I haven't ever cried like this. Never.
I hate crying. It's such an immature thing to do. Normal adults handle their pain and move on. Normal adults get back to work and don't make a big deal out of things. Normal adults don't get in over their heads with things they can't handle.
But I'm not an adult.
I'm a twenty-two year old child who assumed she could jump into a fantasy without thinking about the consequences.
So I cry about it. For three whole days I cry.
But I deserve to cry. "The Other Woman" should be the one in pain. I don't deserve any condolences or check-up telephone calls. I brought this upon myself.
After Harry leaves me to wallow in the crowded restaurant, I get out of Boston as quick as I can. I have to get away from places that make me think of him or how he treated me. Immaturely, I ran.
I book the first flight to Seattle and spend the hours trying to compose myself.
That was three days ago.
I've never really minded my hometown. It was a place Carl loved, and I found myself wanting to be closer to him as I got older. He would fly me out here sometimes to just rest during my breaks.
His large house sits on a beautiful lake and provides me with a place to get away from it all. It's private and quiet. Running away might not be the best option, but it's the quickest one I could think of at the time.
After another day or so, my tears begin to dry, even though I'm still upset. It feels like my life is shattered. My heart doesn't beat right. I'm not whole. All those cliché things I only read about in books have actually invaded my life.
It's early morning. Really early morning. The sun has just barely risen and fog rolls over the lake in an eerie manner that reminds me of a ghost story. It's silent around me except for a few bugs that reside in the surrounding forest.
I'm wrapped in a fluffy blanket that Carl bought me for my sixteenth birthday. He said it was to keep me warm during those "freezing Swiss nights". He was always so caring and kind. I just wish I could have told him that when he was alive. But having his blanket around my shoulders provides me a lot of comfort. I'm sure he would have liked that.
I breathe out through my nose and try not to think about what I left behind in Boston. Harry. His kids. My house and job. I would be back. Soon probably, because I know I can't stay here very long. I just need a break.
My cellphone rings and I fumble around inside my blanket, trying to find it.
"Hello, Phoebe," I answer.
"Alyssa, I just don't get you. Why the hell aren't you in Boston?"
"I told you. I just needed... to get away."
"Well, I'm worried about you."
"Don't be. I'll be fine."
Of course, she knows about what happened with Harry. I told her everything and she listened without interrupting once, which is a rarity for her.
"You're not cutting yourself, are you?"
"God, Phoebe, no. I'm just resting a little." I cover myself up from the chill in the air. "Why are you calling so early? It's five in the morning."
"Maybe over there, but in Philly it's eight. I'm eating breakfast. What are you doing up so early?"
"Just thinking."
"You're so helpless. I'm coming up there."
"No, Phoebe! Please don't inconvenience yourself."
"I'm your older sister and you need my help. I'm coming. Don't argue with me."
"I'm sure Sean wouldn't like that."
"He's a grown man. He can live alone for a couple of days." She says in a dismissive tone. "I"ll be there by the end of the day."
Phoebe hangs up before I can argue anymore.
I roll my eyes and sigh at her tenacity. Sometimes it's annoying how much she thinks she's right about everything. I don't mind her being here, but I don't want her trying to run my life.
I made a mistake by falling for Harry. He rejected me, and I have to learn to deal with that myself.
This is the first day I've been able to actually get up and do stuff. My energy is slowly coming back. My chest still hurts whenever I think about Harry, but I can suppress it enough to not start crying again.
"You sound pathetic." I grumble angrily.
No one's lived in Carl's house since he's died. The furniture is all still there, but essentials like food are lacking. I dress simply, and then take one of his cars to the grocery store. I just buy things for a couple of days.
By the time I start driving home, the perpetual rain begins and gets worse before I pull into the driveway.
It's amazing to me how rich Carl was, yet he lived so simply. Yes, his lake house is rather large, but inside is like any other family home on the block. No fancy statues or ostentatious paintings. Of course, he has a giant ass TV for football, but that was one of the only purchases I remember him splurging on.
I walk into the house and place all my groceries on the kitchen counter. Just as I start putting the food away, my phone in the back pocket of my jeans starts vibrating.
I pick up without looking at the number. "Hello?"
No one answers, but I hear rustling on the other end.
"Hello, who is this?"
The line goes dead a second later.
"That's weird." I check the number and don't recognize it. I don't know what the area code is either, but think nothing of it. "Probably a wrong number."
I finish putting the food away and then start making myself some breakfast. As I'm scrambling the eggs, my phone rings again. Same number, same silence.
"Who the fuck keeps calling me?" I say to myself. I don't care enough to investigate.
I toast some bread and smear on grape jelly. Eggs and toast. Breakfast of champions.
But once I sit down to actually eat, my appetite vanishes. I push my food away.
Phoebe calls again, telling me she's getting on the plane. Then my mother calls. I pray to God that my sister hasn't told her anything. Renee seems to be skirting around any questions that she really wants to ask me, so I assume she knows more than she's letting on.
