Nowhere but Here

Page 12 Rowback

Throughout that week, I occasionally pulled out a few lottery scratchers to pass the time. By Friday, I had scratched all eighty and there was a healthy amount of the sparkly silver shavings littering my apartment. I didn’t care. I’d won thirteen new tickets and forty-four dollars. It was like I’d hit the jackpot, even though technically I’d lost twenty-three dollars.

As promised, I met Beth at Lady Fingers, although I can’t say I put much effort into my look. I wore black skinny jeans, the same grungy Chucks I’d worn all week, and a gray hoodie over an old Ani DiFranco T-shirt. Beth was waiting for me at the bar.

“You . . . look hot!” she said, scanning my getup. “I really have turned you, haven’t I?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been wearing these jeans for three days.”

“Well, casual works for you. These ladies will be all over it.”

Beth was wrong. I must have been putting off the bitch vibe because I sat at the bar, unapproached, while I nursed a pint of Guinness. I watched Beth dance and mingle. She got the entire dance floor going when she busted out an extremely enthusiastic rendition of the African Anteater Ritual. I smiled and laughed but couldn’t help wondering what I was doing there.

“I’m gonna head back.”

“Already? The night has just begun.”

“I’m sorry, Beth. I’m just really tired.”

“Oh, hey—I read the piece you wrote on Lawson.” A smile touched the side of her mouth.

“Well?”

“It’s good, Kate. Short, but good. Jerry’s printing it. It goes to press Monday.”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“Why are you so surprised? Jerry loved it.”

“I’m shocked because R.J. himself had to approve it, and I tore him to shreds.”

“I guess Jerry found some loophole.” Of course he did.

There were a few dozen emotions flowing through me in that moment. I felt a twinge of guilt for so publicly bashing R.J., but I let it slip away when I started to feel the pain seep in. I was angry at what the winery represented in my mind. When I thought about all of the moments with Jamie, his sweet vulnerability after his insulin level had fallen, all the laughs and physical closeness I had felt with him, it was like a flurry of knives stabbing my heart. I couldn’t think of those times without thinking about how he slipped out without leaving me so much as a phone number or his last name.

“Well, it is what it is, I guess. I’ll see you Monday, Beth.”

“See ya, Kate.”

Back at my apartment, I finally switched on my computer and checked my e-mail. Jerry had sent the article back to me with a few minor editorial notes. I approved his changes immediately and sent it back to him.

The rest of the weekend got lost in my foggy memory. I cleaned and tried to create some order in my apartment. I saw Dylan talking to Ashley on the street, which put a huge smile on my face. I went grocery shopping and then took flowers to my mom’s grave. That Sunday was her birthday. Why we acknowledge birthdays after death makes no sense, but I guess it’s a way to stay committed to remembering somebody. Maybe it’s because, after we die, we are so easily forgotten. I wondered who would remember me.

I leaned up against the blank side of my mother’s tombstone. When I did that, it gave me the feeling that we were sitting back-to-back. When I would visit her grave as a teenager, I would pretend to have conversations with her. I made her up in my mind to be the perfect mother. She would always have the best advice, the perfect answer to some dilemma I was facing.

“Hi, Mama.” She died when I was so young that I never started calling her Mom, the way older kids do. She would always be Mama. As I sat there, a sad realization washed over me. “I didn’t really know you. I remember you, but I didn’t know you. I wish I did.” The mother I had made up in my mind was probably nothing like the woman she was. “I’m twenty-six now, but I still feel like I need my mama.” Maybe I always will. Tears rushed down my face. “I don’t want to spend my life alone.” That was the last thing I said aloud. I stopped talking but sat there for an hour with my head resting on my propped-up knees.

After collecting myself, I walked to Rose’s grave. She was in the mausoleum at the same cemetery. Her name placard still hadn’t been placed on the marble, a reminder of how recent her death was. I couldn’t even go near the wall. I felt like she was still haunting me through the dream, the nightmare. I wondered if I would hear her pleas if I got too close. A cemetery worker passed me as I stood there, rocking back and forth on my heels.

There was at least a fifteen-foot barrier between the wall and me, so I wasn’t surprised when the worker looked at me curiously.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Do you know when they’ll put the placard up? It’s been almost nine months since her death.” I pointed toward the marble wall.

