Page 58 of Phishing for Love
Why, indeed?
It should be easy to answer him, but nothing about Aaron feels easy.
What am I trying to accomplish by being so difficult? I wish I knew the answer. I’m like a kid acting out to secure the attention of a parent. Sure, I’m grabbing Aaron’s attention, but for all the wrong reasons.
I feel childish and silly. And now I also feel embarrassed.
I know I should apologize, but my tongue feels as unyielding as my pride.
When I don’t answer him, he lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m giving you a verbal warning.”
I gape at him. “You can’t do that!”
“I can and I am.”
“Calvin—”
“—has given me permission to do exactly that.”
Fury rises inside me. “Are you doing this to get back at me?” The question spills out before I can think to stop it.
He stills. For the span of two held breaths, he says nothing. Then, in a tone I find terrifying, he asks, “Get back at you for what?”
The kiss you witnessed.
“Forget it,” I say.
“You brought it up,” he reminds me.
Yes, I did. Stupid, stupid me. My tongue needs a leash.
“You think I’m doing this to getbackat you for something?” I’m pinned in my chair by the fierce anger blazing in his blue eyes. “You’re the only one here acting like a child.”
His comment stings. I shoot him an angry glare and he returns it. The air in the cubicle is charged with animosity.
In a terse voice, Aaron says, “The next time you convenientlyforgetan online training session, you’ll receive a written warning. It will also reflect on your quarterly performance review.”
I am so mad. A part of me rushes headlong into the anger, throwing my arms around it like I’m greeting a safe and familiar friend. Another part of me, however, hates how my anger throws a darkening shadow over everything, like a drop of ink polluting clear, clean water.
“Thanks for the heads up,” I spit out. “At least I know now where I stand with you.”
His mouth sets in a hard line. “Remember, you brought this on yourself. All you had to do was complete the training.”
All I had to do. Aaron doesn’t understand. Sometimes the easiest tasks feel the most difficult to complete. And sometimes we make those tasks so much harder than they need to be.
Saturday night, I’m sitting on my back porch swing, sipping lavender tea because I’m still stewing over the fact that Aaron had the nerve to issue me with a verbal warning. I spent the whole of today rage-cleaning. And while my house is now sparkling, my spirit is still quietly seething.
The lavender tea, which is supposed to induce relaxation, doesn’t appear to be working.
I force myself to take another sip of the vile tea and that’s when I hear the most awful, high-pitched screeching. Goosebumps break out on my skin. I have no idea what that sound is. An animal giving birth? Some creature having its insides torn out?
It’s dark and I’m a little terrified, but I make myself grab the flashlight and shine it into the backyard. I can’t see a thing, only shadows and the silhouettes of trees.
When the horrible noise continues, I take my phone out to record it, then I send the recording to the group chat.
Tess:What on earth is this sound?
Sofia:Fox?
