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First my relationship, and now my career. Devastation crashed over me like huge stone walls.
Ignoring her outstretched hand, I turned around and bolted from her office like a coward. What else was there to do but empty out my desk and go home? I didn’t want to face my coworkers and hear their sympathies. I wanted to drown myself in a bottle of tequila.
Don’t be stupid. Your designs are good. You’ll find another job.
“Natalie? What are you doing?”
A photo of Ben and I sat on my desk, its metallic frame grinning.
It’s all your fault.
I hurled it into the trashcan, along with all the other unnecessary trinkets. The only thing I kept was my coffee mug, which I shoved into my purse.
“Natalie!”
Janine poked her head around my cubicle.
I dissolved when I saw the concern on her face. “I—I was laid off.”
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.”
I waved it off and dried my eyes on my sleeve. The box of tissues was buried deep in the trash. Another surge of violent heat seared through my veins. I was so sick of tissues, so sick of crying all the time.
“You’ll find something else.”
She placed a tentative hand on my shoulder, which I ignored.
In this economy? Good fucking luck.
I ripped open my drawers and crammed the files I wanted to keep into my already overfilled purse.
“We should go out for a drink.”
“No.” I didn’t think I could handle dozens of people saying how very sorry they were, and how they were sure I would find another job.
Not today.
“I want to get out of here.”
Maybe there was too much bitterness in my voice.
Her eyes shined with nauseating pity. “You’ll come back, won’t you?”
Shouldering my purse, I shrugged at her and walked out of the office. I slammed the elevator button as I thought what I should do.
Telling my best friend what happened was my first instinct, but I knew it wouldn'tcomfort me have her look into my eyes with the same pitying expression I used to give her. It was embarrassing.
Maybe I would just go home and visit my parents for the weekend. I thought of San Ramon: the oak trees, the ranch-style house where I grew up, the sparkling pool, the sunshine pouring through the kitchen, the comfortable beds, and Mom’s cooking.
What will Mom say?
I chewed my lip the whole way home.
Dad will be pissed.
He never supported my decision to major in graphic design. Graphic designers were a dime a dozen, and competition was fierce. It didn’t pay well, but that wasn’t the point. I majored in it because I was good at it. Because making art was what I wanted to do for a living.
I shot off a quick text to Jessica, explaining what happened and where I was going. My phone vibrated and lit up with a call I knew was from her. Itblared with its merry tune until it fell silent and died. I didn’t feel like talking about it. I picked it up and my face reflected in the dark glass. Then I called my mom.
