“That will be all, Ms.Jones.”He gestures toward the door.“We do wish you a Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, standing.My throat is tight as I nod, struggling to keep my composure.
Thank you?
Why on earth did I say that?
He just fired me.
My legs wobble as I walk out, tears brimming from my eyes.On autopilot, I swipe an obscene handful of cookies from the table—the very cookies I wished to enjoy just moments ago—and mope back to my desk, all eyes still on me.
I slide open the bottom drawer of my file cabinet and retrieve my purse, coat, and a reusable shopping bag I keep on hand for emergencies, quickly filling it with my belongings.
Well, I guess that’s everything.
Gretchen watches me closely and follows me into the hallway.The instant the door swings shut behind us, I crumble.The floodgates burst open, and an uncontrollable sob takes over me.
“What the heck just happened?”she asks.“Why are you leaving?”
I shove a snowman-shaped cookie into my mouth, attempting to drown my sorrow in sweetness.Tears stream down my cheeks and into my mouth, mixing with the sugary bliss, turning it sour.“They let me go,” I manage to choke out.“I think your job is safe,” I add between bites, waving the snowman in Gretchen’s face.
“I’m not worried about me right now, Jemma.”She waits until I finish chewing, then pulls me into a tight hug, her thick, wild, caramel-colored hair wrapping around me like a comforting cape.“Ugh, this is so unfair!I can’t believe they’re doing this to you right before Christmas.”
“I can,” I sob.
Gretchen pulls back just enough to meet my gaze.She studies me with a familiar intensity, and I brace myself for one of her signature uplifting pep talks.It’s what she’s known for.Feeling sad?Go to Gretchen.Need a mood boost?Go to Gretchen.Sometimes I think she should write a self-help book.
“Jemma,” she begins, wagging her finger at me.“You’re not going to let this get you down.You got that?”
I can’t seem to get my mouth to do anything but frown, so I force a nod to appease her.
“Now, hear me out,” she insists.“This sucks.I’m mad for you.Like, seriously mad.This isn’t cool.But what can you do about it?”
I crinkle my nose.“Where are you going with this, Gretch?”
“I said hear me out.So impatient.”She smirks, tossing her thick hair over one shoulder.“You’re a workaholic, Jemma.I know your goal was to move into marketing, but sometimes the universe has other plans for you.You were missing out on life, and for what?”
I huff, crossing my arms defensively.“I don’t know, maybe to pay rent?”
Truth is, this layoff couldn’t have come at a worse time.I need the distraction.
Gretchen rolls her eyes.“Okay, true.But there’s more to life than just a job.Think of this as the universe showing you it’s time to realign your priorities.You eat three meals a day at your desk.You haven’t been on a date in God knows how long.When I met you, all you talked about was traveling and visiting places like Paris.What happened to that Jemma?”
That Jemma doesn’t exist anymore.
“Find her,” Gretchen says as if she’s listening to my very thoughts.“Things like this don’t happen without good reason.”She gives my shoulder an encouraging pat.“Find the silver lining in all this.Do the things you’ve been putting off, like taking a trip somewhere—anywhere.I’m begging you to do something for yourself.”She’s practically shaking me.
“Traveling without a job isn’t exactly smart, Gretchen,” I protest, even as the thought of my well-padded Christmas bonus lingers enticingly in the back of my mind.
“Regardless,” Gretchen says, pulling us back as the door swings open.
I hear voices, but I don’t turn around.I don’t want anyone to see me like this.
Gretchen shoos them away before continuing.“Take this well-deserved time off, and at least do me a favor and try to embrace the Christmas season.I can’t help but feel like you’ve been avoiding it for the past few years, throwing yourself into work as an excuse.When was the last time you decorated your apartment or visited your dad for the holidays?And don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking in today without a dish to pass out.This isn’t the Jemma I first met.Find yourself again.Make the most of this time off, Jemma.This time is a gift.”
“Some gift,” I mutter.
But she’s right about everything.However, the thought of spending Christmas with my dad feels far from enticing.Ever since he remarried just three short years after my mom’s passing, everything feels complicated.He’s completely wrapped up in his new family—my Step-Monster and her trio of little gremlins.
