Unforgiven(38)

“How do you know that?”
“Because who else would do that, Rob? She’s mad because you gave me the desk this weekend with Mike. She’s jealous because viewers are responding to my stories. She’s just a vile person,” I say angrily. He stands still, watching me. I can almost see the wheels in his brain turning. He watches me closely as I fold my hands together in my lap and breathe loudly.
“There won’t be a desk this weekend, Lindsay.”
“What?” I interrupt him. “But I earned it.”
“And you lost it,” he quips.
I snap my mouth shut. I can feel myself on the verge of losing control. My hands ball into tight fists and I look away from him.
“Lindsay, you’re done for the week. I’m placing you on leave until Monday. You physically placed your hands on Amanda, and you verbally threatened her. If she really wanted to, she could come after you for assault. At the very minimum, I cannot have that happening in this building on my watch. You’re off until Monday. Take this time to think about what’s important to you; this charade with Amanda or your career.”
He walks out from around his desk and opens his office door. I remain seated, trying to gather my thoughts before I push myself up from the chair I’m seated in.
“Guess I’ll see you Monday,” I say with an attitude as I walk past him to my cube to get my purse and shut down my computer.
“Linds,” Mike says as he catches up to me in the hall. “What happened?”
“Not now, Mike. I’ll call you later.”
“Where are you going?”
“To my condo.”
“Shit,” he mumbles as he stops following me.
 

 
I kick the solid, wooden door closed behind me and juggle the large grocery bags over to the kitchen island. Setting them down, I rub my arm, which has gone numb from carrying all of the heavy bags at once instead of making more than one trip back to the car. I stopped by one of the local specialty grocery stores to pick up some food to make while Jess is here, but as I unpack, I realize there is less food and more wine. Typical.#p#分页标题#e#
I open the drawer of the island, pulling out the wine opener, and twist the metal corkscrew into the cork on a bottle of Pinot Grigio. I twist and twist, then try to pull it out, and nothing. My hands are shaking again and I fish out the small container in my clutch with my pills, along with my cell phone. As I toss a pill to the back of my throat, I text Jonah to see if he can help me.
While I wait to hear back from him, I stuff cheese and meats into the fridge and wash fruit. The door swings open and Jonah steps in.
“Do you ever knock?”
“What’s wrong? Your text sounded urgent.”
My head falls back as I laugh. “I said I needed your help. That’s not urgent.”
Jonah eyes the bottle of wine with the corkscrew stuck in the top. He points at the bottle. “Is this what you needed help with?” His eyebrows lift and he shakes his head in disbelief. Reaching for the bottle, he gives it a pull. In one swift tug, the cork frees itself and Jonah gets a smug smile on his face. He pours me a glass and sets the bottle on the island.
“Want to stay for a glass?”
“Yeah, but I need to run next door for a few minutes. I have to finish something.”
“I’ll be here. Not going anywhere until Monday,” I say sarcastically, raising my glass of Pinot in the air.
He looks at me suspiciously. “Sounds like there’s a story there. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.” The door shuts quietly behind him and I pull my phone and the little container of pills from my purse. I rattle the bottle, noticing that it’s almost empty. I put the remaining grocery items away and sigh to myself when I realize how I’m going to have to get more pills.
Checking my phone, I realize I have no missed calls, no voice messages, no text messages, and no emails from anyone I love. I’ve pushed them all so far away that I fear they’ve given up on me—rightfully so, I think. I’ve all but given up on myself. I pour another glass of wine and lean against the kitchen island, waiting for Jonah to return. Needing more than one pill and wine, I toss my phone aside and open the small pill bottle, pouring another single pill into the palm of my hand. I place the pill on my tongue and roll it around my mouth before washing it down with two swallows of wine… the burn in my throat from the wine is both soothing and painful all at the same time. The warmth settles in my belly and I wait for the relief the pill will offer—an escape from feeling anything—physically or emotionally.
I close my eyes and let my head fall back slowly as I wait for numbness to take over me. Focusing on my breathing, I inhale and exhale slowly three times, allowing the deep, cleansing breaths to calm me. My cellphone rings, but I ignore it as I feel myself slipping into a place I’ve become so familiar with lately—oblivion. My cellphone rings again and again. I ignore the calls until it begins ringing a fourth time. I snatch the phone from the counter to see Jack’s name glaring brightly at me.