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Monday, March 5—London
At the office, I close a document folder, satisfied. My first meeting of the week went well. The negotiation was smooth. Both parties got what they really wanted to begin with. No one relented too much or lost face. As everybody else leaves the room, a lawyer from the other team lingers behind. She’s being extra slow in collecting her files from the glass table and she’s looking at me with a keen expression I can’t interpret.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask.
“I thought you were going to go a lot harder on us. I admire you for not doing it.”
Why was she expecting me to hammer her team? Do I have the reputation of a shark?
“We cut a fair deal that made everyone happy, wasn’t that the goal?”
“Yes, of course. But sometimes people tend to get personal…”
This conversation isn’t making any sense.
“Would there have been a reason for me to get personal with your client?”
“My client, no. Me, on the other hand…”
I stare at her blankly.
“You seriously have no idea who I am.”
Why is she giving me a ‘you don’t know who I am’ speech? Who is she? I keep staring at her, dumbfounded.
“So you haven’t googled me, not even a peek on Facebook. I’m impressed; I certainly didn’t have that willpower.”
This woman’s giving me the creeps. “I’m sorry, but I don’t usually google, or stalk on Facebook for that matter, counselors opposing me. If you don’t mind, I have another meeting to go to. Have a safe trip back to California.”
I turn to leave. I’m almost at the door when she speaks again.
“I’m Jake’s wife.”
I freeze. My heart starts racing in my chest, pounding blood to my temples. I give myself a couple of seconds to allow my face to go back to presentable as opposed to I’m-about-to-have-a-stroke, and I turn to face my nemesis. Involuntarily my gaze flies over her left hand. There, a delicate rose-gold band is resting on her ring finger. How can such a simple piece of metal cause so much pain? How did I walk into this ambush without knowing anything? I know why! It’s all Amelia’s fault: she’s the one who made me promise never to look this woman up and let me walk into this trap. Unprepared. Unarmed. Strong willpower, my foot. I would’ve looked you up the second I had a chance, lady, if it weren’t for my I-butt-in-all-situations best friend.
“You really had no idea,” she states.
I shake my head, no. What does she want?
“And to think that I was so nervous about meeting you, I went to a salon to have my hair done. I thought you did the same…”
I furrow my brow questioningly.
“But you didn’t. Of course, you’d look like that on a regular day.”
I look down at myself and it’s nothing that great. I have my lawyer uniform on—black pencil skirt and white blouse. I stare in horror at the chipped nail polish on one of my fingers, and I ask myself why I chose not to blow-dry my hair this morning. So, I’m sure I’m not that impressive.
I focus on my rival. She’s a good-looking woman, with fabulous blonde hair and perfect grooming. Then again, she had the advantage of knowing she’d be standing for this revenge-on-the-ex high noon moment today and went out of her way to look her best. So really, it isn’t fair.
“So is there something you wanted to say to me?” I try to smile, but I’m sure I accomplish a grimace at best.
“No, not really. I was just morbidly curious to meet you. I’ve heard so many stories about you.”
Jake talks to her about me? I’m afraid the having-a-stroke face is making a comeback. I swallow a bitter pill as my brain runs free with the knowledge of all the embarrassing things Jake knows about me. How many has he told her? When? Were they discussing it in bed after a passionate night of lovemaking? Am I a running joke between them? Oh gosh, I can feel my teeth grinding.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say I’ve heard anything about you. So we’re not going to be able to swap anecdotes, are we?” I wish my voice wasn’t shaking so much. My fake smile has definitely collapsed into grimace territory right now.
“Well, Jake still talks about you a lot…”
“I haven’t spoken to Jake in years.”
“Well, you’re still his significant ex. And I’m sure he’s yours…”
If only you knew how much.
“Well, you’re his wife. He married you, and I’m engaged.” I show her my rock, feeling glad I’m wearing it for the first time since Richard proposed. The thought I nearly had to face Jake’s wife unmarried and unengaged is horrific.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. When are you getting married?”
“In a year, perhaps two. Anyway, it all worked out for the best in the end.” At least for you, I add internally.
“Yes. Yes, of course, it did,” she says unenthusiastically. She looks at me in a weird way, sad almost. What has she to be sad about? She’s married to the love of our lives; she doesn’t get to be sad. “I’m sorry if I caught you off-guard. I just wanted to meet you.”
“Well, it was very nice meeting you,” I lie with a straight face. Lawyer skills and all. “Now if you don’t mind I really have to get to that meeting.”
“Yeah, sure. Sorry again. I’ve already stolen too much of your time. Goodbye.”
That’s not the only thing you stole from me. “Bye.”
I walk out of the room steadily enough until I’m sure I’m out of sight, then like a drunk person, I brace myself on the walls of the hallway for support. I pinball from left to right until I reach my office, close the door and lock myself in, lowering all the blinds. Finally, I collapse on the couch usually reserved for making clients comfortable—or avoiding them fainting when I give them my invoice, I’m not sure—and cry my heart out.
The pain of losing Jake comes back to me in waves of shock and fear. I’m sobbing so hard I’m hyperventilating. Amelia was right: seeing her face has only made things worse. He did marry lawyer Barbie. Knowing this is the woman Jake goes back to every night, the one he makes love to, the one he has pillow talks with—and about me too, apparently—racks my body with an amount of sorrow I didn’t know I had in me. After missing Jake’s wedding, I thought I had it bad. But things moved on so quickly with Richard I never really contemplated how Jake was building a family with someone else. I’m nothing more than a distant memory, I’ve been reduced to the ex he tells amusing stories about.
The thought of that woman knowing things about me stings. It feels like such a violation of my privacy and tells me how little Jake holds dear our relationship—or the memory of our relationship, more accurately. It’s a betrayal. He doesn’t care anymore; I’ve become an anecdote to amuse his friends and wife over dinner. What did she say I was? Yeah, his significant ex. She should’ve said insignificant ex. Why does he still have the power to hurt me so badly? Why can’t I just stop loving him? Why can’t I love Richard the way I love Jake? And what am I doing marrying Richard, anyway? This is too much for one person to bear alone. I need to talk to Amelia.