The Dysfunctional Test (2 page)

“Am I being fired?” she asked, trying to hide the tremor in her voice with the clipped question.

“I prefer to say ‘let go’. In that envelope is a letter of recommendation and a small severance package. It should get you through a few months.”

Outside the massive twentieth floor window, the skyline of downtown Chicago lit up like a Roman candle. Helicopters buzzed between the skyscrapers and plummeted down. The office window shattered, blowing shards of glass inside.

Not my job too. What will I have left?

“I see,” Camryn said. It was beginning to sound like a mantra. “I’ll collect my things, then.”

“Security will have to escort you out…”

Camryn stopped hearing anything but the steady hum of her heartbeat drumming her ears. Autopilot kicked in. She stood, walked out of the office, and straight to the elevator. She rode down in silence, exiting when the ding told her to. She walked directly to her office, collected her purse, and strode back to the elevator again.

Only then, while waiting for the elevator to return to take her to the bottom, did she notice Bill standing next to her. The security guard crossed his arms as if daring her to be difficult. Did they think she’d steal a laser jet copier on her way out by stashing it in her purse?
No, no. Never mind the huge bulge. That’s just my day planner, Officer.

Alarmed, she turned to find the whole department staring at her again. Her heart thumped once and then gave up.

Everyone knew.

Several seconds ticked by. Staring, staring. Some had the courtesy to look away in shame, pretending to read a file or talk on the phone.

Chelsea, her secretary—make that her
ex-
secretary—hurried over with a box in her arms. “These are the things from your office, Ms. Covic. I’m so sorry.”

She wasn’t sorry. None of them were. They probably had a “ding dong, the witch is gone
”
party planned in five minutes by the water cooler.

Camryn nodded, taking the box from her with numb fingers just as the elevator door opened. Such a small box for the eight years she’d been employed there. Security Bill stepped onto the elevator with her and rode down. Down, down. She bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood; she’d be damned if anyone would see her cry. If she had nothing left—and that would appear to be the case—she had her pride.

Chin up. Act like you don’t care
.

Walking across the lobby, she kept her head high as she exited the front door, still high as she crossed the parking structure, and right up until she got to her car. Only when she got behind the wheel and slammed the door did she drop her head. Her eyes pinched closed as she sucked air through her nose.

Not here. Not here. Just get home.

Starting the car, she pulled out of the structure and headed toward her soon-to-be nonexistent apartment. There she’d cry like a darn baby in private until none of it mattered. Please. Who was she kidding? Of course it mattered.

Her life was over. Apartment? Gone. Job? Gone. Boyfriend? Double gone.

The banana and rye toast she’d had for breakfast started battling to the death on who’d escape her stomach first. She concentrated on the traffic and street lights just to survive the trip home.

Heck, she hated Chicago anyway.

“Damn and hell are bad words. We’re not supposed to say them.”

Camryn looked at her three-year-old niece standing in the doorway to her apartment, then at her sister. “I see Auntie Heather has been corrupting you again.”

“Nonsense,” Heather said, swishing past her and inside. “I cannot be expected to control my tongue in Chicago traffic. Seriously, it’s a crime what you people call driving.”

She had her there. Camryn looked down at her niece, Emily, again. “They are bad words. That’s why we shouldn’t repeat them, no matter who says them.”

Wide, blue eyes stared back at her. “Shit too. Shit is a bad word.”

Camryn sighed. “Yes.” She closed the door behind them. “Heather, our dear brother is going to kill you if he hears his daughter cursing.”

Heather plopped onto the sectional and crossed her feet on the coffee table. “Naw, he’s driven here too. He’ll understand.”

“Speaking of Chicago, what are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have wedding stuff to do?”

“Wedding stuff is all done. We just have to get on the plane Friday. I took Emily to the Shedd Aquarium today to celebrate.” Heather deposited her red heels back on the floor and straightened, causing her matching red dress to plummet way past the recommended neckline. She surveyed the coffee table and then Camryn.

