going on with you and that girl? I get your all-business texts every couple of days but you have time to talk to her all day long!? Is this all just some stupid game to you?! Here I am missing you and for what? So you can reassure her about her job IN YOUR BUILDING?! I am not stupid, Matt.

Radio silence. That fucking jackass.

I stayed up late that night, knowing that he would be waking up soon and that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t gotten my text before he fell asleep. I’m still not sure if he got it and ignored it, or had just read it that morning. But he did respond.

Mallory, I know you are not stupid. She is a family friend for many years. High strung. You are the ONLY one I am physical with. Not playing games at all, will show you when I get back home. Will call Sunday when I get to ATL. IMU

Okay, deep breaths, deep breaths. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe she was just a family friend. After all, she sent these emails to work where everyone knows they are monitored. Maybe I was just going a little bit crazy from not having my normal contact with him. I tried to relax and remind myself that he would be coming home on Sunday and I needed to just wait and deal with him then.

As promised, he called me once he was back in the States. His flight had been re-routed to New York first due to some storms in Atlanta, so he had a long layover waiting for a flight back home. He and his traveling companions had parted ways and gone off to their own gates. I was almost too nervous to answer the phone.

“Hey sweetie!” he said, sounding perfectly cheerful. “How are you, honey?”

“Hey stranger,” I replied, a bit guarded. I immediately broke down into those pathetic silent tears when I heard his voice on the other line. I wasn’t about to let him know how hard the last week had been for me.

He launched into how crazy his flights had been and how he ended up in New York instead of home. He told me more about his visits: how the directors are having trouble just covering the basic needs of the orphans with what little funding they receive and how he planned to help. He asked what he had missed on "Mad Men" and basically acted like everything was totally normal between us. I was glad I hadn’t pissed him off too much with my text, but it wasn’t until I got off the phone that I realized we had not said one single word about that entire situation. I was just so relieved to have him on the phone with me that I hadn’t paid attention, and before I knew it the conversation was over.

He texted to let me know when he finally got back to Atlanta.

Home safe, sooo tired. Talk tomorrow!

The next day he called me as usual, but he was completely exhausted. “Oh my God, babe, I can barely keep my eyes open! I’m already on my third cup of coffee!”

“Then why don’t you go home and sleep, dummy?”

“I can’t! I wish I could, but I’ve never been able to sleep like that. It’s going to take me a good three or four days to recover from the jet lag.”

“What do you mean? You can’t ever just take a nap?”

“Not really, I have a hard time staying asleep at night as it is. If I took a nap, I’d be awake at 3:00 in the morning!”

“Well that’s too bad for you, because I can sleep anytime, anywhere. You just let me know when you need me to sleep, and I can make it happen!” I taunted.

“Man, I wish I could do that.”

“I wish you were here. I bet I could get you tired enough to fall asleep…”

“I bet you could too, and that sounds like a helluva lot more fun than jet lag!”

He was back. My Mattie was back, definitely more tired and a little subdued over the next few days. But by Friday he was his old flirty self again, calling me baby, and asking me what I was wearing. I pretended not to notice that we hadn’t even discussed the texts about Katya. I just saw no good opportunity and now a week later, no real reason to bring it up. But don’t think I didn’t notice that the emails from her to him had completely stopped. He must have asked her not to send him emails at work. I wondered what possible reason he could have given her. She wouldn’t need to email him if she was in his building now. I still felt like there was something not quite right going on. The whole situation made my stomach hurt.

That next Friday I was leaving for Chicago. The message board group where I had become friends with Cecilia had been together now for over 10 years. With about 400 members, we were located all over the country. We had women in every state who worked in just about every industry imaginable, so it was really just a wealth of both friendship and information. We had all gotten to know each other pretty well and had set up several get-togethers in the bigger cities. I had previously been unable to attend all but one small one in D.C., usually because of my ex’s employment issues. This time, I was meeting about 15 of my closest internet friends at the swanky Sofitel Hotel for a weekend of drinking, dancing, and debauchery.

I kept toying with Matt, asking him if he was sure he didn’t have any clients in Chicago. My return flight home was actually going through Atlanta, but with only a 45 minute layover, not enough time for us to actually see each other. He promised we would stay in touch over that weekend since I wouldn’t have to worry about my kids being around and what showed up on my phone. As soon as I got into the hotel room, I texted him a picture of the bed I was going to be sharing with Angie, one of my friends from Maryland, with
Wish you were here
written across it.

Would like to dance on that bed tonight,
he replied.

I’d like to dance IN that bed with you.

Let me just hop on a plane, see you in 6(??) hours, sweetie…

Very funny, but you’re going to have to settle for pictures I think.

Personal demo is better. BTW, I want you.

The feeling is very, very mutual. Very
. I responded. I was grinning from ear to ear. Angie was eyeing me suspiciously like, “Who the heck are you texting?”

Hey, I finally broke down and got an iPhone today. But I think I hate it.

Yay Mattie! Welcome to the 21st century! You’ll get used to it, just give it time, I hated it at first, too
. It was neat to see his texts now come across as blue instant messages instead.

Throughout the rest of the evening, I texted him silly pictures of us doing shots, dancing in clubs, and making complete drunken asses of ourselves in general. I was having one of the best times of my life, but I still wished he could have been there with me. I knew he would have loved it.

Angie and I were shopping on Michigan Avenue when he called me that Saturday around lunchtime. I told her I had to take a call and stepped away. He sounded pretty upset. Apparently Ivan was arrested late the night before for underage DUI and consumption down in Sharpsburg. Ivan had always been his troubled kid. They had always butted heads, practically from the day he was adopted nine years ago.

“I let my kid spend the night in jail, Mal. He’s still down there in a Coweta County holding cell!”

“Well, what else were you supposed to do?”

“I could have bailed him out last night, I guess. But I’m always bailing him out of everything. I’m sure he expected me to this time. Speeding tickets, car accidents, it never ends with him. I feel really guilty that I let him stay there, but I still don’t want to go get him!”

“I would have done the same thing, babe,” I replied. “He’s had it so good for years and it seems like he could use a little tough love right now. What are you going to do now? Is he still going to live at home?”

“He has no place to go. And no money. He’s been looking for jobs but they are crappy part-time minimum wage ones.”