She ends our call by suggesting I read Katherine Hepburn's autobiography.
Bored and with no future productive activities, I decide to try it out. I download the book onto my phone. Another gift from my late father.
Me: Stories of my Life is a fascinating book, but I don't understand Renee's suggestion until I'm about one hundred pages in.
Katherine Hepburn met Spencer Tracy in 1941 while they were working together and began an affair shortly after. Even though Tracy had been married for twenty or so years, he pursued Hepburn and never looked back. Friends said that he was "utterly obsessed" and she was "completely devoted and in love."
I became wrapped up in their story. It was so fascinating.
Tracy never considered divorcing his wife and Hepburn didn't ask him to. They just assumed the roles of lovers without any questions or much fanfare. The affair lasted twenty-six years and the more I read, the more I felt for Hepburn.
I couldn't understand how she survived that. Be with a man, love him, but never expect anything more than two separate lives. Maybe that is my problem. I expect too much.
I want all of Harry. Not just a week away in California or a few moments of sexual bliss. I wanted that bliss every day.
But can I really expect Harry to leave his stable life with a wife and kids for me? What can I provide him that he doesn't already have?
The old Hollywood studios, in an effort to keep the affair silent, set up strict rules, which Hepburn and Tracy abided by. They were never seen together, never talked about each other in the press, never lived in the same area. For them, just being together in private was enough.
By the time I reached the end of the book, my heart is broken.
Tracy died in Hepburn's home after having a heart attack on the kitchen floor. He literally died in her arms, but the papers reported differently. A publicist told the media that Tracy had died in his wife's home.
Katherine Hepburn was always second. Even though he loved her with all his heart, it was never a possibility for them to fully be together. Is that what life would be like for me if I continued the affair with Harry?
Hepburn was obviously stronger than me. I couldn't even conceive living my life that way.
A bang at the door jolts me back to the present. I lift my head and suddenly realize that there isn't any light left in the sky.
Have I been reading all day?
Another bang recalls my attention to the door. I jump off of the couch and run into the hallway.
"Alyssa, open this damn door! It's freezing out here." Phoebe does not sound happy.
"I'm coming." I unlock the door and pull it open.
My sister is standing in the rain, shivering and wet, carrying her several bags. She looks pissed.
"I come all the way out here to this God forsaken town and you leave me out on your doorstep! You have no class. I could have pneumonia." She shoves a travel case at me and pushes her bags into the house.
"Sorry. I forgot you were coming."
"How could you forget? I've been calling for the past hour. I had to pay a cab to come get me from Seattle!"
"Alright, I get it. You're mad at me. I was busy."
"Busy with what?" Phoebe starts taking off all her wet clothes, dropping them into the dyer.
"Reading. Renee suggested a book and I thought it would help take my mind off of things."
"We'll discuss this when I get back." She grabs one of her bags and stomps upstairs.
"Oops," I say to myself, secretly finding her dramatics a little funny. She is like a drenched cat. Never pleasant, but tolerable.
I go back to the couch and start re-reading Hepburn's autobiography. I went too fast the first time. I want to take my time, see how this incredible woman dealt with the scrutiny of an affair.
The one thing that I pulled away from the book was that the relationship between Hepburn and Tracy wasn't just physical. It was emotionally intense and everlasting.
"You know, Alyssa. I've been thinking," Phoebe suddenly emerges, smelling fresh from her shower, "the problem with you and Harry..."
"I don't want to hear it," I groan. "I know, I messed up. Please don't bombard me with your opinions."
"God, I was just trying to help." She plops down next to me.
"I know you are," I sigh.
Phoebe huffs and then turns her head towards me. "You look like shit. When was the last time you ate?"
"I... I don't remember."
"Come on." She pulls me from the couch and drags me to the kitchen.
She throws away my forgotten breakfast from this morning, and then makes the only thing she knows how to cook. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches. They bring me back to my childhood when we used to sit on the floor and watch movies while stuffing our faces.
"Do you remember on your fifteenth birthday when I made these for your surprise party? You were so pissed at me," Phoebe laughs.
"I ate so many that I got sick," I remember.
We're silent while she works. Half an hour later, there is a stack of sandwiches in front of me. Phoebe won't eat until I take a bite, and she glares at me while I finish.
"Okay, I ate it. Happy?"
"Yes." She smiles.
I soon realize that I need to pick myself up. There's no use in lying in bed all day. Plus, Phoebe is threatening to suffocate me if I don't get out of the house. She says I need to be active.
I decide on a day trip to Seattle. There's some business I need to take care of, and since I'm close, an in-person meeting seems to be the best option.
The city is vibrant and lively. It's a rare sunny day and the hustle reminds me of Boston. I miss it terribly, even though I've only been living there for about six months. I try to keep the memories from flooding back, but small glimpses of Harry peek through.
