Elizabeth Finn - Restoring Jordan

It’s only two weeks away, and I’m desperate. He cares for me; he must. And yet, he holds back from me still. When I think of our parting, I panic. My breath comes in gasps that strangle my throat and leave me wanting to collapse to my knees. My emotional reaction feels more physical than the world around me, and after his body and mind have drifted off to sleep beside me every night, I watch him. I whisper, “I love you” to the heavy breathing beside me. He doesn’t hear my words, but I pray the words somehow reach him.

He spends every night with me, either calling me to his place or showing up at mine. He is as content in my double-sized bed that leaves no space between our bodies as he is in his king-size bed, which neither requires nor promotes closeness but finds us clutched together nevertheless.

We wake together, make love more often than not, shower together, and watch each other get ready for the day. His eyes study me as I blow dry my hair and try to make it look respectable, and I watch, with just as much interest, as he stands naked at the sink shaving. When I dress, his gaze follows my every movement, and as he drops me at the ‘L’ it’s with one final kiss. I walk into the building twenty minutes later only to see him standing in the lobby waiting for me. It was my refusal that led to such a bizarre arrangement. I told him I wouldn’t let him risk driving me to work, and so he waits until he knows I’m there safe and sound.

He must hate the deception, and I do as well, but each day passes in this way, and come night we are together alone once more. We live our lives outside of work in the way I wish we could live every day. We go out to dinner together, stroll the sidewalk hand in hand, even grocery shop together. It’s all so very normal … but temporary. I’ve received four more rejection letters from Chicago firms looking for so many years more experience than I have, and as they stack up high my spirits drop down low. I want an excuse, any excuse, to stay. A confession of his love and devotion would suffice, but absent that I’ll take a job offer, any job offer, at this point. But nothing is forthcoming, and I debate daily whether professing my love for this man will end up being the worst mistake of my life or the best.

It seems so easy. He’s given me an out. He’s asked me to stay with him while I look for a job, but it isn’t enough. It’s not nearly what I need from him. I need him to love me, and as much confidence as I have in him, I still find it hard to fathom he possibly could. He holds an emotional tether to my heart, and anything short of what I need in him is nothing more than a painful reminder of what I don’t have from him. It isn’t enough to live in his home while I look for a job. It isn’t his heart held in the palm of his open hand, and frankly, that’s the only thing I want from him at this point. Should I stay without his love, it would destroy me in the end. I know this, so I give myself to him every day, accepting what I get in return but praying for more of him, all of him.

But he’s a flightless bird.

He has the power to soar but he’s been cut off at the knees by pariahs who destroyed his soul and took his ability to feel in the same way I do. But however hopeless his past makes it feel, I wait. Patiently, I wait for his love, his admission of it, his own damn acceptance of it.

When I arrive to work on Tuesday of my last week, it’s with the same dread I felt on Monday. It’s the last week, and I’m desperate. He’s taking me to dinner this evening to some place expensive and nice, and when he wrapped his arms around me this morning as I stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror, his eyes lit up when I agreed to go. Of course I agreed. We eat out nearly every night; neither of us can cook to save our lives, and after one very unfortunate recipe disaster we really believed we could conquer together, we gave up. But this night is somehow different to him. His eyes showed it as they watched mine in the mirror. He’s hiding something, and I sense it’s all about me, for me. Of course I’ll go to dinner with him, but my mood is still sad and depressed.

My body is sate after so many endless nights and days of his touch, but my soul is empty and feeding on my heart at this point to stay alive. When Vera calls and tells me to report to Foster’s office, my mood drops even farther. I check my makeup in the mirror quickly as I stand to leave for his office. There’s no reason to be nervous, but I am.

My work on the Market Street project is done. Jordan and I toured the finished product just yesterday afternoon, and my eyes teared at the sight of our project complete. I’m happy with every last aspect, barring the knockoff light fixtures Trigg forced us to purchase instead of the restored originals, but it’s otherwise perfect.

Jordan made love to me against the counter in the kitchen, and as we turned out the lights to leave, I commented wryly, “What about the other rooms.”

He wasted no time retorting, “Some other time.” If only that were true. We’re out of time, and I’m out of patience. I’m losing him more every day, and while he’s emotionally closer to me now than on the day before and the day before that, he’s slipping away.

As I approach Foster’s office, I meet Jordan in the hallway. He looks to my eyes as he registers we must have been summoned together, and he gives me a quick wink before we both turn into the office. The warmth his gesture incited only a moment before fades in an instant as I take in Dr. Lynch already seated in Foster’s office. He looks to me, but rather than smiling as I would typically expect, his eyes flit away from mine as my face drops. When Vera enters behind Jordan and I, my suspicion grows, and as I look to Jordan and catch the worry etched on his face, my heart lurches in fear and near panic.

“Come in, Adeline, Jordan. Please have a seat.” Foster is ushering us to the two vacant chairs in front of his desk, typically the only chairs in his office, but on this day, extra chairs have been brought in, and Dr. Lynch is occupying one while the other is waiting for Vera.

Vera closes the door behind her, and I’m suddenly trapped, ambushed, and I’m not even sure why. I’ve only three days left of my time at Foster’s, and my part in the Market Street project is done, so I can’t wrap my head around the somber, uncomfortable mood in this room and why not a damn person wants to look at me.

