Guilty Cubicles: Chapter One

****NEW and IMPROVED! REVISED from 6/2007 with NEW ENDING****

“I live downtown and have an amazing view of the lake. You should come over and see it sometime,” he says to you with a grin on his face. Without much thought, you concur. “Ok. How about right now?” Before you have time to think, you and he are out the door of the noisy club. As the door shuts, you can still hear the pulsating dance music. You stumble to his high rise apartment. You keep telling yourself nothing is going to happen. You and he will simply pass out and go to sleep. You are unprepared for the ramifications. You reach the 23rd floor. His place is dark except for the stream of city lights spilling in. It’s just the two of you, alone, in a barricaded fortress. You look out the windows and make out an outline of the vast and murky lake. He was right. A spectacular view sprawls before you. You sit on his bed. He comes toward you and grabs your hand. He caresses your skin. You know what is next. You let him have his way with you. You immediately think this is wrong. You immediately think this is what happens when you start drinking at 4 p.m. on a Thursday. It’s now past midnight. You just met a few hours ago. You don’t even know his last name. Your bodies entwine and connect as flesh comes together. This is really happening. This is the end of something and the beginning of something else. You take in every single moment petrified and aroused at the same time. It ends and you both fall into a quick slumber. The next morning, the sun bleeds through his windows. You look over and stare at the clear sky and blue lake. The cars look like matchbox cars flowing along Lake Shore below. The waves appear to crash onto the beach. It is Friday and you both have to go to work. You both work at the same office and until last night had never met. You get dressed and walk out together. You separate and say goodbye. You do the walk of shame down the avenue. You are still wearing last night’s clothes. You can feel the eyes of pedestrians staring into your soul knowing what indiscretion you achieved last night. From this moment on, your life has changed whether you know it or not. There has been a shift, a point of no return. You can’t ever go back to the way it was. All you can do now is move forward. You have to move forward. You feel all sorts of conflicted emotions. The rug is being pulled from under you. You stop thinking for a second because right now you have to go home, change clothes, and get to work.

At work, you can’t stop thinking about him. Luckily, it’s Friday and everyone is hung over from last night’s festivities. You want to run into him, but he’s on the other side of the office. You email him asking him how his day is going. He writes back saying he’s still drunk from last night. You laugh to yourself. You suddenly become overwhelmed with self-doubt. What if he doesn’t remember what happened last night? What if he never wants to see you again? Should you see him again? The day ends and it’s the weekend. You are too distracted to enjoy it. You go home to your fiancé. He asks about last night. You joke that you went home with someone. He doesn’t believe you. You realize at that moment you could tell him the God honest truth and he wouldn’t see right through you. You decide to keep it a secret. No sense in him knowing. And maybe it was a one time thing, right? At least this is what you tell yourself. You spend the remainder of the weekend watching horrific hurricane footage on CNN. Thousands of people have been displaced and evacuated. You parallel the hurricane destruction to your own life. Things are spinning out of control.

Monday finally arrives and for once in your existence, you look forward to going to work. Suddenly work becomes much more interesting. You run into him near the kitchen. He stops to talk, slyly smiling at you–a killer smile of bright, white teeth. His hazel eyes twinkle lustfully at you. Your palms immediately start to sweat. “So, how did it go with the fiancé?” he asks. You tell him you didn’t divulge anything to him. “We should get together soon,” he solicits. You agree to see each other again, but you have no idea when. All day you try to work. A part of you wants to come clean and confess to the entire office what you did. You like having this clandestine affair, but you also want people to know the sordid details. You begin to feel different. After many years in a complacent relationship, you finally feel alive again. Butterflies have returned. You remember what it’s like in the beginning when you meet someone and the uncertainty you feel and the endless possibilities it presents. You are falling deep. You will never escape. Soon the water will be over your head and you’ll begin to drown. You did not seek this out—it found you—but you will be responsible for your actions. You will suffer a great amount. You will pay a price.

