The F-Word

“Matt?” one of them says.

It’s Jack, my accountant. “Cancel my appointments,” I bark.

Jack looks bewildered. “I don’t even know where your calendar is.”

I laugh, but from the hasty scrape of feet as everybody gets out of my way, it isn’t a pretty sound.

“So what?” I say. “Neither do I.”

Two minutes later, I’m in my car, burning rubber.

* * *

One of the good things about driving is that it always has a calming effect on me.

Okay, it takes a while for that to happen this morning, but by the time I reach the city, I am in much better shape. I’ve figured things out and now I can act accordingly.

For starters, forget that nonsense about Bailey moving to Minneapolis. She’s a New Yorker to the bone. No way is she going to leave Manhattan.

Second, she’s not embarrassed.

All right. Maybe she is. A little. But mostly she simply needs assurance that what happened over the weekend won’t affect her career. And why would it? Fucking was a one-off. Well, maybe a three or four-off. Maybe, if I stop and count, a six-off. Actually, I have no idea how many times we made love—and, dammit, what does it matter if I say we fucked or we made love? The point is, I didn’t keep track. I was too lost in Bailey, in holding her, being with her. In that big bed. In the soaking tub. Over the back of the chair in front of that little writing desk. In that enormous shower and yes, on that teak bench although that time I sat her on the bench, went down on my knees, spread her thighs wide…

Honk!

I push the wheel to the right and avoid the truck coming at me. It’s the truck driver’s fault. What’s he doing, edging into my lane?

Okay.

I am not calm. Not yet. And I need to be calm if I’m going to make Bailey see what a huge mistake she’s making, giving up her job as my PA. She has a career here. And I need her. She’s a fantastic PA, the best a man could have. I’ll miss her talent for organization, her ability to make a difficult day seem easy…

Dammit.

I’ll miss her laugh. Her sense of humor. The way she stands up to me. And I never got around to teaching her anything substantive about football.

I am definitely not calm.

Deep breathing will do it. Mindfulness. Inhale. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Hold. And exhale. One. Two Three…

I am fine by the time I get to Bailey’s apartment building. I have a moment of panic when I spot the big truck parked in front of it. Is it a moving truck? No. It’s just a delivery truck. Of course it isn’t a moving truck. Bailey is not going anywhere, certainly not to Minneapolis.

There’s no place to park. There probably isn’t one for another twenty blocks. This is New York, remember? Not Minneapolis. Or Philadelphia. Or Boston. And yes, I know there aren’t parking spaces in those cities either, but that isn’t my point. My point is that my PA was meant for this town and she would never leave it.

That’s what I tell myself as I pull into a bus stop and get out of my car. It’s what I tell myself as I go to Bailey’s building and ring a bell at random so that somebody will ring back and let me in.

It’s what I tell myself as I go inside and take the steps two at a time.

It’s even what I tell myself as I punch her doorbell.

I must be out of shape, otherwise why would my heart be beating so fast?

I’m about to ring the bell again when I hear the snick of the peephole being opened. For the first time in maybe the last hour, I can actually breathe. Not the one, two, three, four, five stuff. Just breathe, in and out, because now I know she’s really still here.

I hear the peephole snick closed and I brace myself for what she’s going to say when she opens the door. I’ve thought about it in the car, coming here, and I know what it’ll be. She’ll tell me that we crossed a line by sleeping together over the weekend and I’ll tell her that she’s correct. We shouldn’t have done it. We should have left our relationship strictly professional and what happened was all my fault and we are adults and the past is the past. I’ll admit that not only don’t I want to lose her as my PA, I don’t want to lose her as my friend because she has become my friend in the last week. She always was my friend and I was too blind to see it.

I’m prepared to tell her all those things, but I can’t because she doesn’t open the door.

I ring the bell again.