Chapter 3 - Bargaining

She woke up the following morning with a pain in her head attacking her every which way she moved. As her eyes connected with the empty bottle of wine on the nightstand, it wasn't difficult to understand why - she was hungover. She hadn't been hungover in years, not this badly anyway.

One of the first things she could remember her father tell her was never drink on an empty stomach, Joanie. That's why at college she always made a conscious effort to eat a burger before any big nights out or at least, to ensure she was having a glass of water every now and then. She was fun back then, but always sensible thanks to her father's wisdom around the subject of alcohol.

If only she'd had her father's wisdom before she decided to order a bottle of wine to the room last night.

The last time she'd got drunk, she couldn't remember much about it, but she had a feeling she hadn't had her pre-drink burger that night. She was pretty sure she still worked at Google at that point it was so long ago, and she knew Charlie had to come get her from The Tenderloin on the brink of a mugging. She'd woke up tucked under a blanket on the couch with a pot of coffee in front of her and the harsh greeting "Don't you dare ever do that again".

Oh God, Charlie. How had she forgotten about Charlie?

She darted up in bed (much to the distress of her pounding head) and reached for her phone; 9.30am?! Fuck, she had to be at the conference centre in an hour. And even worse than that, Charlie hadn't even tried to reach out to her. She'd had emails from Simon and Danny Michael Davis, a text from Zoey and a missed call from the cleaner (probably to remind her that it's not her job to feed and walk the dogs). 5 Facebook notifications, 14 Twitter notifications, but not a damn thing from Charlie.

He left you last night, Joan. Why would he try and call you? Why would he tweet you or text you? You mean nothing to him.

Grabbing her Louboutins and a co-ordinating suit, she got ready for the day ahead, trying to push all thoughts of her husband from her mind. The nausea remained (whether it was from the alcohol or the stress of yesterday, she wasn't sure), but a couple of espressos later, at least the headache began to lift. She curled her hair and plastered her face in heavy coverage makeup, and somehow managed to get to the venue on time. Laptop bag in hand and a case of SPRQ-Watches under her arm, she was even able to compartmentalise for a while. She had to make up for yesterday's performance on the panel and really wow everyone with her demo. She had to sell watches and be charming and answer questions and try to put a smile and everything would be fine. She didn't need Charlie. She'd be fine.

Right?

"Up next on the stage is the person you should all want to be when you grow up. MIT-educated, Silicon Valley-seasoned and utterly brilliant, I present to you; Joan Bennett, here to demo the SPRQ-Watch."

She racked her brain for who on Earth this presenter was or what he did for a living; but she drew a blank. She was always hopeless with names and details at work, as well as her personal life. It wasn't just the accounting team and networking contacts she didn't know from Adam, she couldn't remember Charlie's sister's name for months when they first started dating. Gosh, she remembered that argument. Remember the days when Charlie didn't completely ignore her? Remember when he used to indulge her in an argument? Remember when he'd at least book a hotel room to commit adultery in?

Kate, that was his sister's name. Kate was a real-life Columbia-educated, gorgeous embodiment of the American Dream. She was a cardiologist at John Hopkins, married to an equally as gorgeous accountant and owned a house in the suburbs of Baltimore where the kids all rode their bikes and practiced for football games in the front yard. You should be more like Kate, isn't that what Charlie always said? He had always wanted a stay at home wife who wasn't quite as ambitious as Kate, but like his younger sister, was oh-so-obedient to her gorgeous and successful husband. He wanted a trophy wife, one who would stay attached to his arm at functions and would never, ever drink too much. She knew Charlie wanted at least one kid, but Joan had just refused time and time again. She wanted to run a Silicon Valley tech company and be featured on some list on the Forbes site which showcased successful/rich/amazing people. She wasn't interested in ruining her body with pregnancy or waking up on the middle of the night to feed a baby or taking time off of work to go to high school football matches or visiting colleges on the weekends in senior year. There was nothing wrong with those ordinary things. But Joan was never interested in the ordinary, the mundane.

But maybe if she had been interested in all those things, she might still have a husband.

Harnessing the power of all those espressos she drank in the hotel room, she managed to hold a grin and walk onto the stage with a level of confidence she wished she truly felt. She shook the man's hand, managing to hide her disgust at his tweed suit, round framed glasses and mustered up a sincere 'Thank you somuch for having me' even though she could think of around a million other places she would rather be. Joan was a lot of things, but a good public speaker was not one of them. She used to be, but as she got older, she became quietly nervous at the mere thought of speaking to a crowd. She accepted it would not be one of her strengths again and she gave it the good old college try.

She recalled Charlie's Ted Talk that even Leif raved about when he thought she couldn't hear him. It was TedXCaltech in 2017, and she had watched from the side of the stage with pride. That was her husband up there... giving a Ted Talk! She was just so incredibly happy for him. He deserved it. He'd managed to create a gaming world that so many adults and kids alike had utterly fallen in love with. Charlie wasn't particularly book smart, but that hardly mattered in the scheme of things. She was so incredibly proud of him and she made no attempt to hide it.

