I Exit From Your Lies

For the holiday dinner, I followed the directions Forrest Yarrow sent me, the way I always did,

only to end up at the public restroom behind the restaurant.

Before I could even ask, his message came through.

I'm your boss. It looks bad if we walk in together. Wait in the restroom for ten minutes, and come out once I give you the signal.

By the time I finally found the private room,

Betty Swanson was already sitting beside Forrest.

Out of habit, I ladled chicken soup into a bowl for him.

Forrest barely glanced at it, then waved a hand for someone to dump the whole thing, soup and bowl.

A coworker next to him sneered.

"Can't even suck up right. Don't you know Mr. Yarrow's a germaphobe?"

The next moment, Betty peeled a crab leg and set the meat in Forrest's bowl.

He ate it without even looking.

And under the table, he texted me again.

"Betty has mild depression. Don't hold things against someone who's sick."

I watched the two of them pass food back and forth,

while the coworker group chat went feral, thirty straight minutes of nothing but heart-eyes and everyone shipping the two of them.

After the meal, he ordered milk tea for everyone.

It was the iced jasmine milk tea Betty always drank.

Three hours into the dinner, Forrest looked me in the eye for the first time.

"Go downstairs and pick up the drinks."

Six years of a secret relationship, and for the first time I understood,

some things had to end.

...

I sat where I was.

"My hand hurts, I can't carry things. You know that, don't you?"

Forrest clearly hadn't expected that answer.

He froze for a second.

A coworker clicked her tongue.

"There she goes again, cozying up to Mr. Yarrow. Who's supposed to know her hand hurts? What a fake."

"Right. The drinks were ordered for Betty, and the rest of us are just lucky to get one. And here she is, this clown, putting on a whole song and dance."

The mood in the room turned strange,

so Betty stood up and said she'd go herself,

and only then did a few people scramble to head downstairs,

glaring at me on their way out.

The phone in my pocket buzzed.

I didn't look, but I knew it was Forrest.

Probably accusing me of being petty, or something else.

Even though he was barely a foot away from me,

he wouldn't even look my way, all to avoid gossip.

He'd probably forgotten that my hand had been hurt making a cake for him.

Saturday, he'd said, rare for him, that he wanted some,

and I'd scalded both my hands red finishing it, carried it to the office, and even had to pass it off as delivery.

Then he'd turned around and fed the whole thing to Betty.

Through the blinds, I saw Betty smile at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Yarrow. The cake from that place is so good. Too bad you never tell me where you buy it."

"If you want more, I'll get it," Forrest said.

That was when it hit me why Forrest, who never cared for sweets, kept asking me to make desserts.

Only because someone else loved to eat them.

A hand set an iced jasmine milk tea down in front of me.

I looked up along that arm. It was Forrest.

Signals like this, the little secret ones, had always made me feel like something sweet was passing between us,

but for some reason,

all I could taste in my mouth now was bitterness.

Forrest stuck a straw into a new cup and handed it to Betty.

The words came out almost on reflex.

"Your period's coming up soon. Don't finish this one."

It set off a few coworkers cupping their mouths and cooing.

Betty flushed at the teasing and stepped back,

knocking over the half-finished bowl of soup.

The whole thing spilled across the hem of my dress, spreading in a wide stain.

"Oh no, Ann Coleman, I'm so sorry. Did it burn you?"

Betty's eyes had gone red with fright.

Then Forrest caught her wrist.

"Stop worrying about other people. What about you? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Without a word, I got up and walked to the restroom.

Halfway through cleaning my dress, the grease just wouldn't come out.

Behind me, a coworker I got along with came over to call me.

"How are you getting home later? Is your boyfriend coming to pick you up?"

Just then my phone screen lit up.

It was Forrest.

"In a bit, walk to the bus stop half a mile from the restaurant. Once I've dropped Betty off, I'll come get you."

I swiped the message away and turned around, smiling.

