What Was I Thinking? (10 page)

Done! I snagged the gym bag in one hand and my
purse in the other, and headed across the street to the Hilton.

My plan worked. I was the first one in the
conference room Friday morning, fresh, reasonably rested, fully costumed, and
calmly catching up on email as the others straggled in. I’d had some time alone
at my desk first—surely the first Gibson Girl ever to use a computer—and had
left a phone message for Mike’s that I would pick up my car today and would
they leave a message with the total I owed them. I emailed Cassie and lied that
I was sorry to miss her and would try to get in contact over the weekend.

Then I read Bert’s email again. Like mine, it
was short. “Yes, I did send flowers.
Three bouquets.
I
hope you like them. Please, may I call?
Yr.
obd
.
svt
,
B.R
.”

He hadn’t sent another, and he still hadn’t
explained why he didn’t just call. So I had locked my desktop and gone to the
conference room, still thinking about a reply.

Finally, I tapped in, “Bert, the flowers are
beautiful, and I love the poem. I don’t understand anything else, especially
why you need permission to call. I’ll be busy at work all day and I don’t know
when I’ll get a break, but you’re welcome to telephone at lunch. If I’m free,
we can talk. Otherwise, leave a message about when I can call back.
Your confused
fri
…” no.
Too flippant, especially since I really didn’t know what was up with him. I
backspaced, and just signed it “Addie.”

That done, I was scrolling through meeting
invitations, project updates, and work-based spam, when everyone else straggled
in.

No one said “Addie! You’re the first here! Good
for you!” They also didn’t say “Addie, it was wrong of us to laugh about you
being late. We know this is the real you and the only reason you’ve been late
recently is that you’re having a hard time. Forgive us.” But I wasn’t
surprised, and I was very happy just not to get any new sarcasm.

The performance for Banerjee went fine, as far
as I could tell, and I successfully changed into street clothes, slipped out,
bought a new outfit, and got back to my desk undetected.

Of course, after all that stress and build-up,
the boardroom performance hadn’t been worth it. Banerjee barely glanced up from
his breakfast, and I’m not sure if he would have noticed if we’d done the whole
thing in cheerleader costumes.

The rest of the project team was tired too, and
most importantly, Campbell was tired, so it was a peaceful morning. Campbell
kept his office door
closed,
probably napping, I
thought, and everyone else hunkered down in their cubes.

At noon I took a cab to Mike’s and picked up my
car, only swooning a little at the price as I handed over my Visa. I didn’t
breathe until the approval came through. The hotel the night before had pushed
me closer to my limit than I liked to be, and then this was higher than
expected, though not high enough for the deductible to kick in.

But the charge cleared, I was happy to have my
cute, blue car back, and I was happily driving back to work when my phone rang.
Don’t tell anybody, but I answered. It was Bert.

The first thing he said confused me. I should
have gotten used to that. “This is Bert telephoning, but I don’t understand why
you asked me to.”

Okay, I was prepared to forgive him, given the
flowers and the poem, but honestly!

I spoke slowly, enunciating with exaggerated
patience. “Bert, you asked permission to call. So I told you what time would be
convenient. It was your idea. I did not ask you to. If you don’t want to talk
to me, don’t.”

“What? Why no, I didn’t ask to telephone, I
asked to call. Won’t you see me?”

“Bert, you are giving me a headache. Make
sense, or let’s just forget we ever met. You asked to call, I said you could,
you called me just now, and now you’re saying you didn’t ask, while admitting
in the next breath that you did ask. What do you want?”

“I want to call upon …” I made a little
growling sound at the back of my throat, and he started over. “I wish to see
you in person, to make a formal apology for my appalling behavior. I have tried
several times to call upon you, but the door to your building was locked, and I
was unable to rouse a doorman. So I sent flowers, in hopes that it would move
you to notify the doorman that I was to be admitted.”

Was he loony, or was I?

“Bert, I don’t have a doorman, outer doors to
apartment buildings are always locked so only residents can get it, and I have
absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh. May I see you this afternoon? Perhaps you
could meet me at the door?”

I sighed. What was wrong with this guy? “Bert,”
I said, still acting patient, but not really trying very hard. “I am at work
today. It is a weekday, a
work
day. I
cannot meet you or anyone else anywhere until I’m finished with work, just like
normal.”

“What? But
a lady like
you? I just assumed you could excuse yourself whenever…” he trailed off, and I
didn’t even try to guess what was going on in his odd brain. I wondered if Mrs.
Peacock could explain. Maybe in 1904 people didn’t have to stay at work all
day, or “ladies” got special privileges.
Would be nice.

But this was reality, and I was back in the
parking garage at work. “Bert, I’ve got to go. If you really want to see me in
person, send an email about a time and place
during the weekend
and I will let you know if I can make it.”

“Oh.
Very well.”
He
sounded confused, but that made two of us. I wasn’t usually so abrupt, but I
had had all the annoyance I could take for seven short days.

“Goodbye, Bert. Talk to you later.” I pressed
the button and dropped the phone back into my purse.

I did feel bad about being abrupt, though. I
never wanted to be one of those people who thought their own bad day
constituted a license to be mean to the people around them.

Which meant I was an easy mark
when Pete met me at my cube and asked if I’d go see a movie with him that
night.
If my guilt hadn’t been so great, I would have remembered that he’d
been no help at all in the meetings or with my transportation problems all
week, and that we didn’t have a good time last weekend, but he picked his
moment right and I said yes.

Which, in turn, I was sorry about when I got an
email from Bert an hour later, asking if I would forgive the tardy invitation
and go to supper with him. I shook my head. Nothing was breaking right this
week.

