by Lisa Lim
“For a while. I knew it would happen sooner or later. I just hadn’t anticipated it would be this soon.”
There was an ugly pause.
I felt the weight of responsibility I didn’t deserve.
Eventually, Carter broke the silence. “Linda from HR will be with you when you meet with your agents.”
“What for?”
“You need someone from HR present as a witness. Also, your agents can discuss benefits and such with Linda afterward. And it’s a good way for you to CYA.”
I barely had the energy to nod. And if I’d had the energy, I’m sure I would’ve cried.
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Carter said wearily. “You’re just doing your job.”
I swallowed the sawdust in my throat. “Then why does it feel so wrong?”
Chapter Twenty One
“You ready to do this?”
I brought my gaze back to Linda’s impassive face. “Not really.”
“Karsynn,” she said kindly, “firing employees is a necessary evil. It is how supervisors and leaders earn their scars.”
I sucked in my breath and steeled myself, but I was having trouble summoning the energy to even begin. My heart, my head, my feet felt heavy.
There was a fraction of a pause. “Right,” said Linda. “You need to call in the first one right now.”
My heart was thumping erratically as I punched in Nina Romero’s extension. When her phone beeped, I heard myself say in a stilted voice, “Nina, can you please come see me at the Lightning Four Conference Room?”
“Sure thing,” she replied.
“Now remember,” Linda offered her free counsel, “Nina may take the news calmly, she may break down in tears or she may get very angry. Perhaps even violent. I’ve seen some agents go through all of those stages and more. Don’t assume that she’ll take her severance notice quietly and walk away without a fuss. It always helps if you accept her rage in a calm and collected manner.”
Silently, I nodded.
Linda continued, “After she reviews the severance package and signs the release form, do not let her linger. Tell her that she has to leave the business premises immediately. We’ll make a short stop at her desk so she can pack up her personal items. Then we’ll escort her to the security gates.”
I cast an apprehensive, frowning look at Linda. “Why?”
“We don’t want to give her the chance to steal company files, destroy computer data or change any computer passwords.”
Seconds later, Nina walked into the conference room and sat down. Numbly, I went through the motions of delivering the life-draining news, feeling as if I were watching myself from a distance.
When I’d finished, I gave Nina some time to absorb everything.
I twisted my fingers nervously. “Do you have any questions?”
“I can change,” Nina said at once. I saw her red cheeks, her resolute eyes. “I really can.”
I opened my mouth to speak but before I could say anything, Nina plundered on, “I’ll do better at selling. I promise. I’ll build rapport with the callers and I’ll follow up on every sale. I’ll come in thirty minutes early to study. Or I can take a pay cut. I can even take another position for half the pay or I could work fewer hours.” I heard the sheer desperation in her voice, pleading, imploring.
“It-it’s,” I stammered, “it’s um, not you. It’s-it’s Lightning Speed. Sorry, it’s Zimm Communications.” Oh God. This sounded like a bad break up. “I’m so sorry, Nina.”
Scar one.
Next, Ben Harper was in the hot seat. I eyed him warily, wondering what was the best approach. In the end I decided directness was the answer.
“You can’t do this to me!” Ben shouted. He was panic-stricken and it looked like all the blood had drained from his face. “How the hell am I supposed to tell my wife that we no longer have health insurance?” He stood up and began pacing the floor, walking back and forth in a belligerent disbelief. “TELL ME!” He drew his fist into the wall. “I have three kids and my wife is pregnant. Our fourth kid is due this Christmas.”
“I’m so sorry, Ben,” I said gently.
“This is what I get for working my ass off for this company?” he demanded and I had no words for him.
Security was brought in before Ben could do any more damage.
Scar two.
Then it was Inge’s turn. She looked at me with sudden anxiety, grasping hold of my hand, pressing her fingernails into my palm. “But what will I do?” she asked tearfully.
“I’m so sorry, Inge.” I squeezed her hand. “I know you’ll be OK.”
The truth was, I didn’t know if any of them would be OK. There was no tangible certainty.
I kept on talking while Inge simply sat there, concentrating on the severance package I’d laid out before her, struggling to make sense of it. Her chin started quivering and she began to cry. “Where do I sign?”
Scar three.
Next, it was Truong’s turn.
He smiled at me, but his smile seemed forced. “Is this some sort of cruel joke?”
“No, Truong. Trust me, I wish it were.”
I could see it in his rigid posture, how badly he wanted to believe that it did not faze him. But I knew better. He had expected a merger or a buyout. Not this. And as I sat staring at one of my very best friends and one of the top agents on my team, I felt again my own self-reproach. I heard myself speaking, saw Truong nodding, and yet I felt like I was not fully present.
Eventually, I stopped talking. There wasn’t anything I could say that would change things. There wasn’t anything I could say that would ease his pain. In fact, the very act of speaking just seemed like an insult.
When I rose to console Truong with a hug, he stiffened.
Scar four.
At this point, I was cracking at the seams. I felt personally responsible for their pain and I could barely summon up the strength to hold it together any longer.
