"Are you ready?" I said from behind my desk as Jane handed me the folder with her final draft for publication.
"It's your story. Are you?" she smiled in a somewhat nervous way as she took a seat across from me.
I looked down at my hands that held the folder. My attention was drawn away from her for long enough that she could do nothing but notice.
"Jacqueline?" her forehead wrinkled as she worried her lip.
"Yes, yes, I'm ready."
"If you're not…" she started to say. Her understanding and compassion brought tears to my eyes.
To her credit, Jane stood and made her way to my glass office door, pushing it gently, holding it as it slowly closed all the way. That simple delay with her back to me gave me a moment to compose myself. When she returned, she again sat in the seat across from me and quietly waited.
"Ian isn't pleased with my deciding to tell my story."
The look on her face told me what she really thought, even if those thoughts weren't and would never be voiced. She thought he was a major asshole. I was beginning to feel the same way.
"But he knew," she stated flatly.
I nodded my head in confirmation. I had told her so much about me personally, but what could I tell her of my marriage? A marriage was not a solo act. Did I trust her with this? I didn't have to wait for the answer. Unequivocally. I trusted Jane with it all. Emotions came to the surface again as this very interesting realization hit me.
"Jane, could we have this particular conversation later?" I nodded to the full bullpen though I am certain she knew that wasn't the actual reason.
"Of course. I—" she stopped and looked down. "I will be doing my exit interview tomorrow morning and then gathering my things."
I felt like the floor was collapsing beneath me. For a brief moment I had forgotten she was leaving Scarlet. It felt much more like she was leaving me, no matter how selfish that perspective was.
"This evening?" I asked, afraid I was appearing desperate.
"I'll come by at the end of the day."
She stood and made her way to the door where she paused to look at me with genuine concern.
"For what it's worth, I am ready. I have never been prouder of a story I have written. I have also never been so honored to hold a subject's trust. Thank you, Jacqueline."
Emotions bubbled up and lodged in my throat. All I could do was nod. My tear-filled eyes deceived me. She offered a gentle smile before leaving me. It wasn't the time to press. I looked down at the folder she had given me, setting it aside. I had seen her first draft. I didn't need to edit another word or punctuation mark. I trusted Jane's talent. I trusted her.
###
"Jane, come on in," I smiled as she walked through my office door and thoughtfully closed it behind her. She wanted my privacy respected.
"Is now a good time?" she hesitated.
"It is. Would you like a drink?" I asked her this with the knowledge that I would need a drink to get through the looming conversation.
The brunette nodded.
"Take a seat on the sofa."
Pouring us each a glass, I made my way to her, handing over her glass before settling myself on the opposite side.
"Thank you," she smiled.
"It's hard to believe this will be the last time I have a drink with you at the end of the day here in my office."
My comment caused her to tense. I expected she would be happy with her new job. Her body language told me something was wrong. What was it? It wasn't regret. It wasn't fear. But she was off.
"I hope it won't be the last time we have a drink together, regardless of locale," she answered.
She looked up at me and I saw sadness in her eyes. Why would she be sad? Didn't she want to leave? Or did this have to do with the article?
"I am not tossing your piece, Jane. I already approved it for both digital and print. It will be on the website at midnight."
"Thank you."
This didn't cause her to relax in the least.
"I thought you would be excited," I raised an eyebrow, a mannerism that is often done without it registering for me that I am doing it. "It's a fantastic piece, Jane. You should be proud of yourself."
"I am," she assured me. "It is an important story."
"And yet you seem…reticent. Is there something you aren't telling me about the piece?" I asked, trying to sip my drink rather than throw it back the way I wanted to for the sake of my unpredictable emotions.
"No, it's nothing like that. I guess I'm worried," she sighed. "I'm worried about you."
"About me?" I was truly surprised. "What for?"
"Jacqueline," she had been staring down in her drink and finally looked up at me. "What happened with Ian?"
Ah, yes. Jane wasn't about to let that bit of information drop. Granted, I had left her hanging over the weekend by mentioning that I didn't regret what I perhaps should have. And then I told her he had reservations.
"It is nothing you need to worry about, I assure you. It clearly didn't stop me from going forward with publication."
"Please, stop making it about the piece," she grew more assertive and insistent. "How are you? Is everything okay with you and Ian."
Now was the time to throw back the scotch and let it's warmth wash over me. It took courage to speak honestly about one's marriage. Especially a marriage that was failing.
