Done Loving the Man Who Never Chose Me

1: 1

A client had just thrown a cup of scalding tea in my face, and the moment I stepped out of the company reception room, I looked up straight into my boyfriend's eyes.

Swallowing the hurt, I tried to explain what had happened as calmly and objectively as I could.

Before I could finish, he cut me off.

"So? What exactly are you telling me all this for?"

"You want comfort? Sympathy?"

"At your age, you should know emotional validation is useless to you, shouldn't you?"

His tone was even, his face untroubled.

It made the hurt I'd just felt look like a joke.

Luckily his phone rang and spared me the humiliation.

But the moment he answered, he changed completely, suddenly agitated.

His voice even climbed a few notches higher than usual.

"Tell them not to give Claudia Mason a hard time. I'm coming right now. Whatever it is, deal with me!"

Claudia was his assistant.

An hour ago Jerome Henson had sent her out to meet a client.

My hand trembled, so slightly it was almost invisible.

I thought of yesterday, when a client had cornered me and I'd called him.

He'd said, "If you can't even handle getting yourself out of that, you might as well quit now."

I couldn't help it. I laughed until my eyes teared up.

So it turned out he did know how to care about someone. Just not me.

01

Seeing me cry, he stopped on his way to the elevator.

He turned back, pulled out a pack of tissues, and held it out to me.

I didn't take it.

So he threw it at me.

It landed right on my scalded arm.

The pain tore a hiss out of me.

His brows snapped together at once.

He grabbed my wrist and dragged me into his office.

"Beth Summers, a client says a few words to you and you come running to me in tears? This is a company, not home. I'm under no obligation to absorb your negative emotions."

"Do you have any idea how you're acting right now? Completely unprofessional, irrational, emotional!"

Three words, and all my effort was erased.

I should have known long ago.

Ever since Claudia became his assistant, he'd stopped being the Jerome who used to give me anything I wanted.

Now he was rational and cold, with the steady composure of a man on top.

Yet when I'd just been torn to shreds by a client, the first sight of him had still made my eyes sting.

Eight years. Some things had long since become habit.

Except this time I finally understood that some habits needed to change.

I didn't argue with him. I just quietly dug through the first-aid kit and found the burn cream.

Something flickered in his eyes, surprise, then smoothed back into calm.

"Don't think a sympathy act is going to make up for the fact that you lost a client today."

"If you've got time to put on a show for me, you'd be better off studying what the client actually wants."

My hand stopped, mid-motion, cream still on my fingers.

There was a time a paper cut on my hand would have had him half ready to call an ambulance.

Now my whole arm was raw and red, and all he cared about was the client.

I lifted my head. My voice came out unnervingly steady.

"What the client wants? For me to design a black that's somehow full of color?"

"For my team member to deliver the proposal in a hotel bed?"

"Clients like that, I'm done waiting on!"

"You"

The uglier words never came.

Because Claudia's custom ringtone went off.

In the quiet office it was crystal clear.

"Mr. Henson, pick up the phone~ Claudie needs a favor!"

He quickly turned the volume down and glanced at my face.

Not because he was afraid of me.

Because he didn't want the hassle.

After all, I'd once had a huge fight with him over it.

Because I'd recorded a ringtone for him too, once.

But the moment he found it, he deleted it.

He'd said anyone who heard it would just think I was childish and silly.

Yet Claudia's voice had gone off in the conference room, in a client meeting, in our own home.

And he'd never once changed it.

Jerome's voice was gentle, even a little eager to please.

"Claudie, something came up and held me back. Are you okay?"

Once he learned she was fine, he let out an obvious breath of relief.

The next second his voice shot up sharply.

"They made you drink?"

"It's okay, don't cry. Find an excuse and slip out somewhere. I'll go talk to him myself in a bit!"

"Don't worry. I'm here."

On his way out he even reached over and switched off the office light.

In the dark, I sat on the couch, his firm "I'm here" looping over and over in my ears.