“Adeline, I’m sorry to have to bring you in today for this reason, but your internship is being terminated effective immediately.” I gasp at Foster’s words, and my stomach clenches. His eyes are genuinely apologetic, and the slight purse of his lips is the only evidence I need of his true compassion for me in this moment, but I’m shocked, and for all his compassion, I’m flabbergasted and livid.

Before I can even open my mouth to speak, Jordan remarks with the same shock showing in his voice that races rampantly through my body. “What? What the hell are you talking about? You can’t fire her!” His face is incredulous and furious.

Foster doesn’t reply, but hands a document to Jordan. I’m sitting frozen in place but can see enough to know the letterhead is from the vendor I’ve been working with for most of the fixtures and hardware on the Market Street project. “Adeline, a fairly large order of restored original fixtures was ordered for Market Street by you a couple weeks ago. This order was previously canceled at Trigg’s request due to project budget restrictions. These fixtures, at our request, were stripped, restored, and shipped, and they’re now, unfortunately, nonrefundable.” I’m shaking my head in shock as I listen to his words. He thinks this is my fault, but I’m still stunned into silence, trying to figure out what to say. “This is the purchase order they have on file for the request, and according to them this order was placed by you. Trigg is understandably upset. They’ve asked there be repercussions, and under the circumstances I really had no alternative but to contact Dr. Lynch. I’m sorry, Adeline. I don’t…”

“But Mr. Foster, I didn’t place any order two weeks ago. I canceled this order well over a month ago. I didn’t do this!” My voice is finally free from the restraint of my tight throat, but now my tears are threatening to spring forth. My career, my livelihood, my entire education is being threatened, and I can’t for the life of me wrap my head around why this is happening.

“Why are they saying Adeline changed this order?” Jordan’s face has only relaxed marginally as he tries to get the details of what is going on.

Foster responds, trying his best to maintain a calm and soothing voice. He has two rather horrified faces glaring back at the moment, and for the briefest of seconds I actually feel sorry for him. But then I’m snapped back to reality when he responds, “The order was called in. They’ve said their practice is to start a PO form with every call, and they go through the ordering details line by line, including asking for the name of the person they’re speaking to.”

“Oh, come on! Anyone could have called in that order. Adeline wouldn’t do this. She’s the one who canceled this order to begin with.” Jordan looks as shocked as me, and he’s holding out the purchase order in front of him, dismissing its authenticity as he refuses to pay it any more attention. But Vera takes the opportunity to snatch it from his hands, eyeing it speculatively. Dr. Lynch has yet to speak and is simply watching the exchange, refusing to look at me.

It is Vera who speaks next, and her words are aimed squarely at me. “This PO was initiated on the afternoon of our golf outing, and since you were the only one in the building that afternoon, I’m guessing there’s little question who placed this order.” Her tone is smug, and as my eyes flash to Jordan’s in shock, his snap to mine as well. The immediate memory of our afternoon together sends a flush of warmth through my body that radiates to my cheeks as his eyes share a sudden softness with mine. But his flutter closed a moment later in sudden fury as he shakes his head. The look of disgust that passes over his face needs no explanation. He’s sharing the same realization that is sinking into my understanding. I’m being framed.

“How very fucking convenient, Vera!” Jordan’s words are seething with fury and hatred as she returns his glare. “And I’m sure you had nothing to do with this order being changed, huh?” His suspicion narrows his eyes as he regards her harshly. Were they alone, I’m not at all sure she would be safe.

With a look of well-played ignorance on her face, she responds. “I was at the golf outing, Jordan, just like you. I couldn’t possibly have changed this order, and I don’t appreciate…”

“The order came in by phone! You had just as much opportunity to do that from the golf course as you would have from the office, though I’m betting you were counting on Adeline being the only one in the office as a good selling point for your little scheme—certainly one way to point the finger. We’re all just so shocked you put the dates together so quickly, and it’s not just a little convenient!” His eyes look to mine as I continue to stare into space, shocked. My life is being destroyed in front of me, and I’m saying nothing. My mind is registering every last word being spoken, but I’m stunned, and it hasn’t escaped my mind the fact Jordan spent the afternoon in question with me could well prove to be a liability to him just as much as the false tale being woven right now is to me.

As I contemplate how I should respond, Dr. Lynch speaks for the first time, and as he does my blood runs cold, and whatever hope I was clinging to that I could somehow fix this situation dissipates. “Whether you did or did not change the order is irrelevant at this point. I just received a call this morning from Mark Lear at Trigg Enterprises. Not only did he fill me in on the order change debacle, he filled me in on some other … events of late.” His words linger like a threat ready to be unleashed, and as my breath leaves my lungs in an audible rush, my eyes quickly find Jordan’s just to find his are closed and his face is resigned. When I look to Foster, he is looking back and forth from Jordan to me in utter confusion. The threat is being unleashed, and I’m finished, and for that matter, so is Jordan.

“What are you talking about? What else did she screw up?” It’s Vera, and from the sounds of it she’s as clueless as Foster.

“Mark brought it to my attention the two of you were involved in an … inappropriate and less-than-professional relationship. In fact, he says he was witness to it on one occasion.” And then to me, Dr. Lynch continues. “I’m disappointed in you, Adeline. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so careless with your education and your future. In light of the order being changed negligently and the evidence pointing to you, effectively costing Foster’s tens of thousands of dollars I might add, and the inappropriate contact you have had with a senior level principal, I have no choice but to remove you from your internship. You will receive no credit for your time here, and you won’t be able to graduate at this point.