Tears fall slowly down my cheeks as I bury my head in my hands. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”
Gwen puts down the coffee cup and closes the magazine. The couch dips as she takes a seat next to me, curling one leg under the other, leaning into me. Her hand rubs my back the way she used to when I was a kid. “There is no mess too big to clean up.”
I look up at her understanding eyes. “No, Mom, we both have made a mess of this. He’s done things, I’ve done things, and words were said. I’m afraid it’s irreparable.”
“Kathryn Elizabeth, look at me.” She lifts my chin with her fist, looking me sternly in the eye. “I look in your eyes and I see your father. You look so much like him. You know that?”
The thought makes me smile. “You do?”
She continues. “But your personality, that’s all me. Sorry, kid, but you are Gwendolyn’s daughter. I tried to tell you that before.”
I shake off the notion. My mother is flighty, irrational, and a total drama queen.
Damn it.
As the realization hits me, I pose the question. “Mom, you would never, ever do to Dad what I—”
She stopped me midsentence. “Don’t be so sure about that, sweetheart.”
I look up at her, stunned. Is my mother telling me what I think she’s telling me?
“Oh, honey, it was a long time ago. Your father was always on the road, and the other wives were always talking about who was screwing who in what hotel in which city. It’s a lot to play with your head, you know.”
Gwen leans back into the couch and takes my hand in hers. Her head turned toward the window, her gaze wanders off. “Every time your father walked out that door, I wondered what he was doing out there.”
“Mom, maybe he was doing something…” I interjected.
“Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. That I will never know.” She sighs. “His name was Don and he was handsome, charming, and attentive.” She looks back at me, giving my hand a squeeze. “It was short-lived, but it was incredible. He made me feel complete when I didn’t know I needed it.”
Part of me wants to hate her for being unfaithful to my father. The other part completely understands how she must have been feeling to be drawn into the arms of another man.
“What happened? How did you end it?” I asked.
Her eyes soften. “Your father got sick, and I knew there was nowhere I’d rather be than at his side.” With the back of her hand, she brushes away the soft tears that fall down her face.
After what I’ve done to my family, I have no right to judge. But I can’t help it. I always knew my father died with the question of whether or not my mother loved him as much as he loved her. He did everything to give her the house, the clothes, the lifestyle, yet once he was out the door making the money to afford that life, she dove into the arms of another man.
All my father ever wanted was to make her happy, and apparently he couldn’t. Is that what Gabriel thinks of me? The house on Long Island, the clothes, the car… is that why he spends so many late nights at a job I know he doesn’t love? And what do I do? I run right into the arms of another man.
Like mother, like daughter.
“What if Dad hadn’t gotten sick?” Would she have left my father for Don? Is Don the man she should have been with?
“You’re asking me for the answer to a question you’re too afraid to ask yourself.” She brushes my hair off my face and wipes away a single tear that’s fallen down my cheek. “This is a decision you have to make on your own.” She gives my hand one more squeeze and exits the room.
For the next few hours, we live comfortably in silence, embarking in our own personal self-thought. I stop by her room to see if she has enough towels in her bathroom. On the floor, I see a full suitcase. It looks like she’s staying for a while, and I’m glad. I really need my mother to stay.
I don’t have the energy to get dressed up. Jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of Converse are all I can manage. For the first time in a while, I look like me again.
Exiting the elevator to the twenty-fourth floor, I notice an immediate change. I can see the redhead.
The flowers?
They’re gone.
The thought brings me a surreal kind of sadness. One I wasn’t expecting.
For the first time since I started working at Asher-Marks Communications, I do what I’ve never done. I finish my work. I lock my door and put my headphones in my ears and listen to music as I write every document, answer every email, create timelines, contact sheets, script pages, prepare itineraries, and create packets beyond packets of information for everyone involved. I only remove my earbuds to make calls to vendors.
Contracts are faxed and sent directly to legal for approval. Gretchen emailed me all the information I requested, so I’m able to get green room and transportation requests in order. Harvey sent me the revised speeches, and I forward everything Erik requested.
Relief floods through my veins at the feeling of accomplishment. Sure, the event is still two weeks away and everything will have to be updated, but to have completed so much so far, I feel confident in my decision.
I grab my files and walk down the hall to Erik’s office. The door is open, but I knock anyway.
Erik is seated at his desk, looking over his computer screen. His hair tied in a ponytail, he’s wearing his signature black. He looks up, surprised to see me standing there.
“Kat, come in. I was just looking over the files you sent me.” He motions for me to take a seat.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll stand. I came to drop off my hard copies and give you my resignation.” I wanted to get the words out before I lost my nerve.
Erik sits there taken aback by my announcement. “Is this because of what I said to you last week?”
“Partly.” I let out a breath. “I have a few personal matters to attend to, and I’m afraid I haven’t been giving you my all. I’ve always given a hundred and ten percent.”
His mouth bends and he lets out a heavy sigh. “This will have to be your two-week notice, then. The concert is in that much time. I’m afraid I can’t let you go before then. You’re under contract.”
I bite my lower lip. I can’t stay here. “If I stay, it will be a… conflict of interest.” I wonder how much he knows.
Erik shakes his head in confirmation. He knows. His fingers tap on the files I placed on his desk. “I was worried you wouldn’t be able to complete the task at hand, but it looks like you have everything in order.” Erik scoots back his chair. “I was getting some bad advice…” He begins to explain.
I hold up my hand to stop him. I don’t want to hear what kind of lies Heather has been spilling about me. I’ve had enough, and it’s time to move on. “Please, Erik. I don’t need to know what people say about me behind my back.”
“No, I suppose you don’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have taken off with Alexander Asher for three days,” he says, seeming uncomfortable bringing it up.
If feeling degraded were an outfit, I’d say I wore it from head to toe. “Erik, that was for business. I swear.” Even though I’m leaving, I don’t want him to think wrong of me.
“I thought you were different, Kat.” He can’t look me in the eye. The one person in this building who has been nothing but kind and warm toward me, who believed in me from the beginning is let down.
I nod in agreement, my head still hanging low. “I thought so too.”
I make my way back to my office and gather my few small possessions, all of which I brought with me this morning. The room is still as bare as it was the day I started. The only personal thing it bears is a screensaver on my computer of the two people who matter most to me in my life. Two months ago, this room brought me joy and excitement. Now I see it for what it is. Just four white walls and a window.