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The mood the rest of the day is tense. Of course it is. I all but told them they’re all under suspicion. The tension hangs in the air of the office, which is a lot quieter than usual, and I’m tired. Tired of being pissed off more than anything, but I can’t seem to shake my anger.
Adele even messaged late in the afternoon asking how I’m doing, if I’m okay.
No. Hate every single person in NYC. Hate them. This is bullshit.
A few minutes later, she replied with,
Even Jerry Seinfeld? You love Jerry.
I snickered at that.
My guess is Dad told Adele I’m having a rough time. My sister is a beautiful soul who will immediately take issue with anyone in her family being the least bit unhappy.
She replied again.
What about Spike Lee? You can’t hate Spike. You’ve seen Clockers how many times? You love Spike.
And one more time before I had to answer.
Surely you don’t suddenly hate ScarJo. I know all about your giant ScarJo crush.
I replied.
Stop Googling famous New Yorkers just to argue with me.
Her response:
Busted. But I wasn’t trying to argue with you. I was trying to make you smile. Isn’t Mother Teresa a New Yorker too? I know my baby brother isn’t a saint-hater…
Me: I think she was Italian.
Adele: “Nope, Macedonian.”
Me: “Get off the Google, addict.”
Adele: “I’ll get off the Google if you get off the grumpy. I’ll send you cute pics of your niece and nephew. Will that help? Bray misses you already. I went to your house to grab your mail the other day and he looked for you even though I told him you weren’t there. He was convinced you were playing hide and seek.”
Me: Definitely. I need Braeden and Lilly pictures badly. Thanks.
She sent about twenty texts, pictures and short videos of Braeden and Lilly, including one with Braed waving and saying “Miss you Unco Auzzie”.
That kid is smart as a whip. And I’m gonna hate it when he loses his toddler speech impediment. Kid is too smart for his age, too. Me and my sister live in the same neighborhood, so I see her kids a lot. I miss my little buddy.
But that slice of home did help. So I again scroll through everything she sent during my cab ride back to the apartment after work, carrying Jada’s empty lunch bag with me. I left my laptop at the office tonight, knowing I’m too exhausted to do any more work today. It’s Friday, but I plan to be at work tomorrow anyway.
I ate the last fajita and a half at four o’clock with the banana and stashed the protein bar in my desk. I can’t help but wonder what she’s made for dinner.
15
Jada
Austin Carmichael is an alphahole jerk. I barely slept last night after he threatened to fire me for cooking his lunch. I lay in bed for forever - seething. I tossed and turned and finally I sat up and snapped open my laptop. I started writing to get my frustration out.
I’ve taken to doing this a lot in the last year. When I can’t have the kind of exchange with somebody I want, I write it down.
I’ve written letters to my father, my brother, my absent mother, where I’ve said what I really feel, said what I really need them to hear.
I couldn’t bring myself to type ‘Dear Austin’ and somehow, my plans to write a confrontation scene between a housekeeper and her boss that would end in her telling him everything she thought, maybe even murdering him at the end so that I could purge my anger went a different way.
I wound up starting a story and not the kind of story I want to be writing. Because it’s a smutty story and he’s the main male character.
Yep, I’m writing dirty sex stories about my boss – that I hate.
And I’m feeling guilty about being the main female character, and about all the things he and I wind up doing in this story.
But I can’t seem to stop writing it. I worked on it until four o’clock in the morning. I worked on it again after my first cup of coffee at nine o’clock. And I opened my laptop up the minute I got back from dropping his lunch off, too.
That he didn’t bring his lunch today gave me the perfect opportunity to show him he was wrong about me last night. The look on his face when he realized I brought him lunch that I’d been cooking when he hollered at me – priceless.
I even wore my job interview outfit for extra punch.
He felt guilty for a split second for yelling at me last night. And then that girl came in and I almost fell over. Because I know who she is. There are pictures of her in this apartment. Or there used to be. I haven’t seen that photo album in a long time, so Aiden must have gotten rid of it.