A flash of skin. The sound of his voice in my ear. The bracelet on my wrist. It all reminds me of him. But each day that passes, I get a little better at dealing with my emotions.
I pull my car to a stop on the sidewalk and someone is there to take it from me.
I shut the door and look up at the glass skyscraper. It seems to touch the sky. The modern architecture is imposing without overwhelming the entire city skyline. Carl's software company occupies the top four floors of the building, and it seems like my second home before moving to Boston. I was always up there for something or other. Carl has a rather large estate that includes, among other things, his entire company and its wealth. It takes time and a lot of hands are involved to make sure that everything is distributed correctly.
I walk into the lobby, my shoes making small click-clacks on the floor. One of the security men tips his hat and lets me through the high-tech boundary that leads to the elevators.
On the ride up to the top, my ears pop, and I wait for the doors to open before walking into the sitting area of the main floor. A large desk is occupied by Carl's oldest secretary. She's been with him since the beginning.
"Hi, Doris." I wave.
"Oh my God. As I live and breathe, it's Alyssa Wilson." She gets up and hugs me tightly. "They said you might be coming, but I didn't believe them. How have you been?"
"Good," I answer. "I'm just here for a few days."
"How's Boston? Is it as exciting as I suspect it is?"
I tell her about some interesting stories from my move, but obviously leave out the most interesting part. I don't even mention dating or men and thankfully, one of my lawyers rescues me before she has the chance to ask.
Randy is a tall man with very handsome features. Dark hair and blue eyes. Nice build - stylish for an older gentleman. He's forty-five, but could lie easily and say he's younger. He and Carl knew each other from college, and he's been at the company since I can remember.
He leads us down a long hall to a conference room and I sit across from him, sitting my bag down on the shiny wooden table.
"I hate the carpet in here," I say out loud. The cream colored carpet was Carl's idea, but he just did it to annoy me. He said I was too particular with the little details.
"We can have it changed if you'd like." Randy says, putting on his glasses.
"No, it's fine." I wave him off.
"So, we have a few things to discuss and since you're here, I thought we might as well meet and get this whole thing sorted out."
"Okay, I'm listening." I cross my legs and settle in.
"As you know, Carl left you everything from the company. You have a majority share in the stocks and everything that leaves this building has your name on it. But as we both know, you are not equipped to run a business of this size."
"Or any size, for that matter," I point out.
"Correct," He chuckles. "You are head of the board of directors, but the day-to-day activities are run by the guys your father put in change. We're sort of in a limbo stage right now."
"Right, so what are my options as far as moving forward with this?"
"You can either sell your shares and give up your rights to the board, or keep control and appoint someone to run in your place."
"Well, I'm not selling anything. My father built this company from the ground up and it's going to stay in the Wilson name."
"I figured as much. So I've come up with a list of businessmen who are wonderful candidates for his replacement." Randy pulls a few papers from his briefcase and slides them across the table. "Of course a final decision will have to be voted on, but you get two votes from the board and anything you say will probably go."
"I don't know the first thing about software. How will I know who to choose?"
"You're a smart girl. You'll have to ask around, do your research. I'm always here for consultation and you might even want to visit some of these men to see what you think. I assure you that they're all very well qualified and experienced. They would jump at the opportunity to lead this company, so you have a lot of options to choose from."
"How long do I have?" I raise my head and look at him. He takes off his glasses and crosses his hands together.
"There's no time limit, but as I said before, we're in kind of a limbo phase. Don't rush anything, but at some point, we're going to need a leader. Just take your time and call around."
I am slightly overwhelmed with all this. But I know I can do it. I wouldn't want to let Carl down. I just need to find someone who best fits the company.
I recognize a lot of the names on the lists and their business ventures as well. All prominent men who could easily make this place even more successful, but I want to respect Carl's wishes.
"It's strange to me that my father wouldn't already have someone lined up to replace him. Especially since he knows I can't handle it," I say.
"Well, none of us really expected him to... go so suddenly," Randy replies regretfully.
"Very true."
A silence hangs in the air and I place the important pages into my bag. "I'll look over these and call you soon to talk."
"Alright, then. That sounds good to me."
I'm going to need at least a couple of months to go through all of this. I want to make sure that I pick the right person for the job. Carl was the type of boss whom everyone loved. He was the outdoorsy, granola-eating guy who let his employees go on week long climbs up Mt. Everest or something like that. My mom called him a big hippie, but he wasn't flighty like her. Carl knew when it was time to work.
He gave money to charities and set up organizations to help the poor or sick mothers or wounded veterans. He was a wonderful man, and I needed to keep his legacy alive. He wouldn't want me to appoint some hard-nosed businessman who worked his employees to bone. And God help us all if the new boss doesn't believe in recycling. Carl will come down and kill me.
It makes me a little sad to think about the perfect people to help me with this. Desmond and Harry, even though in the medical fields, both love economics and business topics. They would enjoy this task.
Unfortunately for me, they obviously aren't an option.