Page 71 of Brooklynaire
That’s me right now. It’s Sunday morning, and I’m lounging on the sofa in my study at home, thinking about Rebecca. I’ve been stuck in an infinite loop since that awkward conversation in myoffice.
I can’t stop wondering if I made things worse. And yet I can’t figure out how I could have made them better. If I’d said more—told her Ifeltmore—that would just put more pressure onher.
I don’t want to be that asshole who’s chasing her at work. Women have put up with that for years. And I pride myself on running a great company, with an excellent track record for employees of allstripes.
When I was thirteen, my mother had an awful year. She’d just gotten a promotion in the school district’s main offices. And there was this asshole who would chase her around the desk at work. My father about had a coronary. He begged her to quit, but she wouldn’t doit.
Because the guy was a giant sleaze, he eventually got busted for solicitation, solving the problem by getting himself fired. But meanwhile, my parents were so tense. When my mom had tried to complain, the higher-ups didn’t doanything.
I will never be thatguy.
It’s taken me a good week to realize that both Stew and Becca were right. The work thing makes this awkward. I can’t pursue her the way I’d pursue someone who didn’t work for my organization. I can’t send her flowers, invite her to dinner, or steal a kiss. I can’t do what I do best, which is to go hard after the thing I most want until Iwin.
Emphasis onhard.
If I didn’t think we could have something great, it would be easy to accept. But my gut says that she and I are amazing together. I trust my gut. It’s rarelywrong.
But none of that matters if she doesn’t want to entertain the idea. I have to just zip my lip (and my pants). I can’t remind her how good it was, or mention how badly I want to make her moan on every surface of this oversizedhouse.
I must have let out a little moan myself, because Bingley jumps into the fray. “Master Nate! Is everything allright?”
“Iguess.”
“Could you repeat that, good sir? I won’t alert the security team if there is no cause forconcern.”
“I’mfine,Bingley.”
“Glad to hear it, sir. Can I help you with anythingfurther?”
I should load up a different voice module, so that he’ll stop calling mesir. It’s too much like my dayjob.
On the other hand, I changed him to a Victorian Brit to amuse Becca. And I missBecca.
“Bingley,” I say. “How do you get oversomeone?”
“Get over a person?” he asks. “As in, pass over them in physical space or remove oneself from a romanticentanglement.”
“The latter, Bingley. I can’t even picture theformer.”
“Just a moment, sir. I’ll perform an internetsearch.”
This should beentertaining.
“Nate, we are all fools in love. There are six hundred and twenty-two million search results for this question,” he says. “The most common suggestions are as follows. Number one, don’t bottle up your emotions. Cry as necessary. Two, acknowledge your anger, if you are angry. Three, take care of yourself in other ways. Don’t forget to eat well and exercise. Four, listen to music, especially uptempo songs.Five…”
“Thank you, Bingley,” Isigh.
“…Keep a journal,” hefinishes.
“Ajournal.”
“Yes. A record of your thoughts and feelings, validating and exercising those emotions on thepage.”
Now there’s a document my HR department doesn’t want in the world.Dear Diary, it wasn’t until I snuck into Rebecca’s hotel room and screwed her seven ways till Sunday that I realized I was in love withher.
Nothelpful.
As my mother says, the only way out is through. And I should be more focused on my hockey team. We’re headed to Detroit tomorrow to face off against a new rival. Meanwhile, across the country, my least favorite team is doing thesame.
