Awakening (31 page)

Sunday was relaxing and romantic. We slept late, ordered room service for breakfast, checked out around three in the afternoon, and drove home. We were both basking in our crazy sexual exploits from the night before. We ate an early dinner, took a long hot bath, and were in bed by nine. I couldn’t have come up with a more pleasant day.

Now, in contrast, I have David in full-blown meltdown along with Colleen, Julie, a young bride, and her mother. And why, one might ask, is everyone freaking out? Because the red on the wedding invitations is not The Red! Not a bad red, mind you, but the wrong red.

Yep, this is what my work life has become, flipping out over the wrong red.

“Nora. I need you in the conference room ASAP,” David’s voice blasts over the intercom.

Rising from my desk, I take a deep breath. I’m having an extremely difficult time getting fired up about this ‘error’.

“I just don’t see how this can be fixed!” The bride’s red-faced mother shrills when I open the door to the conference room.

Julie and David are frantically opening boxes and peering at the invitations, I assume to see if they all have the dreaded wrong red.

“Mrs. Clark, I assure you, this printer is the best printer in the business. This is the first time we have ever had a problem.” Julie is doing her best to distract the woman from David’s scowling face.

I walk over to the boxes and grab one. They look beautiful. Two toned with red and gold raised lettering on soft card stock. I see small pieces of art.

“David, may I see you outside, please?” I ask, in my most professional voice.

David looks up at me with harsh eyes and his hair askew. He looks like a wild animal. Even if the invitations were perfect, if my wedding planner looked like him, I’d be panicking too.

“Nora. Now is not a good time. Did you see these?” He thrusts a handful of invitations into my face.

“Yes David. Can we please talk in my office? I really, really need to talk to you.” I give him a pleading look. “Excuse us a moment,” I say to the young woman and her mother at the table.

Grabbing a hold of David’s upper arm, I walk with him to the door.

“David, what is wrong with you?” I ask as soon as we are in my office, knowing that I am way out of line. No one gets in his way, but I am beyond caring.

He looks at me, startled.

“There is nothing wrong with these,” I begin, “Yes, they are a slightly different hue than you wanted, but this poor woman’s wedding is in less than three months, and there’s no way we can get these fixed in time. You’re just freaking them out.”

He stares at me. Well, it’s been fun working here, but I’ll need to start looking for a new job soon.

“Well. Nora. I’m. I, I—” David stutters.

“Look, I’m sorry to be so abrupt, but we have to make this work. There’s no other way.” I wait for the other shoe to drop.

“Well. Why can’t we fix this, Nora?” David’s tone is acidic. The only reason we’re still having a conversation is that I’m disagreeing with him in private.

“What I am saying is that even if the printer agreed to reprint, it would take another three weeks, putting the invitations out less than two months before the wedding. We can’t do that to them. We need to have a conversation with the printers about their screw up, because they did screw up. But we need to save face with the bride.”

I’m losing my patience. Who owns this business, anyway? He should know this; he’s acting childish and selfish. I know that I have jumped head first over a wall that will cost me my job, but I just can’t see any other way to fix this. Taking a deep breath, I brace for his wrath.

“Damn, that is close. Too close. Okay, here’s what we need to do: you go back in there and convince them that these are great, and I’ll deal with the printer,” he says matter-of-factly.

“I need to go convince them that these are fine, now?” I ask, stunned.

“Yes. I need to call the printer before I calm down.” He walks out of my office. Problem solved.

Oh great. I did not see that coming.

Two hours and many tears later, the bride and her mother have left, having approved the invitations. I am supervising the rest of the wedding from here on out and keeping her away from David. I have not seen or heard from him, so I have no idea how the conversation with the printer went. I want to be in a world where the wrong red doesn’t derail an entire wedding.

Sitting down at my desk with a fresh cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin, I google ‘LSAT prep classes’. I know it’s a long shot, but I want to do something, anything, to feel like I’m making progress toward a goal. There are lots of online classes and tutoring. That will never work; I need hands on learning, teacher to student, in a room working with books.

When I’m just about to give up, I run across an ad for summer classes in Palo Alto. They have evening classes Tuesdays and Thursdays with a computer lab open seven days a week. But the classes started last week—Damn it.

After a lengthy conversation with the registrar, I convince them that I am a serious and mature student who is completely committed to the process. The lady finally relents and I’m allowed to start tomorrow. Hanging up the phone, I almost hyperventilate with excitement. I know it seems ridiculous to be this excited about an LSAT prep course, but I can’t help it.

I look on the LSAT website and discover that there is a test in September. Four months away! After some quick calculations, I sit back and hold my breath. I can’t believe this. If I do well on the test, I can apply for early admission this winter. That would put me in law school a year from September. I sit back and hold my breath.

I know it’s a year-plus away, but I finally feel like I am going somewhere. I have started. With this first step, I’m going to get there.

I breathe out, almost giddy. I know better than to whoop and holler, today has been a nightmare of a day. Now I wish I’d really let David have it. In a little over a year, I won’t be working here anyway.

That one thought alone makes my neck muscles relax and my breathing steadies. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Thinking back to where I was a month ago, I realize that I have come a long way. Something inside of me has broken loose and is no longer holding me back. Nothing seems out of reach anymore; law school, camping, motorcycles, even sex clubs! Do I dare say I am soaring? Have I really jumped and not crashed on my face? Is this what it feels like to really live life?

