Page 9 of I Knew You
Today, June didn’t know she’d picked the wrong day to mess with me.
“Are you the parking patrol? Why have you been watching me so intently?” My voice sounded sharp and forceful, which was strange. I never spoke assertively outside of work. I continued anyway, “Did someone put you on security detail for the complex? Are you watching me for your entertainment or business? I need to know.”
“Well, I’ve never!” She scoffed and placed a hand on her hip. “Somebody must watch this place. I don’t want us to fall into anarchy like over at Summerhill.”
I didn’t know what fate had befallen Summerhill, but was it worse than June Callahan?
“I’m not moving my car until tomorrow. Now I have to get inside because this is heavy. Have a good evening.” I walked away, balancing the load anew, feeling my grip on the box loosening. I hurried faster.
“This is not the end of this conversation, missy!” June shouted as I strained to put the combo into my keyless entrywith one finger. She was still standing midway down the walkway when I closed the door with my foot.
I dropped the box on the kitchen bar and silently applauded myself. I’d made it through an unwarranted confrontation with the most annoying person I knew without letting my true emotions show. But the adrenaline and relief fell away, and the tears rose again.
Losing your job would do that to a person. And I was unfortunately that person.
I’d been a marketing specialist at Spalder & Spade Publishing Company for ten years. I’d worked my way up from a lowly part-time intern to the company’s social media manager, and clearly, all that hard work meant nothing when a new management team swept in and began to clean house.
I was great at my job. I’d hoped that since they’d started canning people, my abilities would speak for themselves, and I wouldn’t lose what I’d worked so hard for. It was the one thing in my life that I felt fully accomplished at. Yet, earlier that day, right when I was gathering my purse and laptop to leave, I was surprised by the sight of the newly hired HR manager getting off the elevator.
I’d never seen HR on our floor. When I spotted a yellow paper and a large envelope in her hands, I knew it was the end for me. My severance package included little compensation, an apology letter I didn’t read entirely, and a cardboard box with the company’s logo to pack my possessions into.
As I left, I eyed Brenda, the administrative assistant, across the open office. She would likely be replaced next. She was the last remaining employee on this floor from the original staff. I hoped they would spare her. She had four kids and a mortgage. I only had to worry about myself. I rented my townhouse and had no family or pets to support. I had no significant other to consider. All I had was my work, a writing obsession, a reading addiction, rage cleaning, and a bank oftrashy television knowledge. It was a simple life, but it was all I needed.
I let loose a sob and bent over the countertop, letting my hot cheek fall onto the cool stone. I looked at the publishing logo on the box full of snacks, photographs, and awards I’d accumulated over my career. Everything I’d worked for was gone, and all that remained was one box of useless crap.
The sound of the code being put into my front door lock made me wipe away the tears falling down my cheeks. Only one other person knew the code to my door, and I couldn’t let her see me looking like a wreck. This was not something even a best friend could fix.
As predicted, Kallie walked in without preamble, holding a cake box. She must have had a long day at her bakery because her black t-shirt and dark skinny jeans were covered in flour, and her blond hair was pulled into a bun atop her head, which had long lost its structural integrity. She looked through the open doorway, puzzled.
“Fight with the gigantic stand mixer again?” I asked.
She said nothing at my jab but stared out the open door. “Why is June Callahan standing on her stoop, watching me walk in here?”
I rolled my eyes. “Ignore her.”
She closed the door. “What is her problem?”
“Not much has changed since you moved out, except now she’s put me in her sights. She accosted me a minute ago about parking in Mr. Richardson’s spot while he is on vacation this week. I was carrying this.” I showcased the box in front of me like Vanna White.
Her face fell. “So, it’s true? I hoped you were joking on the phone.” She set her box on the countertop beside mine, walked around the kitchen island, and took me into her arms.
Our hug was awkward. We were very close, so it wasn’t uncomfortable to hug, in theory, but we couldn’t have beenmore physically opposite. Kallie was short, slender, and pixie-like. I was tall, curvy, and large. My frame all but swallowed her.
Despite our outward appearances, having someone in my corner who cared about me felt so good. Kallie had been that person for me since we became inseparable in college.
“I’m so sorry,” Kallie soothed. I pulled back smiling slightly, but I was swallowing the lump in my throat and trying to keep my tears at bay.
This was another difference between us. Kallie was headstrong and opinionated—the epitome of a tough woman. I leaned heavily into empathy and thoughtfulness, typically only concerned with others. To have someone worry about me was the worst thing I could imagine.
I shrugged a little, softening the moment. “It is what it is.”
Yet she saw right through me.
“You’re allowed to grieve,” Kallie scolded. “Quit acting like this isn’t a big deal.”
I leaned against the counter. “I don’t have time to grieve. I have to scramble to find another job. I was too busy thinking they’d keep me around because of my success. And I did last longer than most.”
“You did,” she agreed with a nod. She didn’t honestly know, though. I hadn’t discussed my job much. I felt like a failure next to her, even though I was proud of her. It was a conundrum of emotions that was a hallmark of my personality.
