They laid me off… on a Friday. Friday, the day before the weekend… at least they let me finish the day before letting me go. It was so cold, clinical even.
"Miranda, it is unfortunate that budget cuts have put us in this position, but…. We just can't afford to keep you. Actually, we have to lay-off the entire department." So, there I was; jobless. Every time I replayed the moment, my stomach swelled with adrenaline as a wave of stress wracked my body. I needed to find a new job. I needed to go back out in the world and find a new purpose. I mean what purpose did I have. I worked as a microbiologist for a small water testing facility in Burbank, California. BURBANK. The land of entertainment and Disney. The place where people's dreams come true. Los Angeles, the land of opportunity, where the streets are paved with gold. And, then there is me… jobless. I don't have many life-skills, I can cook, clean well enough. Maybe I could find a job being an assistant until I get a micro job again…. Maybe I could go into teaching… No, not teaching, anything but teaching.
So, I packed up all the things I accumulated over the past 6 years I worked. As I moved the small instruments and folded my lab coat, I looked down at my left hand. Not only did I desperately need a manicure, but the wedding ring on my left hand added an element of stress I had not yet experienced. What is Cameron going to think? It's going to be another reason I have failed as a life-partner. Not only am I jobless, but I am childless. Don't get me wrong, I tried everything. Positions, lingerie, hormones, IVF, herbs, witchdoctors, shaman, spiritual retreats, no form of baby making was off limits. But alas, no babies were made. Between poly-cystic ovarian syndrome and depression induced low sperm counts, Cameron and I couldn't keep a baby, no matter how loud an orgasm, or however many times we were pinched, poked, and prodded. So, I was jobless, and childless. Oh, and I'm getting divorced…
Cameron's decision to end our marriage was as cliché at best. Ronnie was her name. She was short and petite, thin, with a massive ass. Like hip-hop video huge. And boy could she fuck. I saw her once… Fucking my husband. He made noises that I didn't know a human could make. When I caught him fucking Ronnie, he was balls-deep, her breast bouncing, her knees were around his ears. It was what seemed like a slow fuck. Not the "get your ricks off" kind you think cheating entails, but instead it was passionate. She moaned deep and I stood there. Watching. Watching another woman fuck my husband better than I could ever imagine doing myself. And after the initial shock, anger grew to jealousy, and jealousy grew to pure detachment. I remember tapping the doorframe and asking if I could join them. I had never seen two people move so quickly. Ronnie was on the floor scrambling for panties and Cameron stood there with a stupid expression on his face, dick still erect. Then, like the detached asshole that I am, I walked into the room, opened a drawer, grabbed a few items and left. Correction, I am jobless, childless, and husbandless.