I think back to that dance at Sophia’s birthday so long ago. It all started with Ryan. That passion was so enticing, yet so abstract to me. What are the odds that he would end up here not two days later? Wanting to kiss fate, I smile to myself and manage to focus on my work for the rest of the afternoon.

~~~

Tuesday night is warm. The air is dry and almost crackles. I walk back to my car from the prep class, my head filled with facts and vocabulary lists. What a change in pace this is going to be.

Going back to school is going to take some getting used to. I haven’t studied in years and my brain is slow to start. Reluctantly, I remember why I passed on this the first time around. I’m not skipping out this time, but I do feel as if my brain is running through mud.

When I drive back to my apartment the lot is full. I need to park around the corner. Ugh! This is becoming a regular occurrence. There’s a spot about three blocks away, so I park and start walking back. About a block away from my car, the back of my neck starts to tingle and I notice that the street is dark. I’m just about to cross when a black mass comes out of nowhere and pushes me into the side street.

I scream, but then see a familiar face come into focus.

“Darren! This is so not okay. You scared the shit out me!” I try to push him off of me, but he has me pinned to the wall.

“I just want to talk,” he slurs while holding me in place.

“Knock it off. We’re no longer together. This is creepy.” I pause and wait for him to say something. This is really strange, even for him.

“Are you okay?” I ask him when he doesn’t reply.

“Nora, Nora, Nora,” he slurs, his eyes cold and icy. He tilts his head to the side, easing his grip on my shoulders.

“Darren. What is the matter with you? Are you drunk?” I’m starting to freak out a little, but working hard to hold the panic at bay.

Just when I think he is going to let me go, he shakes his head and pushes me into the wall again. He pins my shoulders to the brick and starts clawing at my jeans. What in the hell? He’s surprisingly strong for being so drunk. I stop thinking and go into defense mode. Slapping him with my free hand doesn’t do much, and he just growls, leaning harder on me.

My shoulders dig into the wall, hurting my upper back. I’m in complete shock. My ex-boyfriend has me pinned to a wall in an alleyway! This is absurd and scary at the same time. He has lost his mind!

I take a shaky breath and Darren starts reaching for my jeans again. My arms start flailing around, fighting him off. I can’t believe this is happening to me!

“Darren, knock it off!”

I see his eyes, and they are smiling. He’s laughing at me? Anger surges, pushing adrenaline through my blood. Here I am trying to be polite and reasonable, and he’s laughing at me. Without thinking, my knee connects to his groin with a loud thud. I barely feel the hit, but Darren goes down fast.

“What the fuck! Don’t ever call me. Don’t ever come visit me. Just leave me the fuck alone. You sick bastard,” I yell at him and run as fast as I can to my apartment.

Taking two stairs at time, I run to my door, keys in hand. With trembling fingers, I unlock the door and throw myself inside. Once inside, the shaking and hyperventilating take over. What the hell was that about?

As soon I know I’m safe the throbbing in my knee becomes apparent. There’s only one way in and out of my apartment unless you use the fire escape. And even Darren wouldn’t attempt that, but I check that window anyway to make sure it’s locked. I go back and recheck the door chain, twice.

Hobbling to the freezer for an ice pack, I’m still scared and so confused. What kind of sick game is he playing? I sit and let the ice numb my knee. The more I think about it, the more freaked out I get. I cannot believe Darren just tried to attack me. Do I call the police? That seems a little extreme, but still. Would he really have hurt me if I hadn’t kicked him so hard?

The thought of him is making me sick. With my knee numb, I limp through the house and take down every photograph and every memento I have of him. I have a pretty big pile when I’m done. Wow, I had no idea that I had kept this much stuff out that reminds me of him. I wonder what Ryan thinks about that.

I take a shoebox from my closet and put everything in it. I also grab the few things Darren left here and dump them in the box, too. When everything is in the box, I hide it in the back of my closet.

Too keyed up to sleep, but still exhausted from my day, I crawl into bed and turn on the TV. My knee is bruising; it’s going be sore tomorrow.

Wishing Ryan was with me, I drift off to sleep in front of late night television.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Wednesday morning hits me hard. Not only does my head hurt from a tense night of sleep, my knee is swollen and sore. I wrap it with an Ace bandage and wear a long, free-flowing skirt. The last thing I want is to get into a discussion about what happened to my knee. How the hell do I explain that my ex-boyfriend tried to attack me last night? He was obviously drunk, but still, I have no idea what his intentions were. How bad was it going get? I shudder at the thought.

I think about calling Ryan, but don’t know what to say to him, either. This whole situation is unexplainable. Period.

With my knee wrapped, I almost don’t limp. After applying extra makeup under my eyes, I almost look normal, too. Still slightly sick to my stomach, I gather my stuff and head off to face another grueling day at work.

I barely notice the drive over; my head is still reeling over what happened last night. Has Darren just completely lost his mind? Does he not know that the break up was real? Or was he really just that drunk? Maybe his insistence on control all these years was hiding some underlining psychosis. He’s certainly a bit OCD, but I thought he just really liked schedules, not that he would completely lose it when his control over me ended. Darren in full-blown meltdown is not something I want to deal with.

Lost in thought, I realize I have been sitting at my desk, staring at a pile of correspondence I didn’t get to yesterday. Oh goodie, my favorite task—not. Maybe it’ll take my mind off everything else.

I work through the morning with no interruptions. Everything in the office seems calm. Julie and Sophia dart back and forth to each other’s offices, some of the other staff trailing behind with sample books and large files. No sign of David, though.

I wonder what Ryan is doing right now. I’m still baffled how he can be so attentive and passionate with me on the weekends, but then completely cut me off during the week. Is his work that important, that grueling? Or is it just an excuse to not be bothered by me? My thoughts go back to Katie and her friends. Is Ryan hiding me? Or is he just done with me? Found someone else? My head starts to spin and I collapse on my desk.