I'm Fine and Neither Are You

I turned back to him with surprise. “Yeah. But if you knew that, why’d you interrupt me during the presentation with Nancy Weingarten?”

He squirmed. Good—let him. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Being a jerk is kind of my default state, but I’m trying to work on it.”

Men in fancy shorts were now doing hand-to-hand combat on the TV. Russ and I both watched them for a minute.

“Thanks for apologizing,” I said.

“I should have earlier.” He took another drink of his beer. “So what’s next, Penny?”

For a second, I thought he was talking about that evening. I was about to tell him I planned to go home, have dinner, and tuck my kids in when he added, “You know. After this gig. You can’t possibly want to do this for the rest of your life.”

“Yolanda gave you the talk about whether you were happy in development, too?” I said.

He frowned. “No.”

“Oh. Well, she and I had a meeting last week, and she asked me if I was happy and wanted to know what she could do to, quote, ‘incentivize me.’” I eyed him. “You’re not allowed to use that against me, by the way.”

He held up his hands in a show of innocence. “I would never. But it’s not a surprise she asked you that. She’s probably worried you’re going to leave, which would make her job a hell of a lot harder. And mine, if we’re being honest.”

“I’m not going anywhere, but even if I did, you could easily run the department yourself,” I said.

“Not as well.”

“I don’t believe that, but the whole thing is beside the point. To answer your question, for the foreseeable future, next is just paying bills and saving for college and retirement and keeping my family afloat. It’s lucky that I’m good at development—it pays better than a lot of things. So, I’ll ask for a raise at my review. If Yolanda ever leaves I’ll try for her job, even though it’s more likely to go to you or some other white dude. The plan is to keep on keeping on.” The drone of my voice was as riveting as the sound of highway traffic, but there was no way to make this admission remotely interesting.

Russ smirked. “You sound excited.”

I looked down at my drink, wondering how to respond. Then I thought, Why not just tell him the truth? “I used to think I’d write books one day. Kids’ books.” It was strange to admit this dream, which I’d had stashed away for so long that it had practically begun to mildew. “So sometimes the idea of staying in development another five to ten years makes me want to stab myself with a ballpoint pen.”

“Really? I didn’t know that about you.”

“Yup.”

“When’s the last time you wrote something? I mean a story, not a donor report.”

“It’s been a while,” I confessed. “As in seven years.”

His eyes widened. “That’s not like you, Pen.”

“I know, but I’m exhausted when I get home at the end of the day, and my kids completely dominate my weekends.”

“Well, is there anything you can do about that? You probably don’t have to work as hard as you do.”

“Says the guy who tosses his own projects at me.”

He shrugged. “You can say no, you know. You’re already excelling.”

Yes, I was. And suddenly I knew the answer to Yolanda’s question about what would make me happier in my position. “Do you think there’s any chance Yolanda would let me go down to 80 percent at some point?”

“Like take Fridays off?”

“Yeah. But that’s probably insane, isn’t it? Yolanda’s constantly on me to perform better. Reducing my workload is the opposite of that.”

“I have a feeling you’re wrong about that. But you’d have your salary cut. Could you swing that?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. If Sanjay landed the communications job, I might be able to, but I wasn’t one to count my chickens while they were still in the shell.

I didn’t have a chance to tell Russ that, because Minna, our alumni relations chair, had just popped up behind us. “Hey, you two! Whatcha doin’?”

I could drink two pots of French roast and still not be half as chipper as Minna. “Just talking shop,” I said.

“You going to join us plebeians at some point?” she said, motioning toward the long table at the back of the bar where our coworkers had gathered.

“Yeah, we’ll head over to you guys in a minute,” said Russ.

As she bounced away on the balls of her feet, I turned to Russ. “What about you? What’s next? Any secret dreams?”

“I only ever wanted to make good money without working too hard. The good news is, that’s what I’m doing.” He smiled self-consciously. “I’d like to get married one day, too. Maybe have some kids.”

As my eyes met his, I felt it again—the uncomfortable realization that yes, I was attracted to him. He wasn’t the kind of man I’d want to date, let alone procreate with, but I would probably go to bed with him if I weren’t married.

