He was dressed in a dinner suit, minus the jacket. I felt embarrassed to realise he must have left an event to meet me. I also felt flattered.
‘Thank you for meeting me.’
‘Why don’t you come up to my office and we can make a plan?’ Max said. ‘If Gabe shows up, security will ring me immediately. I also have my personal security detail driving around the neighbourhood, on the lookout. In the meantime, if you’re willing to talk about it, I’d like to understand better what has been going on with him.’
I noticed a slight slur to Max’s voice and wondered if he’d been drinking when I interrupted him tonight. Even so, he was reassuring. He had his personal security looking for Gabe? It made me wonder why I hadn’t called him earlier.
‘You saw Gabe tonight?’ Max asked, as we took the elevator to the thirty-fourth floor.
‘Yes. An hour or so ago. He seemed pretty . . . I don’t know. Drunk? Out of it?’
Max nodded. He didn’t seem surprised.
‘Was he like that at work today?’
The doors slid open and we exited the elevator. ‘I didn’t see him today. But according to reports, yes, he was in a bad way. I have to say, I’m worried about him, Pippa.’
‘He’s been working hard lately,’ I said, my instinct to play down his behaviour so deeply ingrained I couldn’t help it. ‘He might be a bit burned out. Maybe he blew off some steam, had a few drinks.’
Max watched me for a moment. I got the sense that he wasn’t buying my excuse for Gabe’s behaviour. In a way, I was glad.
‘I want to show you something,’ he said, leading me down the hallway. We stopped outside a large boardroom. The wall was glass, and I could see without entering that it had been vandalised. Chairs were strewn around the floor. There was a giant dent in the wall. The pieces of a conference phone were scattered across the large oak table.
It took me a moment to understand why he was showing me.
‘Oh my God,’ I said, as realisation dawned. ‘Gabe did this?’
Max nodded. He didn’t need to say anything else after that. It was true that sometimes a picture was worth a thousand words. I saw the damage to the wall and recalled Gabe’s bloodied hand. My own hand went to my mouth.
Max touched my shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s talk in my office.’
He led me into a huge corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows, polished concrete floors and an enormous L-shaped desk. In ordinary circumstances I would have been impressed, but tonight it barely registered. All I could think about was Gabe. My husband was seriously unwell. I couldn’t hide it anymore. I couldn’t defend it or make excuses. I couldn’t do anything . . . I didn’t even know where he was.
We sat in armchairs in front of a glass coffee table.
‘Do you think he might have gone out with some colleagues?’ I asked. ‘He often goes out drinking with them when they’re working on a project.’
A strange look crossed Max’s face. ‘Pippa, you do know that Gabe doesn’t work here anymore?’
I stared at him. ‘What do you mean? He was at work today.’
‘Yes, he came in today. But I let him go a couple of weeks ago. When he came in today, he was very upset that he’d been let go and he wanted to speak to me. I wasn’t here unfortunately. As you can see from the state of the boardroom, he wasn’t happy.’
It took me several seconds to understand. ‘You fired him? But . . . why?’
Max chose his words carefully. ‘I’m guessing it won’t be a surprise to you to hear that while Gabe was a valued employee at NewZ, he has also displayed some worrying behaviour.’
I didn’t reply, but the expression on my face must have revealed something, because Max continued.
‘Things came to a head a couple of weeks ago, with the streaming deal. There was a problem with one of the investors, and it was a big problem. I could see Gabe didn’t take it well. I should have followed up with him. I’m so sorry.’
I didn’t respond; I was still reeling with this new information. Gabe had lost his job a couple of weeks ago and never told me?
‘This is a personal question, Pippa,’ Max said gently, ‘but I need to ask: has he ever been violent at home? Has he ever hurt you or your daughters?’
‘No.’ Even the idea of it shocked me. Then I remembered Gabe’s face tonight. So red and angry. ‘But things have definitely escalated lately. Tonight, when he came home . . . he frightened me. It’s the first time I’ve felt like that.’
‘Does he have a diagnosed condition?’
‘ADHD,’ I said. ‘But I – I’m not sure that’s what’s wrong with him.’
‘I have to agree,’ Max said. ‘I’m not a psychiatrist, but what happened today seemed more like a kind of psychosis. Is that possible?’
‘Anything is possible.’ I felt tears on my face and realised I was crying. I stood and walked to the window. This was it, I realised. If Gabe was this far gone, there was no one in the world who could help him.
‘You’ve done an extraordinary job managing this, Pippa,’ Max said, joining me at the window. ‘But this is more than any one person can handle. Gabe needs professional help, possibly as an inpatient. There’s no shame in it. And if insurance doesn’t cover the out-of-pocket costs, I’d be happy to cover them personally.’
It was extraordinarily generous of him. But I found it hard even to think about out-of-pocket costs when I didn’t know where Gabe was. I imagined him wandering around the city. Maybe he’d found a bar to drink in. Maybe he’d found a barmaid? Later, he’d be full of apologies, and I’d be full of doubt. He didn’t mean it! He was ill. Then he’d go to see Dr Ravi, maybe get a new diagnosis, and we’d start all over again.
As all of this settled over me, I let out a sob. Max didn’t really open his arms, but I fell against him and rested my head against his chest. He widened his stance and became a warm, solid wall. I wanted to disappear into it. Bury my head. Make it all go away.
‘What do I do, Max?’ I cried.
He put his arms around me. There was something about it. For so long I’d felt like I was alone, carrying the secret of Gabe’s illness. Suddenly there was someone else, someone who truly seemed to care.
‘It’s all right,’ he said softly. ‘We’ll sort this out, I promise.’
He was so authoritative. I believed it. It made me imagine what it must be like to be married to someone like Max. Someone you could count on. Someone who didn’t create drama but, rather, helped you sort it out. It was intoxicating.
I stepped back and looked at him. It may have been the fact that he was giving me exactly what I’d been craving from Gabe for so long, but it was as if I saw him anew. He even looked a little like Gabe. I’d always thought the line between attraction and desperation was thin. I was desperate for comfort. I yearned for it. It did something to me. I lifted my chin and kissed him.
It came over me then, all at once, like a frenzy. A need. Was this how Gabe felt, I wondered, with the barmaid? I pulled off my T-shirt, my bra. I stepped forward and pressed myself against him. It wasn’t about Max, I knew that, even then. It wasn’t even about me. Like everything else in my life, the entire fucking thing was all about Gabe.