Evie
Josh called in sick to work the next day. I wanted to think it was because he was sorry, but deep down I knew it was because his face was probably bruised to a pulp, and he didn’t want to show up. Well, that was too bad. Unless he wanted to take the whole week off, he was going to have to show up sometime.
But I had today free of him. I had Nick Mason to thank for that.
Hey, where’s Josh?people said to me in the hallway at the bank branch I worked at in downtown Millwood. The central branch of this particular bank, in fact. The most important branch. The branch where the best people worked, because here they could get promoted.
These were nice people, well-dressed and pleasant, and they could recommend me when the next promotion came up. So I couldn’t just tell everyone to please, please fuck off.
Sick, huh? You see him? He okay?
I’d always liked it before, that everyone knew Josh was my boyfriend. It was a badge. A New Evie badge. Now it was like water torture, gritting my teeth and smiling at people, shrugging, shaking my head.I don’t know. I’m sure he’s fine. By lunchtime I felt like an overinflated balloon that might pop if you poked it.
I sat in my little bank teller cubicle and took customers one by one, while my stomach churned and I wondered what was wrong with me that Josh would cheat. Did I not pay attention to him? Did I do something wrong? Was a too boring, too fat? Then I hated myself for thinking like that. It was like someone had set a toxic thought chain off inside my head that wouldn’t stop.
But I didn’t make a fuss. I kept calm. I needed this job. I’d made a mess of high school and dropped out of college, and now, at twenty-five, I needed to do something with my life. Something that involved pencil skirts and low heels and regular paychecks. Something I could get promoted at. Something that made sense.
Josh had been part of that. I’d wanted—needed—someone stable, acceptable. Except either he’d been a very good liar, or I hadn’t seen what I didn’t want to see.
Okay, so my relationship had turned into a dumpster fire, but I would deal. Dumpster fires could be contained. I still needed the rest of my life to work.
By the end of the day, my jaw hurt like I’d had it in a vise, and the back of my neck was so tense it felt like glass. I had a throbbing headache and my feet hurt—but I’d made it. I was powering down the computer in my cubicle when one of my coworkers, Dar, came over, pulling on her coat. “Hey,” she said. “A bunch of us are going for a drink. Want to come?”
I pretended to think it over, though today of all days I’d rather put my eye out. “I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m tired.” Translation: I wanted to go home, put on my baggy pajamas, and curl up in bed, listening to my roommate Heather blare the Pet Shop Boys in her room. Heather’s musical taste was stuck in the eighties, but except for the REO Speedwagon, I didn’t really mind.
“Come on,” Dar said, zipping her coat. “It’ll be fun. Call up Josh. I bet he’s not even sick. He’ll probably come.”
My headache throbbed harder. I picked up my own coat from the coat rack. “The thing is, Dar, Josh and I broke up.”
Her nicely plucked eyebrows rose up to her hairline, but that was all. She blinked once. “Oh.”
“Yeah, I’m really sorry, I—” I stopped and stared at her. “You’re not shocked.”
“Sure I am,” she said, stepping forward and squeezing my shoulder. “I’m sorry, hon. Let’s go drink.”
“No, wait.” I pulled back and looked at her expression again. Dar was thirty, with dark blond hair and great makeup. “You really don’t look surprised.”
“Well…” She squeezed my shoulder again, uncomfortable, and dropped her hand. “You two just didn’t seem compatible, I guess.”
“What does that mean?” I was feeling a dark, awful twinge of panic deep in my chest.
“Well, you know.” Now she looked really uncomfortable and couldn’t quite meet my eyes. “You’re looking for something serious, and Josh wasn’t quite ready to settle down.”
There was a long, painful silence, as drawn out as a scream.
And it hit me. “Oh, my god,” I said. “You knew.”
Now she looked panicked. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“How could you possibly know?” I said. “I mean, how could everyone know except me? Did he wear a sign?”
“Honey, it isn’t like that,” Dar said. “It was just…” She trailed off.
“Just what?”
“They, um…” Dar looked like she wished she could sink into the floor. “They weren’t very discreet.”
Which meant everyone knew. Everyone.