"We broke up. I'll get my own ride home."

By the time I came out, the party had broken up.

Outside, the autumn rain kept falling.

Forrest had pulled the car up to the door.

Betty climbed into the passenger seat, then leaned back out.

"Forrest says there's still room in the back. Anyone still can't get a ride?"

The people close to Betty started trading looks and raised eyebrows.

"We'll pass. You and your Forrest head home first."

For once, Forrest glanced at me.

"Get home safe, everyone. You too, Ann."

I didn't look at him. I just opened my umbrella and walked off ahead.

I was already home by the time his message came.

Betty's stomach hurts, I'm taking a detour to buy her some medicine, I'll come get you in a bit.

A little while later.

I'll cook her some porridge and then come get you.

Another hour later.

Ann, where are you?

Forrest would never in his wildest dreams imagine I'd gone home on my own.

Then again, of course he wouldn't.

He'd clearly forgotten the last road trip.

Because Betty said one time that she felt awful,

he left me at a rest stop for five hours.

By the time he circled back for me, he was worn out,

and neither of us mentioned that the trip that weekend was supposed to be just the two of us.

"Ann, you need to be more understanding. Betty has depression, and as her boss, if anything happened to her it would be bad for me too."

That day, the exhaustion on Forrest's face lined up exactly with the man standing in front of me now.

So he was already back.

In that instant, something came clear to me.

All along, Forrest had saved his patience for Betty,

and left me the exhaustion and the tired impatience.

I was the girlfriend he'd been with for six years,

and yet now I was more like a subordinate he had to deal with.

"Why didn't you tell me you came back on your own?"

I looked up at him from the couch.

"You wanted to avoid gossip, didn't you? So I got myself home."

Forrest let out a sigh.

"You're wearing me out, acting like this."

"She's sick, that's why she needs extra care from me. I'm not asking you to understand, but can you at least not make trouble? If you keep this up, when am I ever going to feel safe making us public?"

This place looked more like a model home than a model home did.

To avoid gossip, we'd chosen nothing but dark, cold, heavy colors.

No photos. Nothing that said a couple lived here.

The only thing that had kept me moving forward all this time

was Forrest's promise to go public.

I spoke softly.

"Then there's no need to go public."

"Let's break up."

Forrest froze.

When he came back to himself, he gave a small laugh and covered half his face with one hand.

"Sure, break up. So how many days is it going to be this time?"

He didn't take my words seriously.

Fair enough.

I was the one who, back then, gave up long distance to be with him for real,

quit my job, came to this city, interviewed my way into being his subordinate.

At my old company I could have been promoted.

Now, to avoid gossip, I'd missed three chances at a promotion.

My mother scolded me, said I threw everything away for love,

and that sooner or later I'd be looked down on.

So right now, Forrest probably looked down on me too.

I didn't argue. I grabbed my blanket and went to the spare room.

It didn't matter which room it was anyway. All of them were cold, nothing like a place that was supposed to be our marriage home.

The next morning, I got to the office before Forrest.

Usually he dropped me at a corner near the building,

and I slipped out of the car so we walked in one after the other.

I went to my direct supervisor

and handed in my resignation.

My supervisor seemed sorry to hear it.

"If you just want a change of scenery, I have a training slot open here."

I knew he meant well, but I still shook my head.

"My home isn't in Los Angeles. I've been away six years. I want to go home for a while."

Seeing I'd made up my mind, he didn't press.

"Then work out these last few days, and do a proper handover with HR."

Not long after I came out of his office,

an emergency meeting was called.

For once, against all his usual habits,

Forrest's eyes were locked tight on me.

His face dark, he threw a proposal down on the table.

"I've said this many times before: whether or not you can do something well, you put in your own honest effort! Ann, just last month you said you wanted a promotion. Is this your idea of an attitude?"

I opened the proposal, and the pages weren't printed with words at all.

They were filled with garbled strings of English characters.