“That usually means the bill hasn’t been paid. You’ll need to talk to someone in the office.”

I marched up to the office and spoke to a mild-mannered woman who informed me that there was a balance on the account of forty-seven cents, which was why Rose’s placard hadn’t been placed on her tomb. I felt like the worst human being on the planet. How could I have let that happen? I handed the woman twenty dollars and said, “Keep the change and apply it to any other accounts that have small balances like this. Some people don’t have anyone to look after them after their gone, but they still deserve their goddamned placard.”

The woman looked shocked at first, but then nodded fervently. I could tell she agreed.

“When will they put it up?”

“They have another one to do on that wall, so it should be done by the end of the day.” She reached into a file drawer and pulled the placard out. They’d probably had it sitting in there for eight months, all because of forty-seven cents. She showed it to me and I was suddenly taken back to the days after Rose’s death, when I’d had to make the decisions about her funeral. I had chosen to include her name and birth and death dates, like on most gravestones and placards, but I’d also had them add the simple word “Beloved” at the top, because she was.

“Is this the one?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have them put it up.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly and then shuffled out the door. It was getting dark as I headed back to the L station. I felt cleansed, as I always did after visiting my mother and Rose. On the train that night, I decided I would walk into the Chicago Crier the next day with my head held high. I had a job, an apartment, and a few devoted friends. I feared the general reaction to my article from R.J. and the public would be that it bordered on libel or defamation, but I had written nothing more than my observations, which would be impossible to refute, and I knew that the crowd at the Crier would appreciate the risk I had taken. I told myself there would be no more article pitches for fruit-flavored gum. I was going to be a serious journalist.

The next day I hit the Brown Line and searched for Just Bob. I needed a heavy dose of the inspirational self-help mumbo jumbo, but I couldn’t find him. I searched the entire length of the train twice, but he wasn’t there. I even missed my stop looking for him. I had to walk three extra blocks to the Crier, so I didn’t roll into the lobby until well after ten. I knew by that point in the day that everyone would have seen the article, so my nerves were on extra high alert. The security guy held up the paper as I walked past.

“Pretty bold one, Kate.”

“Thanks, I think.”

As I entered the Crier bull pen, as we called it, the music went off the overhead speaker. Jerry’s voice came on.

“She’s back, people.” Slowly, each head rose above the cubicle partitions to face my direction, and then the clapping began. I heard someone shout, “Glad to have you back, Kate!” and someone else yelled, “Great article this morning!” Beth grinned at me as I entered my cubicle.

I stood on my chair to thank everyone for the warm welcome back. It tipped and I almost fell, but I quickly regained my composure. Everyone laughed. “Yes, I’m still clumsy!” I shouted. I was known as the office klutz. People would see me coming and move things out of my way. I laughed at myself for a few seconds longer. “Okay, I just want to say thank you, I’m glad to get back to work.”

I stepped down as Jerry came toward my desk, rolling my suitcase behind him. “I guess there was nothing in here you needed too desperately,” he said.

I glanced at the suitcase. “I’m actually terrified to open that thing.”

He leaned against the cubicle wall and peered over me as I sat at my desk. “What happened out there?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Beth’s chair roll a little ways into the aisle. She was eavesdropping.

“Just get in here, Beth. I know you’re listening.” She came in and leaned her backside against my desk. I huffed, “Nosy journalist.”

“Well, I need the details so I can have your back.”

“I fell hard for this guy, Jamie, who worked at the winery. I guess it was just a fling. He acted dodgy when I asked him personal questions, and then he slipped out in the middle of the night.”

“Why do you think?” Beth asked.

“I thought maybe R.J. or Susan, the general manager, put him up to it as a buffer between R.J. and me, but the more I think about it, the more I realize it wouldn’t have helped. I don’t know. We really clicked. I don’t get it. It was only a few days. Maybe it was too much, too soon.”

Jerry had a slightly penitent look on his face. “I’m sorry, I feel responsible.”

“Why?”

“Because I told you to go for it. I guess you have to kiss a few frogs first, but I think you deserve to find your prince.”

“Do I?”

Beth reached down and gave me a sideways hug around the shoulders. “You absolutely do,” she said.

“I think I need to get you working right away. Start coming up with some pitches, Kate. Let’s meet in my office tomorrow morning.”

“You got it, Jer.” They both left my cubicle just as Annabel, the young research assistant, came in.

