Ceasefire (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

By
the time I got back to my desk, my company-issued laptop was gone and so was
everything else that officially belonged to Harrison Manufacturing.  They’d
even taken the goddamn stapler—the one that I’d bought with my own money. 
Someone, probably Ted from HR, had been nice enough to pack up my personal
things in a small box.  It wasn’t much: my framed pictures of Joey, a small
flowerpot, and various other odds and ends, like one of those foam balls you
squeeze to relieve stress.

As
I walked toward the front door, I noticed six more empty cubes along the way. 
Six more laptops missing, and six more boxes packed with various knickknacks. 

Jesus,
they’re really cleaning house today
.

I
added up everyone that had gotten the proverbial axe: Melanie, Laura, Jane,
Willow, Beth, and Tracy, all gone—or would be gone—as soon as they were done
swallowing the bitter pill.  I considered each one of them a friend and made a
mental note to call to commiserate with them later that day, after we’d all had
time to process what had just happened.

On
my way out to the parking lot I called Dreama to give her the bad news.

“Hi,
Kim,” she answered.  “How’s the morning going?”

“Mom—”

“Hang
on, let me put you on speaker.”  There was a short pause and then she said,
“Say hi, Joey.  Say hi to your mama.”  He gurgled something that made my mother
laugh.

“Hi,
buddy.  Hi, Joey,” I said, but got no response.

Dreama
said, “What’s up?”

“Bad
news, Mom.  The layoff flu went around this morning.” 

“Oh
no!  Did some of your friends get laid off?”

“Yeah. 
Six of them.  And…”  I didn’t know why, but I had trouble making myself say
it.  I’d made it to my car by that point and sat the box on top.  Admitting
some level of defeat to my near-perfect mother was another notch in the “you’re-not-as-good-as-your-sisters”
belt.  It was raining too, and that didn’t help my mood.

“And…what?” 

I
could already hear the disappointment in her voice.  She wasn’t very good at
hiding it.  My sisters, Sharon, Samantha, and Sophie, had never gotten that tone
a day in their lives; to say that I was the black sheep was an understatement. 
I mean, come on, even my name didn’t start with the same letter as Dreama’s
Terrific Trio. 

I
suspected that since I wasn’t a boy, like my mother had so desperately hoped for,
she carried around some level of resentment that morphed into a set of
expectations that nobody could live up to.  Something along the lines of, “If
you’re not what I wanted, you’ll never
be
what I wanted.” 

To
this day it’s like that, even after everything I accomplished in high school,
college, and grad school.  Don’t get me wrong—I love her and she loves
me—family ties and all that, but our bond will never reach what she has with my
sisters. 

It’s
not a
bad
relationship, but it’s not a good one, either.

I
opened the car door and climbed inside, then wiped the raindrops from my face. 
I could feel my wet hair clinging to my neck.  “And…I caught it too,
unfortunately.  Good severance package though.  Full pay and benefits for the
next five months.” 

Back
in Ronnie’s office, he hadn’t needed a lot of encouragement to give me some
extra help.  Everyone else would be getting four weeks, poor ladies, but I
figured my show had given him the incentive he was looking for.  Yet another
nibble of power and control.

“Kim,”
she whined, “really?”

“It’s
not that bad.  I’ll find something.”

“Well,
I can’t say I didn’t expect this.”

“What’s
that supposed to mean?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what it meant. 
Sometimes I had to at least
pretend
that I didn’t know I was a constant
disappointment.

“Honey,
you were expendable.  I told you that over and over.  You’ve got an MBA for
Christ’s sake.  I don’t understand why you’d put yourself in that position.”

“What
position?”

“A
position that has no value to the people who make the decisions.  It was right
there in black and white.”

“So
this is
my
fault?”  I started the car and turned the heat on, angling
the air vent toward my face.  As I looked up at the office, Jane and Willow
walked out carrying their boxes.  I waved and tried to smile.  They tried to
smile back, but I could see the surprise on their faces as it turned to
understanding.  If the star of their department had lost her job as well, they
never stood a chance.  It wasn’t bravado.  It was the truth.

“That’s
not what I’m saying.”

“Yeah,
Mom, that’s exactly what you’re saying.  Look, can we talk about this later? 
Are you okay with watching Joey for a couple of hours?  I need to go clear my
head a bit.”

“Fine. 
Take your time.  He’ll be ready for his morning nap soon.  But when you come
by, I want to talk about this.  Your father and I…we can—”

“Mom…never
mind.  We’ll talk when I get there.  I won’t be long.”

We
said our goodbyes and hung up.  I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye.  I
don’t know what I expected.  Maybe something along the lines of sympathy. 
Hearing someone say “I’m sorry,” goes a long way, but she’d reacted how she
always does, and I should’ve known better.

Twenty
minutes later, I parked outside of my favorite coffee shop, the one with art
deco paintings on the walls, modern design tables, and couches so plush and
deep that it felt like they were made of clouds.  I twisted my wet hair into a
bun and dashed inside, trying to skip over the parking lot puddles in my heels,
nearly twisting an ankle.

I
stepped inside the doorway and let the thick aroma of coffee beans envelop me,
inhaling deep and savoring the scent.  (If you’re a coffee drinker, is there
anything better?)

Since
it was close to nine a.m., the place was packed with patrons who hadn’t made it
into work yet and a gaggle of retired old men taking up three tables in the
back.  The same group was there every morning, drinking their black coffees and
talking about the good old days, discussing how well a friend had responded to
treatment or golf handicaps. 

I
called them “The Lonely Hearts Club.”  They always invited me to sit whenever I
had time to stop in before work, and maybe now that I didn’t have anywhere to
be for the next five months, I could finally take a seat and see what really
happened in the lives of old men.

