The only way I know this is affecting Matt is because I’m getting daily ratings from Bea. She always greets me each morning with a Matt Report, and he hasn’t dropped below a ten since we parted ways. I know this should give me some comfort, but it doesn’t. Matt’s not missing me. He’s just missing the convenient and stellar sex. I’ve heard lack of those things will make men grumpy.
Fortuitously, Matt had been out of the office a great deal this week with court hearings, and I didn’t really need his help on any of my stuff. We both were doing a great job of avoiding the other, and I was starting to believe that this might actually be workable. I’m sure with time, my hurt feelings and his surliness would just naturally ease, and then maybe we could have at least a polite working relationship. I mean, I might have some major issues with Matt, but I really love the type of work I’m doing for him.
Today, however, Matt makes it clear to me that there’s no room for a polite working relationship between the two of us. There is an email waiting for me as soon as I get in. It reads:
Mac,
In an effort to help with the burgeoning increase in complex business cases, you are being transferred into that division under the general supervision of Bill Crown. Obviously, you will still work on the Jackson case since the clients are attached to you, but John Casting will act as your co-counsel and immediate supervisor. You can direct any and all questions to him. Finally, with the addition of Kylie Wynn to the Pearson appeal, I will not need your help on that case further.
I wish you the best of luck with these new endeavors, and I’m sure you’ll be a successful member of the complex business litigation team.
Sincerely,
Matthew Connover
Is he fucking kidding me?
Is he mother fucking kidding me?
He sends me a formal email telling me that I’m no longer going to be doing injury litigation, which is what I love doing? He’s transferring me to the hell of business law? And more than that, he “wishes me the best of luck”?
What a fucking asshole coward.
I wait for the anger to well up further and overtake me, but it never gets above a low simmer. In fact, I feel sort of a cool calmness. I suppose the fact I have been telling myself over and over again that there is no hope of a relationship with Matt has led me to believe, deep down inside, that it would be impossible to go backward to just an employer/employee relationship.
There is no second-guessing, and I don’t have even an ounce of doubt over my next actions.
I pull up a blank Word document, and I start typing.
When I’m finished, I print it, sign it, and put it in an envelope. I handwrite the words “Matthew Connover” and place it in my outbox. A gopher boy comes around several times a day and takes all the stuff from the attorneys’ outboxes and distributes it. Matt will get my notice sometime soon, but I don’t give it another thought.
Instead, I pick up the phone and call Cal. He knows Matt and I broke up, and we’ve talked a few times. He’s been a very good friend to me and provided me with an open ear. He’s not been judgmental, and he’s been strangely quiet as to taking my side over Matt’s or vice versa. I invite him for lunch the following day, and we make plans to meet in the cafeteria that’s in our building.
I lose myself in the Jackson case, writing up a detailed summary memorandum of it so I can give it to Cal. His help is going to be instrumental to me.
The details of the memorandum are so engrossing that I don’t even realize there is someone standing in my office doorway until he clears his throat.
It’s Matt, and he’s holding my letter of resignation in his hand.
Without invitation, he walks in, closes the door, and takes a seat. He throws the envelope on my desk. “What the hell is this?”
“Come on, Matt. You know what it is.” My voice is gentle, without harshness or even bitter feelings. It doesn’t mean those feelings aren’t there, but I’m choosing not to bring them into this. I want to keep this professional.