Page 34 of Weather Girl

“I had this natural talent that people really responded to,” she continues. It’s not bragging—she’s simply stating a fact. “We didn’t want to compete against each other. Seth wanted to be on the air, but he was also drawn to the managerial path. So that’s what we did. He went that route, and I stayed on camera. He followed me around for jobs when I got promoted to bigger and bigger stations. Eventually, I landed this job in Seattle, and we settled down and started a family.

“He got jealous of the fame. I was earning more than he was, even when he became a manager, and he felt frustrated that he couldn’t provide for me. For our family. No matter how many times I told him that he didn’t have to be the one providing, that maybe that was how it was for our parents, but it didn’t have to be that way for us,” she says. “First, he was passive-aggressive about it, little barbs here and there. Once he even said, ‘I’m not saying you’re famous because you’re a hot blonde, but I’m not not saying it.’ And I’d remind him that I was a scientist, first and foremost, until I realized, fuck that, I didn’t need his toxic masculinity. Jealousy has this way of simmering beneath the surface. When you don’t talk about it, it builds and builds until you think it might even be part of your DNA. We could be fighting about unloading the dishwasher, but it was never about unloading the dishwasher. It was about how Seth felt inferior, and he couldn’t handle it.”

I don’t have any tolerance for that kind of toxic bullshit, but there’s no hope for humanity if we can’t grow and evolve, become better versions of ourselves. Bad choices and bad behavior don’t doom someone to a lifetime as a bad person. I want to believe people can change, and while I don’t want to redeem murderers or anything like that, how Seth acted—that’s fixable. It has to be.

It’s not naivete—it’s hope.

“I don’t want to cross a line or anything, but...” It kills me to say that, knowing how wrong it is. But we’re getting somewhere.

“Ari. We were just lying naked a few feet from each other. I don’t think lines exist anymore.”

“Fair point,” I say, laughing. “Did you ever try therapy?”

Torrance doesn’t seem at all bothered by the question. “I wanted to. For a couple years, I insisted we should talk to someone, but Seth was too proud. He didn’t think we needed someone else knowing our private business. He thought we could figure it out on our own. And obviously, we didn’t.”

“I’ve always thought people can change.” I want to tell her Seth went to therapy, but that’s not my story to tell. “The signs have stopped, right? And I saw you two dancing at Century Ballroom.”

“Before we get much deeper, I should make sure you take my insurance. Do you charge by the hour?”

I wince. “Sorry, sorry. We can talk about something else.”

“I’m messing with you. You’re making it way too easy for me.” Torrance becomes pensive, stretching out her legs that remain golden-tan even in the winter. “When we worked, we really worked,” she says, sounding wistful. “I’d give anything to get those moments back. Maybe we were both too busy, or maybe it was something that happened naturally after being married almost twenty years. I don’t know.” A long sigh, and I wonder if she really means it: that she’d give anything to get those moments back. “The people who love us the most have the power to hurt us the most, too.”

The sauna timer goes off, which is probably a good thing, since I’m beginning to feel light-headed.

“We should get going before this thing burns us to a crisp.” Torrance gets to her feet, pulling the towel tighter across her chest. “What do you think, facials next?”

•••

AFTER I’VE BEEN plucked, tweezed, buffed, and exfoliated within an inch of my life, I change for our all-staff welcome dinner. I’m starting to think this retreat is more R & R than work, but I guess I can’t blame Torrance for wanting a break from it all. An escape.

It’s possible I spend a little longer than usual deciding what to wear. Russell’s room is right next door to mine, as luck would have it, and once I’ve slipped into my favorite dark jeans and a burgundy sweater over a cloud-printed button-up, I knock on his door, assuming we’ll go down together. When there’s no answer, I knock again. Nothing.

I’m on my way to the elevator at the end of the third floor hallway when I spot Torrance and Seth sitting together on a sectional in an alcove next to a fireplace. Their faces are bent close, their knees touching.

It’s definitely not a casual pose.

For a few moments, I’m frozen. I could head back to my room, wait until they’re gone. I could walk by, risk interrupting them.

Or... I could stay here, next to this column, in case I can overhear anything they’re saying.

They look so cozy that I can’t help wondering if whatever’s going on here is a result of the conversation Torrance and I had in the sauna. And that’s what draws me closer, until I’m pressed up against a second column, trying to breathe as quietly as I can.

If there’s a line I haven’t already crossed, I am aware that this, hiding behind a column and kind-of sort-of spying on my bosses, might be it. But it’s not that I’m curious in some voyeuristic way. It’s that I genuinely want to know if they’re getting along. The way they’re seated, the way they were dancing last week—all of it makes me think they might be able to get back the good parts of what they used to have.

Maybe after all my talk about wanting to improve the station, what I really want is to see the two of them happy.

“...sure it’s a good idea?” Torrance is saying.

“It’s worth a try,” Seth says.

And then something terrible happens.

I shift positions to stretch out some lingering tension in my back, and my boot lets out a high-pitched squeak on the polished wood floor.

Their heads whip my direction as I spin and bolt down the darkened hallway, cursing these new rain boots, furious a favorite article of clothing betrayed me like this. Shit, shit, shit.

They’ll think I was spying on them. And—okay, I was, but for a good reason. They’ll know why Russell and I have been asking so many questions, and they’ll report us to HR and realize they really do hate each other after all. With a single uncontrollable action, I may have ruined our entire plan.

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