Page 26 of I Need You to Read This
“I know. It was so wildly inappropriate I couldn’t tear my eyes away,” he says. “Anyway, sorry, this is not the most date-friendly topic.”
“I mean, it is kind of a shock, honestly. But he did stop wearing his wedding band right after I got there, so maybe it shouldn’t be.”
“Maybe it’s all aboveboard then?”
Alex shakes her head, feeling sad. “I don’t know why people do that to their partners. Fragile egos, I guess. I just can’t imagine that kind of thing even feeling good. Not long-term. The stress of it.”
“No. I mean, I don’t even think it’s about the women for so many of them. It’s like getting an expensive car, more about how you view yourself than anything else. Plus, someone like Howard Demetri is probably used to the rush of excitement from his work. Maybe this is just an extension of that.” Tom is watching her intently, a crease between his brows. “You really admire him?”
Alex nods. “It is a bit disappointing, though it probably shouldn’t be. This is what powerful men always do, isn’t it?”
“Too many of them,” Tom says, still looking right at her. She is unused to this kind of direct attention and is relieved when the waiter interrupts, bringing them dessert menus. “But not all of them. Some just use their powers to order multiple desserts. What do you think about tiramisu?” Tom smiles and Alex laughs, nodding in agreement.
After dinner they linger on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Tom tilts his head down to look at her and they lock eyes. There it is, that buzzy feeling again, that energy crackling between them like static electricity.
“Thanks for dinner,” she says, allowing herself to lean into him slightly. Alex can smell the bite of garlic and wine on his breath. It isn’t bad. She actually finds it weirdly intoxicating. He is so close that the pattern on his shirt blurs in front of her eyes and she can smell his laundry detergent. The scent of it reminds her of her childhood home, of the laundry room off the kitchen with the big tubs of powdered detergent her mom bought on sale. He doesn’t come from money, she realizes suddenly. The thought fills her with empathy. He feels comfortable, like someone she’s known for years and years. For a moment she thinks he might kiss her.
“Should I get a car?” Registering the surprise on her face, Tom pulls back and clears his throat. “I mean for you to get home in.”
Alex exhales, both relieved and disappointed. She isn’t ready for that. Not yet. At least, she doesn’t think she is. She punches her information into his phone and lets him order her an Uber.
“Thank you for dinner. I loved that place.”
“Anytime,” he says.
The wine has made her sleepy and happy, and she leans back in the seat on the way home and watches the city pass in a blur of lights and people, some of them stumbling to bars or out into the street as the car brings her uptown.
It isn’t until she has gotten home and bolted the door behind her that she hears the cheerfuldingof an incoming text and realizes what she has done. She looks down at her phone, her stomach already turning. It glows in her hand. A text from Tom reads:
I see you are home! Tracked it on the app. Hope you have a good sleep. Oh, and, Alex, I had a really nice time tonight. Hope you did too.
She leans her back against the door feeling dizzy. She wasn’t being careful. It was the wine and the almost-kissing that threw her. And now he knows where she lives. Alex checks the locks again on the door, then the windows. She looks out onto the street. The diner lights are out for the night. A few dark figures rush past. One stops and loiters there. It’s probably fine. Alex realizes she doesn’t even know Tom yet. She should have ordered her own car home but was stupidly swept up in the chivalry of all of it. Drunk on the attention. It was sloppy of her.
And yet Alex knows she will have to let go of all this fear if she wants to let anything in. She is done running. If not for the stupid threatening letter, she would almost be ready to believe that no one is chasing her anymore. Another text comes in.
I hope I didn’t freak you out with all of my talk about your boss.
He hadn’t, not at the time, but now she wonders if it isn’t a little strange to sit there in your office and spy on people through the window while they are having sex.
He’d had a nice time though, that was what he wrote. Alex had had a nice time too. The thought is startling, foreign to her. A nice time on a date. It’s almost like she is a normal woman.Things are okay,she tells herself. She remembers the words from one of Francis’s columns. It was one from years ago about a man on the precipice of starting his life over. She can’t remember all of the details, but she remembers one line:Sometimes it is easy to mistake hope for fear.
Dear Constance,
Everything has changed. It’s what I wanted, right? I felt so terrible when I told Sam I wouldn’t be coming back to work next week. I wanted to make a clean start, I said when he mumbled something about giving two weeks’ notice. It is better that way.
Sam looked concerned, which was strange because he always seems laid-back, not the worrying type like l am.
“I’m glad you’re going to school though. You are a smart cookie. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You hear?” He looked at me like he was waiting for me to give him a sign, that he could talk about Brian, warn me or something. But I wouldn’t let him. And Brian also thinks that I’m smart, so I knew Sam was wrong about him.
“Yessir,” I said, and I hugged his big barrel chest. And even though things have been a little weird between us lately had, I felt myself getting all choked up. Sam has always been so nice to me. He is the only man who I have ever felt cared about me at all. Before Brian anyway.
I said goodbye and walked all the way down to the community college. It was full of people my age and I imagined myself walking around with them, a cool tote bag over my arm full of notebooks, feeling like I had my whole future in front of me. I took a course catalog with me and flipped through it when I got back to the apartment. It felt like a Choose Your Own Adventure book. I could be an accountant or a graphic designer or even an interior decorator. There were so many options it made my head spin. I spent the afternoon imagining each of them.
“What is that?” Brian asked when he got home.
“The college catalog,” I told him, excited, holding it out for him to see the cover. “I finally quit Sam’s.” I expected him to be happy that I’d done what he’d told me to. I thought maybe he’d even look at the classes with me and help me pick, but instead he threw his stuff down on the counter.
“Brian?” I called out. I was already starting to feel nervous. I’d expected him to smile at the very least, but he seemed angry, slammingthings around in the refrigerator and finally pulling out a can of Coke and opening it. “Are you okay?” I asked him as he guzzled from the can. When he finally put it down, he looked at me in disgust.
