by Suzie Carr
Dean and I just stood staring at each other in disbelief.
The buzz from the coffee pot filled the space, followed by a few too many rapid inhales and dramatic exhales from Dean.
Finally, he stopped hyperventilating and hung his jaw. “Why did you do that?”
I’d never seen such gratitude and relief shining in a person’s eyes the way I did in that moment. That had to count for something, right? “Because it was the right thing for me to do.”
“What are you going to do now?”
The air in my lungs vanished.
My God. I just lost my job. How would I ever tell Sasha that news? Or my parents? My father would pretend the news didn’t bother him, but deep inside the wrinkles lining his smiling face would lurk the evidence of his disappointment. I’d once again sit behind his prized adopted daughter, Anna, in the great game of life.
The room swayed. The air grew stale. The smell of curry sat heavy in between us.
“I’ll get a new job.”
He regarded me with authority. “Go back out there and tell him the truth.” He pointed toward Mr. Edward’s office.
“It’s not going to happen,” I said. “I’m not going to beg. And besides, he’s had it out for me ever since I—well, ever since I turned him down.” I twisted my mouth to drive home the point.
“You can use that as leverage.”
“No proof.”
He paced the kitchen area. “I owe you in a very big way.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic.” I brushed past him.
He grabbed my wrist. “I just got you fired. I need to repay you somehow.”
I just got fired. I no longer had a job. I just destroyed my career.
The first sting of bitter tears hit the back of my eye. “You can repay me by not letting him ruin you too.”
I left him with those words, and a few minutes later, with a box of my possessions bundled in my arms, I left him and everyone else behind to fend for themselves.
Numb as ever, I walked across the street to my favorite park. I sat down on my usual bench and gazed out at the geese floating on the pond.
Within five minutes, a very humble Dean sat next to me, staring down at the birds gathered at our feet.
We didn’t talk right away. He understood without my having to say anything that I needed some space to let the news sink in. Then, finally, he spoke as he tossed a rock in the pond. “I wish he would’ve fired me too.”
I chased his rock toss with a longer one. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Guilt is sitting on my shoulders right now and it’s already too heavy.”
“Well brush it off. He’s a jerk and I’m happy to get away from him.”
“I’m going to help you find a new job.”
“I’ll be fine.” My voice cracked, and I coughed to cover it up.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, you certainly will be fine. If anyone would be fine after such an ordeal, it would be you.”
I shivered, despite the overheated day. I tossed another rock. “I can do better than this place.”
His eyes penetrated straight into me. “Of course you can.”
“I can apply to many marketing firms.”
He stared at me long and hard. “Why don’t you just open up your own marketing firm?”
I shrugged and looked down at the geese pecking the grass. “Do you think I really could?”
“Do you really think you couldn’t?”
I shrugged.
“I’ll work for you.”
I laughed. “I don’t have a penny to my name.”
“So? You live in America, the land of opportunity. Surely, a way has to exist. Hell, look at any convenience store and what do you see?”
I laughed again. “Immigrants running them.”
“Exactly. If we can leave our country, safety, and family, and manage to sacrifice for a little while as we catch our bearings and start a business, surely, you can too.” A sternness traced his words, a sharp contrast to his usual quiet demeanor. “Do you want your own business?”
“Yes.” I’d give anything to serve my parents that kind of news. “I’ve always wanted to run my own show.”
“If that idiot Mr. Edwards can run a business, you certainly can. It can’t be that difficult.”
True. How hard could it be? Open a line of credit with the bank, rent some space, buy some second hand office equipment, and open the doors. My mood started to perk up.
He sat up tall. “You’ve got the brains and the talent. You’ve been a remarkable boss, standing up for me like you did. People take notice. People admire you. You’ll succeed.”
His words pumped me up. “Yes, I can succeed.”
“Let me help you research what you need to do. I’m resourceful and good at analyzing data and breaking it down into digestible chunks.”
“I’m capable of doing that myself.”
“With all due respect, you tend to get a little overwhelmed in stressful situations.”
His straight face caught me off guard. “I don’t get overwhelmed.”
“You get overwhelmed. Your eye is twitching, and you haven’t even been without a job for fifteen minutes.”
I covered my twitching eye. “I’m working on it.”
“Admit it,” he said with a warmth radiating from his growing smile. “You need my help. Please, won’t you let me assist you?”
His sincerity comforted me. “We’ll see.” I offered him a smile. “You should get back in there before he fires you too.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m going to be working for you soon, remember?”
The twinkle in his eye powered me with a rising hope.
“Will you let me help you?” he asked.
I went to protest, but the small cry at the end of his words stopped me. He needed closure to my saving him from getting fired. “Fine.” I gazed at him, at a loss for the next move. “I’ve got your cell number from my directory.” I tapped my box of belongings. “We’ll stay in touch.”
“Great.” He stood up and shook my hand. “You’re going to be better than ever.”
“Dean?”
