On day . . . whatever, I wake up and go to pour myself cereal, but the box is empty. I manage to find a package of oatmeal I’d purchased years ago when I really thought I’d be a wake-up-early-and-chop-bananas-into-things kind of gal. I manage it down despite its uninspired texture. And I even manage to brush my teeth and change from one pair of sweats into another before a loud knock sounds on my door. I tiptoe toward the peephole. The large Warhammer is clear on his hoodie.
I groan.
“Hey, Jolene?”
What the hell is he doing here? After the last devastating look he gave me, I never thought I’d see him again, certainly not in my hallway.
I click open the door but keep the chain intact, lest he see the mess of clothes, food wrappers, and undies. Even before I became a goblin, the state of my apartment wasn’t winning any prizes, but now it could probably be featured on Investigation Discovery.
He’s balancing a precarious two-coffee-and-two-donut-bag situation. There’s a hesitant softness in his gaze. “Your donut is root beer float.”
I clear my throat. “I’m not sure why HR is making house calls. But I’m not one of your subjects. I’m extremely fired, so I think that makes me dead in your eyes.”
Cliff almost smiles, before he clocks my crossed arms and it falls flat. “I’m glad you’re still you. And I’m sorry to show up like this. I tried texting first. I just came to drop off some letters. A few people at work wanted to get in touch with you.”
“I’m pretty sure getting fired means I’m not involved in Supershops business anymore,” I remind him.
“But I’m not here on official Supershops business.” His gaze shifts down. He lowers his voice. “Could you let me in? Your neighbor Miley is listening.”
He has no business being here, seeing the shit show I worked so hard to keep exclusive.
But I’m not the one who deserves to be mad. I was the one who hurt him.
“You get used to it.” I stare Cliff down but pull the chain. It clatters against the door before opening fully.
He’s being very careful not to look at anything but my eyes as he makes his way around the clutter. Some coffee spills onto his wrist from the overfilled cup and he winces.
“I can take the coffee off your hands, lest you get more hurt,” I say. He pretty much jumps over himself to give me the cup. It’s too apparent how shaky my hand is as I take it.
He pulls a manila envelope from his hoodie pocket. “The letters.”
A wave of opposing feelings crash inside me. Flashes of his cold tone after firing me. His face when my list was revealed, when he found out everything I did with him was a lie.
I keep my face even as I take the envelope and toss it onto my shoe rack. “Thanks.”
He reaches into his hoodie again. “Also, you left a lot of stuff at your desk. The stuff I determined is more personal—”
“Is that all?” I interrupt, and look pointedly at my mess of boots and junk on the floor. “I’m pretty busy here.”
“I won’t take too much of your time, but . . . can we talk for a minute?” He locks eyes with me, splitting me in half. I nod and he continues. “Jolene, I was shocked when I realized you’d been reading my emails.” His jaw ticks, proving the hurt I caused. “When I saw your list . . . My head was so screwy. I was hurt and pissed.”
Guilt tugs my gaze down toward the floor.
He catches his breath, and his expression softens. “But after you left, when I was at that office without you, cleaning your desk in front of everyone, I realized I know you.” He closes his eyes briefly. “I did what I had to do as an HR rep. But I’m here to let you explain. As a friend.”
But I was the shittiest friend.
“What is there to say?” I almost laugh. “It’s all true. I did what I did. I’m a horrible person. I’m finally accepting that.”
Cliff lowers his eyes. “I know you care about people.” His gaze tilts to the letters. “And people care about you.”
I squeeze my hands together, willing my heart to stay as solid as wood. I can’t do this.
But at least I can finally dispel myself of some of the guilt that’s been roiling in my belly. I can give him the apology he deserves. “Look, Cliff, I’m really so sorry about the spying. It was terrible of me. I really mean that. Like, what kind of person does that?”
He nods and waits.
“That day you changed the settings on my computer, I tried to tell you at first. But I was embarrassed, because people were saying things about me I didn’t want you to see. And then I realized the layoffs were coming and I thought, Why not, if it’s already there? Everything was already so screwed up, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to give myself a tiny leg up.”
I hold in a breath. But he doesn’t respond, just watches me, face blank. So I push myself to go on.
“And then it just got so out of hand. That list I wrote—it became moot as soon as I started talking to people. For the first time, I felt like people were starting to notice me, like we were becoming friends, even. But I couldn’t say anything, because they’d hate me.”
Cliff nods.
“And you firing me—all of it was the right thing to do, obviously.” I stay very still. “But you need to know, you weren’t part of a list. It was all real. I really cared about you.”
I exhale. There. Done. Now we can close things out on neutral terms. But the softness behind his gaze pours into me. I let out a breath, willing my heart to keep quiet.
“I know . . .” Cliff swallows. “Jolene, I care about you too.”
I clench my teeth together. I won’t let his words sink into me. It’s not worth the pain.
The look in his eyes threatens to make me feel it all again.
Cliff’s shoulders square. “You were right about me too, what you told me in the car. I was scared to leave Supershops. I still am.”
I want to tell him to stop it—to stop reminding me of the conversations we shared, of feeling understood.
“You helped me see what I couldn’t about myself,” he continues. “I deserve to choose a life that makes me happy. So I’m going back to my old company.”
I was doing a pretty good job at not letting myself hope, but as soon as he says this, I realize I’ve failed utterly.
He’s really going.
“Cliff, that’s wonderful.” Both my smile and my words are real. He deserves this.
His eyes widen. “I know things are messy, but we brought out a lot of good in each other too. I don’t want to end things like this. Maybe we can stay in touch?”
“You still want to be friends?”
He rubs his beard, and the scent of his soap carries toward me. It would all be so blissful to just be there with him, instead of alone here forever. But he continues. “We could try. As long as, this time, we’re completely honest with each other.”
But all the flutters come crashing down—it hits like a brick wall. He’s leaving, and I’m a mess. I’m no good for anyone right now.
I stare at my floor, not wanting to say the words I know I need to. Finally, I speak. “Cliff, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
The words settle between us, heavy. I gaze around at my mess and wonder how I was ever able to exist in the world as the person that I am.
“But thank you,” I mutter, voice tight. “For the donuts and for showing me there’s good in the world.”
“There is good in the world, Jolene. You deserve the good—you deserve happiness.”
His words tug at me and tighten my throat.
Cliff tilts closer. “Promise me you won’t punish yourself forever?”
I nod and hold it all in. After a beat I say, “How about I promise to try?”
His smile is sad. “In that case, I wish you the best in all your future endeavors.”
I smile back. “You too.”
And as he walks toward my door, away from me for good, I know I mean it.
I want the best for him.