Page 24 of Pride
Would it all amount to nothing?
I should’ve passed it on to the IT department to look into, but part of me felt ashamed to share it with them.
I hovered the cursor over the delete button, but clicking was another thing entirely. And when it came to it, I couldn’t do it. I had to do something to put this right.
Perhaps Mr Gold was right on one thing.
Maybe I should respond to him.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Scam? Really?
I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, but I had to respond to your email. I am so sorry that the article in our newspaper upset you, but I must stress that the article was not written by me. I know my name was attached to it, but I can assure you those are not my thoughts, opinions, or words.
I was honoured to witness your truly remarkable performance and found the message you portrayed to be insightful, touching, and informative. I also saw the artwork you had on display in the gallery, and it was stunning. I told some of the guests that it was my favourite piece. So, you see, I am actually a fan and admirer of your work and not a critic, as the newspaper article would have you believe.
Please accept my apologies for this mix-up.
I sincerely hope that in the future, I am fortunate enough to enjoy your work again.
Regards,
Emma Belmont
I knew I was rambling in my email, but I didn’t care. I wanted to get my point across. If it seemed gushing and little cringey, then so be it. But after clicking send, it didn’t take long for my computer to chime a response in my inbox.
Message failed to send.
Fuck.
The email he’d used didn’t accept responses. Either that, or he’d blocked me.
My email hadn’t gone through.
What was I supposed to do now?
I know I probably should’ve ignored it. Deleted it. Moved on with my day and chalked it up to an overreaction on his part. But the other part of me, the louder one that made my stomach churn and my head pound with regret, wanted to apologise and put things right. I guess I was more of a people-pleaser than I thought. Actually, scrap that. I already knew I was a people-pleaser, I just didn’t realise I was quite so neurotic.
I picked up my office phone, needing to talk to someone who’d get it. But I noticed Dan opposite, pretending not to watch me as I fussed in my seat, and I didn’t want him to eavesdrop on my conversation. So, I grabbed my phone from my bag, muttered that I needed some fresh air, and I stood up and walked out of the office, ready to make my call somewhere more private.
And no, the ladies’ toilet wasn’t the best place to discuss something private. My voice echoed off the grey tiled walls, and anyone could’ve walked in at any moment, but it was my only option, unless I stood in the pouring rain outside. Something Iwasn’t willing to do. At least all the stalls were empty, for now. I’d checked each one before I’d tapped on Gracie’s number.
“Best friend at your service,” Gracie answered chirpily, and I couldn’t help but thank God she wasn’t mad about me ditching her on Friday night. “I hope this call is to tell me you met a rich artist at the gallery this weekend and he’s whisking you off to Paris to live as his muse in a rustic apartment overlooking the Eiffel Tower.”
“I wish,” I replied drily. “I met an artist, but the result was a little different. Did you see the article?”
“No. I haven’t seen anything. What’s happened?”
I gave Gracie the cliffs notes on what’d happened on Friday night, and everything that’d unfolded since. She ummed and ahhed in the right places, then hissed at my description of the newspaper article. Then, when I told her about the email, she sighed.
“Babe, the last thing I want to do is agree with your pig of a boss, but maybe he’s right. That is a bit extreme. It was just one article. I bet other people have raved about it.”
“But I don’t blame him for being pissed. You should’ve seen his performance. He poured his heart and soul into it. It was the most unique thing I’d ever seen. If I’d dedicated a huge portion of my life to something, and someone else shit all over it, I’d be pissed too. He’s probably like me, he could have all the praise but the only voice he’ll hear is the one in the corner telling him he’s a failure. I don’t want to be that voice.”
“You hate upsetting people,” Gracie stated.
