I walk out of her office. My insides are shaking, and my eyes burn. I struggle to maintain my composure until I get to the car. Once I get inside my vehicle, I break down. I can’t stop the tears or the sobbing. My chest is so tight, and I’m broken and devastated that I can’t do better for my mom.
After several minutes, I grab some tissue from the center console and wipe my eyes, then blow my nose. I take a few deep breaths, put my car into drive, and head home.
I’m so tired. So much so that as I'm pulling onto our street, my eyes are half-closed and I misjudge the turn and end uphitting and going up over the curb. I’m able to correct and steer back into the street, but I’m really distraught that this happened.
I’ve never been a nighttime person. I’ve worked it out of necessity, but I can’t continue to go without sleep because it is becoming unsafe.
As I drive to the end of the street where our house is, there’s a thumping sound as if a helicopter is above me. I look up and see nothing, so I drive the last couple of hundred yards and pull into the driveway. When I get out of the car, I see that the helicopter is actually a flat tire, and my shoulders sag even lower.
What else can go wrong?
Chapter Nine
Harrison
“You want to tell me what this is?”
Henry slaps the piece of paper down onto my desk.
I don’t bother to look away from the email I’m typing. I have a pretty good idea what’s on that piece of paper.
“Hello to you, too.”
I click send on the email, push the keyboard away from me, and turn my head toward Henry. With an exaggerated sigh, I pick up my glasses and slip them onto my face. Then I lift the piece of paper. I don’t really need glasses most of the time—just when I’m tired. Emotionally, physically, it doesn’t matter which. My vision gets blurry when exhaustion hits.
I read the simple words on the paper:
Henry,
I quit.
Your brother is insufferable.
Jennifer
“It looks like a resignation to me.” I drop the letter back onto the desk and look at my older brother and business partner.
He shakes his head and slumps into the chair on the opposite side of my desk. “I know it’s a fucking resignation letter.”
“Okay, well, I have a lot of work to do, so…”
Henry pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes. He takes three deep breaths. I almost chuckle watching him try to keep it together—but I don’t.
A wave of guilt hits me. Henry could use help. An assistantwouldmake his life easier.
“You wouldn’t have so much work to do if you’d let an assistant help you instead of pawning them off on me.”
“Iwasletting Jennifer help me, and Susan before her. What happened to them, I wonder? Oh, yeah, you chased them away with your grumpy ass.”
I lean back in my chair and fold my arms across my chest. “I told you I don’t need help. Hire someone just for you.”
“There’s not enough work with only my stuff to justify a full-time hire. It’s hard to find someone who wants part-time hours and is mature enough to do the job right.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “It has to be appealing. People want benefits; they want security. You can’t keep chasing off assistants and receptionists.”
“I haven’tchasedanyone off.” His eyebrows shoot up like he doesn’t believe me. “Are you being serious right now?”
“As a heart at—” He stops himself.
My chest tightens. It will always be too soon for that phrase.