“I guess you won’t be needing any of this. Congrats on the article,” she said as she plopped a stack of research on my desk.

“Thanks. Sorry you did all of that for nothing.”

“Yeah, this guy’s info was seriously buried. It took me forever just to find a picture of him. Someone must be a little paranoid.”

“He probably invented some super amazing computer gadget to protect his identity. I really am very sorry.”

“No worries, Kate. I like the angle you took on the piece, and if we ever want to run another article on him, we have a couple weeks’ worth of research here.”

“Thanks.”

After she left, I glanced down at the stack. My intention was to slide it entirely into the trash, but something caught my eye. It was an obituary from the Saturday before. The headline read: R. J. LAWSON SR., FATHER OF FAMED TECHNOLOGY INVENTOR, PASSES AWAY AT 68.

I skimmed past the section on Sr.’s contributions to the world of aviation engineering to his relationship with R.J. It said he was survived by his only son, Ryan James Lawson Jr., an extremely private technology inventor and philanthropist. Just over a week after his father’s death, I was libeling him in a worldwide publication. I moved the article aside. The next piece of information was a spreadsheet of the organizations R.J. had donated to. It was in order from the largest donations to the smallest. At the top of the list, under his own foundation, was the American Diabetes Association, and underneath that was the GLIDE homeless shelter.

My stomach began turning, but it completely dropped through the floor when I moved the spreadsheet to reveal a picture glued to a piece of paper. At the top, Annabel had written, R.J.’s graduation from MIT. Pictured here with his mother, Deborah.

Underneath the picture there were more notes.

It’s public record that R.J. was adopted as an infant. His adoptive mother, pictured here, was killed in a car accident four years ago. After reuniting with his biological parents, they tried to extort money from him. Both were given jail time. He has a biological sister in Boston, and even though he went to college and spends some free time there, he does not have a relationship with her. She testified in her parents’ favor at the short, unpublicized extortion trial.

I looked at the picture in disbelief. It was the same picture I had seen on Jamie’s nightstand in the barn. Suddenly, I remembered the picture I had seen before going to the winery, the one of R.J. as a young boy at the science fair. That boy at the science fair and the young man at his college graduation were clearly the same person. Jamie. Even now, I had a hard time seeing them in the man I had spent several intimate days with. Jamie couldn’t be a computer genius—he didn’t fit the stereotype. And I had seen R.J. with my own eyes in an interview . . .

I stood up on shaky legs and pushed my chair away. It can’t be. The room started spinning.

Beth spotted me over the partition. “You okay?” I nodded and then sunk to my knees on the floor. I tore open my suitcase and began rummaging through all of the notes and papers I had shoved in there from my room at the winery. I looked at the sheet where I had taken notes from R.J.’s e-mail to me. When I thought back to what Jamie had told me about his life, it matched or somehow fit into the outline R.J. had given me.

Giant puzzle pieces floating above my head started moving into place.

Jamie: Ryan James.

MIT: College on the East Coast.

Building schools in Africa: Tribal tattoos. I’ve traveled a lot.

Hands-on approach: I clean this pool, I can swim in it anytime I want.

Me: Is this R.J.’s boat? Jamie: It’s my boat.

Me: What’s your last name? Jamie: No more talking.

Tears began falling onto the papers in my hand. I looked down at the smudge I’d created in Jamie’s handwriting. It was a note—one I hadn’t seen. The morning I had left, the maids had cleaned before I packed. They had gathered all of my paperwork into a pile, and this note, the note that could have changed everything, got lost in the mix somehow.

Katy, my angel,

I had to go to Portland. My father had a heart attack, and they don’t know if he’s going to make it through the night. Please don’t leave. If I can’t get back by tomorrow, I’ll send a car and get you a flight up here. Please, please don’t leave. I have something really important to tell you, besides the fact that I am completely in love with you.

—J

I sobbed loudly. Beth was hovering over me within seconds. “What’s wrong?”

“J . . . Jamie is . . .”

“What, Kate?”

“Jamie is R.J.” I finally got it out.

“You mean the guy, the one you fell for?”

“Yes,” I groaned.

“Well, then, who was the R.J. you met?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?” I nodded. “So if Jamie is R.J., then the article . . .”