There was a tentative little tap on the door, then Cynthia Rowley came walking in. She was an elderly woman with a sweet disposition, and she reminded me a lot of my own Aunt Cynthia. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this to her.
Before I could even begin, Cynthia took my hand in hers. “I know you have to do this, my dear. And I know you don’t want to. And I know that it weighs heavily on your conscience. But it’s OK,” she said kindly, “it’s about that time for me to retire anyway.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully, feeling my emotions swelling inside me like a balloon. “Thank you for making this easy on me.”
Numbly, I went through all the requisite paperwork, and when it was finally over, Cynthia sat smiling at me with warmth spilling into her eyes and I almost came undone. “I’d like to give you a blessing, my child.”
“You do?” I asked in some surprise. “What kind of blessing?”
“It is a Franciscan Blessing and I know it will speak to your heart.”
“Um, OK,” I said a little uncertainly.
“Good!” Cynthia reached across the table and clasped my hand once more.
Not really sure how to react, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to appear reverent.
Cynthia began, “May God bless you with restless discomfort about easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart. May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for justice, freedom, and peace among all people.”
I pried one eye open, thinking the blessing was over. It wasn’t.
“May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy. And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you really can make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God’s grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.” Cynthi
a gave my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
I went quiet for a while. Then I opened my eyes wide, gave a grateful nod and said, “Thank you. Thank you so much for that, Cynthia.”
“You’re so welcome, my dear.”
“Could you do me a small favor?” I asked earnestly.
“Anything for you, Karsynn.”
In a voice filled with charm and serenity, I said, “Could you please give Carter the Franciscan Blessing? I think it would really speak to his heart.”
Cynthia nodded sagely. “I’ll make sure that I do.”
The layoffs went on for half the day. Every person and every friend I’d wounded left a burning scar on my conscience. By the end of the day, my entire body was pockmarked with scars. If this is how leaders earned their scars, then maybe I wasn’t quite cut out to be one.
“That’s what happens when you’re sleeping with the boss.” I could hear the satisfaction in Jewel’s voice. “That explains her salary hikes, the plum assignments, the free trip to Malaysia.”
“Did she really sleep with him?” asked a soapy voice.
“She did,” said Jewel with obvious relish, punctuated by hearty laughter.
I sat for a while, tears stinging the back of my eyes. Part of me wanted to cry, but I didn’t. This was neither the time nor place to break down and cry. There was no privacy here. None. Every time someone in a cubicle nearby shifted, I heard the creak of a chair.
I pushed my chair back loudly and started down the hallway. I found myself staring at the cubicles, the potted plants, the printers, the fax machines, the water coolers, seeing everything yet taking in nothing. I focused on my surroundings so I could stop thinking about what I’d just done. Briefly, I wondered if everyone around me noticed my body language. If they did, they were careful not to make any eye contact.
I quickened my pace, trying to outrun my thoughts, and slipped into an elevator that was about to close. Downstairs, I made my way past security, through the exit gates and stepped outside. The news of the layoffs had dulled the brilliance of this sunny day. Hugging myself, I walked with little, hurried steps, all hunched over, trying to make myself appear as small and as insignificant as I felt.
I came to a slow halt at the duck pond. The wind blew hard against me and I shivered, crossing my arms, making myself into a fortress against the wind. As I stood there, taking deep gulps of air to steady myself, the sharp odor of guilt assaulted my senses and bit at my nostrils. The smell clung to my skin, saturated my clothes and stagnated in the air. The acrid, pungent and unmistakable odor of guilt. I had to breathe deeply from my diaphragm so I wouldn’t hyperventilate.
Suddenly my fragile control snapped. “Oh God.” I buried my face in my hands and burst into gut-wrenching sobs.
I felt rather than heard Carter come up behind me.
“Shhh,” he soothed, pressing his body to my back. “Don’t cry.”
“Damn you, Carter!” I choked through racking sobs. I did not understand where the tears were coming from, I just knew I couldn’t stop them. “Damn you for making me do that to my friends.”
He gathered me into his arms and sighed into my hair. “I’m sorry.”
I let my body pour in toward his, steadying my head against his chest. “I am a horrible person.” I sniffled through red and swollen eyes. “A horrible boss. A horrible friend.”
“That’s not true,” Carter whispered, wiping away my tears. “You’re a good person. And you’ve been a good friend to me.”
I began to cry even harder, my breath coming in short gulps and hiccups. “You’re not my friend, Carter.”
“Shhhh.” He sighed again. “Don’t say that.”
“You’re just some cog in the system who sold out to The Man.”
“Say what you want about me. I can take it.”
“I thought you were better than that.”
“I’m not,” he said gently, “and I never said I was.”
“Why do you do this?” I buried my face in his shirt. His presence was a fresh assault to my senses, another shock to my system. I shut my eyes. I just wanted him to go away. Why did he always confuse me so much? “Why do you do this?” I muttered furiously, feeling helpless against him. “I want to hate you so badly, but I can’t.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead and his voice caught in a husky rasp. “So don’t.”
