Judy clears her throat. “I am authorized to add another ten on top of the package. Along with full medical insurance paid for six months after your date of job abandonment.”
I laugh once. “I didn’t abandon anything. I left a very unsafe work environment.”
“Yes, of course. Merely stating what the paperwork says.”
“Then you will change the paperwork to reflect the actual situation, or this matter will be escalated.”
A pause. “I find your terms agreeable.”
Can’t believe that worked. “Either my lawyer or I will respond to your meager offer by Friday.” I hang up, and I’m shaking.
I hear a popping sound behind me and spin around.
Dario. Clapping. And smiling. Which is unsettling.
“I didn’t know you were listening.”
“You did well, Lena. I’m impressed.” Then he rounds the corner to head to his office.
Somehow, his pride feels like a bigger bonus than the settlement.
I job-hunt in the evenings after Opal’s in bed. Laptop at the kitchen counter, Reggie’s letter attached to every application, and by the end of the week, I have two interview requests. One from a mid-size management firm downtown. One from a healthcare administration company whose posting mentions business development experience, which I have in the form of three semesters of business school that have been sitting on myresume, gathering dust for five years. I stare at that one for a long time before I hit send.
When I was in business school, I was a different person, and sometimes, I miss being her. The version of me who was going to finish the degree and do something with the courses she was actually good at. That Lena didn’t go anywhere. She’s been in here the whole time, keeping the lights on while I dealt with everything else. She’s been patient. Now might be her time to shine.
Dario and I don’t talk about what happens between us at night. It just happens, with a frequency and ease I’ve stopped trying to track, because tracking would mean deciding something, and I’m not ready to decide. Three months. A clear end. I know what I signed up for.
The end is getting harder to picture.
Opal makes a friend—Bea, from her class, who also likes to draw and has an eraser collection shaped like food that Opal considers the greatest achievement of modern civilization. She comes home talking about Bea at full speed, already planning a playdate.
“Let’s make it happen.”
Her eyes go wide. “Really? I thought I might still be too sick.”
I nod. “Baby, you’re healthy again. You’re going to school. You don’t sound like you swallowed a frog anymore.”
She giggles at that. “I don’t.”
“I want you to have friends, Opal. Get me her number, and I’ll set something up with her mom, okay?”
“I will!” She races to the living room to color. Lately, she likes the floor for that. Next week, it’ll probably be her desk, and then back to the countertop. She likes a change of scenery when she makes her art, as she says.
I tell Dario over dinner about Opal’s new friend.
He instantly turns to her. “What does Bea like to draw?”
“Butterflies, mostly.”
“Lunches?”
“Sandwiches and chips. The good ones.”
He looks at me. “There are bad chips?”
“The cheap ones, she means.”
He nods, still thinking. “We will have to get some of the good chips, then. That way you can trade.”
