love, Ruth Nineke

“You’re Such A Fucking Bitch”

Post Published: May 26, 2023

Preview from Sex Acts And Emotional Problems

The phone at her desk rang as Caitlyn was leaving for lunch. She answered quickly in case it was a student or a Human Resources director.

“This is Caitlyn Gregory.”

“Why aren’t you returning my calls?” 

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been calling you since last night,” David confessed. “I wanted to apologize. But your phone keeps going to voicemail.”

Caitlyn combed her right hand through her hair, down the middle of her head.

“David,” she inhaled, “I’m at work now.”

“How long will you hide behind your job?”

“Well, I certainly do not want to engage you while at my job,” she told him. “After you hung up last night I turned off my phone, and I forgot about it. I didn’t expect you to call back, and I’m not looking forward to having you accuse me of whatever you’re going to accuse me of right now.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.”

 “Thanks for the call.”

 Caitlyn rolled her eyes, and hung up the phone.

For such an intelligent thinker, David had the unnerving tendency to be utterly unreasonable. They didn’t argue often. Caitlyn had learned early, the night of Miranda Favillo’s party, to let David be right and have his own way. It spared her hours of exhausting and pointless back and forth. 

Caitlyn crumpled her hotdog paper into a ball. 

She took her cell phone from her bag, turned it on, and dismissed notification of David’s seven missed calls. She ignored the two new voicemails, and made a silent prayer that he would be calm.

“I hate that we’re fighting,” he answered immediately.

“Look,” Caitlyn said, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask to get out of work early. It’s been a really busy week.”

“Every week is busy,” David countered. “I’m not saying you’re making excuses. I’m just pointing out that in a corporate environment every week is busy, every client is important, and every report really matters.”

“No, David!” Caitlyn snapped. “It’s not the time for one of your logical assessments.” 

Sometimes she felt as though she was dating a child – an exceptionally bright, naturally overachieving, and emotionally demanding child. 

“Listen to me,” Caitlyn tried, “This is my chance to move up in the company.”

“With just an undergraduate degree?” David scoffed. “Are you kidding me?”

Caitlyn was running out of patience. 

“That’s not the point,” she told him. “I don’t even know why I bothered calling you.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s talk it out.”

Defeated by the truth that she didn’t want to see David, let alone even speak to him on the phone, Caitlyn ended the call. 

“I have to go back to work,” she said. 

“Come on,” he pleaded. “We can work on your presentation together.”

Caitlyn felt like replying that she didn’t need, or want, his help with her project. But she knew better than to start another irresolvable argument with her fourteen year old boyfriend.

“I’ll see you at Thanksgiving.”

When Caitlyn got back to her desk the orange light on her phone was blinking, indicating an unheard voicemail.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” David started. “But if you’re not coming to Boston this weekend, don’t bother trying to see me for Thanksgiving. I’m done, Caitlyn. Done.”

She didn’t have time for this. She pressed “7” and hung up the phone. 

 


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