I couldn't believe it.

"This isn't what I wrote!"

Forrest ignored me and held up another proposal for the room to see.

"I want to give some credit here to Betty. Betty's work is careful and thorough. Her proposal has already been approved, and your bonus this month will arrive right on time."

I snatched the thing out of his hand,

and one glance was all it took to recognize it as mine.

Every word, every symbol, I'd typed it out myself.

Forrest knew perfectly well I'd lost three nights of sleep over this proposal.

I whipped my head around.

"Betty, why did you steal my work? This is mine, and you know it!"

Betty's eyes went red in an instant.

She rose to her feet.

"I didn't..."

I laughed, cold and short.

"Go on, then. Tell everyone. What exactly were you thinking when you wrote this proposal?"

"Enough, Ann!"

Forrest raised a hand to cut me off,

his gaze sharp as a blade.

"What matters right now is that you reflect on your own failings, not that you find someone to pin the blame on!"

"This meeting is over!"

Betty hurried over, her voice cracking as if she were about to cry.

"Ann, I really didn't steal your proposal."

The coworker beside her slipped an arm through hers.

"Somebody's just jealous of you and Mr. Yarrow, that's all. Don't waste your breath on her. Now come on, tell me again, what kind of necklace did Mr. Yarrow get you?"

They passed by me,

and I caught the thin silver chain glinting at Betty's throat.

Two months back, just before Valentine's,

I'd seen it in Forrest's shopping cart.

At first I thought he'd bought it for me.

He rarely gave me jewelry,

because wearing it out might give away what we were to each other.

I was happy about it for days.

Then Valentine's came and he was working late,

so I stayed and kept him company until midnight.

That night I took an Uber home alone, again.

And now the necklace I'd wanted was sitting on Betty's neck.

I took both proposals and knocked on Forrest's office door.

When he saw me,

the warmth in his face cooled a degree.

Something jabbed at my heart like a needle rolling in deep,

a fine, spreading ache.

"You knew all along that Betty's proposal was the one I made. Why would you..."

"I knew. So what?"

The words stopped in my throat.

I genuinely didn't know what to say.

Forrest raised an eyebrow and went on.

"The words are already out. It doesn't matter who made the proposal. Besides, Annie, I did this for your own good. Do you have any idea how many people on your team can't stand you?"

"What I did today drew their attention elsewhere. It'll make your life on the team easier. You really should learn from Betty. People actually like her."

The central air blowing through the room left me cold all over.

"And you like her too. Is that it?"

Forrest frowned.

Then a knock came at the door.

Betty poked her head in.

I walked out of the office without a word.

And I heard the voices behind me.

"Mr. Yarrow practically has 'I can't stand you' written across his face, and she's still out here begging for scraps. Pathetic."

"Right? He and Betty are already using the matching set. They just haven't gone public. Can she not throw herself at him like this?"

When that line landed, someone started laughing. I couldn't tell who went first.

My eyes fell on Betty's desk.

The markers, the vase, even the blind-box figurines,

all of it should have been mine.

Forrest wouldn't use anything matching mine, in case people talked.

So I bought stacks of things in the same color palette and pushed them on him.

Even then he wouldn't take them.

When he finally did,

those gifts were sitting at Betty's desk by the next day.

Forrest said,

"I can't very well throw the stuff out. You bought it, after all."

I bought it,

but if I'd known from the start it would end up in another woman's hands,

I'd rather have thrown it all away.

Betty came out of the office beaming.

Someone shot her a knowing look.

"See? Told you Mr. Yarrow only drinks the iced latte you bring him."

Betty bit her lip.

"He's just being nice, that's all."

Then she wandered over, smiling sweetly, and asked me,

"Ann, do you want an iced latte? Forrest says they're good too."

I shook my head and kept my eyes on my screen.

But my hands were pounding on the keyboard, hitting nothing in particular.

