I stare wide-eyed at my executioner, stunned into complete silence. My ears start ringing and my blood pounds in my head. I can see her lips moving, but I can’t hear a word she’s saying.
Does it smell like burnt rubber in here? Am I having a cardiac event?
I can’t be fired.
No, no, no, no.
I snort, then immediately slap a hand over my mouth to stop what Iknowis coming. It doesn’t help. It starts as a giggle, then grows into a belt of loud, manic laughter. The noise jolts Janet out of her obviously prepared bullshit speech, and she just stares in horror as I completely lose my shit.
I’m being let go. The job I took essentially to save myself is gone. I've been here for two years. Two years of clawing my way out of the dark hole that was my life, just to be laid off.
It’s fine. This isfine.
It’s not like I moved here without knowing a single soul, or put all of my eggs in this suddenly very disappointing basket. I recall my thoughts from earlier today about not wanting to be a teacher and mentally kick myself. Though it’s definitely true, I can’t help but feel like I just jinxed myself in the worst possible way.
I bring my hands to the side of my face and thread my fingers through the hair at my temples. Mrs. Abbott starts to look uncomfortable—maybe even a little disturbed—by my very drawn out, evil witch laugh.
Logically, I know that me losing my job isn’t personally her fault. There’s the school board, votes, things that aren’t completely up to her. But illogically, I want to swipe my arms across her stupid polished wooden desk and send everything flying. I know in mybones that she’s enjoying this—if the faintly smug look plastered across her face says anything.
I restrain myself though, and quickly calm my hysterics. I wipe under my eyes, and finally stand with what little dignity I have left.
“Ms. Bennett, I understand you're upset–” she begins, faking an attempt to soothe me.
I hold up my hands, silently begging her to stop.
“Email me what I need to sign,” I say as evenly as I can manage, then march out her office, and out of the building that, though I didn’t love, saved me in a lot of ways.
I stride toward the parking lot, practically numb. I can still feel the adrenaline coursing through me, and my stomach sours.
What am I going to do?
My survival instincts kick in immediately, and I start a mental checklist, thinking of every possible job I could apply for. I’ll work anywhere, as long as I don’t have to go back to California. Not that there’s anyone or anything waiting for me there. Daniel stopped calling after the first month I left and hasn’t reached out since.
God, I just want this day to be over. I need to soak in a tub, maybe down three or four glasses of wine, and come up with a plan. I just need to get home.
Oh god.Rose.
My landlord slash self-appointed grandmother is going to get a kick out of this. How do you tell your landlord turned very good friend that you were just fired? I know she depends on the money she gets from renting out the apartment above her garage, so I need to make sure she keeps getting that money.
I all but throw myself, and my purse, into my twenty-plus-year-old 4runner and slam the door shut. I take a long, much needed breath and try to calm myself down.
What am I going to do?
I wonder if any of the other schools in the district have openings, then immediately question whether that’s even something I actually want. I have some money in savings, but not nearly enough to ease my mind for long. At best, I could get by for a couple months.
The shrill ringing of my phone fills the car, yanking me back to reality. I rifle through my full and disorganized tote bag, finally pulling out my phone to see Sophie’s name lighting up the screen. I close my eyes and take a steadying breath as I slide my thumb to answer.
“Hi.” I try to sound unaffected, but my voice betrays me, cracking on the single word.
Sophie hears it instantly. “What’s wrong?” she shouts down the line.
I turn the key in the ignition, set the phone to speaker, and wedge it into the closed sun visor above my head. Having an old car means no bluetooth capabilities. I throw my arm over the passenger seat’s headrest and turn as I back out of my parking spot.
“Pretty much everything,” I answer with an incredulous laugh.
“So…you weren’t asked to help with the science fair?” Sophie asks softly.
I turn onto the road toward home and let out a deep sigh. “No.”