Only then did I realize that those three words were all I'd been hoping for this whole time.

He'd said them. Just not to me.

I got up and walked to the window, watching his car tear out of the lot.

And all at once it just felt utterly pointless.

I pulled the plain band ring off my finger and dropped it in the trash.

Then I turned and went downstairs, heading home.

Some things needed to be ended too.

2: 2

I fell asleep before Jerome ever came home.

Half-conscious, I kept hearing him call me softly, "Monny."

He hadn't called me that in a long time.

Because Claudia's nickname was "Claudie."

Jerome said the two sounded too easy to mix up.

So he kept "Claudie" for her and started using my full name for me.

I didn't want to answer him, but he wouldn't stop calling.

He gave me a headache with it.

I dragged myself up and went out to the living room.

Before I could say a word, I saw Jerome feeding water to a drunk Claudia.

She wouldn't drink, so he coaxed her, over and over.

"Claudie, just one sip, okay?"

"Claudie, finish it, then sleep."

So it wasn't me he'd been calling. It was Claudia.

I was standing in our own wedding home, and I felt like a stranger who'd wandered into someone else's bedroom.

When he saw me, his eyes went wide for a second.

Not guilt. Not awkwardness.

Delight.

"Beth, you're awake?"

"Perfect timing. Go make Claudie some hangover soup."

I didn't move.

I'd learned to make that hangover soup the year I first joined the company, for Jerome.

Back then he was always out chasing accounts, drinking himself blackout drunk.

I worried about his health, so I found someone to connect me with a doctor who taught me the recipe.

The ingredients were expensive, and it had to simmer for a very long time.

The first time I made it for him, I sat up with the pot all night.

When he saw my hands, red and scalded, his eyes rimmed with tears.

"From now on I'll drink less. I'll never let you set foot in a kitchen again."

He kept that promise.

Over the years, as he climbed higher, he drank less and less.

And today, without a second thought, he was sending me into the kitchen for another woman.

At least he didn't push it.

He just carefully wiped the sweat from Claudia's forehead with a towel.

I remembered a time my own towel was damp, and I borrowed his for a moment.

He said, "Sharing towels like that is really unhygienic."

He even moved his towel hook away from mine.

After that I never touched it again.

My eyes stung a little, but my heart didn't hurt anymore.

Halfway through wiping her down, Claudia woke.

The first thing she did was grab Jerome's hand and blow on it.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault you got into it with the client."

Only then did I notice the knuckles on his hand were hurt.

It looked like he'd thrown a punch at someone.

He patted Claudia's hand, and in his eyes was a doting look I hadn't seen in a long time.

"It's fine. He wouldn't let go of you."

I suddenly remembered the time I was being followed, how he ran four red lights to pull me out of a molester's hands, and even then it ended with nothing more than a police report.

So it turned out he could lose control and raise his fists for a person too.

Claudia's eyes reddened at once.

"But the company lost a client because of me."

"Mr. Henson, I'll resign tomorrow and take responsibility."

Jerome didn't call her emotional. He didn't call her unprofessional.

He soothed her, gently.

"It's not all on you. The other side was being unreasonable."

"I'll send someone else to handle the account tomorrow. You just rest in my office for a few days. Don't dwell on it."

I laughed out loud where I stood.

So he did know how to comfort someone.

He just couldn't be bothered to comfort me.

My laugh finally snapped them out of it, reminded them there was still an actual girlfriend standing in the house.

Jerome's face was full of confusion at my out-of-nowhere laughter.

I let the humor drop from my face.

"You really do have two sets of standards, Mr. Henson."

"When I lose a client, it's unforgivable. When your Claudie loses one, it's understandable."

His expression darkened.

"How old is she? How old are you?"

"She's been here a few days. How long have you been here?"

"Are they even the same thing?"

They weren't the same, that much was true.

After all, when I first came to the company, he said,

"You may be my girlfriend, but in the workplace, ability does the talking."