"He claims he is concerned with my position here at Scarlet, though I suspect it is much more," I answered with the basics from Ian's initial reaction. Our fight on Sunday revealed far more as to why he was making a big deal of the career implications and it had nothing to do with Scarlet. "This office is not going to be taken from me because I chose to tell a difficult personal story that will, forgive me for being blunt, sell thousands of magazines for this company."
She looked at me with these doe-like eyes that felt as though they had the power to look right through me.
"Jacqueline, I know that some men feel emasculated or otherwise inferior when it becomes known that their intimate partner is or was a victim of sexual assault."
This woman was too bright and perceptive.
"I don't believe that is the case with Ian, though he is a very insecure man. It concerns him that the story has been reported as having taken place while we were together. We were not in a relationship at the time. I also don't believe he feels I was…" all of the sudden a strangled sound came from my throat rather than the word I intended to say. I had been fully composed until then. My voice was riddled with emotion now. "I was—"
"Broken." Jane so easily said the word, yet I could see tears welling in her eyes as she looked at me falling apart. "I am so sorry. We do not have to talk about this. You do not owe me any of this. What he does or doesn't think is none of my business. What you think about yourself, if you will allow for it, is my business. Not because of your being my editor on this piece, far from it, but because you are my friend and I care for you. You were never, are not now and never will be broken. You are remarkable, Jac."
The way she shortened my name offered comfort without intending to. The way she reached over and took my hand offered warmth, warmth I was neither expecting nor uncomfortable with. Since I carried those weights in my hands Saturday night, this was the second time I felt comfort from another. Both times had been Jane. She was giving something so crucial to my well-being right then and didn't think twice. She had no idea how important she was to me.
"Thank you, Jane," I wiped a tear from my eye.
"Will it all work out? With you and Ian, I mean."
This was a question I hadn't honestly asked myself. In fact, I assumed Ian would come to his senses and this would blow over. However, that didn't address how wrong he was to react the way he did and it did nothing for the areas of our marriage that were truly damaged.
"I don't know," I told her the truth and I did so without hedging.
"I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen or for you to be hurt in any way," she set her glass down on the low table and turned her legs toward me. I don't know if she was physically any closer; my rapid heartbeat and sudden panic suggested she was. I looked down at where she still held my hand and my thumb twitched. Her eyes followed mine to that spot. She appeared embarrassed and began to pull her hand back until I stopped her. Both of my hands encircled hers and I looked at her deep hazel eyes, noting the amber flecks and the serious expression.
"My pain is not your fault. In fact, my healing from such long-standing pain has begun thanks to you. Your determination did that. If you hadn't fought to tell Mia's story, I never would have felt compelled to go see her. If you hadn't continued to dig deeper when I pushed back against you, I never would have known the feeling that came from looking squarely at a woman who, like me, was victim to the conspiracy of silence that was desperately in need of being cracked wide open. You are the writer who tells the story. You are not responsible for the story existing in the first place."
"I hate the timing of my leaving. If I had known this—"
"Jane, you are under no obligation to me. I understand why you are going. It's very sweet of you to want to be here now because I am dealing with the fallout, so to speak. I want you to take risks, remember?" I noticed the slight blush to her cheeks and I wondered what I had said. Was reminding her to take risks uncomfortable?
"There are risks and there are risks," she shrugged. "It's just Incite."
"If leaving your job for a new outlet with a totally different philosophy isn't a risk, I'm not sure what qualifies."
Again the blushing.
When her eyes met mine again, they were dark, but sad.
"I will never forget this time I've had as your editor. You have been my biggest challenge and, in many ways, my easiest collaborator." And perhaps my biggest weakness? I thought to myself. "You are going to do great things, Jane Sloan. I can't wait to read your next story."
There were tears in the young woman's eyes and I couldn't tell if they were from being overwhelmed or from regret. She hadn't let on that she regretted taking the job up until she mentioned hating the timing.
"Come here, Jane…"
When I opened my arms and motioned for her into them, I don't know if I was reacting to the sadness in her eyes, my disappointment in losing her or both. Her eyes closed as she embraced me. When she turned her head, her nose was touching my neck. The anxiety and rapid heartbeat I had been experiencing of late overtook me again. Jane sighed, her breath dancing across my skin. It was at that moment that I knew. I hadn't been testing the line, I was headlong over it. Whether or not Jane saw it this way didn't much matter. I felt the heat in my own body. I was suddenly quite aware of my physical response to her. How had I missed it all this time? Or was it new?
I released her and looked in her eyes to see that she was okay. I figured whatever else I learned while looking into her telling eyes would be a bonus. Mostly, I needed to know that I hadn't made her uncomfortable. She nodded her answer to the unspoken question—we were okay.
To be continued…