Chapter Twenty Two
“So how did Truong and Inge take the news?”
“How do you think?” I asked morosely.
“Badly,” said Maddy at last.
I emitted a silent laugh. “I don’t think they’ll ever speak to me again.”
“Don’t be silly. Give them some time. They’ll come around.”
“No they won’t. I still have a job and they don’t. It’s the ultimate betrayal.”
“Kars, stop beating yourself up. It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not my fault,” I said disparagingly, “but it’s my problem.”
There was a fraction of a pause, then Maddy said, “You should be thankful that you still have a job.”
“I was sleeping with the enemy,” I spoke quickly, determined to get everything off my chest, “that’s why I still have a job.”
“Wait!” Maddy practically shouted down the phone, “What are you talking about?”
“I worked my butt off to prove myself and you know what?” I said bitterly, “Now all that doesn’t matter. I’ve lost all their respect. I’m just written off as the slut who screwed to keep her job.”
“Stop talking a mile a minute, Kars. Slow down.”
“He played me out. And I fell for it. I fell for him.”
“Who?”
“Carter Lockwood. Carter Price. I don’t know anymore.”
“Carter? You said you hated him.”
“I do.” Then I amended, “I did. You see, Carter doesn’t play the guy you love to hate. Noooooo. He does something far trickier; he makes you love the hateable guy.”
There was a deafening silence from the other end of the line. Then, “Are you saying you’re in love with Carter?”
I chewed on my bottom lip. I was utterly thrown by my feelings and I didn’t know the answer to that. Was I?
After a lengthy pause, Maddy mercilessly pumped me for more information. “So how did it happen?”
“How did what happen?”
“How did you end up in bed with him?”
“I don’t know, Maddy, it just happened.” I sighed wearily. “He cooked dinner for me one night. Mexican food. It was spicy and delicious and it hit the spot.”
“Tu puta madre!” Maddy burst out laughing. “I didn’t know Mexican food made you horny.”
“Well, apparently. And then one thing led to another and …”
“Details!” Maddy ordered urgently, “I want details!”
I sucked in my breath with a loud hiss. “Don’t ask me how, but somehow he touched my hand and then,” I hesitated a second, “then I … um … touched his shvantz.”
“You touched his SHVANTZ?” Maddy shrieked. “Karsynn! You slut. How do you go from touching hands to touching his middle leg?”
“I don’t know.” I made an exasperated sound. “They’re both limbs?”
“So how was the sex?”
“Mind-blowing.”
“Oooh girrrrrl. You dipped your pen in company ink.”
“Hey!” I cried a touch defensively. “At least I just dipped my pen. With Mika, you practically dropped your pen in company ink.”
“True.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Mika is stuck with me for life.”
“For life …” I echoed. “I don’t want to be stuck to Carter for life. I don’t want to like him. I don’t want to be attracted to him.”
“Look,” Maddy said in an emphatic voice, “you spend as much time with Carter as you do with your family and friends. You spend at least forty hours a week at the office. You guys work together, eat together, drink together, cap off a long day wi
th a few highballs at the usual watering hole—”
“Wait,” I interjected. “I’ve never gone to a bar with Carter. Just Truong and Inge.”
Despite my mumbled protests, Maddy carried on expounding and there was no point in stopping her when she got in her stride. “What I’m trying to say is I can understand how these things happen. Hard work doesn’t always leave you much time for socializing, and we both know how hard you’ve worked. And do you know that twenty percent of marriages stem from office romances? I mean, look at me and Mika. We fell in love at that call center.”
“Maddy …” I sighed dramatically. “Me and Carter, what we have is nothing like what you and Mika have. We don’t have a great romance. We just had sex. Once.”
Quietly, she said, “But it’s more than just sex. Isn’t it?”
“OK.” My voice pitched higher. “I liked him, admired him even. But maybe it was just the idea of him … faced with the reality of him, I’m not so sure anymore …” I trailed off unsteadily.
Maddy waited for me to continue, and when I didn’t, she tacitly dropped the issue. “Are you ready to be my maid of honor?”
“Almost ready,” I replied, grateful for the change of subject. “I’m still working on my speech.”
“No worries. You’ve still got a week to finish it.”
“I know …”
“Kars?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Get some rest, OK?”
I hugged my legs tightly. “I’ll try.”
“Good. Because I want my maid of honor looking radiantly happy at my wedding. And,” she added in a teasing voice, “maybe you can bring Carter along as your date.”
“No way in hell!” I said at once. “Remember? Chicks before dicks! Truong and Inge will be my dates … that is, if they’ll still have me.”
“Of course they will,” she said reassuringly.
“I hope so …” I broke off, staring forlornly at the ceiling with the phone pressed against my ear, too exhausted to move, trying not to cry. “I’m worried about Inge.”
“Oh, don’t worry about her. Fragile looking people like Inge are usually the strongest.”
