Maggie shook her head and looked out the window. She clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it. She rarely cried, so Cora tried to give her space as she processed what had happened.
They rode home in silence, with Maggie occasionally hiccuping a leftover sob. Maggie’s progression from tears to fury was a quick and predictable one. Cora actually felt bad that Darnell was on the receiving end of this much rage.
“Can I ask how it happened?”
The words came out in angry bursts. “The guys from corporate were in. Darnell made some crack about how I shouldn’t be up for the Excellence program because I stole a steamer. Corporate heard ‘steal,’ and I was out on my ass.” She clenched her fists. “I want to kill that fucker.”
“Are youserious?” It sounded like just one of Darnell’s badly timed jokes. “Why would he do that?”
“He did it because he didn’t like the competition. He’s used to being number one, and for the first time in a long time he wasn’t going to be because my numbers areinsanethis quarter. I can’t believe he’s jealous of me!”
Cora knew that wasn’t the case. Darnell was Maggie’s devoted friend, and there was no way he would ever do anything to sabotage her. More likely, he had just reacted to the discomfort of the moment with a wisecrack.
“Was he ... kidding? You know how he makes those stupid jokes all the time. Was he trying to be funny and show off?”
“It doesn’t matter, Cora! He said what he said, and now I don’t have a job!”
Cora thought better of trying to debate Maggie. She felt awful for her friend.
“There goes my three-year plan,” Maggie muttered. “All that work, all that low-level folding and stocking and groveling, and I’ve got shit to show for it. I was working toward something, Cora! I was on the executive track. I paid my dues on the floor and I was about to move up, big-time. I was so goddamned good at my job.”
Cora reached over and squeezed Maggie’s hand. “I know you were. They do, too. I’m so sorry, Mags.”
Maggie stormed down the hallway in front of Cora and furiously wrenched the front door open, as if it too had conspired to get her fired. She took two steps in, tripped, and landed hard on her knees, then let out a wail that summoned the dogs from the couch.
Fritz and Josie ran to where Maggie knelt, crying with her face in her hands, and immediately began licking and pawing at her. Cora stood in the doorway and let them work their magic, knowing that nothing she could say or do would be as effective as the ministrations from the dogs. Maggie rolled on to her side on the ground, and Josie spooned into position against her, leaning back to lick the tears dropping from her chin. Fritz stood behind Maggie with one paw resting protectively on her shoulder. His ears were pinned back, and his tongue flicked around his mouth lizard-like as if tasting the air, telegraphing the stress he was feeling. He glanced back at Cora for direction.
“It’s okay,” she mouthed to him. She made her eyes soft and sad and nodded toward Maggie on the floor so that he would know to stay with her. She walked to them wordlessly and sat at Maggie’s feet, and the three of them let their friend cry until her tears stopped.
TWENTY-SIX
“My name is Cora Bellamy. I am Cora Bellamy. Hey, I’m Cora Bellamy!Je m’appelle Cora bel Ami.”
She stood in front of the mirror on the inside of her closet door, introducing herself to an imaginary audience with a variety of inflections and facial expressions, hoping to hit on one that felt natural, but the more she repeated her name the stranger it sounded.
Cora leaned in close and studied her face in the mirror. Her skin was blemish free, and it was doubtful anything would sprout overnight. Her dark brows looked tidy, her undereye bags were minimal, and with enough makeup, she hoped that she could pull together a camera-ready look for the audition.
She crossed her arms and turned around to stare at the two brand-new outfits carefully placed on her bed and wasn’t surprised to find Fritz nestled in between them. One was a pale pink featherweight sweater paired with slim-fitting black pants, the other a bold black-and-white chevron-print blouse and dark jeans, topped off with a dramatic pink statement necklace. Usually Maggie would’ve been at her side during such an important shopping trip, helping to select a look that Cora never would’ve considered, but she couldn’t rouse Maggie from the couch.
“Mags, can you come in here for a sec?” Cora hoped that she could refocus her, if only for a moment. She desperately wanted her friend’s cheerleading as she prepped for the audition.
Maggie wandered in with Josie in tow. She looked disheveled, swollen, and shell-shocked, as if she still couldn’t believe what had happened, even after a week. Cora knew there was an ounce of drama queen in her over-the-top response to her firing, but she allowed her friend to revel in it.
Josie hadn’t left Maggie’s side as she worked through the stages of anger, a life preserver or an anchor, depending on Maggie’s mood. Only Josie could offer her the comfort she needed. Cora christened the dog “Clara Barkton” because of her impressive nursing skills.
“Hey, can you help me decide between these two outfits for tomorrow? You’re the pro, so what should I wear?”
Maggie squinted her eyes at the options. “Uhhh. Either. I’m sure you look perfect in both of them.” She shrugged her shoulders and reached down to pet Josie.
“So, you have no artistic preference? Like, from a stage presence perspective?”
“They’re both good. Either one. And remember, it’s not about what you wear, it’s aboutyou.” Maggie sounded exasperated.
Cora couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Maggie had built a successful career based on the power of the right outfit, so her saying that it didn’t matter was like a zealot renouncing religion.
“Okay, what would you wear then?”
Maggie shrugged her shoulders again. “Chevron, I guess.”
