Authors: Whitney Boyd
“I didn’t think you remembered me,” Drew begins. “I moved on, found a new girl. She’s great, you know, a real sweetheart. But she’s not you. This whole relationship has been very rushed. The wedding rehearsal is tomorrow, but after it’s over I’ll have a good, long chat with Sylvia.”
“So you’re going to break up with her?” I want a confirmation.
Drew bobs his head in a noncommittal manner. “Well, I don’t know. I can’t make this decision at the drop of a hat. I need a bit of time, you know. You came into my life two hours ago. I care about Sylvia, I really do. But not in the way I adore you.”
He’s saying the right things, but not committing to anything. Do I push the subject or let it go for the time being? The waitress brings the oysters and another round of our respective drinks. I look at the oysters and feel my stomach heave. No way can I eat those.
Drew, however, grabs one in the shell, tips his head back and slurps it down. He wipes his mouth on a napkin and belches. “These are the best,” he declares. He takes another one and I watch it slide into his mouth. Ugh.
I try a slice of the thin crust pizza, but it has too many strange flavors and textures happening at once. What was it people said in like grade seven? It’s a party in my mouth but no one was invited? I resign myself to begging some Wendy’s off Josh when I get back to our room.
Drew finishes off his meal about ten minutes later, wipes the oyster juice off his lips with a napkin and then looks at me. “Decisions can be so stressful. Why don’t we grab a room and talk in private for a few hours?”
Talk. Right, like that’s why he wants a room. His arm is around my shoulders again and his hand is rubbing the top of my arm. The skin on skin contact makes me all tingly but I shake my head and shoot a glance at the two judgmental women at the nearby table.
“Let’s wait until after your wedding rehearsal so you can officially be broken up.”
Drew shrugs and takes out his wallet. He leaves a fifty dollar bill on the table and gets up. “We’ll meet up tomorrow after my wedding thing. Give me your cell so I can call you.”
I tell him the digits and he enters them into his own phone. Then he leans in, gives me a lingering kiss and saunters out the door. I watch his retreating back and can’t help but wonder what the heck I’m getting myself into.
Vicious as a tigress can be,
she never eats her own cubs.
—Chinese Proverb
Chapter Fifteen
I
stay in the booth alone for another half an hour until the women at the other table leave and I feel steady enough to stand. I grab my purse, wave goodbye to the bartender who invites me to come back any time, walk to the elevator then return to the room.
I reach around in my bag for my key card and open the door. Josh is sitting on the bed, watching
The Amazing Race
. His dusty hair is rumpled and he reminds me of a little kid. Maybe because when he looks over at me and smiles, his entire face lights up. He pats the bed beside him and says, “Wow, look at you! Charley, you look gorgeous. How did it go?”
I kick my shoes off and climb onto the bed. It is squishy and the covers are crinkled where Josh has been lying on them. It’s difficult to crawl in my dress, but I manage with a sort of body crawl that would make any Navy Seal proud. Then, with my shoulder touching his, I rest my head on the backboard and sigh.
“You okay?” Josh appears genuinely concerned for my welfare and it touches me.
I am fighting tears. “I don’t know how I’m doing.” I attempt to be as honest as I can. “I found him, he was happy to see me, he wanted to go get drinks. I did and then . . .” For some reason I feel strange telling Josh that Drew and I made out.
“Then?” Josh prompts. He hits mute on the television and the room falls quiet.
“Then he sort of kissed me,” I divulge. “And I sort of liked it.” I can’t look at him, but I feel him tense a little. “Does that make me a home wrecker?” He must disapprove because it’s such an immoral thing I’ve done.
Josh isn’t looking at me. He’s staring across the room at the ugly yellow lamp in the corner. Is he even listening?
I feel like I should say something else, anything else, to make him stop with the non-verbal condemnation. “But he did say that he’s going to talk to his fiancée and see where they stand. He doesn’t love her, at least it didn’t seem like he did. He has a wedding rehearsal tomorrow, but you can still cancel a wedding after you do the run-through, right? I mean, I’m sure it happens all the time.”
Josh finally turns to look at me. His eyes are pained but he smiles. “Get changed into runners and jeans. Come on!” He rolls off the bed and beckons me with bewitching charm. I hold out my hand and he half drags me to the edge. I grab a change of clothes from my suitcase and go into the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and yell, “You changed the subject out of nowhere! Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out. Just go fast,” Josh hollers back.
I pull the dress over my head. It’s a tight fit over the shoulders and I struggle with it for a minute. Sheesh, how in the world did I manage to squeeze myself into this in the first place? I grunt and tug harder. I hear Josh knock on the door and command me to hurry again. Finally I triumph over the dress and toss it onto the counter. I throw on a sweatshirt and jeans and open the door.
“Seriously, where are you taking me?” I giggle as I place my dress back into my suitcase. I fold it carefully so as not to wrinkle the beautiful fabric.