I sent a quick note that I was busy tonight,
but could see him over the weekend, and went to the weekly department meeting.
At least I could sit in the back and zone out.

When I got back to my desk, there was an email
from Bert asking me to meet him at the zoo on Saturday at one. I said yes. I
had loved the St. Louis Zoo ever since my first visit during orientation week
at Wash U. I always jumped at a chance to go.

The movie date was fine, but unremarkable. Pete
was Pete—nice, medium good-looking, on the good side of ordinary in every way
except his relentless good humor and excitement. That worked out well for
viewing a romantic comedy, though. We went out for drinks after, talked about
the movie for a while, and then he took me back to my building, and kissed me
goodbye downstairs. It, too, was fine but unremarkable. Just sort of an
acknowledgement that you kiss at the end of a second date if it wasn’t too
horrible and the person wasn’t repulsive. I didn’t mind and I didn’t love it.
It was fine.

When at last I was free of
Pete,
and alone in my own apartment, I took a hot shower and dropped into bed, not
setting an alarm. I thought I more than deserved a chance to sleep in on
Saturday after the week—make that two weeks—I’d had.

I got up just in time to eat a little peanut
butter toast and check my email before it was time to meet Bert at the zoo. I
wasn’t sure, given the start time, whether he was planning on us having lunch
together. I figured I’d eat enough to get by without lunch, but little enough
to be able to do lunch if he suggested it.

All in all, I was feeling pretty refreshed and
upbeat as I cracked open my first Diet Coke of the day and booted up the
laptop. That was the end of that. I just don’t learn. Email is
not
my friend.

There was a notice from Visa that I’d exceeded
my limit, but they’d very kindly covered me, for the consideration of an
over-limit fee, extra interest, and a threat of extra fees if I didn’t catch up
soon. Thanks, guys. It would have been embarrassing to have the card rejected,
but if I’d known, I would have chosen the embarrassment and put the car repair
on my debit card instead.

And…there was a message from Campbell. Not
opening it until Monday, at work. I didn’t get paid enough to work weekends
too, and I wasn’t setting that precedent, no matter how the suspense got to me.

And a message from Cassie, with the subject
Why Aren’t You Calling Me Back??!!
“Think about it, Cass.” I muttered. “Or better yet, read the email I sent you!”
I would open that one later, too.

Ah—a new set of safari pictures from Kelly. I
opened it, read the short, cheerful message quickly, and looked through the
photos. At least someone was happy, and the pictures were great.

A glance at the time on the screen sent me
scrambling, and I turned off the laptop and stuck it in the closet. I had to
get ready for the zoo and I didn’t want to deal with email anymore this
weekend. Childish to put it where I didn’t have to see it, I know, but it pleased
me, and who would know?

I pulled on
jeans,
a
nice polo shirt in a deep rose that Tad once told me was a good color for me,
and a pair of comfy cross-trainers. My feet were as tired of work clothes as
the rest of me. I stared in the mirror at my hair, checked the time, and
admitted defeat. I didn’t have time to tame the curls and it was too hot to
wear my hair down outdoors anyway. I put it in a French braid.

I looked too pale and tired to skip makeup, so
I put on just the minimum and headed out the door.

Chapter Six

Humans and Animals

Bert was waiting at the main gate, looking
starched and stiff in pressed khakis, blue oxford shirt, and polished loafers.
I had to smile. He was so serious, and so careful. And I seemed to be getting
fond of him in spite of last Saturday.

My smile disappeared. That aftermath to the
kiss had hurt my feelings a lot and I wasn’t up for it happening again. We had
to talk first thing.

Bert saw me, and his face lit up with a smile.
That was heartwarming. I smiled back in spite of myself. “Miss Hull, it’s so
good of you to come.” Okay, weird again.

He took my hand formally, and then didn’t seem
to know whether to kiss it or shake it or what. He let it drop awkwardly, and
started to move toward the gate. “Let’s go in, shall we?”

“Not yet, Bert.
We really need to talk, and we
might as well do it before we go in. Let’s head over to that bench,” I pointed,
“and sit down for as long as it takes.”

He seemed surprised, and a little taken aback,
but he agreed. “All right,” he said slowly. “Yes, quite.
If
that is your preference.
I certainly owe you a thorough apology.”

I nodded and headed for the bench. He followed.

I sat down and he stood uncomfortably in front
of me. “Miss Hull, I most sincerely—”

“Oh, for God’s sake sit down, and call me
Addie. Just tell me what all this is about, okay?”

He looked
very
taken
aback, and looked around as if worrying that someone had overheard. He sat down
beside me, took a deep breath, and started again. “Mi—Addie, you know quite
well how dreadfully inappropriately I behaved, and I scarcely know—”

I interrupted again. It wasn’t like me, but I
was extremely cross, and it was hot out. “Bert, I know nothing of the sort. As
far as I know, we had a lovely evening, you kissed me, I kissed you back, and
then you started acting like I’d attacked you. It was humiliating.”

He started to speak, but I gave him a look that
would freeze a lesser man, or at least
Tad,
and he
subsided.

“I do not throw myself at men, I would not have
kissed you if you hadn’t kissed me and acted very much as if you were into it,
and I was extremely embarrassed and hurt when you acted as if I had somehow
forced you. And then you drove me straight home, barely said good night, and
never called. Days later, I get anonymous flowers. I would like to know what
the
hell
you’re playing at, and which
parts, if any, of all of this you actually meant.”

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of
times, and then just sat staring at me. “That’s it,” I said. “I’ve had my say.
Now it’s your turn to talk. Or we can just call it a day. Your decision, but
I’m not waiting more than sixty seconds for you to speak.” I pulled out my phone
and tapped the time on the screen to make my point.