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It took time, but I finally worked my way back to full-time work. Paul Anderson did not take kindly to my return. Nor did he take kindly to the personal relationship I had with Takazawa. Sometime during my "sabbatical," Paul received permanent employment status at the company, rather than contracting as a consultant. Upon my return, his exact position was questionable, and Takazawa left it to me to solve the problem. I met with Paul privately on several occasions, which taxed my mental and emotional strength to its limit. Paul was unwilling to let go of the helm, and made his disdain clearly known. Fortunately, I had Takazawa in my corner, and when Paul requested a private meeting with him, he was declined. This infuriated Paul, but his recourse was limited. In order to keep the peace and avoid disruption in the management of my department, I finally reached an agreement with Paul. He moved into the office connecting to my office that was formerly used as a conference room. We agreed that while Paul would officially report to me, he would report dotted-line to Takazawa. He would be permitted to continue to utilize Lissa's talents, as long as he did not abuse the privilege. I was cautioned by Takazawa to tread very lightly with these negotiations; while Edward was clearly watching my back, he also valued Paul's abilities and talents greatly, and did not want to lose him as an employee. A special session with my therapist restored my self-esteem to a manageable level, and I was able to maintain an impression of high self-confidence while quaking in my boots. Shortly after returning full-time, my workload increased due to a series of mergers and acquisitions my company was undertaking. Takazawa had decided to continue eating up smaller competition rather than trying to compete, and his decision was successful. It resulted in long hours, significant travel, and tedious negotiations for me. Paul was frequently my partner, both in travel and during negotiations. While I had to admit to myself that he was an excellent attorney, albeit a bully negotiator, our relationship remained infuriating. Paul made it a point to be contrary at every opportunity, and frequently attempted to make me look foolish in meetings. Too often, I found myself on the telephone with Michael at 3 am, wailing through my frustration and Paul's insolence. Michael was a very good sounding board, asked sane and pointed questions, and usually had suggestions that worked. During the travel, late nights, long negotiations, and lack of sleep, I would sometimes hear the warning bells that sounded in the early stages of my relationship with Michael, before my fall. I attributed my subconscious fears to being tired, overworked, and still not completely healthy. I elected to keep my thoughts entirely to myself and not even mention them to my therapist; they seemed insane in light of how wonderful Michael was in our relationship. The bells really rang early one Tuesday afternoon when I returned home after a very successful negotiation to contract with one of our competitors on the East coast. I had not expected to be back until the end of the week, but we elected to meet throughout the prior weekend, resulting in a quick deal. I wanted to surprise Michael when he came home from work and got a cab from the airport. I quickly unpacked, called out for dinner delivery that evening, and then drew a hot, scented bath. I experienced a quick shot of fear in the tub when the longing for an icy vodka surfaced from my subconscious to my conscious. I quickly towelled off and dressed in silk lounging pajamas, then wandered into the home office in search of mail. Michael had the mail in high, unsorted pile across the desk on his side of the office. I began rifling through, tossing junk, sorting into piles of bills, items to read later, and correspondence. I chuckled to myself when I wished for a secretary at home to keep these tasks in order. Michael's caller ID was blinking incessantly, and kept distracting me by catching the corner of my eye. I checked his line for voicemail, and having none, elected to clear his Caller ID for him, since he had no ability to organize himself, judging by the foot-high pile of assorted junk strewn on his desk. I cannot explain what possessed me to scroll through the list individually, rather than use the 'clear all' function. I had no reason to distrust Michael; yet there was an inexplicable force guiding me to look at each of the incoming calls. The first two or three calls from Paul Anderson's cell phone were disconcerting, but I attributed them to the patent work on which Paul and Michael often collaborate. As the list of calls grew, however, my stomach heaved. In the six days that I was gone, there were 26 calls from Paul's cell phone, and an additional 11 late night calls from the hotel at which Paul and I were staying. I had called Michael from my hotel room once each night, which accounted for six calls; the rest could only have been from Paul. I could not come up with any reasonable explanation for the sheer volume of calls between Paul and Michael. There was not any ongoing patent work that demanded that level of contact. Thoughts flew through my head - was Michael having Paul check up on me to be sure I was staying clean and sober? Was Michael speaking to Paul about the issues I was having with him, trying to work with Paul to protect me? Was it possible it was all work-related? I had a very hard time keeping my thoughts organized and in control. My hands shook in anger and trepidation as I continued scrolling through. I sharply came to when I caught myself asking if Michael and Paul were having an affair. This was my live-in partner I was thinking about, and questioning Michael's sexuality bordered on hysteria! I employed some quick control techniques, took a few deep breaths, and regained my sanity. I decided to admit to Michael that I 'snooped' and question the calls from Paul Anderson. I also elected to question the 6 calls from a woman that worked in the design department at Michael's old employer. Now I felt jealousy surface and found it reassuring, because at least there was a reasonable explanation behind that emotion. I checked my own voicemail and Caller ID. I finished sorting the mail and emptied the trash. I glanced through several trade publications for interesting articles, but could not stay focussed. I fought with myself and won, managing to resist urges to look through Michael's personal mail, bills and files. I felt a need to look for information and search for explanations. The bells in my head refused to quiet. I paced. I relented and called my therapist when I realized it was only 2pm and Michael would not be home for hours. In the few hours I had been home, I had managed to convince myself that not only was Michael carrying on an affair with his old co-worker, but he was in cahoots with Paul Anderson to sabotage my career. Bolts of nervous energy were shooting through my heart and I felt I was losing control. My therapist insisted on an immediate telephone consultation which turned out to be quite soothing. It restored most of my sanity and allayed some of my fears. He expressed grave concern about my difficult work schedule, and suggested that I was pushing too hard, too soon. He was additionally concerned that of my travel was forcing me to skip too many necessary sessions. We discussed the potential of a backslide, and the warning signs I was experiencing. He suggested that I take a few days to relax, and try to cut back on hours. He agreed that I should speak to Michael and discuss my concerns, but flatly stated that he believed my suspicions had spun out of control. He pointed out how obviously unrealistic they were. We discussed his high regard for Michael and he reminded me what a strong relationship Michael and I had. I agreed to meet him for an unscheduled special session the next day, and promised to call him back immediately if I felt a lack of control. I hung up, reassured, and again leafed through some trade journals. I paid bills and balanced my checkbook. I checked my voicemail at work. There was a long, loving voicemail from Michael, saying he was missing me, asking me to call him tonight. The next message was from Paul Anderson, stating that he was completely burned out and was not going to return to the office for a day or two. Paul's message on the heels of Michael's infuriated me for some reason. I was also angry that Paul decided to take time off without consulting me. I felt irrational, but my suspicions began to rise again. I hung up and walked straight to the liquor cabinet. It had been emptied. Every decanter was dry. The bottles that were once neatly lined in the cabinet were all gone. It took me a few moments to remember that I had been the one to empty most of them. The promise I had made just a short time ago to my therapist flitted across my mind, yet I elected to dismiss the thought and be strong on my own. |
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