It takes you two more weeks to meet up again. You begin to lie to your fiancé telling him you have a girls night out and will be back very late. He’s accommodating to you and doesn’t ask questions. He completely trusts you. You feel guilty but not guilty enough. You find the more you succumb the more the guilt lessens. It eventually goes away. You slip over to the high rise and continue engaging in adultery. You know it’s wrong but yet you don’t want to stop it. The guilt consumes you but you tell yourself you need this. The truth is, you don’t want to get married. You don’t want to marry what’s his name, but you are too afraid to confide in him. Having an affair for an hour a week is the only thing keeping you afloat, but at the same time, it’s tearing you apart. For a while, you feel transformed into another world. It’s easier this way. But you start to feel yourself living two lives: one of the doting fiancée, the other as the whore. You simply can’t quit either life. They are feeding into you, rejuvenating you. At the end of all this, you won’t recognize yourself anymore. You will be replaced by another you.

You start to become very distracted at work. Everytime he whisks by your cubicle, you break concentration. You follow him around the office, hopefully unbeknownst to him. When he goes to lunch, you try to time it so you’re both waiting for the elevator at the same time. When he goes into the kitchen, you casually decide you need some water. You just want your paths to cross. You want him to see you in your tight shirt and jeans and flash that grin and let you know everything is okay. He begins to get weird, though. You can’t be seen talking together anymore. You can’t hover around his cubicle too much. Half the time he won’t make eye contact with you when you and your co-workers are together. He sometimes goes out of his way to avoid you. You begin to feel crushed, disheartened. You want him all to yourself. Once a week you call his extension from another room. He picks up and announces his name and company in a professional manner. When you say hello, his voice drastically changes to a hushed tone. You love his hushed, sensuous tone. “Do you want to get together today?” you nonchalantly ask. “When and where?” he dumbly asks. “The usual,” you remark. Your weekly ritual has become a conference room down the hall after work. You gather your stuff, pretend you’re leaving, and sneak into the darkened and windowless room and anxiously wait for him to join you. Five minutes later, he manifests. It’s a game to you guys. You are putting your job on the line and it’s the most exciting part of your week. For 20 minutes, it’s just the two of you alone in a room, whispering, fooling around. He gives you his undivided attention. You know it’s one sided, that it’s wrong, but you go along with it because you need him. You need him more than anything in your entire life. If this ends, whatever this indefinable thing has become, you will simply break into a million shards.

*Chapter Two will commence tomorrow followed by Chapter Three.

Guilty Cubicles: Chapter Two

You never speak to each other outside the office. Sometimes you’ll call his cell and he’ll brush you off saying he’s busy. You continue to fall, plummet into a chasm of despair. This will not end well, you think. Your fiancé begins to notice your despondence. You assure him it’s nothing. But you both know the truth. The relationship isn’t working. It never worked. You don’t love him anymore. It’d only be a marriage of convenience because that’s what people do. He senses you’ve fallen out of love but chooses to focus on the deteriorating political world denying the unraveling relationship. You are both too scared to admit these thoughts to one another so you feign love and affection although lately it’s increasingly become harder to feign. You have stopped planning the wedding. You have only ordered the flowers—lilies—because his mother told you to do so. You won’t be going any further with the plans. You keep hoping the other man will ask you to run away with him. You pray he’s your way out so that you can tell your fiancé you’ve met someone else, have fallen in love with him, and won’t need the ring anymore. But the other man doesn’t say anything. It’s not like that to him. You are just another pawn, another conquest in a jungle of them.

You and your co-workers go to happy hour. He stands on one side of the bar and you another. You see him checking out other girls. He flirts with the cocktail waitress. You see him write something down and give it to one of the girls. You know his game and you try to ignore it. He’s with me, you convince yourself. We have an open relationship, anyway. If you were smart, you’d end this now, but you can’t. You are addicted. You are obsessed. He fascinates you to no end. He’s the most beautiful and enigmatic creature you’ve ever seen. You will die without him in your life even if lust usurps love. It’s all so false.

One day you convince him to meet out of the office. He tells you to be at his place at 8 p.m. You go his apartment complex and see the doorman. He calls him up, but no answer. The doorman tells you to wait in the lobby if you want. You call him on his cell. He doesn’t answer. You are infuriated and upset. You told your fiancé you were seeing a movie with a friend. You finally reach him and he has forgotten about your rendezvous. Blatantly forgotten. You say possibly another time. You will have to kill two hours by yourself. You feel him slipping away from your grasp. You find yourself following him around more, timing his leaving at the end of the day. He notices you. Your eyes meet. Tension and desire and temptation all at once. He is good at hiding his emotions. He is good at pushing you away, but the more he pushes you away, the more you pursue him against your better judgment. You attempt to reach out again, to pull him back in. You start lingering around his cubicle trying to make small talk. He says he’s busy. You get the picture. One night after he leaves early and no one else is around, you sneak over to his cubicle and look through the contents on his desk. You see a pile of drink coasters with bar names on them. A closer look reveals female names and phone numbers written on them. There are six of them. You know you don’t have a chance anymore. You think to yourself it doesn’t matter but your insides are ripping apart. You feel like a fool.

