Page 67 of My Merry Mistake
“We take the health and wellness of our employees very seriously,” he continues. “You know that. We have a whole initiative that you yourself have worked on.”
“For the players,” I say. “The health and wellnessof the players.”
He shakes his head. “You know that’s not true. This organization has worked hard—more than any other professional team—to prioritizepeopleoverprofit. We’d be hypocrites if that didn’t extend to our executive staff.”
I sigh. I hate everything about this conversation. My clothes feel too tight all of the sudden, and I want to walk out of here and pretend I have no idea he’s trying to send me home. I just want to do my job.
“Look, this is not a demotion. This is not a replacement. This isn’t even a punishment or a write up or a slap on the wrist.This is self-care.”
I hear him. I know, somewhere deep down, that he’s right. I just don’t know how tonotdo things.
“You know I’d much rather have you here—you’re one of the best in this entire building. But you’re no good to us if you run yourself so ragged you fall apart. You need a break, Raya,” he says. “There’s no shame in that.”
And that’s when I start to understand where this is all coming from. Because there’s only one person who knows what Dr. Gilroy said to me before I left the hospital yesterday, and I’m about to give him a piece of my mind.
I sigh and look away. “I hear you.”
“Good.”
“But I don’t like it.”
He chuckles. “I know you don’t. It’s one of the things I admire about you. Your dedication to do things right. But Raya—” he looks at me— “your health comes first. Period.”
I grit my teeth and nod. “Okay.”
“Look at it as a well-deserved vacation. Paid time off.”
Right. Vacation. That thing I never take.
“For how long?” I ask, thinking for a few days, four at the most, I’d rest a bit, and?—
“Four weeks,” he says.
I only stare. I’m not sure I heard him right. “Did you say?—”
“Yep,” he nods. “Four weeks. It’s not up for debate.”
“You can’t be serious.” My mind spins. “I’m not taking four weeks off.”
Brian shrugs. “It wasn’t all my decision, though I did have a say in it. This one came from the higher-ups, Raya. Plus, you’re going to have to see a doctor before they’ll let you come back.”
“Four weeks is a whole month,” I say, mostly to myself. My mind tries to work out the math. That’s practically the end of December before I can even come back. Then you add the holidays, and it’s even more time off, and—I huff out a breath. “What about my projects? The contracts? The holidays . . .?” It’s a week before Thanksgiving—are they really going to make me miss the holidays in the stadium? “What about Denim and Diamonds?”
He holds up both hands to stop me. “We’re already working on all of this, and there’s a whole team of people working on that fundraiser—they’ll be okay,” he says. “And as far as the games, you can still comeas a fan. But now? Go home and rest. Take care of yourself. You’re no good to anyone if you’re getting carried out of here on a stretcher.” He levels my gaze. “Like I said, this isn’t a punishment.”
“It sure feels like it,” I say.
“Your job is safe,” he says. “Heck, most people would be grateful for the time. A whole month to do whatever you want right before the holidays? Sign me up.”
Brian is about a decade older than me—a husband and a dad. His life outside of here is full, so he doesn’t understand what it’s like to go home to an empty house every night.
I shake my head and stand to go, but before I do, I turn back, square his gaze and say, “What I want to do is work.”
Chapter Seventeen
Finn
Game day.
