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Monday, March 5—London
I enter the meeting room holding the files of my next settlement case in my arms. I can’t help but walk on air around the office surrounded by a halo of happiness. As I move toward my chair, I go over my notes on the terms our client’s willing to offer. I glance at the opposing lawyers, who are already seated at the glass table opposite to me, and resume my quick shuffling of documents. That’s until my brain registers one of the faces I just glanced at. My halo of happiness shatters as my head jerks back up. I look at the only woman sitting on the other side of the room. Oh gosh, it’s her! And she’s looking at me with a face that says, “Yes, it’s me. You wedding-crashing bitch!”
Crap. What do I do now? This is Sharon. The woman I stole Jake from. The woman whose life I ruined. What’s she doing in my office? Is she a lawyer? She has to be. Panic floods my body, and as I try to sit, I crash into the chair, sending all my papers flying in the air. This is like one of those forever-embarrassing high school moments. Like walking across the cafeteria, tripping, and splashing the lunch tray on yourself in front of the entire school.
I collect my papers in a dignified way and sit at the grown-ups table, trying to appear respectable. I so wish my face wasn’t so hot right now. I must be redder than a chili pepper. And my boss is in the room. Sweat starts pooling under my armpits. At least I’m wearing a white blouse. I hope it doesn’t show.
Thank goodness I asked my junior associate to present our proposal today as a learning experience. I wouldn’t be able to talk right now. I keep my gaze low and look at my watch under the table. The meeting shouldn’t last more than an hour; everything’s straightforward and all the parties should be able to get what they’re after easily. So no big deal.
“That is when the opposing counselor doesn’t hold the biggest grudge against you,” says a nasty little voice in my head. All right, Gemma, let’s get ready for the longest sixty minutes of your life.
I stay silent for the entire negotiation and only nod here and there at Logan, my junior associate, who’s doing a wonderful job with his presentation. I keep my gaze lowered, but I can feel her blue eyes on me most of the time. It’s as if she’s drilling guilt messages into my skull:
“You stole my husband.”
“You ruined my wedding day.”
“How does it feel to be this happy at the expense of other people?”
I could die of shame. The way she looked at me. Withering. It was as if I was clubbing a baby seal or something.
“No, you just clubbed her chances at happily ever after. No worries.”
I mentally scowl at my sarcastic inner self. I can’t believe there’s a person in the world who could hate me that much. If ever there was a death stare, Sharon has mastered it.
“Well, when you steal the groom from the glowing bride on her special day, death wishes could easily present themselves as side effects.”
“Oh, shut up.”
The buzzing noise of people talking in the background suddenly dies away. Did I just say it aloud? I dare to lift my head.
Sharon’s staring at me. Apparently, she was speaking at that moment.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asks.
I wish the ground would open and swallow me up.
“No, no.” If you put together all Ally McBeal’s most embarrassing moments they wouldn’t add up to this. “Please go on.”
“Glad we have your blessing to move forward.” Sharon gives me a shrewd, evil smile and resumes her speech.
Well, I deserve this. I deserve to be humiliated and shamed. I ruined her life; I took Jake away from her. All her hopes, her dreams of a future with him now are mine. I stole her life. I deserve all the bad shit she wants to give me. What I did to her is bad karma. I need to suck it up and apologize to her. Yes, when the meeting’s over I’ll own my mistakes and say I’m sorry. Then maybe I won’t come back in the next life as a cockroach.
Twenty unbearably long minutes later, the meeting’s over. As everyone gets up to leave the room, I linger behind. So does Sharon. It’s as if we’re both aware we can’t just leave without talking to each other. I don’t even know if we reached an agreement for our clients, I was too busy rehearsing my apology speech in my head. The last of her remaining colleagues murmurs something in her ear, they exchange a nod, and he’s gone. We’re alone.
“Err, Sharon. Would you mind having a word with me?” It’s the best opening line I can come up with.
“You usually don’t ask my permission to talk.”
She delivers a jab-cross combo and sends me back to my corner.
“Right, mmm… I really need to talk to you.”