One day, it all comes to a screeching halt. He continues to be ambivalent with you. He refuses to make eye contact. You call his desk and he hangs up on you. You leave him little notes you’re convinced he throws away. Everytime you have happy hour with him and co-workers, you go home crying. You are a weepy drunk. You want it to be like it was in the beginning, but it isn’t. It never is. There’s always a trajectory then downward spiral. You wish you didn’t care about him. You wish you could stop feeling everything and anything, but you are too embroiled in it. He has gone and changed the course of your life in an instant. You never wanted this. You were supposed to get married to a decent guy and be done with it, but now you’re about to lose everything. You feel smothered yet free. You are almost free.

You corner him one day in the elevator. You are alone for the first time in weeks. You both watch the numbers descend. “Do you want to do this anymore?” you ask, your heart racing. “Sure,” he comments. “When?” you offer. “I’ll have to get back to you,” he smugly replies. He gets off the elevator and heads out the office building. Getting back to you is something he never does. He is leading you on. You confront him at the bar one night when he’s liquored up. He informs you he’s not looking for a girlfriend and the bottom line is you’re getting married. He doesn’t do love triangles. The temptation has become too much for him. He’s done. And so are you.

You have become detached, split in two. You are fractured and fragmented, a small piece of who you were remains. You are unable to hold onto your job. You can’t stand seeing him everyday and not being able to touch him. Everytime you walk by the conference room, you longingly glance in wondering if he goes in there with other girls now. You wonder how many others there have been before you, during you, and since you. You wonder how many others there will be besides him. You can’t get him out of your head. You’re emotional beyond words. You tear up at the thought of him. Two weeks later, you quit your job because working with him has lowered your productivity and it causes you great angst to see him everyday wearing those torn jeans, New Balances, and that one striped polo shirt he always wears that accentuates his form.

A month later in a fit of rage and frustration, your fiancé asks if you want to do this anymore. Without giving it a thought, you blurt out “No.” It’s the most honest you’ve been with him and yourself since the affair started. He is taken aback by your unabashed response. He is crushed. His heart bursts and explodes. He has lost you forever. You just want it all to be over. You don’t want him; you want the other guy and now you may have another chance. You have to try.

You scramble to tell him your good news: you are single. No more fiancé. You call him but he doesn’t answer. You grow perturbed at the thought of him not calling you back. When you’re about to regret your decision in leaving your fiancé, there he is one day. Waiting for the bus. You can’t believe the randomness. The Earth has spoken. You rapidly approach him knowing at any second the bus will arrive and he’ll be gone. He sees you and gives you a hug. This is the first hug he’s ever given you in public. On your last day of work, he wouldn’t even hug you goodbye. You automatically think progress has been made at least for a brief moment. You blurt out you ended your engagement. He shockingly says: “Oh yeah? That changes everything, then.” The bus pulls up. “I gotta go.” He jumps on the bus and you’re left there with so many questions. What did he mean? You’re exasperated. Does he mean he wants you back? You phone him a couple of days later. You insist on a reunion. He agrees. You go over to his place, your first visit in months. He has bought new furniture, but it’s the same stunning view. You are back where you started. It’s all come full circle, yet you feel different. You will not lose control this time. You will be better, less psychotic this time around. You will not push and obsess and needle him. You will let it be. This is of course what you tell yourself. You proceed to become entangled in him again. You are amazed it is occurring again. You have profusely missed him. You never wanted anyone so much. It ends and you leave with the notion this will keep happening. You feel you’ve won him back and for a few hours you have. You will realize later this is the beginning of a destructive and immobilizing end.

*Chapter Three, the final chapter, will be published tomorrow. Watch out for the ending, it's a doozy.