But she'd also found herself wondering "Could I ever do that?". It seemed like a sign you'd really made it in your field if your Alma Matter reached out and asked you to submit a proposal for a Ted Talk, and all Joan ever really wanted was some kind of reassurance that she'd somewhat made it; as an innovator, a leader and maybe even as a wife.

"Do you think MIT will ever ask me to give a talk?" she had asked him casually over their dinner that night. They had went to some really expensive restaurant in Pasadena and Charlie had been on his phone for most of the meal, scrolling through Twitter, occasionally chuckling to himself at a text message. Joan wouldn't dare pull her own phone out to amuse herself. He would have hated that.

"Well," he sneered, looking up from his phone for just a minute. "Today isn't about you, Joan."

She was taken aback, "No, babe, that's not what I meant. I just mean... Do you think they'd ever ask me to do something as cool as that? Give a Ted Talk, I mean. Or any talk?"

Charlie softened for a moment, and she had thought this was it. Maybe he would finally tell her how wonderful and clever she was, how MIT would be lucky to have such a renowned guest like her at a dinner party, never mind at some conference. But then he took a sip of his wine, seeming to size her up and she waited with nervous anticipation for his answer. She valued his opinion on these things. She really, really did.

"Didn't Buzz Aldrin go to MIT? Richard Feynman?"

"Yeah, I think so?"

He nodded sympathetically, "Then, Joanie; I think they'd find the technology to bring Feynman back from the dead before they'd ask you to talk about your... career."

And for some reason now, looking out into a crowd of UCLA students, that same painful lump in her throat had formed as it did all those years ago after such a nasty comment. Was that it? Was that why Charlie looked for attention from other women? Because she couldn't just stay in her lane?

This wasn't the time for any self-doubt. She couldn't run off the stage and go vomit somewhere again. She had to give this demo.

She just couldn't believe how quickly her confidence had dissipated from mere moments ago. She had the Louboutins on, and one of the most beautiful suits she owned, but she felt like she just didn't shape up. Joan was a terrible public speaker, but she never, ever got stage fright. This was just downright strange.

Forcing herself to swallow the lump in her throat, she smiled once more, "So, I've been asked not to make anymore college students cry. Now, I can't make any promises, but this is just a product demo, so I think you should all be safe. If anyone does find themselves getting emotional during this presentation, however, tell someone who cares."

Somehow, she sparked some laughter, and managed to get through the demo as well as the Q&A after. She could tell some questions might have been better suited to yesterday's panel, but given she'd embarrassed herself and run off stage to have what she could only assume was the beginning of a panic attack, she wasn't all that fussed about answering some off-topic questions. She had made sure to answer the question on the SPRQ-Watch's price point this time, and like Alan had asked her not to do, she had been pleasant enough to everyone and she didn't think she made anyone cry today.

Gosh, she still felt awful about that.

Next on the agenda was the coffee break with tables upon tables of hot drinks and snacks. She should have eaten something substantial to try and bring herself out of her first hangover in around 10 years. But every time she reached for one of the dreadful looking sandwiches, her stomach turned. She really should have listened to Charlie's 3 drink rule. She should have just stayed in the tipsy zone last night; she really couldn't handle alcohol.

Just like Charlie told her she couldn't.

The booths were her least favourite part of conferences, which was why she usually got one of the interns to man the booth while she went off networking and indulging in free coffee. Joan didn't have that luxury today. The decision to come to the conference was so last minute that she didn't really have time to organise bringing someone else. Well that, and that she knew an outburst like yesterday's was a possibility. She'd rather do it to a room of mostly strangers than some intern who would tell everyone the minute they got back to work. Danny Michael Davis somehow knew what had happened, but she figured if she ignored his text messages long enough, he would eventually forget. Maria, conference organiser must have called him after the fact.

What a bitch.

She couldn't believe she'd let her emotions get the better of her like that. She would never be asked to give a talk ever again, never mind give a Ted Talk at her alma matter one day. Her stupid bastard of a husband told her she wasn't good enough to do the sort of things he did, and she'd set out to prove him wrong. She could be an amazing wife and a successful woman.

Right?

Wrong.

She wondered if she should have just tried to be a good wife and stuck to her middle management job at Google. That was still a great achievement, right? She had already gotten the foot into a great job at a great company and it was then she felt best in her marriage. It would have been a major sacrifice, but that's what marriage was supposed to be. A sacrifice. And now she didn't even have a marriage to make sacrifices in, all because she had been selfish and Charlie had gotten bored.

"Joan!" greeted the bitch. She was being immature, but she didn't care. The bitch was far too chipper and looked far too good compared to Joan today. She was younger, blonde, skinny, well-dressed and looked much prettier with far less makeup than Joan. She imagined it was someone in her league that Charlie had in their house last night, that he had cheated on her with someone so pretty and skinny and blonde.

"Maria, hi," she smiled, with no attempt to match the organiser's grin. She just didn't like her.

"How are you, Joan? Are you enjoying today's events?"

She nodded, "Yes. You must be pleased with the turnout."

"I am. Listen, the committee are going out later - I'll be there, Graham, Philip, Alan. Would you like to join us? It's a little bar we like in West Hollywood. A tradition of ours on the night before the last day of conference. It might not be as refined as you're used to, but it could be fun."