But
not right then.  I wasn’t in the mood for company.

I
treated myself to a double cappuccino with extra cream and a shot of caramel.

And
I didn’t regret it.  All those wasted calories, Dreama would’ve been horrified.

I
glanced around the room trying to find an open table, eyeballing a couple of
women who seemed like they’d been camping out a while, taking up space.  I
tried to mentally will them to move so I could have a spot alone.  I needed to
sulk.

They
didn’t obey.  Damn them.

It
was loud in there.  The cacophony of chattering customers, hissing machines and
shouting baristas put my nerves on edge.

“Double
half-caff latte with a shot of vanilla!  Mandy?  Mandy?”  A young woman, about
my age, got up from a table nearby and retrieved her prize.

I
was irritated already, and getting even more so at all the inconsiderate people
hogging spots on a busy day. I thought about going out to my car and taking a
drive down to the river, where I could mope in peace and enjoy my guilty
pleasure in silence.

Looking
back on it, I still wonder how things would’ve turned out if I’d simply left
the coffee shop that day.

Instead,
I took one last look and saw two tables, each with an empty chair.  All I
wanted to do was sit down, stare out the window, and think for a bit.  Surely
someone wouldn’t mind if I joined them.  Sitting at the first table was an
elderly woman, sipping from a mug and reading something on an iPad.  I almost
chose her.  Almost. 

The
second table was over by the far wall, underneath some knockoff painting by
some art deco
artiste
whose name escaped me.  Grisanty, maybe.  The guy
who sat there faced the rust-red bricks like he was in timeout.  Dark hair,
broad shoulders inside a crisp white collared shirt, with a suit jacket hung
over his chair.  I thought,
why not?
and walked over.  As I approached,
peeking over his shoulder, I could see his laptop open and assumed he was
working.  If he had his nose buried in job stuff, all the better.  I could sit
quietly, like I wanted to, and not interrupt him.  And not be interrupted
either.

Score,
right?

It
would’ve been, if he hadn’t been absolutely—well—absolutely
delicious
. 
(Is there a better word than that?  Something less…I don’t know…less silly?  I
doubt it.  The right words are there for the right reasons.)

I
tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me.”

Oh
my God
.

The
most incredible blue eyes I’d ever seen.  Unnatural, almost.  The color of a
cloudless sky, or better yet, like the blue water surrounding some tropical
island.  Wavy, dark brown locks of hair that I wanted to run my fingers
through.  Seriously, I had to fight the urge.  Tanned skin, just the shade I
liked, and a sculpted goatee surrounding a mouth made for—

“Hi,”
he said, snatching me away from where my mind was headed.

He
seemed to be in his early thirties.  The tiny hint of crow’s feet only added to
his older-than-me, refined look. 
Professional
, I guess.  Not yuppie,
not suburban hip, just professional.  I noticed that his tie matched the color
of his eyes and wondered if he had a good enough fashion sense to do that on
purpose.

And
what did I look for next?

No
wedding ring, of course.

“I’m
sorry to bother you,” I said, “but it’s so crowded in here and I was hoping you
might share your table.  Do you mind?”

Maybe
if I could just lick your neck, too.  That would help my morning.

He
scrambled to move a stack of papers and his coffee mug, almost tipping it over
in the process.  Clumsy can be cute, at times.  “Please, no.  Sit.  I’m about
to finish up here anyway.”

No,
don’t go!

I
pulled the chair back and then remembered I wasn’t wearing panties.  While I
would’ve rather shown
him
everything I had instead of Ronnie, that thing
about how you “never get a second chance to make a first impression,” flashed
through my head.  I pinched my knees together and sat down politely, like a
good girl should.

I
introduced myself and stuck out a hand to shake, simply because I wanted to see
what his skin felt like.

“I’m
Finn,” he said, taking my hand.

And
as expected, his palm was smooth and supple, and my thoughts went to imagining
how his hands would feel as they gripped my waist while I bent over with my
face buried in a pillow.

“Finn. 
That’s a nice name.”

The
tingling came back and I shifted in my chair.  I could feel the growing warmth
between my legs.  It’s amazing how something as simple as a welcome touch can
make you forget about the day’s problems.

It
didn’t matter that I’d lost my job.  It didn’t matter that I’d never meet my
mother’s expectations.  It didn’t matter that I had no prospects on the
horizon.

My
mind went too far, too quickly, and I couldn’t help but think about how he
would react to the fact that I was a young, single mother.  Would the three of
us be relaxing in the park six months from now, or would he lose interest the
moment I said “I have a son,” and scamper away?

Somehow,
I managed to refrain from imagining what our wedding would be like, and
instead, I took a sip of my cappuccino and stared at him over the mug’s rim. 
I’d never been that good at flirting, really, so I don’t know how my gesture
came across.

However
it seemed to him, it worked, at least well enough for him to ask, “So, are you
on your way into the office or…?”

I
set my mug down on the table.  “No, actually.  I just got laid off, like thirty
minutes ago.”  I said it with a smile, trying to not sound bitter, and in some
small way, I wasn’t.  I’d begun to accept how ridiculous the situation had been
back in Ronnie’s office.  Snarling with my mouth and taunting him with my legs
spread wide.  I don’t know where that girl came from, but she was daring and I
liked her.

Finn’s
jaw dropped and his eyes went wide.  He began shaking his head and stammered,
“I—I’m, oh wow, I mean—yeah, uh, I’m sorry.  Open mouth, insert foot, huh?”

I
played it off like it was no big deal.  I smiled and said, “Don’t worry about
it.  I mean I knew it was coming, eventually, so I’m totally cool with it, you
know?  One door closes, another one opens.”  I took another sip of cappuccino
and watched as he tried to find the right words.