"I don't want anyone saying I give you special treatment just because you're my girlfriend."

So I worked myself into the ground.

The clients no one could crack, I cracked.

The jobs no one wanted, I took.

I only wanted to prove I hadn't earned my place because of him.

And to live up to the fact that from my very first day, he'd generously announced to everyone that I was his girlfriend.

But there were never any privileges, only extra scrutiny.

Others were allowed to make mistakes. I wasn't.

Someone else's mistake took a minute to address. Mine took half an hour of criticism.

At first, once we got home, he'd still coax me.

"I'm only hard on you so no one talks behind your back."

Later he'd just say, "Can you please stop being so emotional all the time?"

Once, I loved his rationality most, how steady he was.

Now it's the thing I hate most about him.

Like a wall. The kind you can't breathe against.

Thank God I've finally decided to stop slamming into that wall, to turn around and go home.

3: 3

At the morning meeting the next day, I finally learned that when he said "switch who handles it" last night, the one he was switching to was me.

I lifted my head and met his eyes, my voice level and unbowed.

"Whoever brings in a client cleans up after them."

"I'm not a dumpster. Stop dumping everything on me."

I had never contradicted him in front of this many people before.

So the conference room went strangely quiet now.

My coworkers exchanged glances.

Their eyes ran back and forth between my face and Jerome's.

Claudia stepped in to smooth things over.

She held out the client's background file to me.

"Beth, it's all my fault. I was so shaken yesterday, and Mr. Henson only troubled you because he was looking after me."

"Don't be angry with Mr. Henson. Let me apologize to you on his behalf."

I took the file, my expression easy.

The corner of Jerome's mouth curved up a little.

As if I would still take on the client no one else wanted, just like I always had.

If it worked out, he'd toss off a lukewarm congratulations.

If it failed, he'd tear me apart as worthless.

I set the file down on the table and looked up at Claudia.

"In what capacity are you apologizing to me on Mr. Henson's behalf?"

"An assistant apologizing to an employee for the boss is out of line."

"A woman apologizing to a man's girlfriend for him doesn't know her place."

Her face went white in an instant.

There was defiance in her eyes, but she swallowed it back quickly.

My coworkers couldn't hold it in and laughed, then started whispering.

"She's an assistant, but instead of doing assistant work she's out handling clients."

"No idea what Mr. Henson is thinking. His girlfriend's this talented and he grinds her down every day, but he's endlessly patient with the assistant."

"What's there to wonder about? He wants her to climb, obviously! Just can't tell if it's the ranks she's climbing or his bed!"

The talk kept getting louder, and Jerome had to rap the table a few times to get the room under control.

"Too much free time, is that it?"

"Finished all your own work? Then redo every one of the old proposals from scratch!"

His voice was still calm and controlled.

But there was fury held down under his eyes, and the veins stood out on his neck.

All at once he disgusted me.

Catching the contempt in my look, he froze for a second.

I'm sure that since he climbed into the GM's chair, no one had looked at him that way in a long time.

As if he meant to force me down.

He gave the order word by word.

"I assign you your work. You don't get to pick and choose!"

"When I tell you to do it, you do it. Since when is there this much backtalk?"

It looked like he was speaking to everyone, but his eyes stayed fixed on me.

I didn't look away, and I didn't say anything to him.

I just threw the file in my hands into the trash and walked straight out of the conference room.

I meant to go pull myself together in the bathroom, but there was talk coming from inside.

"Men, honestly. Whether they love you or not, it's so obvious."

"I still remember when Beth Summers first got here, the two of them making eyes at each other every single day."

"Right? Back then Mr. Henson would tell her off sometimes too, but the second she frowned he'd change the subject."

"And now look at how he shields Assistant Mason. Tsk, tsk."

I didn't slow my steps. I walked over to the sink to wash my hands.

The coworkers scattered in a hurry, embarrassed.