“Oh my god, I thought he destroyed me, but I’ve destroyed him. He’s not that man.” I pointed to the article pinned to the cubicle partition. “He’s a good man with a big heart.” I sniffled. “He’s brilliant and he works so hard. How could I have not put it together?” I held the note up. “And on top of everything else, he’s in love with me!”

“Shit, Kate. Why did he lie to you?” I swallowed back the lump taking over my throat. I stood and looked up at Jerry’s office, which sat perched above the bull pen. Jerry was standing at the large glass window, talking on the phone and staring down at me. He pointed to the receiver at his ear and mouthed, Lawson. He’s here. I flew toward the bathroom. Beth followed. She held my hair while I puked the entire contents of my stomach into the toilet.

“You should go home. I’ll talk to Jerry.”

“Thank you,” was all I could get out. I went back to my cubicle and grabbed my coat but left my suitcase and paperwork, except for the note. When I glanced up at Jerry’s office, I could see that Beth was already there, talking with a sober look on her face.

I darted out of the bull pen and chose to use the service elevator, hoping to avoid Jamie, or R.J., or whoever he was. I beelined through the lobby, pushed both glass doors open forcefully, and headed out onto the street. I stopped within a few feet of the entrance when I spotted him. He was leaning against a concrete wall, looking down at his feet. He was wearing a black suit with a white dress shirt. The top buttons were undone and his hair was slicked back.

His eyes were sad and shadowed with dark circles. I stuffed the note into my pocket and began to rush past him with my head down, hoping he wouldn’t see me.

He stood up to block me. “Wait,” was all he said.

I squared my shoulders and put my hand on my hip. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“I flew straight here after my father’s funeral.” His voice cracked at the last second.

“I’m sorry, Jamie . . . R.J. . . . whoever you are.” I had sympathy for him, for his loss and for the stupid article, but I was so hurt by his lies and the problems they’d caused. I turned to walk away. He grabbed my shoulders and turned me back toward him.

“Everyone I know calls me Jamie. And I’m sorry, too, Kate.” He tried to pull me closer.

I pounded my fists against his chest. “You’re a liar.” I started to cry. “You lied to me while I was naked in your arms. And the article . . . you made me a fraud, and you ruined my career.” I tried to pull away but he held me. “Why did you approve it?”

“I didn’t. If I didn’t respond within forty-eight hours, he had a right to print it. It was in the contract.” He stepped away and looked down at his feet. “I was busy mourning the only family I had left.”

Wiping the tears from my face, I stood up straight and regained my composure. “I am truly sorry for your loss. I’m sorry for this whole big mess. I wish I had never gone out there. I wish I had never met you.”

“How can you say that?” He gripped the outside of my arms and stared down at me with a desperate pleading in his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

“If you hadn’t lied to me, I wouldn’t have written a fucked-up fake article about you.” I yanked my arms out of his grip. “Who the hell was that guy I interviewed?”

“His name is Bradley Reis. He’s a friend of Susan’s—or was, I should say. She thought he would fit the part.”

“Fit the part?” I shook my head.

“I know, it seems so stupid now. I didn’t want to give up my privacy. I wanted to be able to walk around the winery and just be myself, just be Jamie. I was afraid if I met with a reporter, everyone would know who I was and hound me.”

“That’s not what would have happened.”

“I panicked. Susan said all we had to do was write down information about the winery and Bradley would just try to avoid all the personal questions. I never liked him and shouldn’t have trusted him.” Jamie was staring at his shoes. “I don’t think he expected you to be so persistent. I think he thought he could charm you.” He looked up and smiled timidly.

“Your little plan backfired, didn’t it? Now you’ve ruined your reputation and my career.”

“Jerry said Beth could write a rowback.”

“That’s great for you. Your name will be cleared, but I’ll still be out of a job.”

“I’ll do whatever I need to do to make this right.” His eyes watered a bit and then he swallowed. In a low voice, he said, “Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t see the note until today, but everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it?”

I turned to walk away but he followed. “Katy, I know you don’t believe that.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said without turning back. He grabbed my arm and swung me around. I gasped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Stop this now! This is crazy,” he growled. He searched my eyes, still holding my arm tightly. “Just stop and give me a fucking chance.”

“You’re hurting me.” He let go instantly. “I barely know you. It was four days. Four days I wish I could get back,” I said in a calm, even tone.

He straightened up and squared his shoulders. “You’re a liar.”

