hurt each other and now suffering the consequences of those actions: pain and loneliness.
“And I’m sorry that I woke you. I should let you go.”
“Okay.”
“Can we talk soon?”
“Sure. I’d like that.”
“Okay. Bye.”
The screen goes blank and I lay back on the sofa that passes for a bed.
She is right: my Quinn would never have done all of this to me. I wasn’t the only one of us that got lost. She lost herself a year ago and she didn’t realise it. Now I think she has. Now I think she knows that she’s going to have to find herself again. My heart breaks to think that she is as lost as me.
Thursday
I head down to the station after I know Wade has just finished for the day. I know he’ll be trying to make a quick exit so I’m right on time to catch him.
The station is busy. People were working to keep the place on air, keep the listeners listening and the sponsors and advertisers paying. Draw cards like Wade are very important to the station but producers come and go. I went a little over three months ago, quickly and abruptly. I was replaced here as rapidly as Wade replaced me: in an instant.
I recognise just about everyone when I walk in, the others were new, and they were the only ones that did not stop and stare for a second. They all knew - they all knew he was sleeping with my wife and none of them told me. I smile to myself, enjoying the discomfort that my presence gives them. I will have to forgive them too, I realise, and I will have to forgive Wade as well. I am starting to get very good at this.
I walk down a familiar corridor, to Shelby who mans the desk outside my office. She got me the cake on that faithful day. She smiled at the gesture. Did she know that he would be at the apartment with Quinn? Did she know that I would find them? Was this her way of telling me?
“Judd,” she says, surprised. “You’re back?”
“Maybe,” I tell her hopefully.
“It’s not been the same since you left.”
“I’m sure this place has just rolled along just fine without me, but it’s nice for you to say it.”
She leans forward, whispering: “He’s out of control. You kept him from going too far but Kenny has no hope.”
“Kenny got my old job?”
She nods and then she looks at me grimly. “I’m sorry about, you know... There was talk but I don’t listen to talk. I told them to mind their own business.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
Maybe someone should have shared a little of that talk with me, then maybe I could have been saved the vision of Wade with my wife in our bed. Still working on that, I said to Quinn. I’ll probably still be working on that till the day I die. But, every day that vision fades just a little. One day, I hope, it will be like a bad dream I once had, one where you wake up in a cold sweat and suddenly feel relieved that it was just a dream and everything will be fine. I’ll be old when that happens, but one day it will come.
“Is he in?” I ask her, and she looks immediately nervous. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want to talk to him.”
“He’s with Kenny and Stewart.”
“Good. I’ll talk to the three of them then at once then.”
I enter Wade’s office without knocking. I don’t owe him something as commonplace and considerate as a simple knock. All three of them turn suddenly in my direction. Kenny and Stewart looked like they had been caught doing something unsavoury, Wade - who thrives on those things - grins like a fool.
Stewart is a short, late-forties, balding, crumpled suit. He’s seems perpetually stressed or disappointed. Kenny is me five years ago: late twenties, sure of himself, trendy haircut, lots of opinions. He looks a lot older to me now, looks like he’s had a fairly good try at catching me in the last few months. Wade can do that to you.
“Judd,” Wade says, standing.
I say his name evenly - then recognise the others.
“What can we do for you?” he asks.
“My job,” I tell him directly. “I want to get back to work.”
“You left,” Stewart reminds me, “and quickly. We barely got Kenny up to speed in time.”
“What’s your point?”
“Well, you’re not exactly an extemporary employee, are you?”
“Are you kidding? I gave this place everything for years, and what did I get in return?”
Stewart coughs nervously.
“He’s right,” Wade says, never losing his grin. “He was the best producer we had, and I was sad to see him go.”
“Is that right?”
“I was. I know we’ve had our issues but man, we did work well together, didn’t we.”
“Issues?”
“You know what I mean.”
I sigh. “I do,” I say. “So, Here’s the thing: the word out is that you’re in trouble. You’re losing sponsors, you’re losing ratings. You’re going to lose your show.”