Which was deeply unsettling. I wasn’t worried about cheating—like Sanjay, that was simply off the table for me. But why was it so easy to think about sleeping with someone completely inappropriate instead of with the person I’d vowed to love for the rest of my natural life?

Really, Russ and I had nothing in common outside of work. Why had we just slipped into the kind of easy conversation I wanted to be having with my husband?

I broke Russ’ gaze. “This has been fun,” I said, “but I really need to get going.”

He looked confused. “You’re not going to go say hey to the minions?”

“Nope. It’s been a long day.” A long summer, really. “I want to make sure I have a chance to spend some time with Sanjay.” Yes—I needed to get home and see if maybe we could somehow share the kind of moment I’d just had with another man.

When I got home, the kids were on the sofa watching a movie, and Sanjay was at the dining room table in front of his laptop. His headphones were on, and his fingers were drumming the table to the beat of whatever music he was playing. He probably missed his band.

He took off his headphones when he saw me. “How was it?” he said.

“Fine.” I sat on the bench and took off my shoes, wondering if my face hinted at my guilty conscience. Nothing would ever happen between me and Russ; I knew that instinctively. But I would have felt a lot better if I were so incredibly attracted to and engaged by my husband that I couldn’t even entertain the thought of being with someone else. “Happy hour’s kind of an oxymoron when coworkers are involved. Russ and I had a nice chat, though.”

“That’s good.” I waited for Sanjay to ask me what we’d chatted about, thinking maybe I could somehow tell him that now I sort of understood his situation with Christina. But the question never came. “Hey,” he said, already looking back at his computer, “the kids are fed and bathed, lunches are made, and there’s a plate wrapped up for you on the counter. Do you mind if I go back to working on this? I want to finish another page or two before I call it a night.”

I sighed, feeling defeated. So much for connection. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll put the kids to sleep after their show. I’m going to go change.”

I’d just put on a nightgown when my phone, which I’d left on the dresser, lit up.

It was Matt.

I have been thinking about our last conversation and have realized that I need some space. Unfortunately, this means that I’m going to have to put your visits with Cecily on hold for a while. I’ll reach out when I’m ready.

I stared at my phone. I wasn’t sure whether to scream or cry, so I pressed my hands to my face, which was already flushed.

I had done the right thing by being honest and direct.

And now I had to live with the consequences.

TWENTY-FOUR

“You should see a doctor,” said Sanjay. It was the following morning, and he was standing over me with a thermometer in one hand and a bottle of ibuprofen in the other.

“Leave me,” I croaked. I didn’t need my temperature taken to know I didn’t have the flu, or even a cold. I just . . . couldn’t get out of bed.

“Mommy? Are you sick?” Stevie was peering at me from behind Sanjay. She looked worried.

Yes—heartsick, I thought. I didn’t know when I’d be able to see Cecily again, and that was my fault. My father had cancer and didn’t want me to be involved with his treatment—or really, any other part of his life. My husband was attracted to another woman and I was attracted to another man. My harebrained attempt to save our marriage was having the opposite effect.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so hopeless.

Actually—yes, I could. It was the instant I realized Jenny was really and truly dead.

“I’m going to be fine,” I told Stevie. My eyelids were so heavy that I might as well have been sick. “I’ll feel better after I take a nap.”

“You can’t nap in the morning,” said Miles. He looked as concerned as Stevie, and for a moment I wondered if they might be making a connection between my illness and Jenny’s death. The thought flew out of my head as fast as it had landed.

“Watch me,” I said, and fell fast asleep.

When I awoke it was noon and I was alone. I had emailed the office after I woke up that morning to say I wasn’t feeling well and would be out for the day, so I didn’t bother checking my phone. Instead, I drank the glass of water Sanjay had left for me on the bedside table. Then I lay back on my pillow. It was so nice and dark and calm behind my lids; maybe I could stay there for a little while longer.

When I opened my eyes again, Sanjay was stroking my head. “Pen? You okay? You’ve been asleep for hours.”

“What time is it?” I muttered. It was dark out, and I was kind of woozy.