To Be Alone With You

It’s amazing to me that there was a time that I wasn’t uncomfortable with the amount of time that John and Casey spent together outside of me.



It was another late night at the office, putting the finishing touches on my project. Everything was finally perfect, down to the very tracking of each line. I sat in glory of the final mockup, the light from my desk lamp illuminating it perfectly in front of me.

It was an amazing feeling, having finally finished my first solo project – something that was entirely mine. From the photos, to the layout, to the words on the page, everything had come into fruition because of me and my talent. It was like all my life – all my adult, career life that is – had been leading up to that moment, with those glorious sheets of paper in my hands. Everything exactly how I wanted it to be.

I was finally closing up shop, the clock approaching eleven again. Most nights since The Maine left New York, I was working late at the office, trying to piece together their article. As I tucked the sheets of the article into their folder to hand into publishing, I flicked off the desk light and relished the fact that I wouldn’t have to be in the office that late for a long time, or at least until my next project.

I turned to look out the window into the city night, anything but dark. The lights illuminated the streets, never truly falling asleep. New York was so beautiful, everything I had always dreamed of, just like that article tucked into the folder on my desk. But in a brief pang, a strike of homesickness hit me. I almost missed the quiet hours of Tempe after a long day.

“Finally done, Star Girl?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin, snapping around to see Rick standing in the doorway. “Yes, finally,” I hummed, smiling sweetly. Another late night in the office alone with Rick. I should have been used to his constant presence by then, but the sight of him in the doorway still stunned me.

“Great,” he chimed with a smile. “Could you meet me in my office once you drop it off at publishing?”

I struggled to fight back a nervous gulp. “Of course. Just let me get that out of the way and I’ll be right in.”

My entire way to publishing, all I could think of was what Rick could possibly need to talk to me about. A range of possibilities raced through my head like a rushing river of insecurity. Maybe he had seen my mockup and didn’t like it. Maybe he saw Charlotte and I talking for an hour in the middle of the day when I was supposed to be working and was going to chide me. The situations seemed endless as I approached his office, the door open to reveal him sitting on the couch across from his desk.

“Come sit down!” he beckoned, patting the seat on the couch next to him. I conceded, entering and taking my place gingerly next to him, smoothing out my skirt beneath me.

“What do you need to talk about?” I asked quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear sheepishly, the nerves racing in my heart.

“I just wanted to tell you that I took a look at your spread,” he started, his gaze on his hands, almost like he was embarrassed.

“And?” I asked tentatively, trying not to appear as anxious as I was. I wanted desperately of Rick to approve of my project, in hopes of getting more like it in the future. All those decisions rested entirely on him.

“I loved it,” he breathed, looking up at me as the grin spreading on his face as wide as the East River. “It’s like nothing we’ve published before. Refreshing, almost. You did great work.”

My heart soared, knowing that I had achieved my boss’s approval on the one project that had been keeping me going for the last week and a half. The one project that could change my career. I’d been so afraid of what he would say about it that I almost hadn’t considered him liking it an option.

“But, I have to diverge from business for a minute and ask you a question.”

“Okay, what is it?” I responded, lost in a blissful state and too excited to even think more on the subject change.

“Would you like to get a drink with me?” he asked, face entirely serious.

Everything came to a screeching halt. “Excuse me?

“The bar down the street is having a pitcher special. I’d love to buy you something to drink and get to know you better.”

I felt myself floundering before I even opened my mouth. It stunned me more than he normally managed to stun me, like he’d pressed a stun-gun directly to my chest and pressed the highest charge. I blinked several times to fight back my disbelief, reveling in how surprised I was, even though I probably shouldn’t have been. “I’m sorry Rick, I don’t really think that would be appropriate.”

“Appropriate!” he scoffed, waving his hand in the air dismissively. “Whoever said I was worried about being appropriate? I’m a man who knows what he wants, and you’re a beautiful girl and I want to take you out for a drink.”

His forwardness amazed me, even more than it usually did. He pressed a hand onto my knee, the skin on his palms icy cold against my bare skin. My nerves crawled, ready to bolt for the door.

“I really don’t feel comfortable doing that,” I continued, removing his hand from my knee. “You’re my boss, and I’d prefer to maintain a professional relationship with you. I’m sorry.”

There was a silence between us for a moment, both of us staring awkwardly back at each other for lack of better response. “Ungrateful college grads,” he spat under his breath, turning away from me to gaze at the ground.

