Ambivalence

Defective Toys

Camila

"Mila?"

 fingers snapped in my face. Blinking, I looked up at the small cup of tea in front of me.

"Thank you," I whispered to Normani's secretary as she left.

Normani sat at her desk, folding her hands over the papers.

Her office was, in a word, sleek, every surface either white or gray.

 "Are you all right?" she asked, drawing my attention back to her.

"I'm fine, I just spent the morning talking to college students about how awesome it is to be me." I forced a laugh, which sounded a lot more pitiful than I'd hoped.

"Maybe this will make your day just a little bit better." She slid the document over to me. "All we need is your signature, and you will be released from your contract. They agreed to all of our terms and even gave you a bigger severance... Why don't you look happy?"

I hadn't realized I'd stopped breathing until she spoke to me directly. Taking a deep breath, I placed the cup on her desk and grabbed a pen. "All I need to do is sign this, right?" I asked, reading it over.

"Yes, they've already signed." When she said they, she meant him.

I stabbed the pen right in the middle of the paper before dragging it down, ripping it until the end.

"What are you doing?"

"Did I do anything wrong?" I asked her.

"What?"

"Did I do anything wrong? I don't think so. So why am I the one running? Why do I feel like the other woman, being paid off, told to keep her mouth shut, to accept the money and disappear?"

"Mila—"

"How much longer do I have on my contract?"

"Five months, but Mila—"

"I will work until it's over, and only then will I leave. So call him up and tell him I will be awaiting the next project." I rose, grabbing my things.

"Mila! Stop for a second." Normani walked in front of me. "I understand what you are saying, I really do, but you shouldn't let yourself go though that kind of emotional abuse for the sake of your pride. There is nothing wrong with closing the book on him and all of this. It's not running."

"To me it is." I felt like I should be ashamed of something. "I'm closing the book and putting this all behind me, and I need to do that from a position of strength. Five months. I can handle that—it's not like I'm there every day. It could be only three or four shoots. Thank you for your concern, but please just do what I asked and let them know."

"Okay, I'll make the call." She moved out of my way.

"Thank you," I said heading out. I somehow managed to keep my head until I got into the elevator. Alone, I rested my forehead against the wall.

Not only was she sophisticated  but also extremely intelligent. How do you compare to that? Her voice replayed in my mind, like a knife to my soul. Worse, no matter how deeply I was hurt, I couldn't be angry at her. What did I care if Lauren didn't think I was good enough? I didn't even really know her, and she didn't know me. It was good Dr. Asshole thought so highly of her; Lauren had wanted to to marry Keana, that's how she was supposed to think. Your spouse is the person you are supposed to devote the rest of your life to; shouldn't they be the most perfect person to you? She was Lauren's person. If the situation were reversed, I could have said the same thing. What hurt me was the fact that Shawn, my person, thought I was no good either. Shawn knew me, he had seen me at my best and worst, and in his eyes, I was still not good enough.