Page 116 of The Fake Dating War

I keep my eyes closed and wait.

When I finally open them, he’s gone.

57

REEMA

Sunday afternoon, I meet Mr.Davies at the office. In all my time here, I’ve never been inside the building on a weekend, but this is when he requested the meeting. There is no one here but us.

Actually—

Fi, the IT person is also here.

Mr.Davies asks me to sit down.

I follow the instructions, taking everything one step at a time like I’ve been doing for the last twelve hours. During the reception, I made sure I was the happiest sister I could be for Esha. Outwardly smiling, laughing, dancing, and crying at the speeches. I didn’t let anyone talk to me about anything else. Then, the next morning, I snuck out of the hotel and caught the first flight home. And now, I’m here.

Mr.Davies starts talking about expectations, disappointments, and regret. I’m having a problem following his meaning, but I don’t tell him to slow it down for me. No, this foggy numbness is too nice to risk being lifted. Instead, I nod.

He turns his screen so I can see a video. It’s grainy, black and white, and pulled from a security camera. There’s my car parked in the parking lot, alone and after hours. Fi clicks something, so the video becomes a time-lapse. Over and over again, it shows my car pulling into the lot and pulling out of the lot.

Mr.Davies asks if I can explain. I can’t.

When he sees me struggling, he sighs. He tells me that he’s going to re-evaluate this whole incentive program, but I have to understand that in good conscience, he will not be giving me the bonus this year. I’ll still earn commissions from every client I signed up after-hours, but that’s all.

There’s nothing to argue. I try to form excuses or explanations, but they’re stuck in my throat. Mr.Davies tells me to take a few more days off, and then when I come back, we can talk about it some more. He says he’s concerned about me, that I’m a valued employee, and he just wants to make sure I am okay.

With that, I’m dismissed.

Back at the apartment, Ms.Beatrice is surprised that I am home. That’s because I’m never there in the middle of the day, even on weekends. I’m always working or on the way to work. She asks me how the wedding week went. I lie and say it was good, but also that I’m still tired.

She shuts the lights off, even though it’s broad daylight, so I can sleep.

There are missed texts and calls on my phone I’m ignoring.

I’m far too busy on my bed, behind my curtain, weeping into a pillow, trying my best to muffle the sounds, so Ms.Beatrice doesn’t worry.

Eventually, the sun sets.

58

REEMA

The next day, I call my parents.

They’re worried about me and have questions. I reassure them that my body isn’t lost in a ditch somewhere, but also say I can’t talk about anything right now. Vague promises are made for me to call them later.

Ms.Beatrice left soup on the table, with explicit instructions that if I don’t eat it, the food will go to waste and she will be very sad. Right now, she’s at her aerobics club and won’t be home until the evening.

While staring at the spoon I’ve failed to bring to my mouth for the last twenty minutes, my phone rings. My eyes flick to the screen, even though I know I won’t pick up….

Except, it’s Esha.

She flew out to Bora Bora this morning. She should be on a beach in her bikini. The entirety of her concerns should be about putting on enough sun-lotion, but she’s calling me. Why?

Fuck, did she find out? Did someone tell her what happened?

I don’t want to pick up, but that’s so selfish and I’ve done enough of that already. No, I’ve got to reassure her Everything Is Fine. At least for now, while she is relaxing and away.

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