“I’m sorry?” I replied, trying to verify that he had in fact said the words that had left his mouth. The situation was getting stranger and stranger by the moment, my panic increasing with each exchange between us. I had been uncomfortable around Rick, but never like this. I was completely at a loss for what to do, how to defuse the bomb set out in front of me.

“I know your type, Josselyn,” he muttered, turning back to me with his eyes now ablaze. “Big shot. You think you’re too hot for a guy like me, don’t you?”

I was silent, unable to articulate the words to respond to him. I should have seen it coming from the start, the strange amount of times he touched me, the comments about my looks and my social life… it all was falling into place in front of me, the panic in my heart on red alert.

“I give you everything,” he growled. “I gave you the project that could change your career. I compliment you endlessly. And you won’t even go out for drinks with me?”

“You only say you like my work because you want to take me out?” I breathed in disbelief. “And you thought you could butter me up or something?”

“Well I certainly don’t like you for your keen eye for kerning.”

And before I could say anything in response, his lips were on mine, his beard scratching against my face, hands on my waist. I was writhing beneath him, pushing back with all my strength, fists pounding against his chest. But his weight was strong, almost too strong for me. My heart began to race, and not in a positive way – my body responding with fight or flight, warring between the two.

“Stop!” I cried, when he pulled away for a moment to catch his breath. “Stop, please, stop.” He pulled away and I jumped from the couch, pulling my cardigan around me in a subconscious effort to shield myself from him. He gazed at me with glazed eyes, each heavy breath causing his chest to heave.

“Let me get this straight,” I managed to squeak, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “You only put me on that article because you thought it would make me like you? Not because of my talent?”

“We’ve got an office full of beautiful, talented girls Josselyn,” he replied with a smirk, his voice like coal. “I can’t say anything about your talent, but I can say something about the way your legs look in that dress.”

“You’re deplorable,” I spat, tears pricking at the back of my eyes. Everything I knew was quickly crumbling around me – my dream come true suddenly revealing itself to be a disgusting lie. “Disgusting. People here look up to you, you know that? I looked up to you. Just wait until PR gets ahold of you.”

I held back the sob forming in my throat, fighting to maintain composure. I couldn’t be weak around him, I couldn’t be vulnerable. More than anything, I needed to run for the door before he could make any further advances.

“Try,” he growled, standing up to tower over me. “They won’t believe you.”

I felt myself cracking, disintegrating like salt in water. “Either way, you can find yourself a new Star Girl. I quit.”

“You can’t do that!” he cried after me as I stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind me. I struggled for breath, the panic constricting my windpipes, running into my office and collecting all the important things and stuffing them into my briefcase. I could hear him coming down the hallway behind me, cursing at me with his gruff voice.

I glanced out the window of my office one last time to the night sky, the beautiful New York night glimmering outside my window. Again, I heaved a sob, trying to fight back tears. All my dreams, my beautiful New York, the hard work I slaved over… it was all coming to a screeching halt. I turned back to find Rick in the doorway, and immediately I knew that my fight was over. It was time to fly.

I ran out past him, shoving him out of the way with all the force in my quaking arms. He called after me, but it was in a foreign language completely untranslatable in my hysteria. Darting down the stairs, I clutched my briefcase to my body and hailed the first cab that passed. Rick came out the door just as I closed mine, begging the taxi to take off. The last sight I had of the studio was Rick panting, hands on his knees, screaming at me as we drove off.

Relief flooded over me, but it was fleeting. I needed a safe place, somewhere to get away from it all. From the monstrosity that was my now former employer, who knew where I lived and the places that I haunted and could easily find me if he tried. I needed to clear my head, to get back to the start. I took my phone out of my briefcase and dialed the only number I knew could help.

“Charlotte?” I sobbed, finally letting the tears go free. “Can you come over to my place? I need your help with something.”

“What’s going on?” she asked hurriedly, the waver in her voice expressing her concern. “What do you need my help with?”

“Packing,” I breathed, a chill running up my spine as I realized the implication of my words. “I’m going home.”

She was quiet for a moment, enough for the soft patter of rain to ignite the windows of the taxi, streaking down the panes to match my cheeks. “Are you sure? Are you ready to go back and face everything? You haven’t been back since – "

“I know, Char,” I moaned weakly. “But I need an escape.”

I thought of the words that were about to come out of my mouth, the implications of them exactly. Home was a broken place for me, home was a place I hadn’t been in years, and when it came to me, home wasn’t exactly a place to run. But there were the palm trees, the mountains, the arid heat and the friends I’d known for so long. I needed it.

“I need Tempe.”