“You’re the fucking liar.”

“I don’t care about the article. They don’t need to correct it. You can call me a liar, an asshole, whatever you want, but I know that four days meant something to you. I don’t care about my reputation or the money. Nothing!”

“What do you care about, Jamie? Making wine, singing karaoke, lying about who you are?” I continued walking quickly ahead of him.

“I care about you.” His tone wasn’t soft; it was matter-of-fact, the way a person sounds when they’re telling an absolute truth.

I turned on my heel and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. “Listen to me, Jamie. Do nothing. We are not meant to be. I live here and you live there. You are some insanely rich genius, and I don’t even own a car. I probably don’t have a job, either.” It was the first time I had seen him clean-shaven. I leaned up on my toes and kissed him softly then whispered, “You fucked with me. You fucked with us. And now we can never be.”

He stared down at me, looking somber. “Just tell me one thing.”

“What?” I seethed.

“Am I the only one you think about?” Tears filled my eyes again. I put my head down quickly and turned to walk toward the L station. He didn’t move but instead shouted, “I won’t give up. The poets are right!”

I got on the wrong train, so it took me an extra half hour to get home. When I entered my building, Jamie was sitting at the base of the stairs. He had ditched his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He looked the part of the CEO millionaire for once, except for maybe the tattoos and his tanned skin.

“Go home, Jamie.”

He got up and followed me toward the elevator. “Kate, please. Let’s go get a coffee and talk about this.”

“No.” I continued walking past him.

“I thought I scared you off with the note. I thought maybe it was too soon for you, and then when I read the article I realized how upset you were.”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter now. All of it is too fucked up. I thought you were someone else. I don’t even know you.”

“You do know me. I’m the same person. I’m Jamie. Nobody cares who R. J. Lawson is. It’s just a name. You know the real me.”

“I thought I knew you.” I stopped at the elevator.

“I am so sorry. I know I should have told you before we . . .”

I turned around, crossed my arms, and yelled, “What? Fucked?”

Staring into my eyes, he moved toward me and touched his fingertips to my cheek. “Calm down, please.” He tilted his head and let his gaze drop to my mouth. “You know that’s not what we did.”

“Yes it is. You said it yourself.” I pulled his hand away. “Please go home. We had a fling. It’s over now. Go. Home.” I stepped into the elevator and held strong until the doors closed and then I collapsed against the wall in sobs.

I hit the button for the top-floor roof deck, but the elevator came to a stop on the fifth floor. Dylan and Ashley stepped in. I didn’t make eye contact with them.

“You going to the roof, Kate?” He bent slightly to look at my face.

I sniffled. “Just goin’ for a ride. The roof deck is all yours.”

“You know Ashley, right?”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.

She seemed timid. “Same to you.”

When the elevator doors opened, Ashley stepped out but Dylan remained inside. “I’ll be right back, Ash. I’m gonna walk Kate to her apartment.”

Shaking my head frantically, I pushed against his back. “No, you guys go, I’m fine.”

I held the open-door button and urged him to exit the elevator. “Kate, you are not fine. I can see how upset you are. Was it Stephen? I’ll kick his ass.” He pushed my hand away from the button and then kissed the air in Ashley’s direction. “I’ll be back in two minutes, babe.” She smiled longingly at him as the doors closed completely.

When we reached the door of my apartment, he wrapped his skinny arms around me and tucked me into his chest. “Whatever it is you’re going through, I’m sorry.” I cried quietly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three pills: two yellow and one blue. “Here, you can have these.”

“What is it?”

“They’re benzos.”

“What’s that?”

“Those two are Ativan and that’s Xanax.” He pointed to the blue pill. “They’ll relax you and help you sleep. Just take one at a time.”

He dropped them into my hand. “Where do you get this stuff?”

“From my grandma’s stash.”

“That’s terrible, you being so young and . . . all of the drugs.”

“It’s cute that you’re worried about me. I actually haven’t done any drugs in the last couple of days. Ashley makes me want to be sober.” He smiled coyly. “She’s like a drug to me.”

“You’re sweet.” I pushed him toward the elevator. “Now go to the roof and make out with Ashley.”

“Okay, see ya. Call me if you need anything, or if you just want to hang out,” he said as he walked away.

I chased the blue pill with a large gulp of beer and the rest of the night was a blur.