On the Verge (40 page)

“You know,” I say to Tabitha, “those people all just have luck and a good publicist.”

“But, Eve, we’ve got talent and determination.”

“Do we?”

“I sure hope so.” I roll down the window in the cab and let the wind blow my hair as we head up 8th Avenue. I turn to tell Tabitha that I’ve made my decision, that I’m going to quit and as they say, give it a go, but she is sleeping and smiling in her sleep, which is sort of sweet. So, instead I chat with Amhal, my driver, for a while and then help Tabitha up the stairs when we get to my apartment.

The next day, I head into Herb’s office at ten o’clock. There is no sense putting it off. Of course, I should have known he was in a meeting (I planned it), so I have to wait until 11:00. He’s listening to monks chant when I go in. It is sort of a religious experience for me.

“You’ve been doing a great job with the letters, Eve,” Herb says right away. I am not going to be foiled.

“Thanks.” I am going to wait to see if I get any more compliments.

“I know it isn’t the most challenging of projects, but it is invaluable. We are all still transitioning, but I think you’re doing wonderfully.” He pauses for so long that I almost help him with the words.

“Thanks.” Stay strong. “But I’m quitting.” The chant music swells to the climax as I say that, it works out just perfectly. I can tell Herb didn’t hear me.

“It’s great to have someone like you on the team. Someone with your youth and—” here’s that pause again “—enthusiasm.”

“Thanks a lot. But I’m quitting.” This time he hears me.

“Excuse me?”

“Quitting. This is my two weeks’ notice.”

“Well, Eve, naturally, I’m surprised.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you surprised? I mean I’m just wondering what you know about my character that makes you surprised?” I’m proud of myself for asking this question. It points out the fact that Herb doesn’t really know anything about me. I’ve been his assistant—secretary—whatever—for almost a year and he has no clue why. It makes us both a little uncomfortable, but I’m secretly enjoying it, too. A lot.

“I thought you liked your job.” He is talking much faster now, searching for something he knows about me. “You wanted to write, and I thought we were both in agreement that this correspondence was a step in the right direction.”

“Well—” I am going to be as polite and matter-of-fact as possible “—I guess it could be considered a very baby step, but I think I’ve been here long enough to deserve a chance at a bigger step. Honestly, it just seemed to me like work that no one else had the patience to do.”

Herb looks genuinely shocked by that. “Are you leaving the department or Prescott Nelson altogether?”

“I’m leaving altogether.” This seems to appease him.

“What are you going to do?” Tabitha and I have discussed not mentioning what we want to do to anyone at work. I guess it was sort of silly for me to go straight to the top and tell Prescott, but Tabitha doesn’t know I did. She intends to keep her job if I quit mine and use it for any office supplies and long distance calls we need. She feels it would be ultra-subversive and somehow similar to Gary’s use of the Prescott Nelson messenger to transport drugs. Although it kills me not to tell Herb that I plan to start a magazine, I don’t want to. Even though I don’t want him to think that I’m some stupid kid with no ambition, I want him to know I have it in me to do more, because now I am starting to believe it myself. But, it’s mine and I want to keep it that way, for now.

“I’m going to do something I love,” I say finally, very proud of myself.

“Well, we’ll need to train someone to replace you. You’re giving us two weeks, aren’t you?” He is all business, suddenly concerned about who’ll keep his schedule.

“Yes, two weeks.”

“Thanks, Eve.” I stand up and he holds his hand out for me. I don’t think we’ve ever shook hands before, I squeeze hard, just because. “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work better.”

I feel great when I walk out of his office. It’s amazing. I thought I would be scared, but I feel free. It’s incredible. I call Tabitha to give her the news.

“Hi, Eve. I can’t talk, the Big C is interviewing editors—I have to be an intimidating presence. I’ll call you back.”

I phone Roseanne, but get her machine. I decide maybe it’s best not to play favorites and tell them together. So I call Human Resources Harry instead and arrange to have a temp train to replace me, starting next Monday.

The next week is sort of weird. I keep trying to get Roseanne and Tabitha together, but one’s too busy with her man when the other one is free. I know I should be happy for them. I mean I’ve been pretty selfish about boys in the past, every dog should have her day, whatever, but it also kind of makes me miss Todd. He gives me a call on Wednesday and I tell him the news. He’s the first person to know that matters.

