But I felt I had time to call my mom, my sister-- to get on the phone and scream about this new twist of plot. So I did. We screamed. My mom got to say, "I told you so" and my sister said, "oh my God" over and over. Turns out they were no help. The only thing I accomplished while dissecting everything with them was that I should definitely not tell M what her boyfriend had done. And I never did- I never told M.
I got off the phone with them and began to compose my response. I kept re-reading his email, still in disbelief. If I hadn't erased the email (at a later date, out of anger I did erase the love email), I'd tell you exactly what it said. I do remember it went something like this:
"I'm going to say this at a huge risk... of saying something that could change everything... but I would never forgive myself if I let this go... you're about to go to your new job and I can't let you go without saying... I'm crazy about you, for a long time...this weekend was all wrong... I was there with the wrong girl... I'm crazy about you like the Wonder Years... I have to know if you feel the same."
Crazy like the Wonder Years huh?
I took my time and gently wrote a response. I didn't flat-out say "sorry, not interested." Instead, I was kind and subtle and blamed the circumstances. I figured whether or not I liked him in return could arguably be considered irrelevant, given the fact that he was currently dating my friend and that I had a boyfriend. But also the truth was, I was too chicken to blurt out the truth that something had been horribly miscommunicated while I was friends with Evan. So I wrote this nervous, long-winded email- likely not saying anything he was interested in hearing-- a lot of how-did-this-happen type of musings. I closed it with "and so I'm sorry this will never work as you are dating my friend and I have a boyfriend." The end.
The problem with rejecting a guy who normally has girls throwing themselves at him is that he doesn't tend to believe you when you do it. The day after the email exchange he wrote, "you're not married, you're not off limits." I was disgusted with his level of confidence, but I somehow "felt bad," I suppose because I was turning down a coworker's romantic advances, which was just uncomfortable and also because I was invariably going to disappoint him.
He insisted we meet the following day to discuss everything. I really didn't want to discuss anything with him. But I agreed. I'm a pushover. I agreed to meet him in the park near my apartment.
And as could have been easily predicted, the whole meeting was anything but a walk in the park. I didn't have a clue what to say. I was feeling responsible and in the hot seat and exposed and sorry. The first thing I said was,
"You're not going to try and kiss me are you?" Evan's eyes grew wide and he choked a little. He said,
"Only if you want me to...?"
"No. Please don't." Oh God so awkward.
I steered the conversation toward M. What was he going to do about that? When was he going to break up with her? He couldn't string her along. He had to do something soon-- while I was walking through Riverside Park with Evan, M was texting me asking what I thought about her relationship with Evan and why I thought he suddenly stopped communicating with her.
I was beginning to grow weary of this unwieldy problem that I felt wasn't really mine. High school romance drama: not really my problem, right? I mean, it was thrown in my lap and I had to deal with it but it wasn't my mess.
Evan appeared to consider my questions for a moment, then let the words fall out of his mouth like little pebbles: he was only going to break up with M if it turned out that I liked him.
I am going to now ask every girl out there with a boyfriend to punch him. Not in the face, just like in the arm or something. But punch hard. And do it for every indecent and unkind thing he might have ever done, and for every indecent and unkind thing he'll ever potentially- even remotely- do to you. Like Evan, who was playing his girlfriend like an apartment you're not ready to sign the lease on because you want to make sure that other, cheaper apartment with the one-and-one-half bathrooms doesn't become available first.
I looked at him squarely and ordered him to break up with M. I told him that she adores him and he knew that, and that there's no way he could stay with her while liking anyone else, let alone her friend.
It took him a few days-- a few days of sheer torture for M who waited and waited and waited for Evan to call her or show a glimmer of the boy she knew before-- but Evan did eventually break up with M. I felt it was important that the news came from him and not me. I was sweating though, because the longer Evan waited to break up with her, the more I felt I needed to tell her to break up with him and tell her why she should do it.
On that day he asked her to meet him on the plaza where we work, from where countless live shows have been broadcast, and she was giddy. She wrote me that he finally wanted to talk to her and he "seemed friendly" so everything was probably fine. He's probably just been busy.
By this time, I was at my new job and working about a row away from M. I had a clear view of her quick and painful deterioration from a happy, healthy, athletic girl, into a solemn and heavy-hearted person who kept checking her blackberry to see if Evan was trying to get in touch with her. So she jumped up and flew out of the newsroom to meet him that afternoon.
They sat on a bench in a sliver of sun that escaped between two skyscrapers. She was so nervous. He was making a serious face. He broke up with her right then and there. She texted me immediately that she was free because she finally had her answer.
But "free" is not exactly how I'd describe what she appeared to be feeling. She went through a dark and very public mourning phase where she cried at her desk and left work early or didn't show up for work or came in looking like she hadn't showered and laughed really loudly at things that weren't funny but everyone looked up from their desks... It was not good.
I decided I'd shrink away from her scene, even though she emailed me pretty constantly wanting to rehash the details of her brief relationship. I couldn't talk to her about it. I knew too much and none of it I was willing to share with her. It was my own, dirty, uncomfortable secret.
I would occasionally see Evan. I was still feeling pretty guilty. I would meet up with him for dinner but we wouldn't talk about "it." We were pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.
One night we started talking about our coworker Emy who was on the business trip in San Antonio with us. I mentioned she was a cute girl.
"You should maybe date her," I offered. I was hoping the day would come when he'd be dating someone else and I didn't have to wonder if he still liked me or not. Not that him having a girlfriend would ensure that... But Evan didn't take to the idea,
"I don't like her like that. She's not my type."
That Friday night I got relentless drunken text messages from Evan. "Please let me come over," he wrote over and over. It was fast becoming clear that I could not maintain a friendship with him. I declined his offers to "make it worth my while," and went to bed early.
That Monday I took a coffee break with Emy in the ladies room. One of our company's bathrooms has a spacious waiting area where were used to take gossip breaks and gush in hushed tones.
"I had a really big date this weekend," Emy said with a smile, "Well not really a date. Evan kept calling me from this party saying that he really wanted to spend time with me. And so I met up with him for a few drinks and then we went back to my apartment."
1 comment:
I'm assuming this is fiction. But I do think there is a hyphen in co-worker. Otherwise, Evan is a Coworker. Yes, he is working those cows. Say "moooo"
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