The 58-Point Betrayal

2: 2

By the time I got home, I was soaked through.

Justin was sitting on the couch, laptop on his knees.

He didn't even look up.

"I reminded you this morning to take an umbrella."

No towel, no hot water, not even a proper word of concern.

I stood in the entryway, water dripping off the ends of my hair, pooling in a little puddle on the tile.

"You were a judge. You gave me a fifty-eight, and you gave Ada a ninety-eight."

"Why did you give her the highest score and me the lowest?"

Justin set the laptop on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch.

"Because it was fair."

"Fair?"

"A lot of people at the company have already figured out what we are to each other."

"To spare me the awkwardness, the review panel would naturally lean toward giving you a high score."

"If I gave you a high score too, your competition result would lose all meaning."

"So the lowest score had to come from me."

I looked at him and dragged out a bitter smile.

"Justin, it's been six years. Not once have I ever used my relationship with you to get an opportunity."

"Every project we worked on, I did the work myself. This competition too, I signed up on my own project numbers. You know that."

He picked up his cup, took a sip of water, set it down, the base tapping lightly against the table.

"Because you still haven't learned one thing. In the workplace, if people think you got there through connections, then you got there through connections."

"I gave Ada the highest score because on the day of her competition presentation, she spoke the whole time without notes, full of energy, poised and gracious. She earned that score."

"So you admit it. You gave her a ninety-eight not for ability, but for the way she carried herself?"

Justin stood up and looked down at me.

"Jean, can you not do this every single time you fail? Always looking for someone else to blame?"

"You lost. That's all there is to it."

I tilted my head up, fighting to hold the tears back, but my eyes burned until they ached.

"If I'd lost because I'm less capable than her, I could wish her well and mean it. But the reason I failed is you!"

"The boyfriend I've been with for six years! The one who saw my effort more clearly than anyone! And it was your fifty-eight that dropped me from first to fifth, that cost me the promotion!"

Justin turned his head aside and clicked his tongue, impatience in his voice.

"That's exactly the difference between you and her. If she'd been the one to lose today, she'd smile and wish you well. Always positive. Never blaming anyone else."

"And you? All you ever do is sit here feeling sorry for yourself."

I let out a laugh, and the tears fell.

"Justin, I have been feeling sorry for myself. For six years."

"But what I've swallowed is never once having a normal relationship! Six years of splitting every bill, of returning the gifts you gave me, of never riding to work in your car, of laying every project result out in the open for anyone to check—"

"I lived like that just to prove I wasn't the kind of person you hate most!"

Justin said nothing.

He just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching me.

I slowly sank down, one hand braced against the floor, the water in my hair mixing with my tears as it dripped.

"Six years..."

"I tried so hard... why do I have nothing in the end... why did it have to be you..."

I wrapped my arms around my knees and cried out loud, my whole body shaking.

Justin's phone rang.

He answered, and his voice turned gentle at once, patient.

"Ada? Mm."

"That project analysis... I'll send you a template to work from... it's no trouble."

"Mr. Gilbert... am I just too slow?"

Ada's voice leaked through the receiver from the other end.

"You're not slow. I'll teach you, take it step by step."

A pack of tissues landed by my feet with a soft slap.

"If you're going to cry, keep it down. She's still over there rushing to finish a proposal."

"You can wallow in self-pity over one small failure if you want, but at least leave a quiet space for the people who actually want to better themselves."