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“What are you doing?” Isabella asked, her tone suddenly shifting.
“I’m calling Lucas.”
“What? After everything I just told you?”
“I need to hear it from him.” By then the phone was already ringing. I shot a quick glance at Isabella, who looked agitated. Feeling uncomfortable, I looked back at my phone, desperately hoping Lucas would pick up and explain this had all been some huge misunderstanding, but he didn’t, and the call went to voicemail.
“Really, what did you expect?” Isabella said, her tone edging into hostile territory. “He’s obviously not going to answer your call if he’s with her!”
I looked at her. “Why are you suddenly so mad?”
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me? I’m not mad, just frustrated that I took time out of my busy schedule, drove all this way, and waited here an hour, to tell you the truth about Lucas, only for you to call him, the man wholiedto you? And right in front of me?” By this point she was yelling.
“Isabella,” I said, dealing with emotional whiplash. Within a matter of seconds I had gone from heartbroken to defensive. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. But even if I don’t know the reason you came to tell me this, I’m sure it wasn’t out of the goodness of your heart. I know what people have been saying about me, and it’s all lies, all of it. But you, showing up unannounced with this whole… good sister act, like you and Lucas were so close—”
“You don’t know the first thing about me!” she shouted.
Calmly, I looked her right in the eyes. “I know more than you think.”
Isabella was furious, and grabbing her phone from the table, she stood up, rather aggressively, and turned to face me. “Listen here, I came here to tell you the truth, because my brother is too chickenshit to do it himself! It’s not you he loves, it’s her! It’s always been her. And if you’re too stupid to accept that, then maybe you deserve it!”
I stood up, standing directly in front of Isabella. “Get out. Right now.”
“Excuseme?”
“I said, get out. Before I call the police.”
Indignant, Isabella turned on her heels and marched away.
“What the hell was all that?” asked Carlos, running toward me.
“Oh, don’t worry, I took care of it.”
“Natalie,” Carlos began, his facial expression suddenly serious. “This is a business, an establishment. And that woman, she came here because of you. Between that and the rumors… I’m not saying I believe them, just that word gets around town. I’m sorry, Natalie, but I think it would be best for the restaurant if you no longer work here.”
I was caught totally off guard. “Are you serious, Carlos? I’ve worked here over a year, perfect attendance, glowing customer reviews, and you’re firing me because someone decided to show up at my place of work unannounced, and yell atme? Did you not see how I asked her to leave when she—”
“Natalie, please. I’ve made my decision.”
What I did next totally threw him off. I laughed.
“I’m sorry, is something funny?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Hey, remember that time you asked me out, two weeks after I started working here, and I rejected you? It’s funny, since then you started acting differently around me; you kept waiting for me to mess up, so you could call me out, so you could assert your power, as my ‘superior’. But I never did mess up. All these months, and I didn’t mess up a single time… until today. And now you’re firing me.” I laughed again. “I guess I should’ve just slept with you, huh? Then I wouldn’t be out of a job.”
Carlos’s face was bright red, and his breathing was heavier than usual. I waited for him to defend himself, to tell me I was completely out of line, but he didn’t. “Goodbye, Natalie,” he said, then turned his back on me and walked away.
I turned around and stepped out of the restaurant, presumably for the last time. After that, I stepped into the front door of my parents’ house, with no clear memory of how I’d gotten there or how much time had elapsed. I felt numb, partially from the cold and partially from the shock, and it was not until I had locked myself in my bedroom and crawled under the covers that the sensations returned to me in full force.
I cried for what felt like hours. It was as if several misfortunes were competing for my attention, each one insisting it was more important than the last: Lucas betraying me, running off with some beautiful woman he apparently loved; my joblessness, in light of Carlos firing me and the family I walked dogs for moving out of state; my parents, who would surely come to resent me, if not already then eventually, for burdening them with my problems; Sophie, my pride and joy, who depended on me for her safety and security.
What am I going to do?
I envisioned Sophie, with her wide, innocent eyes, and winced in agony. This was not my struggle alone; it was hers, too.
What are we going to do?
22
