do you feel the way you hate do you hate the way you feel always closest to the flame ever closer to the blade i am poison crazy lush built these hands to lift me up we are servants of our formulaic ways i'm screaming daisies from fourteen miles away i've got my own time got it all today make up your mind i need some help to find this mind limbo this and limbo that you were this and you were that ever know that what you fear is what you find
--"greedy fly" bush
Dr. Kelland fired me. He fired me to make room for that sniveling incompetent with a fancy last name. I've been working there (or, I should say, worked there) for five years, and was let go without so much as a by-your-leave. I didn't go to school for seven years for this. I deserve better.
Or at least, I thought so until this morning. Nothing can make one feel worse, it seems (besides maybe abandoning your true love) than being told one isn't good enough. Dr. Kelland said that to me, not in so many words. I don't even really remember what he said to me, it is merely a blur. All I know is that I am now jobless and directionless, my eyes are red and sore, my throat is raw, and my head pounds. I see that someone has placed a little tray on the nightstand, complete with juice, a muffin, and flowers. There's a little note, too. Dear Mum, it says, I am very sorry that I broke the vase. I'll be grounded for as long as you want. Love, Alex. PS: I'm also sorry that you got fired. Your boss is stupid.
This makes me smile, though I wonder about the vase. What vase? What did he break? It strikes me how lovely it feels to think about something other than being sacked, but as soon as I think that I'm back to thinking about how awful it all is. Damn Dr. Kelland, and his damn Bembrige board. I'll have to get Rick to teach me some more colorful swear words so I can really let loose at them.
As I sip at the juice (still with no intention of getting out of bed) my husband peeks around the doorframe of our room warily. "You're up," he says. "Can I come in?"
"Please." I just sort of crumple into Rick's arms, clutching him as though he were a rock in the middle of a stormy sea.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
No. "What did Alex break?"
I can feel him laughing silently as he holds me. "Do you really want to know?"
"Probably not, but I might as well get all the bad news all at once."
"Uh, well, it was that big tall vase in the front hall. The one with the green dots."
"Oh."
Rick sighs. "Oh, honey..."
"What?"
"You must be upset. We're talking Ramses II here."
"Of course I'm upset!" I can feel the fury that I've just barely suppressed bubbling again. "I just got fired, how do you think I am?"
"Sorry," he mutters, in a way I can tell he doesn't mean it. Even so, he begins to rub my shoulders, attempting to release the tension there. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"
"What? You aren't going to stay with me?"
He sighs. "Honey, I have to go to work. They're going to start wondering where I am; I haven't even stopped by yet."
I can't believe this. It occurs to me that perhaps I'm being a bit unreasonable, and then I decide I don't care. "You've been too busy to even stop by your office, and now when I really need you, you're going to work?"
"I've been busy here, Evy. I have to go eventually; I own the damn place."
"I just..." I can feel tears coming on again, and this is not what I want right now. "I don't know what I'm going to do."
"You'll figure something out, I know it."
"Well, I don't." I shrug away from his touch and move off the bed. I try to direct my rage at a more suitable subject and settle upon Dr. Kelland. "What am I supposed to do? I've done everything they asked of me and I haven't gotten anywhere. How am I supposed to get anywhere with my career if they won't let me? How am I supposed to support Alex and--" I cut myself off, realizing I haven't even thought about my new situation. "...Habit."
"You don't have to worry about that anymore," says Rick. "You can do whatever you want, Evy, anything. You can go on as many digs as you want. I'll build you your own museum, whatever."
I should be happy, shouldn't I? Why do I feel this indignation rising? Why can't I just let someone to take care of me for once? "I don't like to have things handed to me."
"I'm not..." I can see annoyance cross his face, too. "Look, Evy, you have worked for this. Ten times as hard as any of those Bembridge bastards, I'm sure. You deserve to be able to follow your dreams."
"So I'll do it my own way. I'll do it myself. I'll work for it."
"I worked for it," he says. "That means it's yours, too. Let's show those guys what you can really do."
"All it takes is money, then?" I ask. "You're saying if I had your money from the beginning I'd be running the board by now?"
"Jesus, Evy, I'm saying you don't have to go through them anymore. You have the freedom to go out and do all those things they wouldn't let you do before."
"With your money. It feels like charity. It feels like the easy way out."
"Fine, then." He stands, all vestiges of patience gone now. "I suppose we'll forego the house and the yard, then, too, seeing as how it would seem like charity. Hell, why don't I just throw away everything I've worked for? We'll live here for the rest of our lives. The dog doesn't need a yard, and hey, if Alex ever has siblings, they can all share his room. We can sell my car, too, walk around London barefoot. You can stay unemployed, and I'll sit in bars and tell war stories. Sounds like a hell of a life to me."
He walks out then, and I am overwhelmed by how stupid I am, how stupid everything I said, everything he said, how dreadfully silly this whole conversation was. I'm so tired, I can barely even stand, and somehow I've managed to heap even more gloom upon us. What the hell were we even fighting about? What is wrong with me?
To borrow a phrase from Rick....
Shit.
When I get there (with only one driving-in-the-right-lane incident) I sit in the car for a while, contemplating. I'm not one for contemplating, but I can't seem to muster the strength to go into the building. It's three stories, stone, trimmed with bright blue. The only familiar thing about it is the sign above the double doors, the Jamilah Shipping logo. I designed the original one years ago, but the current logo is courtesy of Sherrie, who is somewhat more artistic. She, and others, suggested changing the name of the company as well, but I wouldn't have it...
Sigh. Amazing how I can twist my thoughts back around to Evy no matter the subject.
I get out of the car and head inside, nervous despite myself. I've never met any of these people, and now I have to go order them around. I don't plan on being there full-time anyway; there's a man named James Boyne who runs the branch. I've been told he's competent, and there's never been any problems in this office that I've heard of.
The secretary in the front lobby smiles brightly at me when I enter. "Good day sir, welcome to Jamilah Shipping, how can I help you?"
"Hi. My name is Rick O'Connell, I believe you're expecting me."
Her smiles stays on (the duration of the grin beginning to look a little fake around the edges) and consults her schedule. "No, sir, I don't have you down. Who were you supposed to be seeing?"
"Err, nobody. I'm the owner. Could you just direct me to James Boyne's office?"
She reapplies her courtesy smile and waves a hand toward the line of chairs on the wall. "Someone will be up momentarily to speak with you."
I take a seat and she returns to whatever it was she was doing before I interrupted her day. I've never been here; I can't expect every secretary to know my name, let alone my face. Never had much inclination to visit London, so it's no wonder. The secretary offers me some coffee and another fake smile.
Almost ten minutes pass before a man in a dark blue suit comes strides calmly out of the inner offices. "Mr. O'Connell," he says solemnly, and shakes my hand. "James Boyne. Such an honor to meet you at last."
"Great to meet you. I hear you've done some job with this place."
He shrugs humbly and directs me out of the lobby. "We get along okay. I think you'll be pleased with some of the changes we've made in the past year. You'll want to meet the staff, of course, and the board........."
The next few hours blur together. Combine Boyne's endless blathering with endless meetings and introductions and explanations, and I've never been happier to get out of a building. They do a great job of running this branch, and clearly they don't need me all that much.
I can think of somewhere else where they do. I can't wait to get home.
*~*~*~*
Sorry it's been so long. :):):)