“But, that’s not all. Because as Lita pointed out—”
“Lita was there?” I have my PhD in astrophysics, for crying out loud. How are my mom and her best friend both involved?
“And Lynda,” he adds. “Anyway, Lita reminded us all that you hate doing the public appearances, so I’d actually be rewarding you for your…” — he glances down at his notes again — “…hurtful and humiliating actions. So, you’re going to get a pay cut, which will be diverted to Carla, since she’s taking over that part of your job.”
Oh, well, thank you, Auntie Lita. “A pay cut? How much?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet. I have someone in HR helping to determine the value of that job function, but I expect it will be somewhere around ten to twenty thousand a year,” he tells me. “I’m also going to take you under my wing and keep a careful eye on you until I can trust you again. The L-Triad seemed satisfied with that arrangement and so am I.”
Well, that’s … just great. I’m so glad my mom and her besties are pleased.
“Expect me to come by your office randomly throughout each day to see what you’re doing.”
I nod and say nothing. After all, I did the dance and now it’s time to pay the band.
“You can go,” he says. “But I want you to spend the rest of the morning thinking about how you can make things up to everyone you hurt.”
“Wouldn’t you rather I spend the morning analyzing the atmospheric pressure on Gamma-Four Eighty-One?”
“Gamma-Four Eighty-One has been there for billions of years. It can wait.”
Sitting at my boring metal desk with a pad of paper in front of me, I’ve written: How to Fix Things, and under that title are several columns: Gwen/her family, the NASA team, and, finally, Serafina.
The rest of the page is blank because I have no clue what to do to make things better. I’ve even Googled how to repair a relationship you’ve ruined. I’m simmering with anger, to be honest, which isn’t exactly conducive to high-level problem solving. The focus of my ire is aimed at the three women who are probably lying out in the sun in my mom’s yard cackling away about their call with my boss.
After picking up my phone, I dial my mom’s number. She crossed the line and she’s going to hear about it.
When she picks up, she says, “If you’re calling to yell at me about my intervention with Mr. Grover, don’t bother. I’m not sorry and I’d do it again.”
Lovely. “Yeah, not cool, Mom. Not cool,” I say. “You know, you’re the reason I wound up in this situation in the first place.”
“What? Me?”
“Yes, you. You and your ridiculous psychics and your … healing crystals that you spend a fortune on and your … inability to make your own decisions without shelling out your hard-earned cash to some charlatan instead of using your own perfectly-functional brain!”
“Okay, I see what’s happening here,” she says. “You’re transferring your anger onto me because you can’t face the fact that you screwed up royally.”
“No, that’s not it at all. You had no right to phone my boss and suggest he send me home for a morality update.”
“Well, clearly you need one. What you were trying to do to that poor Serafina was unforgivable. And that Gwen girl? You’ve humiliated both of them and that is not the man I raised you to be.”
I let out a long sigh of frustration. “The man you raised me to be is one who is absolutely terrified you’re one email from a Nigerian prince away from losing everything!”
“You’re making me sound stupid, Ben. I am not stupid.”
“But you’re ridiculously naïve!”
“Watch yourself, young man,” she says in a clipped tone. “Maybe I am a little too trusting at times, but that doesn’t give you the right to project your fear of being hurt onto other people. Onto Serafina.”
“I didn’t—” I start to say, then I slam my mouth shut because my mom is right.
“Just realized it?”
“Yup,” I say, completely deflated. “And you’re right. That’s exactly what I did. But as far as calling my boss? Way out of line, Mother. Way out. You do know I’m a grown man, don’t you?”
“That’s a bit of an oxymoron, dear,” she answers. “But, I get your point. The thing is, I’m really worried about you and I’m too far away to help.”
“I don’t need you to help. I’m an adult — and a highly intelligent one at that.”
“Fine, then why’d you call?”
“Because I need your help,” I answer, palming my forehead.
Forty-One
Serafina
“Have you become bulimic or something?” Charley demands while standing over me and the remains of my Chinese food feast from last night.
“Bulimics throw their food up,” I inform her.
“Are you saying that you’re somehow keeping all of this down?”
“Yes.” Barely. Man, does my stomach hurt.
“Serafina, you are not well. You need to pull yourself together and recalibrate or something.”
“You make it sound like I can just snap my fingers and be fine. You, of all people, know that romance doesn’t work like that.”
“It’s true that romantic comedies don’t work like that, but as you’ve told me so many times, rom-coms aren’t real life.”
“Why are you here?” I glare up at her.
“Because it’s Tuesday and, according to our calendar, you’ve scheduled calls with our test subjects to find out how they’re doing with our app.”
Crap on a crouton, I don’t want to work today. I’m not even sure my stomach will bend enough for me to get off the couch. “Please get me some coffee,” I say while I roll onto the floor in hopes of positioning myself onto my knees enough to enable a standing position next.
I hear Charley clanging away in the kitchen while I use my arms and push myself onto my feet. Then I shuffle to the bathroom like a ninety-year-old woman with only two toes to help keep my balance. How in the world do I recover from what happened on television yesterday? Was that only yesterday? It feels like I’ve been on the couch eating for months. I have no idea what kind of fallout Ben’s tirade will have on my professional life. I imagine it will be huge though. He essentially called me a fake and a liar.
Standing under the spray of hot water I let my brain go there … What would have happened if I’d stayed at Ben’s apartment and let him explain about Gwen? What if he decided my app wasn’t a hoax and that, even though he originally intended to out me as a fraud, he’d changed his mind? What if we spent the night affirming our feelings for each other instead of starting World War III?
Damn. There’s a slight possibility I may have blown it. In my heart of hearts, I can’t accept that Ben was really planning to hurt me or my business. Not after what transpired between us. It’s just that sometimes I leap to conclusions which is not the Libra way. It’s the Serafina Lopez way. Dear Hera, goddess of women, I may be astrologically challenged.