Monkey Business (29 page)

Sunday, April 11, 6:20 p.m.

I'
m lying on my bed picking my face. It's gross, but I don't care. I need to. I can see the blood on my fingers. I look in the mirror and see how ugly I am. There are patches of raw, red skin on my chin, on my forehead, around my nose. Disgusting. Just how I feel.

The phone rings and I quickly pick it up. “Hello?”

“How is it possible that for the six months we were still dating you never once answered the phone and today you answer practically before it even rings?”

“Hello?” I repeat. “Who is it?”

“How do you not recognize my voice? It's Sharon.”

“Oh, hi.” Her voice sounds so soft and I feel empty, and I realize how much I've missed her. “I didn't expect to hear from you.”

“Hi. I didn't expect to call you. How are you?”

“I'm all right.” I reach my hand back to my face and continue picking.

“That's good. Are you coming back to Toronto this summer?”

“No, actually, I accepted a summer position in New York.”

Pause. “I thought that might happen now that we're no longer together.”

“There's a lot of opportunity in the U. S.,” I say. “And because of the MBA I have a visa to work here for a year after I graduate. But I'm having a few issues…” I want to confide in her even though I know I have no right.

“I need to tell you something. I don't expect you to come home, but I hope you'll contribute financially. It's up to you how involved you want to get.”

What is she talking about? “Involved with what?”

I hear her take a deep breath on the other end of the line. And then, “Shit.” The next thing I hear is the sound of her puking.

What, did she drunk-dial me?

“Involved with your baby, Russ. I'm pregnant and I'm keeping the baby.”

10:45 p.m.

L
ife's a bitch and then you die.

Oy. Beer has made me feel even worse. Instead of drowning my pain, I'm now just drowning. Should have stuck to my nondrinking guns. Now all I can think about is how useless getting up in the morning is. What's the point? What's the point in anything? Why bother living when life is filled with so much unhappiness? I lean my head back against the leather cushion of the booth in the back of the Monsoon. Suddenly I have nothing. There's now a massive hole in my life. An emptiness. What's the point in going on with this kind of pain? I swallow another gulp of beer.

Why am I feeling so pathetically melodramatic? I'm all joked out. Even trying to lose myself in a movie doesn't help. I can't stay focused. I tried calling my sister, Amanda, but she wasn't helpful. “You dated her for two seconds. Snap out of it.”

A blast of cold air blows in as the door opens. It's Russ. He steps inside and looks around, confused, as though he has
no idea how he got here. Kind of how I feel. His eyes are wide open like saucers.

He sees me, looks baffled, as if he doesn't recognize me. Maybe he's been hitting the bong too often. He orders a beer at the bar and then approaches the table, sliding into the seat across from mine.

“Oh, man,” he says.

Exactly. I don't have much to say to him. I think what he's doing to Kimmy is shitty. How he can take advantage of her makes me sick. I take another sip of the beer. Not that what I did was any better. Oy. Am I really no better than Russ? I lied to the woman I love. I used her to get what I want. Might as well drown in my own pain. I chug half of my beer and wave at Glenda for another. Then I go to work on the remaining half. I wonder if there's a limit to how much beer a person can drink before exploding.

Russ runs his thumb around the rim of his beer. “I'm going to be a father.”

I spit the final mouthful back into the bottle. “What?”

“I'm going to be a dad.”

Holy shit. “Kimmy's pregnant?”

“No. Sharon.”

Oy. “What did Kimmy say?” I ask.

“Haven't told her yet.”

Glenda passes me a new bottle and I take a long sip. I don't even like the taste of beer. “That might be something you'd want to consider letting her know,” I say.

Russ starts laughing and can't stop. He drops his head onto the table and bangs it against the Formica. “I'm so fucking scared. I might get expelled and I'm going to be a father. I'm not ready to be a father. I can't even floss properly. How am I going to be a father?”

Instead of feeling sorry for him, I feel envious. I wish the
right thing to do in my life was so obvious. I wish I were the one becoming a father. He has everything and I have nothing.

“Once a night before bed and dig into those gums,” I offer.

Monday, April 12, 8:54 a.m.

M
y nipples are frozen. It's so cold in here. Where is Russ? I'm sitting on a wooden bench outside the disciplinary committee boardroom in the Katz building, wearing my blue interview suit. At least it's good for something.

