Page 82 of The Suit

We hadn’t had the money for tickets into the zoo, but the outside walls of the monkey enclosure were glass and faced into the local park, something that enticed families when their kids wanted to go and see the rest of the animals. It meant we could always go past and watch the monkeys playing. For Jackson’s birthday, we’d visited the glass wall and pressed our faces up against it. Usually all the monkeys came up to anyone who appeared because they were nosy little creatures and assumed everyone had a banana, but that day, they’d all seemed to be somewhere else. Except for a little one sitting quietly in its tree.

“That one’s just like you,” Jackson announced, pointing over.

“How?” I’d asked indignantly.

“He doesn’t need to follow the crowd.” He nodded over to where all the other monkeys were, playing by the rubber ring.

As I sat there, the memories I’d repressed for so long came hurtling back, travelling through my brain like a hurricane until they were rattling in my skull. I could remember that day as clearly as watching a home movie; we’d sat and watched the monkeys for hours, eating slices of pizza we’d picked up on the way. And the whole time that one monkey sat by himself in his tree while the others were playing.

“See,” Jackson said, “you don’t need anyone else.”

I didn’t understand it at the time, hanging onto every word my big brother said, but I remembered the uncomfortable flickering in my gut as I thought about it. I didn’t want to be in the tree, I wanted to be over on the swing. The swing looked fun.

A guttural, painful, wrenching sob barreled up my throat from so deep inside me that my stomach caved in on itself, the black hole it left sucking the rest of my body inside out as I screamed into the air. Hot, fierce tears poured down my cheeks as I gasped for oxygen.

I’d fucked my life up so badly.

I was so lonely it was palpable. I could feel it every time I looked around at the people as they passed me by, families, couples, friends; or every time I was sitting at my desk and I watched groups of colleagues leave together; every time I opened my fridge to find empty shelves or ordered take-out for one; every day when I arrived home, and walked into silence.

I’d spent ten years convincing myself this is what I wanted, this was normal.

But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t normal to be alone for extended periods of time, to cut yourself off from forging relationships and burying yourself in work to pretend you didn’t want to be part of it anyway.

How much had I missed out on?

How different would my life be if I’d never been left alone? If I still had the people I’d loved and who’d loved me; these three and everything they’d given me.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I sobbed between breaths. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve ruined everything.”

It was almost as if I could hear Santa’s voice telling me it would be okay, just as she did the day she took me home when Jackson had died, and just like countless other times over the years when I’d needed her. I could still hear her whispering over the breeze as I curled into a ball and cried.

I don’t know how long I was lying there while my sobs gradually lessened, but the next thing I felt was the severe shooting pains of pins and needles firing up and down my arm, waking me. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and for the second time in as many hours, I’d never craved my bed more. Or any bed.

More pain shot through me as I tried to sit up. Maybe I should add yoga to the whole ‘changing my life’ journey I unintentionally seemed to have found myself on, even though it was precisely what I needed. I stood up then sat back down, tucking my legs in front of me.

Here goes nothing.

“I’m sorry I never visited you, not once. You probably know that, but in case you don’t, I haven’t been since the day… since the last time… since the day we buried you. I’m sorry. Also, I’m probably going to say that a lot, so maybe, to save time, just assume that I’m sorry about everything, because I am. Truly. I miss you all so much.” I took a deep breath and began pulling at the grass again. “I have a lot to catch you up on, almost none of it good. I didn’t graduate first, that went to a guy in my class called Rafe Latham. I did find my opponent though; Rafe Latham, if that wasn’t obvious. I don’t have any friends… which is probably deserved. I don’t think I’m very nice.” I sniffed hard before I started crying again. “I moved to Chicago, took a job with Feather Smythe Jones and Partners straight out of school, and now I’ve come to New York to work on a case, and the lawyer I’m up against is my opponent… I mean, Rafe Latham from school is the opposing lawyer, and it’s made me realize I hate my job and the firm I work for. But I don’t think I hate him. I mean, I don’t hate him at all. I like him, a lot. We kissed, even. And this case… “

Fuck. Turns out I’m a rambler. Who knew?

I really hoped attorney-client privilege didn’t extend to the dead; it didn’t as far as I knew. Technically I was talking to myself, and there was no law against that.

“Anyway, my firm… I think I’ve gotten myself involved in something that I don’t know how to get out of. They have a division which hides money for clients; anything to avoid paying tax, getting around sanctions, or in this case hiding it from a spouse - and my client has a lot of money hidden – billions – and Rafe Latham is hunting for it. Actually, he’s started to find traces of it. And Maloney Feather, the F in FSJ, he ordered me to spy on Rafe or I wouldn’t get promoted to partner. I forgot to tell you that bit. I’d been promised partner, the youngest partner is history, but they keep adding another task I must complete before I get it.” My sigh was heavy and weighted. “I’m starting to think I won’t ever get it, no matter how hard I work.” The lump was growing in my throat again, and a tear slid down my cheek. “I stole Rafe’s email.”

My face fell into my hands, my cheeks burning with the shame I’d been carrying as I sobbed.

“What am I going to do?”

“I’d be giving notice on your job for a start.”

I jumped out of my skin, spinning around to standing, and may have also let out a loud, garbled scream. My heart was threatening to burst through my chest from the pounding, or at the very least put me into cardiac arrest. It did dry my tears though, enough for me to see properly.

She was standing under the blossom tree, her face partially shadowed from the light under the branches. She was older than the last time I’d seen her, but there was no mistaking the piercing blue eyes scrutinizing me now, just as they’d done every afternoon when I’d run over to the courthouse from school, making sure my homework was done before I was allowed in to see Muscot. His PA had been a stickler for homework, but if I was lucky, she’d let me take a cookie from the jar on her desk while I finished it.

“Margaret?”

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