Forrest doesn't like sweet things. I only found that out a year into being with him.

Because when he was with me, he always went along with what I wanted.

I actually thought I was the special one, the one who could make a man who hated sweets willing to try them.

The day dragged past in that dazed fog.

I organized my files, getting ready to leave the company.

By the time work ended and I'd just reached the ground floor,

I heard someone scream.

"Somebody's about to jump off the rooftop!"

The phone in my bag was buzzing without stop.

The moment I answered, Forrest's roar came through.

"Get up to the rooftop right now, this instant. Come see what you've done!"

By the time I reached the rooftop,

a crowd had already gathered.

Betty sat on the railing with a knife pressed to her wrist.

Her eyes were swollen from crying.

The moment I stepped out, every head turned, all of them looking at me like I was something strange.

"Ann, I never stole your proposal. Why would you post it online and set everyone loose on me?"

Forrest's eyes were ice when they landed on me.

"You put all of Betty's information up there too. In ten minutes she's taken twenty calls from strangers cursing her out!"

"Ann, if I got something wrong, I'll apologize in public. But there's no need to drag in someone innocent!"

He opened the post and held it out to me.

The IP, the avatar, the username, all of it matched mine exactly.

But the last four digits of the account were different.

I shook my head, helpless.

"That account isn't me. I never posted anything. You can check my phone!"

I pulled it out, unlocked it, and held it up to him.

Something flickered in Forrest's eyes, like he might waver.

"Never mind. I was wrong, all right? I misjudged you!"

Betty was sobbing, the blade already scraping thin lines of blood from her wrist.

"Ann. Apologize."

Forrest's voice was cold.

I stared at him, unable to believe it.

"Something I never did, why should I"

"I don't want to hear it. Wrong is wrong!"

In that instant it felt like all the air around me had been pulled away.

The coworkers around me joined in, one after another.

"Apologize! Betty's already depressed. Are you trying to get her killed?"

"Don't you know Mr. Yarrow and Betty are engaged? You're wrecking two families here!"

"Apologize!"

Engaged?

I lifted my head, dazed,

and caught the way Forrest's gaze slid away from mine.

And I found myself thinking,

if it came out today that the two of us were the ones engaged,

Forrest would set the whole room straight in a heartbeat.

It wouldn't be the first time.

On a team hike once,

because he wouldn't reach out to pull me up,

I rolled all the way from the slope down to the bottom.

I took a step back and bowed low to Betty.

"I'm sorry. It was my fault. Please forgive me."

Betty went limp all at once,

falling back into Forrest's arms.

And where their hands overlapped, I finally saw it clearly.

Two pairs of blue cufflinks.

I'd seen them in a fashion magazine.

The designer's whole concept was a set for an engaged couple.

Seeing Betty was fine, everyone let out a breath.

Her best friend strode up to me

and swung her hand across my face.

"Bitch!"

Her nails raked across my eye,

a sharp sting in my left, blood dripping from the corner.

I cupped my eye and looked at Forrest.

"Forrest. So this is where you stand, is it?"

He lifted Betty into his arms and didn't spare me a single glance.

"Go home tonight and write a letter of apology. Have it on my desk tomorrow."

Betty leaned against his shoulder

and gave me a soft little smile, mouthing two silent words.

"Dumb bitch."

The ones who followed him out bumped me on purpose as they passed.

I was knocked to the ground, and then a few feet came down on my hands.

Forrest's text came an hour later.

"We'll talk when you're home tonight."

But there was nothing left for the two of us to talk about.

I got up and walked down off the rooftop, one step at a time.

That night, neither of us went home.

The next day he drove Betty to the office,

and they walked into his room together.

There was no apology letter on the desk.

Forrest frowned and went out to the main floor,

only to find my seat sitting empty.

"Did Ann take the day off?"

An HR staffer happened to be passing.

She answered without much thought.

"Ann quit, didn't she? Something about going back home to get married, I think?"