Page 2 of Happy Harbor
“Please, don’t fire me. I’ll try harder. I’ll apologize to everyone, and I’ll even go see a shrink or something. Don’t fire me.”
“I’m sorry, Josie, but this is it.”
“Sandra, you just said I’m the best. Clients will be so upset...”
“Please clean out your desk and leave your key card with Patti.” Sandra stood up and crossed her arms.
Realizing she wasn’t kidding or bluffing, Josie slowly stood. “What am I supposed to do now?” Her voice, softer and possibly trembling, fell from her lips in more of a stutter.
“I don’t know, but I wish you the best. I really do. I wish things could have been... easier.”
Easier. That word had never been part of Josie’s vocabulary. From her earliest moments of life, her existence had never been described as easy. Better words for it werecomplicated,emotional,gritty,raw, and maybe evensad. Buteasy? Never.
Josie felt her feet walking slowly out of the office, but she didn’t feel in control of them at all. It was as if they were floating across the floor, and she was just an unwilling passenger. She made it to her office, which was just a couple of doors down from Sandra’s. There was already a box sitting on her desk. She turned around to see if anyone was standing behind her, but no one was.
As she slid behind her desk, probably for the last time, and laid her forehead against the beloved mahogany surface, she held back tears. Crying wasn’t her thing, and she wasn’t about to start now.
“Are you okay?”
She looked up to see her friend—her only friend, really—Melody. She was standing there with an empathetic—or maybe sympathetic—look on her face.
“What have you heard?” Josie replied, her throat inexplicably hoarse.
“Pretty much everything. Gossip travels fast in this place. Who gave you the box?”
“No idea. I assume somebody who is really excited to see me leave.”
“Do you want me to help you pack?”
“No, thanks. But can you give my key card to Patti? I don’t feel like walking right down the center of the office when I leave. I prefer to slink out the back door and disappear into oblivion.”
Melody walked over and sat across from her. “You’ll land on your feet. You always do, Josie.”
“I’ve alwayshadto. I’m pretty tired of starting over.”
“It’s just a job! Remember, you’ve got a wonderful fiancé and a beautiful daughter.”
Josie laughed. “My fiancé is pretty great, but my daughter? Well, she’s a handful, just like I was at her age. She scares me.”
Melody laughed. “You’ll be okay. I just know it.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, but I’d better pack my stuff before they send in the military to extract me.”
She watched as Melody left her office and then looked down at her desk. She had two framed pictures, her favorite pen, and her iPad. Other than that, nothing else belonged to her.
Josie had always packed light, never expecting to stay somewhere long. That, too, was a part of her childhood. Some things never left you, and the feeling of having no roots never left her. After all, how does a person get roots if they were never given any?
She tossed her belongings into the box and stood up, grabbing her messenger bag and favorite umbrella from the corner. As she turned off the light, she sighed. Another new beginning she didn’t ask for. Another failure to add to her long list of them. The one bright light was the fact that she was having dinner with Craig tonight. He’d make it better. He’d tell her how amazing she was, how smart and determined. He’d pump her up until she could find a new job. She just had to make it until dinnertime.
* * *
Josie opened the front door of her townhome and slammed it behind her. This day had not gone as planned, and she was ready to drink an enormous glass of wine and watch trashy daytime TV until her eyes bled.
She lived in the fanciest suburb of Atlanta, and most of her neighbors were away at work during the day. The only people she saw were nannies and stay-at-home moms with their cute yoga pants and expensive sneakers. Even though she lived among them, she was anything but rich. Never in her life had she been “well-off” when it came to money. It was only recently that she could afford the rent in a place like this to provide the best life for her daughter.
Now that Kendra was sixteen and a junior in high school, Josie felt like her job as a parent was almost done. Her grandmother had told her a long time ago that parenting was forever, but she hoped her daughter was going to fall in line soon and become a contributing member of society. She had always been a straight-A student until her grades recently began to slip, and she started hanging out with the wrong crowd. Josie had to do something. Getting them into this townhouse six months ago had been like an act of God. The rent was still a stretch, but the pride she’d felt when her daughter started at a better school had been worth all the long hours at work, especially over the last year. Though not spending as much time with her daughter had been hard, and sometimes Josie blamed herself for Kendra’s new attitude problems.
She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, selecting a half-drunk bottle of wine. Had she really drunk that much in the tub last night? Staring at the bottle, she scoffed at the idea. There was no way she drank that much. Brushing off the worry that her daughter might’ve done it, she poured herself a glass and leaned against the cold granite countertop.
