Page 47 of Teach Me To Sin
“I don’t know…”
“Please.” Scrambling up, I pace over to the window that overlooks the whole facility, everything I’ve poured my life into. It’s never silent and empty on a Friday morning, until today. Seeing it this way makes me feel like my father’s friends have already beaten me, like I lost a battle I didn’t even know I was fighting. “Grab a donut on your way out. Thanks for handling everything. Will you let me know when the removal crew is finished?”
There’s a stubborn pause, like he’s going to force me out to his Jeep and stuff me inside. Then he sighs and I hear the rustle of the donut box. “The orange ones are pumpkin spice,” I offer without turning around.
“Mmmm,” he mumbles through a mouthful. I guess Benji’s only getting four donuts. The office door squeaks, but I don’t hear him leave. “Do you think we should still do the gala on Friday?” he asks finally.
The words grow in the air between us, heavy and dangerous. He’s asking me if this is a warning of worse things to come. As I search for the right answer, I start to realize just how fragile the threads are that hold this place together. “We can’t, Tate. If it doesn’t go on, our regulars won’t donate and we literally won’t be able to fund operations for another year. We’re stretched to the breaking point already.”
He rubs his stubbled chin, and I realize he probably rushed over here without showering or shaving. “In that case, I’ll go help them arrange the seating this afternoon.”
“And I’ll check in on the catering.”
Popping the last bite of donut in his mouth, he heads out the door. “Maybe you should call that lawyer, Gray,” he suggests over his shoulder. “He worked on Victor’s original case, right?”
“I will. And Tate–thanks for handling this.” The man shoots me a thumbs up, but I can see in his eyes that he wants to come give me a hug. No matter what happens, I’ll forever be grateful to him. He started as a volunteer teacher in our first year, balancing his time between us and his own pro swimming career, and quickly became as essential to our operation as Victor or myself.
After he clatters down the stairs, I look out the window for a while longer. I imagine construction workers tearing the place apart to convert it into a warehouse or a hipster brewery, filling the pools with concrete. Erasing us like we never existed. Resting my forehead against the cool glass, I pull out my phone and open my contacts to call Gray. But before I know what I’m doing, I find myself listening to the wrong lawyer’s phone ring.
“I thought we were done,” Colson answers flatly. “Donegenerally means the end, the conclusion, never again, the point after which nothing more follows.” He’s right, and I deserve his bad attitude, but a small part of me hoped he’d still be the man who called me princess.
“Have you been following the fake articles about me this week?” To my surprise, he grunts an affirmative. “Interesting. Do you need to look updonein the dictionary too?” That earns me a dry silence and the fear that he might have hung up on me. “Someone called me a pedophile,” I offer finally.
“They’ve called you a lot of things, and they’re going to call you a lot more.”
“In giant letters spray-painted on the front of my building.”
He doesn’t answer for a very long time. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He’s using distant, professional words, but every feeling in the world bleeds through his quiet voice, feelings I’m not sure either of us could name. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Clean it up and hire a security guard?”
Another pause. “I meant, what areyougoing to do? Are you alright?”
“I’m not going to do anything.” My voice sounds wretched as I pace up and down the office, tripping on the piles of books and papers I leave everywhere. “I can’t do anything but keep going, Colson. We have a fundraiser banquet the day after tomorrow. I have to coach Benji out of his funk. Seven hundred kids need their classes taught. What the hell else can I do? If I stop, I’ll go insane.”
This time, the silence hurts. “You can say it,” I croak, sliding down the wall and resting my head on my knees. “You told me from the start that I was gonna lose the nonprofit. Do you want to hear me say you were right? Will that make you feel good?”
“Being dramatic isn’t going to help anything.” Hurt and frustration mix in his voice, like the walls he built to keep his feelings separated are collapsing. “You started this, and you’re going to have to see it through. Why did you call me?”
“God, I don’t fucking know.” I press my hand into my forehead, trying to quell the ache. “The fundraiser is the day after tomorrow. Can you swing by for a few minutes? We could toss around some ideas for how to handle things, on a publicity level. And maybe you could talk to Benji. He’s having a hard–”
“I’m not talking to Benji,” he snaps, his voice strained and a little helpless. “What part ofit’s overdon’t you understand? I’m driving up to Vancouver that night, to board my ship the next morning.”
“Oh.” He explained this a dozen times, but I’ve been so busy I didn’t realize it was already here. I can’t breathe, because I didn’t think until this exact moment how longnever againis. “Colson, please. Can you at least say goodbye?”
“No, no, no.” His voice pitches up, more agitated than I’ve ever heard him. “I don’t do goodbyes. We already walked away, Alek.”
My grip on the phone tightens, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Just ten minutes, I promise. That’s it. Ten minutes. I need to see your face. Please.”
I can hear him swallow and pull in a ragged breath. “Shit. Why do you have to be like this?”
There’s nothing I can say, so I just keep my eyes closed and wait.
“I’ll think about swinging by on my way out of town. That’s it. I’llthinkabout it.”
“Thank you,” I stammer. But he’s already hung up.
As I settle in to try and finish my speech for the banquet, the quiet of the unoccupied building presses down on me more and more until I have to go outside and stare at the sky, to remind myself that the sense of doom growing in the back of my mind isn’t real.