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“Erez, please. Please. Give me twenty-four hours.”
He looked down at her. All the heat and intimacy from Hila’s was gone.
“It’s late, and it’s Thursday, so there’s nothing to be gained from pursuing this now. You have the weekend to talk to Nurit.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry, Dafna, this suite is amazing, but I don’t want to spend the night. I need to process this alone.”
She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted to talk it out with him, discuss it, to process it together. But she wouldn’t beg him to stay. She saw him to the door. He didn’t kiss her and they didn’t hug. He walked away without looking back.
They had been so happy together this afternoon, she had imagined a life with him, and now he was gone. She returned to the sofa, hugged her knees to her chest, and finally allowed herself to unravel. She cried in big, heaving sobs, bowling out her anger and frustration. Each new gulp brought on more tears. She hadn’t wept like that in years.
But she was a powerful woman, she had her squad, and she didn't have to face this alone. She sniffed and blew her nose. There were no more tears. Rising from the sofa, she stood erect, spread her feet, placed her hands on her hips, and took several deep breaths, gaining confidence.
The first name she thought of wasn’t Orna or Sigal. It was Avigail. Dafna called her and said she needed “startup help” that had to do with Erez’s review.
“I’m so glad you called. I’m coming,” her friend said.
Avigail knocked on the suite’s door forty minutes later, making the drive from Tel Aviv to Britannia park in record time. Her wild curls were pulled back into a severe ponytail, and her black eyes were puffed. She wore tight yoga pants and a loose hoodie and looked about twenty-five years old.
“Is that a tattoo, Dafna? Wow! I didn’t know you had it in you.”
She had a tattoo now, a permanent reminder of what happened when you stretched your wings too soon.
Avigail entered the suite and looked around. “Nice.”
“Bring Ronen here,” she suggested, referring to Avigail’s husband, ignoring the remark about her tattoo, which she didn’t want discussed. The younger woman turned her back on Dafna and uncorked the unopened wine, filling the generous wine glass to the brim.
“I gather you’re staying the night.” She wouldn’t let Avigail drive intoxicated.
“You gather correctly.”
“Are you okay?” Her eyes were red rimmed, just like Dafna’s.
“No.” Then Avigail started crying. It was so uncharacteristic that Dafna stayed mute. “My marriage is over,” she sobbed.
“Oh, no.”
“He cheats on me,” Avigail said. Dafna stared at her in disbelief. Avigail’s husband was one of the more charming men Dafna had met. She knew their marriage was in trouble, but she didn’t think it had gone this far.
“I’m so sorry! How long have you known?”
“Just today. I was at a conference this morning and Ronen was there too, but he didn’t know I was coming. I saw him but he hadn’t noticed me yet. He was talking to this beautiful woman, being super friendly with her. I was talking to this guy who didn’t know I was Ronen’s wife. He smirked and gossiped with me, saying he knew that woman’s husband and that she was having an affair.”
“Oh, God. Did you see it coming?”
“He thinks I work too hard. We’ve been drifting apart for months.”
Dafna could relate. Ilan had always thought she worked too hard, and they had many arguments over it. But they had children, and Avigail and her husband didn’t.
“I haven’t even confronted him yet–I left the house before he came back, and I’ve been walking and thinking for hours. When you called, I texted him that I wasn’t coming home tonight. He didn’t even ask me where I was going.” Her voice broke.
“You should have talked to me sooner. Or to Orna or Sigal.”
“I guess. I’ve always been really shitty at asking for help. But I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s talk about you. What’s going on? What is it you wanted to show me?”
Dafna showed her the excels and the emails.