He crossed his arms over his chest as if arming up for a lengthy question.
“Why are you offering to help me this way? It’s way beyond repayment.”
“Because it’s the right thing for me to do.” He winked, and in that wink I saw a man’s spirit burst to life, as if he needed that shove out the door as much as I probably did. “Have a good day, Ms. Stone.” He headed off.
“Dean,” I yelled to him.
“Yes, Ms. Stone.”
“If you want to repay me, you can start by never calling me Ms. Stone again. That stupid boss set that stupid rule. I am Lia to you now. Understand?”
“Crystal clear.” He waved. “I’ll be in touch, Lia.”
I watched him walk away, dumbfounded by all that had just transpired in a matter of half an hour. One moment I’m in the kitchen heating up a cup of coffee and prepping for a nine o’clock briefing meeting with the senior staff, and the next I’m a jobless woman hanging out on a park bench devising plans to open up a business.
For the next hour, I walked around the park, conjuring up all sorts of ideas for that ‘said’ business. I could rent a small office in one of those downtown renovated mills, the ones with the tall brick walls and sprawling windows. My staff would have bagels delivered for our weekly team meetings, and meet over drinks for happy hour.
Why not? Why couldn’t I open up my own business? Sasha did it. Surely I could too.
I walked onward, past a set of new mothers pushing their baby carts around, and thought about my parents and their potential reaction to my getting fired. I’d do anything not to have to face them with the ugly event of the day. After all they had sacrificed for me in putting me through private school and college, I couldn’t disappoint them with my problems. I would get back on track, run a successful business, build up my savings, and help them ease in
to retirement without a care, as I always planned.
My smile started to fade slightly as I reminded myself I had no job and no way of moving forward in life, only backward. I walked past the bakery on the corner where I ate my breakfast each morning, past the bank that I’d have to visit real soon to inquire about a business loan, and back past the place that, for years, served as my home away from home; the place where I earned a paycheck every two weeks to pay all the bills piling up in my mailbox.
The panic swept in like a bad storm and stole my confidence.
I was fired.
I had no job. No one would be waiting for me to return from lunch that day. I would not have a place to go to the next morning. I would never sit at the head of the conference table and conduct meetings with my staff and interns. No more brainstorming sessions over lunch spreads from Panera. And that vacation Sasha and I wanted to take to the Caribbean in the spring, vanished before my eyes. I would not have any paycheck entering my bank account in two weeks. I would not have money to pay my new apartment rent or my massage chair bill. Christmas was around the corner and I would have no money to buy Sasha that sapphire bracelet she stared at every time we walked by Jarod’s at the mall. How could I start my own business without any money to my name? I only had bills.
So, I needed a job, not a business.
Where would I find an employer who would want to hire someone who was fired?
I managed to control my panic until I cleared past the windows of my boss’s corner office. I didn’t start to cry until I entered Dunkin Donuts, at which point I convulsed right there in line as I ordered a medium coffee with extra cream and extra sugar, to the dismay of a helpless young kid who looked about ready to throw up from sheer fright of what he must’ve seen in my face. I thanked him profusely, tossed my last five dollar bill on the counter and bolted toward the back table right underneath the Keno machine.
I sat in that booth, drowning myself in extra sweetness when in walked a group of ladies. They powered through those doors like they owned the joint, shoving the donut scented air out of their way with a wide swing to their arms. Confidence traced every inch of their faces. A few minutes later, they sat in a booth adjacent from me sipping on black coffees and flinging their straight, bouncy hair over their toned shoulders.
The blonde one spoke first. Her voice, as smooth as silk and without a trace of an irritating accent, sailed through the space in a pleasing melody.
“I say we get the guys from that furniture store to represent the team. They’re perfect.”
“They’re also expensive,” the red head said, curling her eyes up to meet the alpha blonde’s.
“It’s all in the delivery,” the blonde said.
“I agree.” The third lady scooted up taller, straightening her blouse’s collar. “Let’s do it.”
They nodded at each other with a devilish grin.
They were so put together and powerful. I liked them. I liked their poise. I liked their confidence. I liked their group think. They fed off each other. The business world answered to them, not the other way around.
Sitting in that booth, staring at a trio of powerful ladies, my strength caught back up with me.
Dean was right. I could be successful. I could take matters into my own hands. I could be my own boss. I could carve my own path. I didn’t have to let another human being overpower me. I could create my own destiny.
Life was too short for anything less than that.
A moment later, I called Dean from that booth. “When can we meet?”
“Let me call you back in five minutes. I’m on the other line.”
He hung up, and the echo sat with me for those long five minutes.
As promised, he called right on the mark. “Sorry about that. I was just on the phone with Mr. Allen.”
“Mr. Allen? The logo Mr. Allen?”
“Yes.”
“Did our goofy boss urge you call him and apologize?”
“That goofy boss has no idea I just talked to him or that I’ve been talking to him regularly about his accounts.”
