“Um....” She plays with her hair, not making eye contact. “I think you should talk to Janet.”
Janet? My boss. An inkling of what’s happening here settles in and I get cranky. “Fine, I’ll do that.”
Did they hire someone new and there weren’t any other offices they could stick her in? Where am I going to work? Why didn’t someone mention this in one of the many emails I sent that they barely responded to over the last few weeks?
Janet’s office is three doors down and I don’t bother knocking when I turn the handle and let myself in. Her eyes widen when she sees me and she gets off her phone call.
“Josie, we didn’t expect you today. Why don’t you sit down?” she says, motioning to the chair in front of her desk.
I do, but only because I don’t want to seem rude by turning down the invitation.
“What’s going on here, Janet?” They actuallywereexpecting me today. I told them in my last e-mail.
To her credit she looks upset for a moment before she begins talking. “Josie, when you didn’t know when you were coming back, we had to hire someone to do your job and she’s worked out well.”
“Okay and…” I don’t finish my sentence waiting for her to do it.
“We’ve decided we’re going to keep Stephanie and let you go. It’s nothing personal. You did a great job, but Stephanie doesn’t have the same time constraints.”
I hesitate for a second letting my brain works through what she said. “You’re letting me go? But I had a doctor’s note.”
Janet nods her head. “Yes, but you didn’t work here long enough for that to mean anything. You’re still in the six-month probationary period and you missed weeks of work. We had to do something. Stephanie is the mayor’s niece, and she jumped right into the opening. I hope you understand.”
I most certainly do not. This was my job.Myjob.
My eyes blink rapidly as I sit in the chair unmoving. I understand what she’s saying, but I don’t understand it either. What will I do now? How will I provide for Emma? Where will we live?
I swallow hard, refusing to cry in front of her. I don’t care if I end up living back in my mother’s house listening to her tell me “I told you so” every day for the rest of my life. I refuse to let anyone else see me cry.
Without another word to Janet, I nod my head and stand. Screw her.
“If you need a reference, Josie, you know I’ll give you a good one,” she yells after me as I walk out of her doorway, nodding like I’m okay with everything that has gone down in the last hour.
I stop in my old office and grab my box of stuff, not talking to Stephanie, who doesn’t give me the same reassurances of a good reference. Screw her too.
The walk to my car and drive back to Pelican Bay happen in silence, and when I get to my apartment building, I keep driving. I’m not sure where I’m headed, but I know I can’t go back and sit in an empty living room today. I need something to help get me through.
Something chocolate.
12
Chocolate and Nate would be best, but I can’t bother him while he’s at work. I refuse to be that helpless in my life. The money I received in the divorce, which I planned to supplement my income for the next sixteen years while Emma is living at home, has dwindled down to nearly nothing. Before I realized it, needing a job became a serious concern. Expenses kept piling up when I wasn’t looking.
I drive down Main Street in Pelican Bay, intending to head to the beach and clear my thoughts by listening to the waves crash against the shore, but the smell of fresh baked bread forces my car to pull over into a space in front of the bakery.
I walk in the front doors not talking to anyone, but Anessa takes one look at me and pulls a chocolate cupcake from her display case. The frosting is white with black specks and it’s easy to figure out the flavor with the circular Oreo placed on top standing straight up in the frosting.
“You look like you need this,” she says, handing me the cupcake.
I take it without complaint and sit down on the opposite side of the little table that usually houses Pearl. “Thanks.” I take off the Oreo and nibble at the sides, hoping I can make the chocolate last as long as I need it.
A lifetime.
My phone rings, and even though I don’t want to, I reach into my bag I brought in with me and pull it out. Nate’s name is on the screen and I answer. Hopefully, hearing his voice will help.
“Josie, what’s wrong,” he asks, frantically. “Is everything okay with Emma?”
I hesitate before answering. “What do you mean what’s wrong?”