He's late. Surprise, surprise. I knocked on his door, but he didn't answer. I assumed he'd already left. Although why he'd leave without me, I don't know. I don't know what the hell has happened to him in the last twenty-four hours. Yesterday he didn't even come over. Called to tell me he wasn't feeling well. Asked if he could borrow my laptop. Said his was broken and he wanted to finish an assignment. Hope he didn't stay up too late. Hope he doesn't sleep through this meeting. That would essentially be academic suicide. He has to be here in person to plead his case. He still has a few minutes if I go in first. Apparently we have to go in separately.

The clock above the hallway says eight fifty-eight. He has two minutes. Maybe I should have knocked harder. Louder. Tried calling. If he doesn't show up, it will be entirely my
fault. I'd better call him. I whip out my cell and am about to dial his number, when Russ appears in front of me.

“Kimmy,” he says. “I have to tell you something.” Even though he has thick bags under his eyes, he looks calm, like he's just had a smoke, or a bath. (Do men take baths? I long for a bath. The sublet I got for the summer has a bathtub. Probably not a great one, considering it's in Manhattan, but still a bath is a bath.)

I can't tell if he has good or bad news. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand.

“Russ?” The door opens and a second-year student who always reminds me of Bart Simpson because of his spiky blond hair, pokes his cartoon head into the hallway. “We're ready for you.”

My heart plummets right down to my work pumps. “Good luck,” I say.

He kisses me on the forehead and disappears inside.

We've rehearsed our stories. We're going to say that we talked about the assignment, but then each wrote our own report. They might buy it. I compared Russ's to mine and they aren't exactly the same. Pretty much, but not identical. I think we can get away with it. And if not? We'll take the course again. Not a big deal. There's no way they'll expel us both. Even if we lose the O'Donnel jobs, it's not the end of the world. We'll still be together. Sure, I think I'd like working in strategy, but I'll get another job eventually. What matters is that Russ and I stay strong and together.

I wish I could hear what's going on inside. Would it look weird if I put my ear against the wall?

Ten minutes later, the door opens, and Russ kisses me on the forehead again. “How'd it go?” I ask.

“Perfectly.”

“Good.” I stand up and straighten out my suit. “My turn, then?”

“Yes.” He uses his fingers to brush my hair away from my face. “I hope you can understand,” he says.

“What? Understand what?” What's he talking about?

“Try not to be pissed at me. I'll meet you at the Zoo after, okay?”

Bart pops his head out. “Kimmy, we're ready for you.”

I want to ask Russ what he's talking about, but he's already halfway down the hall. I have a bad feeling about this. What is he sorry about? What did he do? Did he—did he tell them I copied from him? No. No way. He wouldn't do that to me, would he? Maybe he would. Business school was always his dream. Maybe he decided that he deserved it more than I do. That I couldn't care less about being here and that it wasn't fair.

He's right. He does deserve it more than I do. I only came to school to meet a guy. And I did. Maybe I owe it to him. I love him and I owe him that. So if that's what Russ said, I'll back him up.

The dean, Professor Martin, Bart and another student are sitting behind a long desk. I feel like I'm standing before the Supreme Court. The dean does look like The Hulk, as Russ once described. The other student, a second-year redhead, looks familiar, too. Bart introduces me and tells me to have a seat. I try to calm my shaking hands.

The dean clears his throat. “Thank you for coming, Kimberly. After speaking with Russ, it's come to our attention that you—”

Plagiarized his work?

“—are not to blame for this situation and are excused. I will advise, however, that in the future, should a situation like this come up again, you report to the authorities immediately. Thank you for coming in today, but we will no longer be needing your testimony.”

“Excuse me?”

“You're dismissed.”

Dismissed from school? He's smiling at me, so I don't think so. Professor Martin is giving me a thumbs-up.

I nod and back out of the room, unable to wipe the smile off my face. What did Russ say to get us off the hook? How did he do it? I run back to the Zoo and knock on his door. When he answers, I throw my arms around his neck. “I can't believe you did it. You are a superhero.”

He squeezes me tightly and then pulls away. His eyes are rimmed with red.

“What's wrong?” I ask. “Aren't you relieved? We're off the hook! What did you tell them?”

“I told them that I borrowed a printed version of your assignment without your knowledge and then copied it.”

I don't believe it. That is so sweet. I love him. He must love me if he sacrificed himself for me. “But what happens to you now?”

He pats my hair. “I'm not coming back to LWBS next year.”

The wind is knocked out of me. “What? You got expelled?”

“No. I'm going to fail Corporate Strategy, but I didn't get expelled. I've decided not to come back next year. I'm going home.”