Mr. Allen was one of the biggest clients of the marketing firm. He owned and operated a dozen small businesses from flower shops, to hair salons, to gas stations, you name it. “Are you trying to get fired?”
He inhaled deeply, as if already annoyed with my sarcasm. “I’m trying to build a future.”
“By hijacking your boss’s client?”
“I didn’t mean to change his logo. I just wanted to play around with a concept, and accidentally saved the new logo over the existing. Apparently, Mr. Edwards has territorial issues.”
“No,” I said. “Mr. Edwards has self-awareness issues. And you managed to step on his big fat ego.”
“Well—” He paused. “I sent the revised logo to Mr. Allen just a few minutes ago, and he loved it.”
“You are trying to get fired.”
“No. Again, I’m trying to build a future. The man obviously understands business. He’s willing to mentor you tomorrow morning at his home office if you’re up for it?”
“Mr. Allen? Seriously?”
“I told you, I’m resourceful and can get things done.”
My heart beat wildly at the prospect of a real meeting with one of the area’s leading entrepreneurs. “Where and when?”
“I’ll text you the address.”
“You’re coming too, I hope?” I asked.
“Mr. Allen wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.”
Of course not.
He hung up and I sat in the booth like a goofball with a grin too large for my face.
# #
When I returned to our apartment later on, Sasha was making herself a shake with peanut butter and almond milk.
“I’ve got some bad news,” I said, reaching out for the peanut butter covered spoon.
“I’ve got to run and meet a potential client, so can it wait?”
“I got fired today.”
She scanned my face, as if looking for the pun.
“I’ve already got a meeting lined up with a potential mentor to talk with me about opening my own business.”
She snapped away from me and continued blending her shake. She poured the thick vanilla cream into her shake tumbler, and finally looked me in the eye. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She patted my back on her way past me. “There’s some rice and tuna in the fridge.”
No hug. No kiss. Not even a fight to stir the stagnant emotions a little.
The life had been sucked out of our relationship, and we hadn’t even paid our first month’s rent yet.
Such a typical cycle. Start out fresh, end stagnant. Happened every time. Why should my experience with Sasha be any different?
That was life for you.
# #
When Sasha returned home at eleven o’clock that night, I pretended to be asleep. She nudged me anyway. “I don’t think this is going to work out anymore.”
I sat up. “Because I was fired?”
“It dawned on me in the kitchen earlier. We hit our first bump as a couple, and I’m not ready to hit bumps in a relationship yet. I’m not ready for the fun to be done. I’m not ready for real life to hit us and knock us down after only six months together. We used to have fun, remember? But, since we domesticated ourselves, nesting in this new apartment that I don’t even like, it feels too serious and real. We’re so young, and there’s so much I want to explore. I feel trapped. And now with this news of getting fired, I feel the pressure even more. I don’t want responsibility. I just want to keep having fun. But I think that’s over now that real life caught up to us.”
“Life is real. What do you expect?”
“I’m not ready to commit myself to real life yet. I want to date and get silly on wine, wrestle on the living room floor, be spoiled with flowers and chocolate. I’m not ready to say goodbye to a first date. I like change. It keeps me young and fresh in my mind, and right now, I feel kind of old and static. It’s too routine.”
“Then we’ll change things up.” I reached out for her, desperate to feel her in my arms again.
She pulled away. “No, I want to walk away.” She stared into my eyes. “I’m going to walk away.”
“Right now?”
“My sister’s waiting outside in my car for me.”
“It’s that easy for you. Just get some tough news and walk away?”
She shrugged. “We had a fun run. Let’s preserve that memory and just move on.”
“So I was just temporary fun?”
“Everything’s temporary. It’s best not to fight it and just enjoy things for what they are, then move on when it’s over.”
I turned away from her, and she didn’t fight to turn me back around. She simply gathered a few items and walked away, letting me know she’d be back in the morning to gather the rest of her things.
# #
That next morning, when Mr. Allen ushered us into his beautiful home, I pushed Sasha far into the back of my mind. I would not let her ruin the learning opportunity in front of me.
We toured his gardens, his three living rooms, and his home office. He showed us books filled with accolades for his chemical product patents that he helped produce along with a few other scientists, notable scientists he added. The man, with hair as white as fresh snow and wrinkles deep as worn leather, enjoyed stepping back into his past accomplishments with us. He talked as if in a rush to get out every last thought on the subject of his still fruitful career.
I searched for a way to break in, but couldn’t find one in the mix of the rapid-fire energy pooling around us. At one point, he stopped just long enough to cough.
I must have smiled too broadly because he caught onto it and frowned. I immediately wiped that smile off my face and surrendered to listening with a cocked head and arch to my right eyebrow. My listening signal reignited his exuberance, and he dove back into monotone descriptions of his dealings with the U.S. patent office.
Under the veil of his watchful eye, I prayed that Dean would shut this man’s motor for a second so I could pee. He offered no break. We had come to learn how to open a business, and he tossed us boasts about chemical patents instead.