In response, Josh takes me by the arm and leads me out the door. “Leave your purse, leave everything, just come.”
“What, you want to make sure the police find no ID on me when you kill me and toss my body into the ocean?” I feign horror.
“Nah, I’d hate to end up in jail over something like that. I’d just hire an assassin and he’d do my dirty work.”
“Oh, of course, Mr. Big Shot Lawyer can’t get his hands dirty.” I put my hand in his jacket pocket and we exit the hotel. The humid Pacific air is refreshing and clears my head that has been fuzzy since having three too many drinks at the bar. It has grown colder and I’m grateful I thought to wear the hoodie. We walk without speaking along the sidewalk and towards a pier. Ocean stretches for miles as far as I can see. Grays, blues and whites all blend together into a melodic blend of color.
“This is beautiful,” I say. The wind whips around my face the nearer we get to the water.
“I was down here earlier,” Josh explains,” and saw some seals along the rocks there.” He points to an outcropping of beach and rock covered in barnacles and seaweeds with bits of driftwood thrown in the mix. Everything smells of salt and brine.
Josh jumps off the sidewalk and reaches up for my hands. He pulls me with him down a small hill onto the damp sand below. “Come with me.”
We wander along the edge of the ocean, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Josh tells me that he’s always been a secret ocean aficionado and teaches me the names of the various shells we see. Some areas are covered in mussel shells and they crunch under our feet as we step over them. Every now and again I feel a squirt of water hit the back of my legs as we walk along.
“Do you feel that?” I squeal after I am squirted for a third time. “I think the ocean is spitting on me!”
We watch our feet and the second another spit of water shoots up, Josh is on his hands and knees and digging.
“What if it’s a crab or something? Don’t you worry it’ll bite?” I ask, bending over in curiosity.
“It’s not a crab,” Josh explains, keeping his eyes focused on the spot. He scoops out another load of sand and then lets out a triumphant cry. “Ha! Look.” He holds out what looks like a lumpy rock, but when I look closer, I see it’s a shell.
“What is it?”
“It’s a clam and you were right, they were spitting at you. Clams spit as a defense mechanism. They sense that you are walking near and so they spit to keep you from getting too close. I believe they also use it as a way to dispel water after absorbing the nutrients.”
I hold the heavy shell in my hand and look at it in wonder. “I can’t believe it! Maybe he has a pearl inside.”
“Probably not. Clams can produce pearls, but it’s rare. Oysters are the main producers of pearls.” Josh takes the clam from me and gently places it back in the hole. We continue on, still getting sprayed on occasionally. Even though I now know what it is, the cold water makes me jump every time.
After about a hundred yards, we spot a huge, purple starfish on a rock near the pier. We approach and I reach out and touch its armored back. I half expect it to be slimy, but instead it is rough, like sandpaper.
“Starfish have eyes on the ends of each of their arms,” Josh says, crouching next to me beside the rock. “They can sense light and darkness and that’s about it. They also have hundreds of little tubes on the other side of them, and that’s how they move along the rocks. The tube feet are filled with seawater and they can move a lot faster than you’d think.” He laughs as I rear away from the starfish. “It’s not going to lunge at you or anything. Starfish aren’t predators.” His tone is so blatantly superior that I cup my hand with freezing ocean water and toss it at him.
“You know so much about ocean life,” I say. “Honestly, what don’t you know? You’re a lawyer who knows basic medicine, ocean facts and you can quote chick flicks better than I can.”
Josh grabs my arm. “Come here,” he commands, leading me over to a large log bleached white with the tide and sun. We sit down and listen to the waves crash. Seagulls in the distance fight over their dinner as time seems to stand still. “Talk to me,” he says at last. “It’s time you tell me what’s bothering you.”
I stare at my hands and then watch the ocean lap the pillars supporting the pier. Out in the distance I see a long concrete outcropping with a nearby sign that proclaims it as the Breakwater.
“I guess I’m confused,” I finally say. “I came out here thinking it was fate, and that everything was meant to be, but I feel dirty now. Drew’s not exactly who I remembered. I guess I’m bothered by the way he had no problem kissing me. He said he hadn’t made up his mind about his fiancée, but there he was making out with me.” I sigh and continue, “I wanted it all to be perfect. And in my head it was. I show up, he runs into my arms and we live happily ever after. I guess I never thought about the details of it.”
Josh puts his arm around me like Drew did earlier, but from him it feels comforting. I’m not terrified that Josh going to make a move on me that I’ll have to rebuff. “You’re thinking about whether it’s right or wrong, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess.” It’s strange but he and I rarely talk about right and wrong. “I’m used to the law,” I admit, “where things aren’t right and wrong but simply legal or illegal. Murder? Illegal. Tax evasion? Illegal. Cheating on your girlfriend? Legal. Cheating on a university paper? Illegal. It’s so clear cut in the law.”