“Eve, that’s awesome. I’m proud of you. How are you going to get started?”

“I have no idea. This is the scary part. I bought a couple of books and I’m enrolling in a class at the New School. I don’t know anything about the practicality of it, I just know what I want the content to be. How does that sound?”

“It sounds great to me. My own little magazine maker.” We laugh. He is heading to the Philippines in the morning. He promises to e-mail or call when he can.

“Any chance you’ll be in New York anytime soon?”

“I was thinking of stopping over there for a few days on my way back.”

“There is nothing I would rather see than you, all jet-lagged and grumpy. Come on down, you’ll get to see me unemployed and a nervous wreck.”

“Great. I miss you. I really do.”

“I miss you, too. I guess I didn’t think too much about the practicality of this, either. I guess I’m just sort of going with things.”

“Me, too.” We get off the phone before I can get positively giddy, but I do feel a lot better about finally getting it off my chest.

I haven’t even told anyone at work yet. Everyone is still so freaked out about Gary’s drug bust. I’d like my own spotlight, my own fanfare. I decide to make a date with the girls for brunch on
Sunday. “It’ll be great,” I tell them separately. “We’ll read the
Times,
I’ll make a frittata, it’ll be fabulous.”

“Eve, you don’t cook,” says Roseanne.

“I’ll bring the alcohol and the Krispy Kremes,” says Tabitha.

I get up early on Sunday and pick up the paper. I buy the best ingredients and the freshest produce so Roseanne will have nothing to say but “delicious.” The cooking goes off without a hitch and at 12:30 sharp, Tabitha arrives. I think she suspects something, she’s never prompt. I open the door and she pushes mimosa ingredients at me.

“Hi, Tabitha. Why don’t you work on those while I finish this stuff up?”

“Great, I thought I was going to be catered to. Had I known, I would have stayed in bed with Elliot.” She and Roseanne kiss hello.

It takes me a few more minutes to get everything ready and then I bring it into the living room. We sit with the papers spread out in front of us and start to eat. I watch them chew carefully.

“It’s pretty good, Eve.”

“Yeah,” says Tabitha, “I didn’t know you could be domestic.”

I am convinced now that I can, in fact, do anything. I give them a few more minutes to enjoy my frittata deliciousness, before telling them. I clear my throat as they start to look through sections of the paper. Tabitha has the Styles section, Roseanne has the City section. “So, um, the reason I wanted to make brunch for both of you guys is not because I think I can cook or anything, but because I’ve been doing a lot of thinking—”

“Oh, my God!” Tabitha doesn’t look up from her paper, but I know I was right in thinking that she was onto me.

“I’m sorry, it’s taken me so long to come to this, but—”

“Roseanne, it’s us!” Tabitha is shrieking at Roseanne and holding up the paper. “It’s Eve’s elbow and my neck, shoulder and hair—it’s unmistakable.”

“Oh, my God, Tabitha! Oh, my God!” Roseanne is shrieking, too, and staring at the paper. “It is you, I can’t make out Eve, but that’s totally you.”

“It is me! It is! I can’t believe I am in the Styles section on the
Times!
I’ve arrived! I’ve really arrived!” She is jumping up and down now, screaming with Roseanne.

The floor is shaking from their jumping, the walls are echoing from their shrill voices. Finally I scream louder than they are, if
that’s imaginable. “Hey! I’m trying to tell a story! Can anyone listen to me?”

They stop immediately and look at me like I’m a big baby. Then they look at each other like they did when they tried my frittata. I feel like I’m dealing with a two-headed monster. Again, Roseanne speaks first. “God, Eve, you should be happy, you’re in it, too.”

“Barely,” says Tabitha, smirking. This is her payback for my brushes with greatness. She is a bitter, bitter girl.

“Look, you guys, I’m glad parts of us are in the Styles section. It’s great. It’s better than being at the wedding they base the Vows column on, but I have some important news that I’ve been waiting almost a week to share with you.”

They are doing it again, looking at each other. I’ve created a monster, I fully blame myself. Tabitha takes a deep breath. “Eve, what?”

“I did it.”

“Did what?”