“Am I allowed to scream?”
“Please, it’s only going to take a minute. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of picking up the phone to call you.”
“Why? Did you leave something out of your last speech?”
She’s sharp. Everything she says is a blow to my face. Jab, cross, hook, uppercut, repeat. And since I don’t intend to punch back—figuratively speaking—I’m just going to hold my arms in front of my face and parry her verbal assault. She deserves her retribution, and if being mean to me helps her, I’m letting her do it.
“About that. What I did to you was horrible. I never meant for it to happen the way it did. I never meant for it to happen at all. And if there was a way to take it all away, I would…”
“You mean you’d rather not have stolen Jake from me? It seems to have worked out pretty well for you.” She jerks her chin at my hand. “Is that from him?”
I follow her gaze to my engagement ring. Oh crap, this is getting worse by the minute.
I blush. “It is. And that’s not what I meant. What I wanted to say is that if I could turn back time, I wouldn’t wait so long to sort myself out. What I did, the way I did it… it was wrong. But I can’t turn back time and I can’t take it back. All I can do is to say how sorry I am. I am deeply sorry. I never meant for anyone to get hurt and I know I did hurt you. And I’m sorry for that.”
Sharon sighs, shakes her head down, and looks back up at me. “I’ve never hated someone the way I hated you. That day you took my life in the palm of your hand, crushed it into a ball, and threw it in the trash.”
Should I say again how sorry I am? I decide to keep silent and look contrite.
“And you can stop with the beaten-up-dog act.”
“It’s not an act. I really feel terrible for what I did.”
“And what do you expect? What do you want from me? My forgiveness, so you can keep living your life with no remorse?”
“I don’t expect anything from you. I owed you an apology, and I wanted to give it to you. That’s all. I’m not going to steal any more of your time. Thank you for listening.”
I make to exit the room, but she calls me back.
“Wait.”
I turn again.
“There’s something I want you to hear as well.”
“Okay.”
“As I said, you’re probably the person I hated the most in my entire life. Being left at the altar was the worst experience I ever had. I was lost, heartbroken, humiliated… but,” she pauses, “it probably wasn’t nearly as bad as going through a divorce would’ve been, which was probably where Jake and I would’ve ended up some years down the line. I was in love with him, and being dumped on my wedding day was painful, but not as painful as slowly realizing I’d married someone who could never love me the way I deserve to be loved. I never understood that until I fell for my husband.”
I stare at her, stupefied. My eyes travel to her left hand where a tiny gold band is wrapped around her ring finger. Never has a little piece of metal given me more joy than the one sitting on her finger.
“You-you’re married?” I stutter.
“Yeah, I eloped to Vegas last month. I couldn’t stand to go through the whole ceremony-with-family-and-friends thing again. No crazy-ex-girlfriends-barging-in-to-yell-stop hazards this time.”
She’s married, and she’s making jokes about me ruining her life, which I really didn’t do. Right?
“You’re married,” I repeat, more to convince myself that it’s actually true.
“I am, so no matter what happened, I ended up in a good place. As did you, as did Jake, as did my husband. He’s your biggest fan!”
“He is?”
“Yeah, he’s over there. You can check for yourself.”
I stare through the glass wall of the meeting room where a tall, handsome man’s smiling at me. He’s the counselor who left the room last. His lips part in a warm smile and he bends forward in an obliged bow. I beam at him.
“He came to work for my firm when I was already engaged. He says he fell in love with me during our first joint trial. The day I didn’t get married was the happiest day of his life, so you’re his hero. Seriously. He was there to pick up the pieces when I broke apart, and a fine job he did. Now I know what real love feels like, and I can understand why you had to do what you did. So all’s well that ends well.”
I nod as I’m a little too choked up to speak.
“I’d better go now.”
“Sure,” I say. “And thank you.”
She smiles and exits the room. Outside, her husband puts an arm around her waist and pulls her in for a kiss. I watch Sharon literally beam with happiness as the sunrays bounce on her blonde hair, and a huge weight lifts from my chest. My closet’s empty; no more skeletons lurking in the dark.