Joan sighed, "I'll think about it."

But Joan didn't make it to the bar that night. She had laid a carefully selected outfit on the bed and applied a much more conservative amount of makeup than she had this morning. She had ordered a burger from room service and even managed a couple of bottles of water. She could do this.

Or so she thought.

Zoey had called to give her some updates about the SPRQ-Watch's launch. She sounded exhausted, but that was probably to be expected for someone who's boss had skipped town right after a big launch. Well, she hadn't skipped town. She just... needed out for a couple of days.

"It's just the usual teething problems, I think," Zoey had told her, filling her with a pang of guilt that she had left Zoey (who already had enough on her plate) to deal with the aftermath of the launch of a product this big. If she was anyone else, she might have apologised for dumping such a large workload on her. She might have apologised for being so selfish and explained that she was struggling with her separation more than she knew how to say.

But Zoey had found her sleeping at her desk last week and had seemed concerned when she informed her of the trip to LA; of course she was aware how much Joan was struggling. She couldn't just call and ask how Joan was coping with it all, she would have had her head bitten off and her presence ignored at work for at least a week. No, Joan knew she was being tactful. But she wasn't in the mood for it.

"Anything else?"

Zoey sighed, "I guess I just wanted to see how you were. I know the watch is the last thing on your mind right now."

"I'm fine," she snapped. "I'm fine. The conference is fine. Everything is fine."

"Danny Michael Davis came by. He said you-"

"Sorry, Zoey. I've got to go. You're doing a good job. I'll see you on Friday."

Pulling away to end the call, she caught sight of her broken phone screen and for some reason, that was the final straw.

She was too emotional - what sort of lunatic launched their phone at a wall. Or was she not emotional enough? Charlie hated it when she was too emotional, but he only wished she could be happier, more approachable.

She hung up on Zoey with a tap of her phone. She had been gentle, but somehow a little piece of glass became embedded in her thumb. She really had to get it fixed when she got the chance. She was just so busy these days.

She should have given Charlie more of her time: maybe then he might have stayed if she had.

Grazing her hands against the silk of her blazer, she stood in front of the mirror looking over herself critically.

Was it because she wasn't pretty enough? Thin enough? Smart enough? She had lost a little weight recently, but had maintained a reasonably toned figure. An Alexander McQueen jacket, the tightest jeans she owned and her favourite heeled boots, she was supposed to feel... hot in this outfit.

Instead, she felt like a fraud - as though someone as shit as her shouldn't own clothes as nice as these. The jeans that made her feel like she could conquer the world on a normal day, felt today like an inappropriate choice for a woman in her forties. She ran a shaking hand through her dark curls, only wishing she thought going darker and cooler with her colouring was the right choice. Charlie had preferred her auburn, but she thought the black hair was sexier. Was it the lipstick that was wrong? Wasn't red lipstick supposed to be sexy too? Why was she trying to look sexy tonight? She would have to call her pilates instructor in the morning, and maybe her personal trainer, too. It wasn't the lipstick that was the problem; she was.

She should have put her ambitions to one side and been more like Kate. She should have wanted the house in suburban Baltimore , with 2.5 kids and a picket fence. She should have wanted to give up her life for a family. She should have wanted that family.

Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, suddenly and uncontrollably. Falling to her knees in front of the mirror, she tore the blazer from her body and threw it violently to the side. Why hadn't she wanted kids? She would have been a terrible mother, but she could have tried.

She should have been content being a doting wife. Remember all those functions she went off to network, despite her husband's chagrin? She was terrible with names, but she'd always use the notes function on her phone to take a name and number and then she'd spent the next day googling them to try and remember who they were. Why did she do that? Charlie earned enough for them to be more than comfortable without her salary. Why did she need a career, anyway?

She wanted nothing more than to call room service and request another bottle of that overpriced wine from last night. She'd never really had the chance to learn how to cope with messy emotions like this. She discouraged it in her employees and she certainly wouldn't allow it in herself.

But was alcohol really the answer? Remember the headache from this morning? She shouldn't have pushed the 3 drink rule. He was right, she was embarrassing when she drank alcohol and her body just couldn't handle it. He didn't want her to get hurt, either. Remember the Tenderloin incident?

Was this blonde girl she imagined him with the sort of woman who would drink anymore than 3 drinks? Did she have her heart set on being a CEO one day? This girl would definitely have been content with staying at home all day and worshipping Charlie into the night. She wasn't the sort of girl who'd have to be recovered from the Beirut of San Francisco at 4am or the sort who would make the day of her husband's Ted Talk all about her. No. This girl was obedient. She had to be.

With a heavy heart and a heavier wave of sobs wracking her body, Joan realised she would never be that kind of woman. She was never, ever going to be that woman; the one Charlie Bennett would love and care for. That was why he left her, it was really just that simple. It was so simple it was almost a cliche:

They wanted different things.

She just didn't know why a couple as educated and intelligent as the Bennetts couldn't work that out before they spent 20 years together. She was so, so sorry he had wasted 20 years hoping she would be the right woman for him. She probably never was.