“Life is never as clear cut as one would hope,” Josh agrees. “Look, you only met him today. You said he’s going to call you tomorrow, and if you are still having doubts then maybe it’s not meant to be.”
Makes sense. Especially since I can’t shake the feeling I was led here for a purpose. And that purpose has to be Drew.
Josh seems to be on the verge of telling me something else when my cell phone rings. I pull it out and look at Caller ID. “It’s a Calgary number.”
“Do you recognize it?”
“No.” I contemplate rejecting the call and sending it straight to voice mail, but curiosity gets the better of me. I hit accept and say hello.
“Hi, may I speak to Ms Charlotte Southard, please?” It’s a female voice. I hear other voices murmuring in the background, like an office or the mall or something.
“This is she.”
“Charlotte, this is Nancy Sharman calling from the Carter Clinton law firm. I am the managing director of Human Resources.”
My eyebrows raise in surprise and Josh mouths, “Who is it?”
I turn the phone to speaker and Josh scoots closer to hear.
“I no longer work for Carter Clinton,” I say as politely as I can. Because you turfed me for someone else’s mistake, you scum-sucking bottom feeders, I want to add. But don’t.
“Yes, that is the reason for my call.” The woman’s pleasant voice does not skip a beat. “Since you left several months ago we have reevaluated the situation and would like to meet with you. You were a promising talent and we would really like to see if we can’t work something out.”
I glance at Josh, perplexed. He looks as confused as I feel and raises an eyebrow. “Um, look, you fired me after that dumb intern lied about the brief sent to opposing counsel,” I interject. “If you are calling about me being promising talent, you must have me confused with someone else.” Maybe they called by mistake. Surely they can’t actually want me back. Can they?
“Charlotte, that was a very unfortunate situation. However, the intern in question no longer is with the firm and we feel at this time that you might be of value as an associate once more. Will you meet with us?”
Josh is shaking his head frantically and motioning for me to hang up. “They want something,” he mutters. “They aren’t offering you a job out of the goodness of their hearts. They fell too far once that confidential deal was publicized. They lost way too much money and too much of their reputation. There is no way they would ever ask you back out of the goodness of their hearts. They need you for something and I don’t trust them. Don’t say yes right now. Call them later.”
My heads is spinning but I know that if Josh thinks something is wrong, then it probably is. His intuition is rarely off about such things. “Um, I am on vacation right now and won’t be back in Calgary for a week or so. Why don’t you call me next week sometime and I will let you know if I can meet with you then.”
Nancy agrees without complaint, wishes me a pleasant day and hangs up.
“Have you had any contact with Carter Clinton since they fired you?” Josh asks. He is in full blown lawyer mode, hands stuffed in his pockets and pacing in the sand in front of me.
“No, you know I haven’t.”
“Are you close with any of the other associates there?”
I think back. “I was friends with a couple girls, but I’ve been too embarrassed to keep in touch since I left. One emailed me about a month ago and wanted to get together for lunch, but I never responded to her.”
“Hmm.” Josh appears lost in thought. “Something is fishy here. There are hundreds of good lawyers around, so why would they want you specifically?” He shifts awkwardly and clears his throat. “No offense. You are a really smart lawyer, but it doesn’t make sense that they would crawl to get you back, not when they are a multi-million dollar law firm. Firms like that don’t ever admit they were wrong.”
“No offense taken,” I say. “I am as clueless as you are.”
“I wonder,” Josh begins slowly. “It could be something about what you know. What things were you working on during the year you were there?”
I shrug. “Everything. I did a ton of different cases. I wrote briefs, I went to court, I helped out in almost every area during articling. I was working in litigation when they fired me, and I worked with confidential materials but nothing out of the ordinary.”
Josh shakes his head. “I don’t know what they want, but I think you need to be careful. I’ll ask a few of my contacts when I get back to Calgary. I have a buddy whose father is in the contracts department at Carter Clinton. I’ll talk to him and see if I can find out anything.”
“I think you’re being paranoid,” I say. “Maybe they just realized that I am a good worker and they want me back.”
Josh smiles and pats my arm. “Maybe.” He is definitely not convinced.
My bum and legs are getting cold from sitting on the log. I stand up, dance in place to regain feeling in my limbs while Josh smirks and then we make our way back up to the sidewalk.
“Do you want dinner? I’m thinking we should hit up one of the restaurants we scoped out yesterday,” he says.
I lick my lips. “I’m starving, but I left my purse at the hotel, remember?” Not that I have much money in there anyway.
“Exactly. That’s the reason I made you leave it behind. Well, that and the fact that I may be planning on killing you after all.” He widens his eyes at me until I snicker and then continues, “Seriously, though, I’m treating you. Just go with it.”
I laugh and loop my arm through Josh’s. “Thanks for being my best friend,” I tell him.