As the hot water ran over my hands, I looked up at myself in the mirror.

Years ago it had been in front of a mirror too.

Jerome had held me and pleaded, "Beth, come work at my company."

"Then we won't have to do long distance. I really can't stand being apart from you for a single second."

Watching him, always so rational and cool, show that clingy puppy side of himself.

I softened.

I gave up the better offer I had at the time and went to his city without a second thought.

Once the red had faded from my eyes, I took out my phone and called my mom.

"Mom, you and Dad wait for me at home."

"I'll be transferred back to you soon."

4: 4

The next day I stood up the client Jerome had lined up.

When Jerome saw me still at my desk, fury churned in his eyes.

But he forced it down.

I ignored him. I just looked at the transfer-approval notice that had come through and let the corner of my mouth curve.

I only wanted to work my last day the right way.

But by that afternoon I got a company-wide disciplinary notice.

The first line read Beth Summers, emotionally unstable and uncooperative with management's work assignments, is suspended for six months.

Jerome set a coffee on my desk, milk and sugar measured just the way I liked it.

Beth, don't blame me for not being considerate.

It's just that the company has its rules. I can't play favorites simply because you're my girlfriend.

You're emotionally unstable. It wouldn't be good if you caused more losses.

I have to be responsible to the company too. You understand, right?

The words sounded warm. In truth they were a death sentence.

Forget six months. Even a one-month suspension made a smooth return nearly impossible.

Seeing no reaction from me, he seemed to think I'd caved.

I know you can't sit still at home.

As it happens, Claudie needs a driver. In the meantime, you can shuttle her around.

She's only just started dealing with clients. Having you beside her, you can give her a few pointers.

Only then did I understand.

He wasn't just sulking and holding me down.

He wanted a legitimate reason to demote me into being Claudia's helper.

I'd loved him for eight years, and today was the first time I saw him clearly.

He wasn't rational. He was selfish.

So I wasn't going to work this last day either.

I picked up my box and walked out.

Thank you for your concern, Mr. Henson, but I no longer plan to work under you, so there's no need to go to all that trouble arranging a position for me.

Panic flickered through his eyes for an instant, and the hand that grabbed my wrist clamped down hard.

Beth, you're too emotional right now.

Every decision you're making right now is irrational!

I shook his hand off.

In front of every coworker, I threw it back at him.

Did I argue with you? Did I make a scene?

What gives you the right to judge me instead of the actual matter?

The one running on emotion is you, not me!

The coworkers pretended to work, but their eyes kept darting over.

He couldn't save face, and the rationality he was so proud of was starting to crack.

But it's a fact that you caused the company losses, isn't it?

I didn't dock your bonus, didn't call a staff meeting to denounce you. What more do you want?

He said it like he had every right.

It only made me colder inside.

I took two steps closer and looked him dead in the eye.

You think I don't know about the little tricks you pulled?

You think you're really as high-minded as you claim, without a selfish bone in you?

His brow knit deeper.

I flung the copies at him.

It was the client-analysis chart he'd made.

Difficulty ranked from five stars down to one.

After it, his special note Three-star and above clients go to Beth Summers.

Two-star and below go to Claudia Mason.

With a further remark: anything Claudia can't finish, Beth Summers covers.

I'd stumbled on it by chance that day after he left, when I went to switch off the light in his office.

I let out a scoff.

I actually thought I was just unlucky, that the clients I got kept getting harder and harder, and I even tried to go to you for comfort.

Now I know all this trouble of mine was trouble you handed me.

His throat bobbed a few times, and he took two steps toward me.

I backed away with a frown, as if afraid of getting something filthy on me.

Before I turned to leave, I said Jerome, let's break up!

Beth Summers!

He called out to stop me, his voice a little hoarse.

My steps paused, and I looked back.

I tilted the corner of my mouth up at him.

Oh, right. I wrote all of this into a complaint and sent it to headquarters.

No need to thank me.

With that, I turned and strode off.