Page 44 of I Need You to Read This
“His ring. Go look, it’s back on his finger,” Jonathan says impatiently.
She leans past the doorway of the kitchen and peers into the newsroom. Nearby, Howard talks over a cubicle to one of the editors. After all that she has learned about her new boss, looking at him sends a sharp twist of anxiety through her stomach. Jonathan is right though. She can see it there, a stripe of gold sparkling against the partition. She watches him say something and smile amicably with the younger editor.Did you kill Francis?
“It’s there, all right,” Alex says pulling herself back in from the doorway.
“What do you think happened? They must be back together. Maybe it has something to do with Regina coming into the office. Do you think he begged her to take him back?” Jonathan asks, aghast. Alex thinks of what Regina had revealed about Howard’s job.
“Regina told me that, originally, she was supposed to take over theHerald, but her father wouldn’t let her. He wanted a man for the job.”
“Can you imagine? What a terror.” He laughs, starting the coffee maker as soon as she removes her cup.
Alex isn’t sure. “Maybe she only seems mean because that’s the only way she’s been able to get people to listen to her.” Jonathan looks skeptical. “No, really. If you never were taken seriously even by your own family, it could make you—”
“A raging bitch? I don’t know, Alex.” He shakes his head. “You haven’t been here that long. Regina has been nasty pretty much forever. I think it’s in her DNA. I love that you have sympathy for her though. You really are perfect for your job.”
Alex looks down into her coffee cup, watching the swirl of milk dissolve as she stirs. She feels wrung out and exhausted. She thinks of the men who chased her out of the hotel last night. What if the letters aren’t from her past at all but are from someone loyal to Howard? Someone who wants to stop her from digging.
“Are you okay?” Jonathan asks now, pausing to look at her more closely. “You seem off.” He waves a hand at her wrinkled shirt.
“Did Francis ever get any threatening letters that you know of?”
“Oh, is that what’s happening? The hate mail’s already started? Ignore it. People are always going to get mad. Even if the advice is good, sometimes it isn’t what people want to hear. But that’s the world now, right? You try finding a single place online where there aren’t people getting death threats. It’s sick. You can’t listen to that stuff, Alex. It’ll drive you crazy if you let it in.” He taps gently on her forehead.
“Very wise,” she says, and laughs. But inside she wonders if Francis got anything threatening leading up to her death. The clock on the wall buzzes.
“Okay, I have to get back to work.” He picks up his coffee.
“I should too.” She finds herself eager to get back to her work, to let the piles of letters from strangers wash over her, to replace her worries with theirs.
“Back to the trenches,” Jonathan says as he leads the way out into the newsroom, raising his mug in front of him. “The people need their content.”
As she walks back to her office, Alex looks down at a text from Tom on her phone.
Dinner tonight?
Alex wants to see Tom. And even more, she wants to forget everything else. She wants to stop thinking about Francis dead on the floor of her house; she wants to forget the cryptic notes and the sleazy boss and the crushing problems she can’t solve and the ominous letters. Her chest still buzzing with anxiety, she quickly replies.
How about drinks instead?
Dear Constance,
It’s hard to believe that Brian is the same man I met all those months ago at Sam’s Hardware. Sometimes I try to remember him the way he was back then, back when he first came into the store. The way he had that easy smile on his face, the nice things he said to me, how he held the door like I was someone who deserved to have the door opened for her. That man told me I was smart, I deserved the world, I think he said. Yeah, right.
I couldn’t have imagined the Brian from back then breaking a TV remote or slamming a plate onto the ground. I couldn’t have pictured the way his face would turn bright red and his jaw would vibrate from the way his teeth clenched below the skin. And yet. Here I am.
The person I was back then also seems very far in the distance, like an old relative I’ve lost touch with. Would I even recognize her anymore? Thinking of how much I’ve lost of myself in the past nine months makes me want to cry. Maybe I was miserable back at my mom and Sid’s, but I wasn’t trapped in this nothing. I had a plan to get out.
Suddenly I was furious. I looked around Brian’s sterile apartment and wanted to break something. I imagined kicking in his expensive sound system, smashing the TV, dumping out all of his expensive skincare products, the ones he tells me not to use. I think of packing a bag and walking out on him. But where would I go? I sat there sobbing at the kitchen counter. And then my eyes landed on the refrigerator. I was hungry, Constance. So hungry and so tired and so lonely. I opened the refrigerator and saw his leftover macaroni and cheese in there and I thought, Screw you.
I put it into the oven until it was hot and bubbly. At first, I was going to only have a little bit of it, but I was starving. I ended up eating the whole thing.
I cleaned the container and put it away, hoping he would forget about it. He’d always said I could have some anyway,but the guilt of it prickled at my back as he walked in, dropping off his keys in a tray by the door. I saw him sniff the air like a bloodhound. He looked at me suspiciously and walked straight to the refrigerator.
I watched with my heart in my throat as he opened the door, shifting things around inside. He turned and looked at me like eating his macaroni was unforgivable. It was so ridiculous I wanted to laugh, but the expression on his face set me straight.
He slammed me against the wall.
“Ow. Brian!” I gasped.
