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“I’m sure it’s not,” I say as I walk out of the cubicle. I head toward the lead editor’s office, and I overhear a woman whispering inside of a cubicle.
“Yeah, I heard that the real reason for that email is because a bunch of the new people are getting laid off. Just like two years ago when they opened that London branch.”
That sends a shock through me. Could they really be laying people off, too? Would Phillip hide that from me? Would I be one of the ones who got laid off? I mean, I haven’t been with Loughton House for very long. Or would Phillip keep me from getting let go?
No. I can’t think about any of that right now. I can’t let rumors push me into darker territory than I’m already in. I take a deep breath and try to let out as much stress as I can.
Just tell James Pritchard that I’m feeling bad and need to take the afternoon off. Get some distance. Breathe some fresh air. See something other than a computer screen…
Fifty
PHILLIP
I’m done.All the plans are set, and I managed it a day early. Tomorrow, I get to go home at a reasonable time.
I can’t believe my financial director decided it was a good idea to chat about cutting the workforce by ten percent in front of the staff. I should fire him for that. Or worse, make him answer the seventy-two thousand emails I’ve had about it.
On that note, when the hell did everyone start thinking that I was so personable that they could just email me when they hear a rumor? Is that a very terrible byproduct of me working as an editor for a month?
I can’t stop smiling, though. Everything’s finally going to get better. I open the door to the house, expecting Addison to be at the top of the stairs like normal. But she’s not.
She hasn’t responded to my edits, so I assume she’s still upstairs in the office looking them over. The strange thing is that I don’t smell any food. Usually, even if I’m home far later, I can smell dinner as soon as I walk in.
Tonight, it’s almost like she hasn’t cooked at all. Then I remember I was supposed to text her.Damn it.Well, at least I’ll get fresh food tonight. I just might have to wait a while.
I put my laptop bag over the hook in the closet like normal and walk up the stairs, trying my best to be quiet. I don’t know why I’m trying to be sneaky. Maybe it’s because I’m so freaking happy, or maybe I’m just so exhausted that I’m acting like a child.
As I approach the office, I hear Addison’s voice, and she sounds more exhausted than I am. I know that the distance between us has worn on her, but it’s all done now. At least as done as it can be.
“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you? An extra dollar an hour isn’t worth changing jobs.”
There’s a pause, and I wait outside the door. The last time I heard her talking to her mom, she seemed happy. Now, it sounds like her mother is more exhausting than work is.
“Yes, a secretary job is a great change. But why didn’t you keep working at Woodson’s while you were going through the hiring process? It took me almost three weeks to get through mine at Loughton House. You can’t survive without a paycheck for three weeks. Then there’s the delay before your first one. Mom, you’ve put yourself in a bad place again.”
I clench my jaw, trying my best not to rush to Addison’s rescue. Her mother’s asking her for money again. She told me about that before, but I didn’t understand how often it happened.
“Fine. I can send you some money, but it won’t be enough.” There’s a pause. “Absolutely not. His money is his, and mine is mine. I’ll lend you mine, but if it’s not enough, you’re just going to have to deal with the mess on your own this time.”
Her mother was asking if she could borrow some of mine. I wish she’d have asked because I’d be happy to pay whatever it took to keep her from worrying or being stressed.
I know Addison is the last person who would ever ask me for help, though. Our entire relationship has been proof that she refuses to be her mother. It’s been ingrained in her to never ask for help from anyone, and especially today, the last thing I should do is offer to help.
“Look, I’ll send you five hundred dollars. It’s literally all the money I have. There’s nothing else I can do. And Mom, this needs to be the last time you call asking about money. I have too much going on right now to worry about keeping a savings account for you. You’re my mom, and I love you, but I cannot take care of your financial mistakes anymore.”
There’s a pause, and I hear a sniffle. Then a louder one. God, I can’t believe her mother made her feel like that.
I take a deep breath, readying myself to comfort her, and I walk into the office. “How are you doing?” I ask with a smile.
I expected the tears, but when she looks up at me and doesn’t even give me a halfhearted smile, I feel myself shrinking. Every other day, she’s smiled at me, glad that I was home, but today, it’s like my presence doesn’t give her any more hope or happiness. Like I’m just another burden.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I cross the room, doing my best not to let her sadness bring me down. I don’t need to make this about my emotions. The best thing I can do is just be infectiously happy like I felt before I got home.
“Nothing,” she says. Her voice is soft and shallow, like she’s just retreating into herself. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me as I squat in front of her. “Addison, please talk to me. Ipromisethat I’m here for you. Whatever it is, I’ll help to make it better.”
The emphasis on promise is almost instinctual. My word has been my bond ever since I was eight and found out just what a promise could mean. She understands that emphasis, and when she looks up at me, I can see a spark of hope where there was none earlier.
