The elevator smells like cleaning product. It wars with the scent of my cooling pad thai. Scenes of Jason and Alexis play in my mind despite myself. All the things I could’ve done. All the things Ishould’vedone. I wish I would’ve screamed. I wish I would’ve hurt him as much as he hurt me.
A lump forms in my throat and I swallow it back. Not yet. There are cameras in the elevator. No need for anyone to see this.
The doors open to my floor and I walk down the hall to my suite. “Cunning Consultants” glints back at me from the silver placard on the dark wood door. I flick the lights on and walk through the colorful office space. Desks adorned with personaleffects are all empty, as they should be, because I insist on a good work-life balance for my employees.
Myformeremployees.
Maybe I should’ve insisted on a good work-life balance for myself, too. Maybe Jason wouldn’t have fucked my assistant.
The door to my office is ajar and there’s a black box on the desk emblazoned with the crest of the man who bought my business. I set the pad thai down and sling my backpack under the desk, then flop into my chair.
Trembling weakness in my arms makes it hard to move, but I flip open the lid of the tall box and look inside. There’s a folded note on top with a metallic wax seal. Underneath is a bottle of golden whisky and a fancy set of tumblers. I pull it all out and set it on the table.
The wax seal crackles as I snap it off the letter and a thrilling sensation tingles up my arm.
Weird.
Inside the fancy paper is just four words and a fancy signature.
To the next adventure.
~C. Montey
Images of Jason and I finding a nice home in Atlanta, of him really getting into the modern art scene and starting a gallery, of me in a garden with fresh fruits and vegetables, relaxing for the first time in too long, fade away, replaced with black nothingness.
My future is a sucking void, threatening to swallow me up.
I pop the top on the amber liquor and pour myself a glass. My struggle ducky, Charlie, glares at me with disapproval from below my monitor.
“Drinking in the office. I know,” I say to the little yellow duck who’s helped me talk through so many problems. “But it’s after hours. And also, no one is here to see me.”
So it’s okay to break the rules if no one can see you?Charlie’s little ducky voice quacks in my mind and I scowl.
“I don’t need a conscience right now, Charlie. I need a friend. Shut up about the booze and help me solve my future.”
I toss back the drink and relish the burn. Feeling something, anything, is better.
“Whoo!” I shout, slamming the tumbler down. “Here, you have some,” I say, pouring Charlie a portion, knowing full well that a rubber duck cannot drink.
I push the glass toward him. “Okay, what am I going to do?”
What do you want to do?
I take a smaller sip of my drink, savoring it. Mr. Montey sure knows how to pick them. It’s smooth, slightly sweet, rich with malty flavor and a woody finish that burns through my chest. I sink deeper into my chair and stare at Charlie.
“I want to relax. I’ve worked so hard the last ten years, and the eight before that weren’t easy, either. I’ve been go-go-go since the second I graduated high school. Since the second I gotintohigh school. Since…”
I take another drink. Even if it’s just talking to an inanimate object, it makes me feel a little lighter.
You know you don’t vacation well. You’ll crave something to do. You can’t just escape to the Bahamas and live happily ever after. You’ll need a project, a timeline, something to pour yourself into and give it life.
“I know,” I say, filling my glass again.
Eat something.
“Yeah, yeah.” I grab the bag of takeout and remove the top box of noodles. I break the chopsticks and dig in. Miraculously, it’s still warm. The gooey, sweet and spicy sauce with the perfect tang of lime and little crunches of peanut fires more memories. My throat tightens as I look at the box of noodles, and a tear slides down my cheek.
This wasourfavorite food.