“Quit.” They look at each other again. This is getting ridiculous. They shake their heads. The next I know they are grabbing me and hugging me and shrieking louder than ever. That is the one thing I’m sure of, but it’s fun. I’m jumping up and down with them.

“You know what this means?” Tabitha asks.

“More mimosas,” offers Roseanne.

“Yes, in the immediate sense, but in the long run, the big picture—” this time Roseanne and I shrug at each other “—that we are going to be in the Styles section again. This time it’s going to be one of those ‘A Night Out With’ things they do. It’s going to be a night out with us. It will bring back a celebration of the full-figured woman. This is going to happen for us. Oh, my God! We have to call Adrian! We need more liquor. It’s Sunday, we have to go to a bar. We’ll expense it. It’ll be our first company celebration.”

I get up later than I planned to Monday morning. It’s muggy, I can feel that already. I want to get everything ready for the temp, so I decide to take the subway. It’s waiting at the station as I rush down the stairs. I’m lucky. On the way to work, I compose the e-mail I’m going to send out on Friday. It will have to be meaningful and not sappy. I want to leave a good impression on everyone.

Of course, I forgot
again
that Monday is now meeting day. I’m worried that the temp is going to be sitting up here waiting for me while I’m at the meeting, but I guess I should go because they are probably going to announce my impending departure. I have to have my swan song.

I head down there and grab a whole wheat bagel with some veggie cream cheese. I look around the room. No one suspects I am going to leave them and move onto greener pastures. (I know what you’re thinking—does anyone care?) Lev, the
Yoga for Life
editor, starts the announcements. Some guy on his staff, whom I haven’t really met, is leaving to work on a dairy farm in Massachusetts. I’m kind of bummed that he got to go first, all the YFL people get all upset. But maybe it will work to my advantage, maybe the
Bicycle Boy
crew will feel they have to outdo YFL with their sadness. After a respectable amount of silence Herb gets up and clears his throat. Here we go.

“I’m sorry to say that we have another departure. I know, it seems like everyone is leaving us for one reason or another.” He is referring to Gary, which I think is a cheap attempt to get a laugh. “This woman hasn’t been here long enough. I think she’s changed the way a lot of people think and she’s brought her own individuality to every project she’s worked on. She really shook things up around here. I know you’ll miss her as much as I will, but she’s going on to bigger and better things.”

I can’t believe he’s saying all this about me. Is this because we had the talk? I didn’t realize I made such an impact on everyone. I vowed not to have any regrets about this, but I wish he had said all these things sooner. Maybe I should stand up or something, he’s making it sound like I ran the magazine. I focus back in on him and get ready to feel the waves of sadness in the room, “I know you’ll all join me in wishing Lacey Matthews all the best—” (what?) “—as she joins another team and becomes editor of
NY By Night.
”

Oh, my God!!!

How could she do this? How could Lacey steal this moment from me? How could Tabitha keep this to herself? Is he even going to announce me?

“We also have another departure. Of course, this one affects me a lot. This woman has served the magazine so well for just over a year. Her work has been quite valuable and I know her e-mails have put smiles on many faces. I’m sure you’ll all join me in saying all the best to Eve Vitali.” I get applause that, in my
opinion, is a bit heartier. I sort of do a little half wave at everyone and mouth, “Thank you.”

I know a lot of the YFL people still don’t know who I am, even though we’ve played those stupid getting-to-know-you games a zillion times since we merged. One of the breathy YFL writers looks around the room and then sees me. “Oh, it’s you, you’re leaving. You’re so sweet, that’s too bad.”

This makes me feel better, I guess, but only a little bit. I’m still seething. I am going to kill Tabitha. I wait in agony for the meeting to be over, then I rush back to my desk to call her. This deserves an in-person visit, but I’m scared I’ll totally lose it when I find out she kept this a secret.

The young temp is waiting for me when I get back to my desk. She can’t be more than twenty-one. She is all smiles and cheerful. Shit! I totally forgot. I practice being nice. “Hi, you must be Jennifer. Sorry, we had a meeting this morning that I keep spacing out about. I can’t wait to start training you, but I have to take care of some business first.”

If I were her, I would hate me. That’s a nice way of telling someone to fuck off, but I’m dying to call Tabitha.

“Good morning, Eve.” Tabitha answers, cool as ever.