Where'd You Go, Bernadette(67)
“Soo-Lin?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Soo-Lin. Are she and Elgie—”
“Hard to say.”
That was the last I saw of Bernadette.
I returned to Soo-Lin’s and reserved a space for Kyle at Eagle’s Nest.
I found out Bee was at boarding school. I confirmed it with Gwen Goodyear and sent the envelope of documents to Bee at Choate, with no return address.
I just now learned that Bernadette ended up going to Antarctica, and that she disappeared somewhere on the continent. An investigation was conducted and, reading between the lines, they want everyone to believe Bernadette got drunk and fell overboard. I don’t buy it for a second. But I am worried that she might have tried to get word to Bee through me. Warren, I know this is a lot to digest. But please go home and double-check to see if there’s anything from Bernadette.
Love,
Audrey
*
Fax from Warren Griffin
Darling,
I’m tremendously proud of you. I’m at the house now. There’s no word from Bernadette. I’m sorry. Can’t wait to see you this weekend.
Love,
Warren
FRIDAY, JANUARY 28
Fax from Soo-Lin
Audrey,
I got TORCHed at VAV. I am forbidden to return until I “WYP and Read It.” (WYP stands for Write Your Part, and it’s pronounced, “weep,” not “wipe,” which we think sounds scatological.) It’s an inventory we write, owning our part in our abuse. If I ever find myself slipping into victimhood, I have to TORCH myself. I spent the last three hours WYPing. Here it is, if you’re interested.
*
WYP by Soo-Lin Lee-Segal
After I got off to a rocky start as Elgie’s admin, our working relationship flourished. Elgie would request the impossible. I would make it happen. I could feel Elgie marvel at my wizardry. It soon became a skyward duet of me doing the best work of my life, and Elgie praising me. I could feel us falling in love.
(TIME-OUT REALITY CHECK: I was falling in love, not Elgie.)
Everything changed the day he asked me to lunch and confided in me about his wife. If he didn’t understand you don’t speak ill of your spouse to a coworker, especially a coworker of the opposite sex, I certainly did. I tried not to engage. But we had kids in the same school, so the line between work and our personal lives was already blurred.
(TIME-OUT REALITY CHECK: The moment Elgie began speaking ill of his wife, I could have politely ended the conversation.)
Then Bernadette got tangled up in a ring of Internet hackers. Elgie was furious at her, and confided in me, which I interpreted as further proof of his love. One night, when Elgie was planning to sleep at the office, I booked him a room at the Hyatt in Bellevue and drove him there myself. I pulled the car up to the valet.
“What are you doing?” Elgie asked.
“I’m coming in to get you set up.”
“Are you sure?” he said, an acknowledgement, to me, that tonight we were going to finally act on our crackling sexual tension.
(TIME-OUT REALITY CHECK: Not only was I completely deluded, I was preying on a emotionally vulnerable man.)
We took the elevator up to his room. I sat down on the bed. Elgie kicked off his shoes and climbed under the covers, fully dressed.
“Could you turn off the light?” he asked.
I turned off the bedside lamp. The room was blackout dark. I just sat there, coursing with desire, barely able to breathe. I carefully swung my feet onto the bed.
“Are you leaving?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
Minutes passed. I still maintained an image of where Elgie was on the bed. I could visualize his head, both arms over the covers, his hands clasped just under his chin. More time passed. He was obviously waiting for me to make the first move.
(TIME-OUT REALITY CHECK: Ha!)
I jabbed my hand toward where I pictured his hands to be. My fingers plunged into something moist and soft, then sharp.
“Gaahh—” Elgie said.
I had poked my fingers into his mouth, and he’d reflexively bit me.
“Oh dear!” I said. “I’m sorry!”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Where’s your—”
He was groping in the dark for my hand. He found it and laid it on his chest, then covered it with his other hand. Progress! I breathed as quietly as I could and waited for a cue. Another eternity passed. I wiggled my thumb against the top of his hand, pathetically trying to manufacture a spark, but his hand remained stiff.
“What are you thinking?” I finally said.
“Do you really want to know?”
I went wild with excitement. “Only if you feel like telling me,” I shot back in my best kittenish banter.
“The most painful part of the FBI file was that letter Bernadette wrote to Paul Jellinek. I wish I could go back in time and tell her I want to know her. Maybe if I’d done that, I wouldn’t be lying here right now.”
Thank God it was pitch-black, or the room would have started spinning. I got up and drove myself home. I’m lucky I didn’t drive myself off the 520 bridge, accidentally or otherwise.
The next day, I went to work. Elgie was scheduled to rehearse his wife’s intervention with a psychiatrist off campus. Afterward, his brother was arriving from Hawaii. I went about my business, fixated on a corny fantasy of a bouquet of flowers appearing in my doorway, waving in midair, followed by Elgie, hangdog, professing his love.