What is he talking about? I back away from him and balance myself against the door. “What about O'Donnel? What about our sublet?” What about me?

“I can't take the job in New York.”

“Yes, you can. Of course you can! They didn't expel you. Don't be crazy.”

“Sharon's pregnant.”

The room starts to spin.

“And I have to go back to Toronto to be with her. To be there for her.”

“And where does that leave us?” I ask, my voice soaked with tears.

He hugs me again and I let him. “I'm sorry,” he says. His
voice is soft and sad. “I have to go back. It's the right thing to do.”

I can hear his heart beating against my tear-streaked cheek. I reach up and kiss his neck. And then his cheek and his lips and then he stops me.

“I can't,” he says, looking into my eyes.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “How do you know she'll even take you back?”

“I don't,” he says. “But I have to try.”

 

I hate this place. I'm lying in bed, covers drawn over my head, crying my eyes out like a two-year-old. What the hell just happened? She totally planned this. She wanted to get pregnant so she could steal him away from me. This is so not fair. Not fair. What did she do, stop talking her pills?

What if she's lying? What if she's only saying this to get him back?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have told him I was pregnant as soon as I missed my first period. We might have been married by now.

We just had sex two nights ago. Maybe the sperm is still inside of me. Maybe I can get pregnant, too. Then what would he do?

I hiccup loudly. And then laugh at myself. I think I've lost my mind, as well as my boyfriend. Suddenly the fact that I'm not going to fail Corporate Strategy doesn't even matter to me. Who cares? Nothing matters to me if I can't have Russ. I feel fat and ugly and bloated, and I want to pull out my hair and skin. I'm worthless. Empty. Nothing. I don't want to go to New York. I don't want to work at O'Donnel. I don't want to come back to LWBS if Russ isn't going to be here. I want to go home.

There's a knock at the door. Maybe it's Russ. Maybe he's changed his mind. I jump out of the bed and open the door.

It's just Layla. “How'd it go?” she asks.

I feel confused and disoriented. And why is she talking to me now? “How did what go?” The end of my romantic life?

“The committee? Hello?”

I sigh and crawl back under the covers. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

She sits on the foot of the bed. “Of course it does. What did they say?”

“They said that everything's fine. Russ admitted that he copied from me, and now he's going to fail the course. But he doesn't care, since he's dropping out to go home to his pregnant ex. And it doesn't matter to me, because I'm going home, too. I hate this place. I hate the cold, I hate the bathrooms, and I want a bath.”

“You're being absurd,” she says. “You're not dropping out. You're doing well here.”

“You don't understand. Do you know how much money I owe? I'm in debt for fifteen grand. And I'm going to go into debt for another thirty if I come back next year.”

She's shaking her head at me, not listening. “You'll earn money at O'Donnel. Did you say pregnant ex?”

“Yes, Sharon's pregnant. She gets a baby and I get to pay for the entire sublet now that Russ isn't coming. What I should do is go home and start looking for a full-time job.” Maybe my dad will take me back. Maybe Wayne…

She waves her hands over my bed. “You're talking crazy. You're not worthless just because Russ dumped you.”

I pull the covers over my face. “I don't want to talk about this anymore. I want to go home.”

“Stop being such a wimp!” she yells. “We need to talk about this. It's crazy.”

I drop the blanket. “If you don't mind, I just found out that my boyfriend has impregnated another woman and as a result is now dumping me. Do you think you could insult someone else? I don't feel like talking to you at the moment. Why don't you go bother Jamie?”

She arches her back. “I am never speaking to him again. I can't be involved with someone who would behave the way he did.”

I don't know what it is Jamie did, but I'm sure it's something minuscule. She's got to get that poker out of her ass. Jamie is a great guy, and if she can't see that, she's an idiot. Not going for him back in September was probably the biggest mistake of my life. He would never cheat on his girlfriend. He would have worshiped me. If Layla doesn't want him, maybe I still have a chance. He liked me first. “I think you have unrealistic expectations about men.”

She snorts. “I have unrealistic expectations? Hello? You're the one who expects men to save you. You lap up whatever a man says and would screw over any woman for your man. Karma-wise, you had this Sharon-pregnancy thing coming.”

How dare she talk to me like that! “Since I'm such a horrible skank, can you get out of my room?”

She slams the door behind her. I wonder if I'm mad at her or if I'm so pathetic that I just want to be mad at her so I can seduce Jamie.