Chapter 111 - The Highly Urgent Matter (1/2)

Claire goes straight to Michelle's office, after Mrs. Gomez at the reception mentioned how Michelle had arrived wearing huge sunglasses that failed to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks. She wants to be on Michelle's good side, if only to spy for Gabriel. But lately, she feels some empathy for her—more and more, the image of Michelle in her mind as this callous, evil bitch seems to get eroded somehow.

Michelle's still wearing the sunglasses, a classic Fendi that almost covers half her face. And yet, Mrs. Gomez was right: her cheeks are still wet with tears, and she doesn't even bother wiping them.

”I'm sorry,” Claire says without any preamble, as she slips into Michelle's office. ”What can I do? It's Gabriel. There's nothing I could do but watch.”

Michelle's head turns to her, although Claire still isn't sure if she's looking at her. Michelle sniffles. ”You could have called me up when Gabriel told you he isn't at the hospital,” she mutters, her voice hoarse. ”And you could have defended me there.”

Claire sighs. She sits on the cushy chair by Michelle's table, as though this were a formal visit and she's reporting office-related stuff. She reaches out over the table for Michelle's hand. ”I'm really sorry. I'm just a lowly employee.” It's awkward for a few moments, but Michelle squeezes back; then as though this connection with another human being, another woman, is finally some permission to stop holding back, Michelle cries.

Claire wants to stand and go over Michelle and hug her, but she feels awkward; she had come here as a secret enemy. And besides, what can she say?

”I don't know what to do, anymore,” Michelle mutters after a while. ”Gabriel would never forgive me. There go the past ten years of our lives.”

Jesus, Claire thinks. If Michelle cares about Gabriel, why did she cheat on him? And it dawns on her: perhaps Michelle is telling her this because she doesn't realize that Claire knows about everything? ”I'm sorry,” Claire says, trying to weigh her next words. ”But didn't you…Didn't you cheat on him?”

”What?” Michelle snaps; there's some anger in her voice. ”Who told you THAT?”

”Uhh,” she hesitates, thinking which of the names she knows will attract Michelle's fury the least. In the end, she decides just to say it as it is. ”Gabriel told me that. On my first day.”

Michelle gazes at her; or at least, Michelle's head is turned toward her, but she couldn't see her eyes. Michelle doesn't move for what seem like very long, awkward moments. More and more, Claire regrets ever coming into this office; she could have avoided this situation. She could have given Michelle space to grieve, and not get in the path of her emotional rollercoaster.

”Who on earth gave Gabriel the right to include that information in his interviews with employees?” Michelle says after a while, no longer crying. As if suddenly her tears have dried out. She pouts and shakes her head. ”Oh, Gab, always the tattle-tale.” She takes her bag, pulls out a longish cigarette from a pocket, and lights it. She begins leisurely blowing smoke in Claire's general direction, compelling Claire to secretly ask the Shakespearean question: Is this bitch insane?

”Uhh, Michelle, there's no smoking in this office,” Claire says. ”You could trigger the alarm system.”

Michelle makes a big devil-may-care shrug. She even takes an exceptionally long drag of her cigarette, then she blows the smoke upwards. ”Who will know that I'm even smoking in here?”

Claire points with her finger upward. ”That thing right above your head.”

Michelle looks up; there's an actual smoke detector on the ceiling above her, with its tiny blinking red light. ”Don't mind that. I'll never set it off, promise,” she says, seemingly okay now.

Claire gazes at her with mild wonder. Was Michelle just acting all along, trying to reel her in? What about those tears, this whole charade? Or had Michelle just forgotten that she had cheated on Gab, so much that those tears were genuine, borne of a misplaced sense of oppression? Claire couldn't tell. The answer could even be really simple: Michelle's probably crazy.

She stands up. ”Well, I've got to go. There's something Gabriel wants me to finish, so…”

”Bella, if Gabriel asks you to do anything weird, you tell me, okay?”

Claire stops. ”Define weird?”

”I don't know. Anything that sets off your internal alarm system.” Michelle shrugs. ”Or just anything you feel is juicy enough to share with me.” Finally, Michelle takes off her sunglasses, revealing her puffy eyes, and winks at Claire. ”We're allies here, Bella, don't forget that.”

”Sure,” Claire says. She leaves, thinking what a kooky person Michelle is. Is she even in her right mind? Why would she think they'd be allies just because they're both women?

She's deep in her thought that she's already almost at her desk when she notices the door to Gabriel's office is open. Her heart jumps: is he here? She quickly peers into the office, only to find not Gabriel but his brother, sitting in the big boss chair and looking around the office. ”Oh, it's you,” she says.

”Don't be too disappointed,” Miguel says, standing up. ”I can make you happy, too.”

Claire says nothing to that.

”Are you actually going to work the whole day?” he says.

”Yeah, why?”