“You’ve got three seconds to fire whoever it was or you’re out on your ass,” I hiss at Eric.
“Just let me explain,” he says.
“Three,” I start.
“I’m not firing my man for just trying to get to work!”
“Two.”
“It was me,” the stupid-looking one with the goatee says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm, but I did it. When they found out what was going on, they tried to stop me. They told me to get out of there. You can’t fire them, and I don’t think you should put Eric through firing me. We’ve been working together for years. That said, I know I screwed up and I don’t want to cause any more trouble here than I already have, so boss,” he says, “I quit.”
“Alec, what are you doing?” Eric asks.
“I don’t know how you didn’t get arrested, but if you’re not out of my sight in the next ten seconds, I’m pressing charges.”
This time I don’t have to count. The man Eric called Alec turns and walks away.
“What the hell was that?!” Eric shouts. “I get that a mistake was made here, and I know that it was my team that was at fault, but that man has a family. You owe him an apology!”
“I don’t know where you get off, but that man broke into my store—”
“No, he didn’t!” Eric shouts. “He just took the fall so you wouldn’t end up firing the rest of us from what, I’ll be honest, has been one of the most aggravating jobs I’ve ever had the misfortune to work on!”
“Maybe it wouldn’t be so aggravating if you could get your people to stop screwing around and finish the job!” I retort.
“Maybe if you didn’t change the definition of what the job is twice a day, then that might be possible. In the future, figure out what the fuck you want before you hire a crew to work on it, because you’ve been forcing us to spin our wheels for weeks!” he comes back.
“You know what? Everyone go home. We’re closed today. In fact, we’re closed until further notice. And you,” I put my finger back in Eric’s face, “you’d better figure out some way to convince me that you and team are worth a shit or else I’m going to make sure neither you nor any one of your people works in this town again. You got me? You’ll be shoveling asphalt in Kennebunkport—”
“Really?” Eric interrupts, “That’s your go-to ‘terrible place?’ I’ll let you know it’s gorgeous up there in the fall!”
The sharp left turn has everyone else laughing, but it only serves to piss me off more.
“You can take your jokes and shove them up your ass for all I care! Get the fuck out of my way.”
I push through everyone and try to outpace Linda as she follows me down the block, but she’s persistent.
“Jessica,” she says, “I don’t want to get in the middle of all this—”
“That’s smart,” I snap.
“Listen,” she says. “I know you’re upset, but this isn’t you. You never talk to people like that. I’ve seen you pissed off before, but you always manage to keep your head. What’s going on?”
“I told you already,” I seethe. “Now leave me alone.”
“You told me that someone in your family’s sick. It’s none of my business if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Leave me alone.”
“All right,” Linda says. “But before you fire a crew that’s really been working hard for you, just take some time to think it over, will you?”
I know she’s trying to reach out, but this is not the time.
She stops following me as I round the corner.
* * *
When I get back to my apartment, I’m still furious. I get that the employee didn’t break in to do damage or steal anything, but breaking in is breaking in, and I hardly see how that’s acceptable.
Not knowing what else to do with myself, I just sit down on my couch, break down and cry.
This is a shit day after a shit week, and there are no signs that things are going to get better any time soon.
So, I cry for a while, letting out my anger, frustration, fear and sadness, and when I’m done, I just sit for a while, contemplating the world around me and what the hell I’m supposed to do with it.
Then my phone rings.
I take a moment to collect myself and I answer.
“Yeah?”
“You sound like shit,” Kristin, my sister says. “Are you all right?”
“Bad day,” I tell her. “What’s up?”
“You didn’t call back,” she says. “Are you at work?”
“No,” I answer. “I closed up for the day. I’d really rather not get into it.”
“So you’re home?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“I’m coming over.”
She hangs up before I can tell her that I’m not really in the mood for company, and I’m certainly not in the mood to hear her go on about how fucking great Jed is supposed to be. Never mind the fact that I know better, I’m sick of her rubbing in the fact that she has someone to go home to, something I haven’t even considered a possibility in years.
Still, I don’t call her back to tell her not to come by.
Whatever the reason, part of me wants someone close by to tell me all kinds of wondrous lies like, “It’s going to be okay,” and “Things will get better.”
The doorbell rings about half an hour after the phone call and, as soon as I open the door and see my sister standing there, I start crying again.
She comes in and gives me a hug, telling me, “It sounds like we need to go out and get drunk.”
“No,” I tell her. “I haven’t been drunk in years, and I’m not about to fall into that now.”
“Well, I know you’ve always got a bottle on hand,” she says, knowing me well enough to know that my gripe isn’t with throwing back a few drinks, but with going out in public when I’m feeling like this. “Why don’t we crack it open and—”
I’m already on my way to the kitchen.
So, we drink and we talk. We talk about our mom mostly, but as the alcohol starts to set in, the conversation shifts.
“You know, Jed and I were talking,” she says.
“Oh god, here it comes.”
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I tell her. “What were you and Jed talking about?”
“Well, we were talking about you, actually, and how much I want to see you find someone that can be there for you when you come home and when things start going to shit. Did you ever send a message to that guy I was telling you about?”
“I hate being set up,” I tell her. “It’s never worked out for me. The last time someone talked me into meeting someone, I ended up watching a movie, sitting on his futon and neither of us said one damn word to each other after the first five minutes I was there.”
“Yeah, that sounds pretty bleak,” Kristin says.
Now she’s going to try to convince me that all of my problems can be solved by finding Mr. Right-Dick.
“I think the only reason I’ve been able to hold it together is because I have Jed to lean on right now.”
“You should really think before you speak,” I tell her and take another shot.
I’m still just scratching the surface of buzzed, but that’s the way I like to keep it. Getting drunk is annoying.
Maybe I’m in the minority on that one.
“Send him a message,” she says. “If nothing else, he’ll be someone you can talk to. Even if you don’t ever decide to meet him, at least you two can talk. Sometimes getting to know someone, hearing a new perspective on things is just what you need to get through a hard time.”
“Nope,” I tell her. “I’m way too busy to start something, and I’m really not looking for a casual relationship with someone, either. What I want is…”
I don’t know what I want.
“Mind if I use your bathroom?” she asks.
“Go ahead,” I tell her. “You know where it is.”
“Thanks,” she says and gets up.
It should be some kind of signal that she’s asking me if she can use my bathroom, as she hasn’t done that since I moved into my first apartment, but it doesn’t hit me until it’s too late and she’s already running to the back with my phone in her hand.