“Well, is there anything you can do about that? You probably don’t have to work as hard as you do.”
“Says the guy who tosses his own projects at me.”
He shrugged. “You can say no, you know. You’re already excelling.”
Yes, I was. And suddenly I knew the answer to Yolanda’s question about what would make me happier in my position. “Do you think there’s any chance Yolanda would let me go down to 80 percent at some point?”
“Like take Fridays off?”
“Yeah. But that’s probably insane, isn’t it? Yolanda’s constantly on me to perform better. Reducing my workload is the opposite of that.”
“I have a feeling you’re wrong about that. But you’d have your salary cut. Could you swing that?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. If Sanjay landed the communications job, I might be able to, but I wasn’t one to count my chickens while they were still in the shell.
I didn’t have a chance to tell Russ that, because Minna, our alumni relations chair, had just popped up behind us. “Hey, you two! Whatcha doin’?”
I could drink two pots of French roast and still not be half as chipper as Minna. “Just talking shop,” I said.
“You going to join us plebeians at some point?” she said, motioning toward the long table at the back of the bar where our coworkers had gathered.
“Yeah, we’ll head over to you guys in a minute,” said Russ.
As she bounced away on the balls of her feet, I turned to Russ. “What about you? What’s next? Any secret dreams?”
“I only ever wanted to make good money without working too hard. The good news is, that’s what I’m doing.” He smiled self-consciously. “I’d like to get married one day, too. Maybe have some kids.”
As my eyes met his, I felt it again—the uncomfortable realization that yes, I was attracted to him. He wasn’t the kind of man I’d want to date, let alone procreate with, but I would probably go to bed with him if I weren’t married.
Which was deeply unsettling. I wasn’t worried about cheating—like Sanjay, that was simply off the table for me. But why was it so easy to think about sleeping with someone completely inappropriate instead of with the person I’d vowed to love for the rest of my natural life?
Really, Russ and I had nothing in common outside of work. Why had we just slipped into the kind of easy conversation I wanted to be having with my husband?
I broke Russ’ gaze. “This has been fun,” I said, “but I really need to get going.”
He looked confused. “You’re not going to go say hey to the minions?”
“Nope. It’s been a long day.” A long summer, really. “I want to make sure I have a chance to spend some time with Sanjay.” Yes—I needed to get home and see if maybe we could somehow share the kind of moment I’d just had with another man.
When I got home, the kids were on the sofa watching a movie, and Sanjay was at the dining room table in front of his laptop. His headphones were on, and his fingers were drumming the table to the beat of whatever music he was playing. He probably missed his band.
He took off his headphones when he saw me. “How was it?” he said.
“Fine.” I sat on the bench and took off my shoes, wondering if my face hinted at my guilty conscience. Nothing would ever happen between me and Russ; I knew that instinctively. But I would have felt a lot better if I were so incredibly attracted to and engaged by my husband that I couldn’t even entertain the thought of being with someone else. “Happy hour’s kind of an oxymoron when coworkers are involved. Russ and I had a nice chat, though.”
“That’s good.” I waited for Sanjay to ask me what we’d chatted about, thinking maybe I could somehow tell him that now I sort of understood his situation with Christina. But the question never came. “Hey,” he said, already looking back at his computer, “the kids are fed and bathed, lunches are made, and there’s a plate wrapped up for you on the counter. Do you mind if I go back to working on this? I want to finish another page or two before I call it a night.”
I sighed, feeling defeated. So much for connection. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll put the kids to sleep after their show. I’m going to go change.”
I’d just put on a nightgown when my phone, which I’d left on the dresser, lit up.
It was Matt.
I have been thinking about our last conversation and have realized that I need some space. Unfortunately, this means that I’m going to have to put your visits with Cecily on hold for a while. I’ll reach out when I’m ready.
I stared at my phone. I wasn’t sure whether to scream or cry, so I pressed my hands to my face, which was already flushed.
I had done the right thing by being honest and direct.
And now I had to live with the consequences.
TWENTY-FOUR
“You should see a doctor,” said Sanjay. It was the following morning, and he was standing over me with a thermometer in one hand and a bottle of ibuprofen in the other.
“Leave me,” I croaked. I didn’t need my temperature taken to know I didn’t have the flu, or even a cold. I just . . . couldn’t get out of bed.
“Mommy? Are you sick?” Stevie was peering at me from behind Sanjay. She looked worried.
Yes—heartsick, I thought. I didn’t know when I’d be able to see Cecily again, and that was my fault. My father had cancer and didn’t want me to be involved with his treatment—or really, any other part of his life. My husband was attracted to another woman and I was attracted to another man. My harebrained attempt to save our marriage was having the opposite effect.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so hopeless.
Actually—yes, I could. It was the instant I realized Jenny was really and truly dead.
“I’m going to be fine,” I told Stevie. My eyelids were so heavy that I might as well have been sick. “I’ll feel better after I take a nap.”
“You can’t nap in the morning,” said Miles. He looked as concerned as Stevie, and for a moment I wondered if they might be making a connection between my illness and Jenny’s death. The thought flew out of my head as fast as it had landed.
“Watch me,” I said, and fell fast asleep.
When I awoke it was noon and I was alone. I had emailed the office after I woke up that morning to say I wasn’t feeling well and would be out for the day, so I didn’t bother checking my phone. Instead, I drank the glass of water Sanjay had left for me on the bedside table. Then I lay back on my pillow. It was so nice and dark and calm behind my lids; maybe I could stay there for a little while longer.
When I opened my eyes again, Sanjay was stroking my head. “Pen? You okay? You’ve been asleep for hours.”
“What time is it?” I muttered. It was dark out, and I was kind of woozy.
“Almost nine.”
“At night?” I pushed myself into a seated position. “I slept all day ?” I hadn’t done that since—well, ever.
Sanjay nodded. “The kids are fine,” he said, but for once I wasn’t thinking about them. “I’ve been keeping them away from you, though, so they don’t get whatever you have.”
“I’m not sick,” I said.
He grimaced. “Are you pregnant?”
“No, and given the look on your face, thank God.”
“What is it, then?”
I sighed. “I just really don’t feel like living my life right now.” Sanjay looked alarmed, so I quickly added, “I’m not thinking of hurting myself or anything like that. Matt texted last night to say he needed space, and that we would be putting visits with Cecily on hold until he was ready to see me again.”
Sanjay put his hand on my leg. “Oh Penny. I’m sorry. I wish you’d said something.”
“I thought you’d come to bed before I fell asleep, and the next thing I knew, I was passed out.” I pushed myself into a sitting position. “I don’t know what you could have said or done to make it better. I’m . . . depressed, I guess.”
“Oh,” he said. “I’ve kind of been waiting for that.”
“You were waiting for me to get depressed?”
“Not clinically, necessarily.”
“You sound like your father right now.”
“Maybe I do. Point being, you haven’t really dealt with your grief, have you?”
“This isn’t about Jenny.”
He raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No,” I said firmly. “I just told you about Matt. It’s about you and me, too. It’s about my dad. And the fact that everyone keeps asking me what I need to be happy and the truth is I have no idea.”
But this wasn’t true, exactly. I did have an idea. A couple, in fact. And every single one seemed utterly impossible.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he said.
Now he asked me.
“No,” I said. “I want to sleep.”
He looked at me with resignation, but I was too exhausted to try to fix how he was feeling. “Sweet dreams, then.”
“Sanjay,” I called weakly, but he was already gone.