Guilty Cubicles: Chapter Three

****NEW and IMPROVED! REVISED with NEW ENDING****

You call him to get together again. He wants to but says he’s extremely busy with various social engagements and work related business. The lines of communication have been opened and for a while there is back and forth talk, but soon he falls back into his shell. He won’t respond to you and when he does, he makes excuses. You obsessively think it’s meant to be with him. Over the course of the past few months, potent feelings have developed. You are emotionally involved to a degree you are spinning in an endless vortex of misery. You need to convey to him how you feel. You need to take the risk. You want to be with him in a way he won’t be with you. The two of you decide to only be friends. You are okay with this but know deep down this is impossible for you. You play along with it. One day you call him and invite him to hang out. He says he has a girlfriend. You are surprised at his comment knowing he is lying to you, trying to deter you. You get upset. You do your best to keep the deluge from pouring out of you.

A week later you are at a bar for a friend’s birthday. Your intuition hints he may be there. He is there. You talk and joke around like old times. He introduces you to some people; he says your name. He rarely says your name. For a while you didn’t think he even knew it. You wait for the right moment and go in for the kill: “I live a few blocks from here. Want to come home with me?” you beseech. “I can’t. I’m celibate,” he hits back. You immediately feel stupid for even trying with him. You can’t just be friends with him. You don’t want to be friends. You have enough friends, you think. You want to be lovers again, but for some reason he doesn’t want to anymore. You feel yourself falling, falling, slamming into rocks on the long way down. He will never love you, you decide. Thoughts from the night you met, from when it all was a novelty, fresh, new, and untainted run through your fuzzy mind. You can’t salvage once was. You have to let go. This time you promise yourself you will but not without a final fight. You need closure.

But right before you let go, a sign of sorts occurs. It’s the sign you’ve been looking for. The Earth collides, the universe joins in unison. One day you decide to visit a former co-worker at the office. You use it as an excuse to see him. It’s a Tuesday evening and you know he usually stays late on Tuesdays. After commiserating with your ex-coworker, you venture over to his desk. Your instinct is right: he sits there in his cubicle wearing his headset. No one is around him. It’s a perfect opportunity, you think. You stand there and after a second, he looks up from his computer. He has a puzzled look on his face. “Hey, what are you doing here?” he quips. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop in for a visit,” you say. There is silence. “Well, thanks for coming but I have a lot of work to do.” Immediately your heart sinks. “I’d like to talk to you for five minutes. Can you spare five?” you cajole. “No, I can’t. Busy, busy,” he retorts. You notice Myspace is open on his computer and his little black book sets neatly next to him on his desk. Really busy, you say to yourself. You know you should just walk away, but you can’t let up. You came here for one last chance and you won’t leave until you feel satisfied. “Please, can’t we just talk? I don’t understand why you don’t want to see me anymore. Tell me why you changed your mind!” You begin to sound desperate and frenzied. You feel tears welling up. “Look, I said I’m busy. Please leave.” He’s unflinching and firm. “Please, just talk to me and I promise I’ll leave,” you whisper. Without saying a word he picks up the phone and dials a number. You soon realize he’s called the building security. He hangs up and blankly stares at his computer screen. “Security will be here in a minute,” he coldly says to you. Every nerve and muscle in your body begins to tremble. You feel you and he disconnecting. You can feel the seismic shift as it occurs. You stand there and the only words you can mutter are that you love him. His face softens for a second then contorts into aggravation. You have no choice to leave before security shows up and exacerbates the situation. You whisk yourself through the glass lobby doors and as you’re walking out, a security guard waltzes in. He gives you the once over but doesn’t stop you. You jump into the elevator and fall apart. You are incredulous and appalled. You begin to cry in a display of fury and injury. Your legs quiver and you lean against the elevator wall for support. By the time you reach the ground floor, you’ve recovered a little. The train ride home is the longest ride you’ve ever experienced. You sit there dazed and analyze what went wrong and what the consequences will be. The point of no return returns again. You then realize all these events transpired because you weren’t meant to be together. The Earth has spoken. This is how it has to end, you think. This is the only way you’ll ever get over him and finally let go. You have learned a dangerous lesson. The shards cut deep into you. The healing process is commencing, but a scar will remain as documentation.

A couple of months later, you run into him downtown near his place. You stop to chat for a second. He tells you he’s left the company and has gone back to school. You discuss a mutual friend. You think he’s responding to you and that he isn’t filled with hatred toward you anymore, but you are unsure. You awkwardly stand there for a beat staring at each other. His hazel eyes glow in the sunlight. For a minute, the past comes rushing through you. You suddenly forgive him. You say friendly goodbyes and walk in opposite directions. You and he will never see nor speak to each other again.

*Fin*