“That’s no secret,” Stewart says.
“But the thing is, you need someone who can turn this around.”
“And that’s you, I suppose?”
“It is. You know it is.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Wade asks, still grinning. I don’t know why.
“Because I know the people that pay your bills. They respect me. If I can convince them to stick around, then you’ve got a chance.”
“Can you do that?” Stewart asks. “Can you convince them?”
“I already have. So, what do you think?”
Wade looks at Kenny who shrugs. He’d been promoted, but after what Shelby told me, he might just want to get out of there. He looks like he was getting an ulcer.
“You owe me,” I add. “And the way I see it, there won’t be a show soon. You’re going down Wade, and you know it. I might just be able to get you back where you belong.” I almost gag at the words, but I keep going on my pitch. “No offence Kenny, but things have taken a turn for the worst without me. You need me, and you know it.”
The truth was I didn’t want to go to work for Wade. I didn’t want to place myself in that situation again, but I needed the job. I needed the money.
“So, you want your old job back?” Wade asks me. He’s looking pleased. He’s thinking that he’s getting the band back together. He’s forgotten how we got here in the first place, or he just doesn’t care. That’s his way, Quinn would say about him. So true.
“I don’t think you can afford not to re-hire me. And,” I add, “then there’s the programming.”
“What about it?” Kenny asks.
“It needs to be tighter, more controlled. I can give you that too.”
“I never wanted you to leave, Judd,” Wade says, his grin shrinking to a smile. There is sadness behind it, regret. “I know you had to, but I didn’t want that.” He looks at the others. “I want him back on the team.” Wade always had the last say. He starts to smile broader again, like he’s won.
“I have some stipulations,” I tell him.
“Sure.”
“I’ll work Monday to Friday, same hours. Kenny can do the weekends if he wants.”
“Done.”
“And I want you to stay away from Quinn.”
He nods, but does not lose his smile. I want to punch him in the mouth, but that would not help my job prospects at all.
“So, you’ve patched things up with her?” Quinn’s ex-lover asks me.
“That’s none of your business. Stay away from her, I mean it. I’ll kill you if I see you even near her.”
“Done,” he says, still smiling. I still want to punch him, but I refrain.
Instead I say: “And I’ll have a raise. You sort out a number and call me. I’ll see if it’s enough. I’ll start on Monday.”
Then I leave.
I go to the market. I’m sick of eating out. I’m getting soft in the middle. I need to go to the gym. There’s a lot of things I need to do.
My phone rings. There is Quinn, blowing me a kiss. I h
aven’t the heart to change the photo. It was taken in happier times, of a happier woman. I don’t know what I’d use in its place. That picture has been a record of what was and I’m not ready to let that go just yet.
I think that I’ve been grieving these last few months. I’ve lost so many things, but I think the worst of it was Quinn herself. It was like she had died suddenly. She had a car accident, or burst an aneurysm, or got a cancer that was aggressive and terminal. That would have been easier. People would have rallied around me, held me as I cried, stood by me as they laid her body in the ground. And then, after a time, I would move on.
But this was worse. Quinn was taken away and replaced by some other woman, an imposter, one that sleeps with my boss and breaks my heart and then breaks it again with her remorse and her crying and her forgiving.
But I know that she is the same woman, the one I married and the one that has hurt me. It’s hard to reconcile, but I know it’s true. And I guess I have to accept the Quinn that I was in love with and this other Quinn that I don’t know at all. And I don’t know how I would even start moving on from all of that.
Before I was rejecting her calls, kind of a way of telling her that I despised her, rather than I just didn’t want to talk to her. But it wasn’t true. I despised what she had done, but not her. There was hatred yes, but that turned to anger and then annoyance and then acceptance. I went through all of the stages of grief over those months - at least I thought I did.
Now I’m taking her calls, answering them before the fifth ring.
“Hi, Judd,” she says.
“Hey,” I say back.
“I’m really sorry about calling you the other night.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “I said that I’d be here for you. You shouldn’t feel