When I called a few days later to confirm our weekend plans, his voice was different. Strained and distant.
“I don’t think you should come in,” he said.
Something didn’t compute. We’d been planning this weekend for more than a month. “Why? Did something come up at work?” My shoulders started to tighten with worry.
“No. It’s just…I don’t think we should.”
“Should what?”
There were so many ways to answer the question, but the scariest one was the one he said next.
“I don’t think we should be together.”
I looked at my phone briefly as if it were a radio, mistakenly tuned to a channel I could no longer understand. I brought the phone to my ear and said the only thing I could think of. The thing I was clinging to. “But I’m totally in love with you, Bryan. One hundred percent and then some. And I want to be with you.”
Then I waited, and I waited, and I waited.
Words didn’t come.
The silence choked me. It was as if hands were on my neck, gripping me.
How could I have misread him so badly? He’d said he was falling for me. Where else do you fall but in love?
Then he spoke, and his words were sharp glass. “I have to go.”
Breaking the clasp in a single, fierce pull, I ripped off the necklace, then tossed it into the trash, stuffing it at the bottom of the can.
That was the last time I spoke to him.
Even now, five years later, those words rang through me. I could hear them, the pause before he spoke, the shape of each and every syllable. I have to go.
That’s exactly what he did. He left.
Chapter Nine
The factory was loud and busy. Machines whirred, conveyor belts hummed, parts rattled and people chatted. Bryan gave me the guided tour of the whole operation, stopping along the way to talk with his employees, from the managers who ran the facilities to some of the men and women at the end of the line who worked like master jewelers with loupes, carefully and painstakingly putting the finishing touches on pair after pair of fine platinum and pewter and silver cufflinks for the line called Sleek. Made Here also created cufflinks from recycled materials including old watches and bike chains that had a deliberately worn and purposefully tarnished look for the Scuff line. The factory had once made lugnuts for hubcaps. With his expertise in engineering and his vision for solving problems in unconventional ways, Bryan had retrofitted the former auto parts factory for Made Here’s goods, and the result was a mixture of automation and craftsmanship.
“You know what I really want most for the recycled line?”
“What would that be?”
“The lover’s bridge in Paris.”
“Just take the whole bridge and chop it up?”
He laughed. “No. The padlocks,” he said, referring to the locks that hung on of one of the bridges arcing over the Seine. Lovers wrote their names on locks, hooked them to the links and tossed the keys in the river as a promise. It was a popular spot for locals and tourists and the net effect was every year the old locks had to be cut and tossed away to make room for new proclamations of the heart. “I’ve been trying to work with the city of Paris for years. To find a way to buy the used locks from them — the ones they have to cut off every year. But, French bureaucracy is, well, French bureaucracy.”
My eyes lit up, and for one of the first times with him in this go-round, I spoke from the heart. “That would be amazing, though. What a perfect gift. A pair of cufflinks made from padlocks on the lover’s bridge.”
“Right? Wouldn’t it be? And it’s not as if the city cuts the locks because the couples broke up. They only throw them out because they need room for more. So what if I could take those off their hands and turn them into something?”
“Do you think it’ll happen?”
“I’ve made some headway. But it’s a project I can’t delegate. I’m the only one at the company who’s fluent enough to converse with French civil workers.”
“Well, if you need any help, you know where to find me. But I should let you know, I charge extra for my translation services.”
That earned a brief smile. “Let me show you more.” He pointed to the machines that moved the parts along in a precision-timed fashion. “That’s how we can turn out product quickly and on time by keeping the process moving,” he said, then we stopped at a section of the factory floor where workers took their time handling the materials to turn them into the beginnings of new shapes and sizes.
One of the guys who was assembling parts from used bike chains gave Bryan a quick nod.
“Hey Joe,” Bryan said.
“Hey Boss Man,” Joe said.
“How’s the wife? Does Megan have her teaching degree yet?”
Joe nodded. “Just a few more months and she’ll be able to start working in the school district.”
“That’s fantastic. Keep me posted.”
As we walked away from Joe, I made a mental note that Bryan knew his employees’ wives’ names, and what they did for a living. If he were a jerk, it would be so much easier to dislike him, as I wanted to. But instead, it was getting harder to pretend he was nothing to me.
We popped into a quieter area with glass walls where a dozen people in white lab coats were doing the finishing work on the cufflinks, tie clips and money holders. “Looking good, guys. I’m psyched about the progress you’ve made this month. Make sure Delaney knows how you take your coffee or latte or whatnot. We’ll do a pick-me-up all around today from Stella’s,” he said, and I assumed Stella’s must be the local coffee shop.
There were some hoots and cheers as we left and headed to Bryan’s office on the second floor. His assistant, Delaney, cradled a phone receiver as she scribbled down elaborate notes. She was cute and perky, and had a librarian sexiness to her with black glasses and blond hair fastened in a bun.
Bryan held the door for me, and I followed him. His office was functional, but it didn’t scream overly masculine. I couldn’t stand those too mannish offices decked out in chrome and black that seemed to shout I am powerful. Bryan’s workspace was simple, with a large wooden desk, a gray couch, a navy blue chair, and a few framed awards on the wall. I checked them out; they were given by the Eco-Alliance. From the train, to the car, to his entire recycled line, he practiced what he preached, and I was impressed.
Another brick in my wall came down.
We chatted for the next hour about the manufacturing process, his distribution strategy and the supply chain challenges he’d been facing lately. Delaney knocked on the door, and then asked if it was time for the Stella’s run.