The Futures(90)

After dinner, after sex that was surprisingly intimate for a first time, we lay in Maria’s bed, which was tucked in the corner next to an open window. I was half asleep when she climbed out of bed, wrapped herself in a robe, and turned on the desk lamp. “Stay there,” she said. “I’m going to study for a few hours.” She was taking the bar exam that summer. Her cat had been asleep on top of Maria’s stack of textbooks. The cat unfurled and stretched, purring regally as she hopped down to the floor and made way for her owner.

The next morning, Maria kissed me good-bye, and we made plans for dinner the following night. It was while I was shaving in front of the bathroom mirror back at home that I felt it. I’d told someone the truth. The actual, whole truth. And it was okay.

Was it that Maria had finally given me the thing I had craved for so long? Acceptance and forgiveness; grace? I thought so at first, but I realized that wasn’t it, because she wasn’t the one whose forgiveness I needed. What Maria had given me was simply a reminder that the loneliness didn’t have to last forever. I didn’t have to know what came next in order to have hope.

*

One morning in early May, Kleinman summoned me to his office.

“Peck. Have a seat. You’re aware that we’re approaching a settlement with the SEC in the WestCorp case.”

“I had guessed as much, sir.”

“And you probably know about the compromised state of the firm right now. We’ve taken a lot of hits in the last few months. We’re starting a round of layoffs later today. Someone from HR will be calling you around eleven to go over your package. But I wanted to give you a personal heads-up.”

I had been expecting this for a long time, but it was still strange to hear the words actually spoken. Kleinman smiled at me.

“You know, I can see why Michael liked you so much. You’re loyal, and that goes a long way. In another life, you probably would have had a great career ahead of you here. But you understand why we can’t keep you on.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re Michael’s guy. He made you his guy. If I kept you around while laying off a bunch of people who had nothing to do with this—you know how bad that would look. People would hate you, to be frank. And then they’d hate me. You’d just remind everyone of what came before. What we need here is a fresh start. We’re going to be a lot smaller, but we’ll rebuild eventually.”

Kleinman stood up and extended his hand. “Well. Best of luck, Peck. Thank you for your cooperation these last few months.”

The HR woman fetched me shortly afterward. It was the same woman who had moved me into my windowless closet office. I wondered whether she felt guilty about her earlier deception; she must have known, even then, that she’d have to deliver this news eventually. There was a piece of paper that listed my severance package: several months’ salary, a one-time payment in exchange for my signing a nondisparagement agreement. It was a lot of money. She cleared her throat delicately.

“Mr. Peck, I should also remind you that your visa will run out eventually, given that you’re no longer employed by Spire. You can, of course, obtain sponsorship from your next employer. We have excellent contacts at other firms in the city and in Connecticut. Mr. Kleinman has offered to write a glowing reference. We’re confident you’ll find a good home. Would you like a—”

“No, thank you,” I said loudly. Then I stood up. “Is that everything?”

She looked startled. “Yes. That’s it. Just turn in your badge at reception.”

I had purposely avoided thinking too much about what came next. But now that the time had arrived, I knew one thing for sure. This wasn’t what I was meant to do. Five minutes later, I turned off the computer and shut the door for the last time, leaving the keys dangling in the lock for the janitor.

“So should we celebrate?” she said when I walked into McGuigan’s at midday.

“Celebrate me getting fired?”

She grinned. “I can’t think of a better reason.”

Maria got someone to cover the rest of her shift. We bought tallboys of beer in paper bags and picked up Sabrett hot dogs and ate them in Columbus Circle. I thought of Julia, the night we had spent out here, drinking wine and watching the traffic swirl. That moment felt distant and immediate all at once. The city was like that, layered with memories that existed in multiple tenses. Ever since I had started sleeping with Maria, five weeks earlier, I had been thinking about Julia more. Memories of her were creeping back in. But Julia only existed as that, I reminded myself—as a memory, as the past.

“Was it weird? Finally saying good-bye to that place?”

“A little. Mostly it’s a relief.” I shook my head. “It’s sort of surreal, you know? I can’t believe all that shit actually happened. I can’t believe I just went along with it.”

“Well,” she said, crumpling up her ketchup-stained napkin. “It’s amazing what people can rationalize. Humans are a delusional bunch.”

“You’re gonna have to tone down that sympathy when you start prosecuting the bad guys instead of serving them their drinks.”

She laughed. “You criminals are humans, too.”

The previous week, Maria had gotten a job offer at the district attorney’s office. The pay was miserly, the hours long, but it was work that actually made a difference. I envied her sense of purpose, her accomplishment, but it was easy to forget the years of hard work that had led her to this point. I put my arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss.