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Ronnie refuses to meet my eye, instead staring unblinkingly at a spot on the table. Todd from HR appears to be in charge. I reach for my phone and slide it into my lap, holding onto the plastic case so fiercely I half expect to hear it crack.
“As you know, when you were hired by The Gardner Group, you signed a contract stating that you shall not commit any act or do anything which might reasonably be considered: (i) to be immoral, deceptive, scandalous or obscene; or (ii) to injure, tarnish, damage or otherwise negatively affect the reputation and goodwill associated with the New York Art Museum or The Gardner Group Brands…"
My hearing zones out, latching onto one particular, disheartening word. Imoral…Our life would be immoral to some, wouldn't it. I've listened to Justin rage every time he reads an article about a teacher losing their job at a Catholic school for being in a same sex marriage, or a child being expelled because they are the daughter of two mothers, but I never gave it more than a sympathetic cursory thought.
But that's what's happening here, isn't it.
I'm getting fired, because I'm having a child with two men.
“We have had multiple complaints from several different sources regarding your comportment as a representative for the Museum, and it is the determination of this council that your behavior no longer meets the standard set forth in your contract.”
Nerves war with anger, causing the back of my throat to tingle. My vision blackens around the edges, and for a brief moment that feels like it lasts forever, I seriously question whether I'm about to pass out.
The room spins before slowly creeping to a stand still.
“Again,” I say, attempting to keep my voice as even as possible. “What sort of violations? I’ve done nothing that could reflect poorly on the Museum. I’ve just won an award from a Children’s Hospital, for heaven’s sake. How could I possibly tarnish the Museum’s reputation?”
Except, I already know what they’re going to say, don’t I?
There’s only one thing that could cause this sort of ruckus, and it’s no surprise that it’s taking place a week after we rubbed our relationship into the noises of every stuck-up momma in New York high Society.
“Was Rebecca Caldwell one of the people making a complaint?” I all but snarl. “Or what about a Mr. or Mrs. Lancaster?”
Ronnie flinches, but Todd doesn’t even blink.
“The nature of the complaints is immaterial to this meeting. The point is they have been substantiated, and fall well within the parameters as a violation of your employment contract. Flaunting your unconventional relationship with two men is not keeping with the values and personal conduct required for an employee in such a high profile position. You are the face of this Museum and your morals are no longer in line with our own."
Ronnie opens her mouth but at a sharp glare from Todd snaps her teeth closed, turning whatever she was going to say into an aborted gurgle in the back of her throat.
I feel like I should be fighting back, but I have no idea what to say. The baby takes that moment to flip around inside my stomach and kicks me sharply low in my belly. With one hand still gripping my phone, I cradle my stomach,our baby, with the other.
"We can no longer continue your employment with us, effective immediately," Todd finishes.
The lawyer takes the folder with a law firm logo on the front of their pile and holds it out towards me, but I don't lift a finger to take it. He lowers it to the table and pushes it in my direction.
"Do you feel proud of yourselves?" I ask, letting my gaze settle on all four people across from me. "Firing a pregnant woman because you don't approve of her husband? I wonder what my lawyer will say about that? Or the New York Times?"
Ronnie looks like she’s going to be ill, but other than her, they don't even flinch.
I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to sit at this ugly fucking table and listen to them tell me that my life is immoral, just because a group of old biddies threatened to make less of a donation next quarter.
The need to flee is almost overwhelming and my eyes dart around the room, calculating whether I can make a run for it andnotsomehow make this situation worse.
Canthis get any worse?
I'm already fired. I don't know what else they can do to me.
"These are your options," the woman whose name I was told, but wasn't given a title, begins. "You can fight this. That is your right." She reaches for the folder I've still not touched and flips it open, pulling out a stapled copy of…yes. My signed employment contract. She flips until the appropriate pages and taps her nail on the highlighted portion. "You'd be hard pressed to find a court who wouldn't agree that marriage to two men doesn't constitute a gross violation of your contract."
I feel her eyes on me, and slowly drag my gaze to meet hers.
"Bigamy is still illegal in the United States."
It's like I've been slapped. Or kicked in the gut. My air whooshes out of me and my hands spasm in my lap. I tighten my lips and swallow, on the verge of vomiting all over the table.
"You can accept this resignation package and termination. I think you'll agree that the terms are more than fair."
A scoff squeezes out of my throat and I slap the folder closed, deeply uninterested in what they consider "fair."
