“It certainly feels that way,” Charlotte admitted.
“I wish someone warned me when I volunteered to be class secretary that for the rest of my life, people would email me their accomplishments.” Reece gestured with his spoon, trying to infuse his words with humor even as his insecurity bled through. “Anytime someone sells their startup, or gets married, or publishes a book, I’m the first person to know. Meanwhile I’m broke, single, and living with my mom.”
Charlotte arched a blond eyebrow. “You mean Netflix hasn’t optioned your miniseries?”
“What an exciting binge that would be. The 2016 episode would be one long nap.”
“You could get Lexapro to sponsor it.”
Reece considered the idea as he ate the last of the ice cream. “Dachshunds and Depression: The Reece Krueger Story.”
“It could be worse. At least you still have all your hair.”
That earned another booming laugh. Reece ruffled the hair at the back of his head like he was checking that it hadn’t wandered off. “That’s true. Not everyone here can say that. Did you see Thomas Irons?”
Charlotte widened her eyes. “Yikes, right?”
“Then again, Thomas has a speedboat and I’ve barely touched my student loans. I feel so behind.” Reece sighed and dropped his spoon in the empty bowl. “It’s like we’re seeing the Instagram version of everyone’s lives in person.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Exactly.”
She thought of every acquaintance at the reception who flashed their engagement ring or described their new business venture. They said garbage like it’s small but it’s wonderful to have a place upstate and there’s just no innovation left in the Fortune 500. And then they feigned humility, peppering the conversation with their accomplishments before pivoting abruptly to but how about you, how have you been?
Everyone also spoke in precisely crafted Instagram captions.
#Blessed.
“Even I’m doing it,” she said. “People ask me about Front End and I say, ‘Oh, it’s so exciting, I meet such interesting people!’ ” Charlotte snatched another napkin from the table and twisted it between her fingers. “You know who I meet? Rich assholes.”
Reece leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “What do you wish you could say?” he asked. “What’s the unfiltered version?”
She didn’t need to think about it. Just like last night by the vending machine, telling Reece the truth came easier than it should have. “Not a single day goes by that I don’t fantasize about lighting a fire in the supply closet.”
He whistled. “Workplace arson. A classic.”
Charlotte got caught up in the glint in his eyes. She lowered her voice to a deadly serious drawl. “I want to stab my boss in the neck with a box cutter.”
“Vivid! What’s wrong with him?”
Her face darkened. It felt like her heart was beating behind her eyes. “In HR’s opinion, nothing.”
The humor fell from Reece’s face immediately. He settled his chair back down on all fours. When he asked the inevitable follow-up, his words came quietly. “And in your opinion?”
Reece held his breath when he focused, sucking in his cheeks without realizing it. She took in his concern, wondering at it like a clever puzzle at a museum gift shop. What should she make of it?
Reece couldn’t relate to the shitty behavior of his gender, that weird Good Guy miracle of adept parenting and inner strength. Back in college he was still learning how to process his self-righteous confusion. When Jackie complained to him about so-and-so’s disrespectful text messages, Reece spouted genuine but irritating exclamations like how could he? and I don’t understand what’s wrong with these guys!
Jackie would roll her eyes and snap that the answer was always the patriarchy, Krueger.
Maybe that was partly why Charlotte never told him about Ben. She didn’t understand her ex’s behavior, and she couldn’t imagine carrying Reece’s outrage on top of her shame.
But tonight, Reece remained silent as she decided what to tell him. He didn’t press or pontificate. She knew intuitively that he wouldn’t ask her to explain.
She chose a piece of the story, just one. “Roger’s philanthropy schtick is a smoke screen. It’s branding. Behind closed doors he’s a jackass who just doesn’t want to pay taxes.”
Reece frowned but didn’t interrupt, giving Charlotte space to decide if she wanted to share more. She took it. “He loves to rant. ‘The #MeToo movement has gone too far, millennials are so sensitive, reverse racism,’ that kind of thing.”
She closed her eyes. She thought of the bright, colorful pantsuits in her closet that she no longer wore to the office. She remembered the comments about her body that Roger made in his emails to board members that she had to read because reading his email was her job.
How many afternoons had she hidden in the bathroom as she hyperventilated, her hand clasped over her mouth?
Anger tightened around her throat like a fist, just as it had during a humiliating, incomprehensible meeting with HR about Roger’s conduct. Maybe you misunderstood? Workplace norms were slow to change, after all, and Roger was an esteemed titan of industry. She should let these things go if she wanted to survive in media. Toughen up, let it roll off her shoulders. Take it as a compliment.
“What bothers me the most,” Charlotte said slowly, “is that he enjoys making me uncomfortable. He acts like I’m not in the room, but he knows I’m there.”
Reece’s face contorted as he grappled with his reaction. One of his hands gripped the edge of the table in either anger or concern, she couldn’t tell. “You need to quit, Charlotte,” he said, his voice level.
The rage in her chest subsided into that same miserable wound she lived with most days. He spoke with such clarity, like it was really that simple. But it didn’t bother her the way Jackie’s unsolicited advice did. He wasn’t using her work situation to show off his moral outrage.
And he didn’t come from money.
“I just can’t,” she said.
“That’s the definition of a toxic workplace environment. Like, I’m not going to mansplain harassment to you, but holy shit.”
His unwavering support soothed the wound a little bit. He didn’t need to see the emails or verify the dates involved. He just believed her.
“Thank you,” she said. “Seriously. But I should be moving to another team soon.”