Had she known her sister would be dropping by, she would have hidden the Ben & Jerry’s. And the wine. And probably would have gotten dressed. Camryn cinched her robe closed.

Heather merely lifted her brows. Camryn sighed and sat on the other end of the couch. It didn’t matter what Camryn wore, or didn’t wear, Heather was always the star of the show. Having inherited their father’s high cheekbones and lean body, and their mother’s thick, dark brown hair and flawless skin, Heather was conceived at the deep end of the gene pool. So was their brother, Fisher.

Camryn, on the other hand, got Dad’s combination skin and ginger hair and Mom’s curves. Whereas Heather and Fisher could eat whatever they desired, Camryn had to count each calorie. Not so easy in a Serbian family where one bite of a traditional dish was enough to get her kicked out of Jenny Craig for life. And probably maimed on the way out.

“What happened yesterday that made you want to come home early? Or eat the store out of ice cream?” Heather held up the pint in question. “Aw, man. And it’s Chunky Monkey. My favorite. You could’ve saved me some.”

Emily appeared distracted, having found her stash of crayons, and was now coloring on the floor. Camryn looked at Heather. As different as they were, Camryn had always been close with her sister. Heather may not always understand, but she was sympathetic.

“I got fired yesterday. And my landlord gave me an eviction notice.” Camryn reached for her wineglass and drained the contents in one swallow. “Oh, and Maxwell broke up with me.”

Heather leaned forward. “Shit.”

“That’s a naughty word, Aunt Heather.” This from Emily, who apparently
was
listening. She had also stuck several crayons into her curly brown pigtails, making her resemble a cartoon version of Medusa.

Camryn wanted to toast to that, but instead said, “Why don’t you go color in my bedroom, honey? We’ll be done talking in a while.”

Once Emily was out of earshot, Heather dive-bombed her with an interrogation similar to a WWII fighter pilot. “What happened? From the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”

“This is my life, Heather, not soap opera gossip.”

Heather snorted. “I don’t know, this sounds like
Days of Our Lives
to me. Sure you don’t have a brain tumor? Or an evil twin?”

Either might solve her problem. Alas, no. She told Heather about Alicia the bitch, and her eviction notice. When she told her about Maxwell, Heather flew off the couch.

“He said what? The jerk! I say we go back there and teach those assholes…”

“That’s naughty too.” This from the bedroom.

Heather sat back down. “Talk about injury to insult.”

“I think you mean insult to injury.”

“Whatever,” she huffed. “What are you going to do?”

To avoid the question, Camryn stood and walked into the kitchenette to start a pot of coffee. Heather followed.

Once the brew was going, Camryn turned to her sister. “I’ll probably move back home. I have a few days before we need to leave for Colorado. I’ll get my resume out. Try interviewing after the wedding and look for an apartment.” She opened the fridge to remove creamer. “There’s no real advertising agencies in Milwaukee. I’ll have to settle for Human Resources or something.”

“There’s other agencies here.”

“I don’t want to stay here. I only stayed this long because the company offered great money. Right out of college the opportunity was perfect for me.”

“What about the wedding, though? Mom and Dad think you’re bringing this guy with you.”

“That’s the least of my problems.”
Liar!

“Camryn, this is me you’re talking to. I know you. You were relieved to finally have met someone to bring home. To have Mom and Dad off your back.”

True. If one thing was hammered into her skull her whole life, it was to find a mate and procreate. It never mattered to them how successful she was in her career if she didn’t have someone to share her life with. Family was everything. And hers was a walk-in closet full of romantics. Very old school. It was shameful to her family that her younger brother married first. Downright disgraceful that her baby sister was marrying before her.

She was supposed to be next. She had chosen someone well suited to her. Someone even her family couldn’t chase away. Her parents hadn’t even asked his name. They were just relieved she was serious with someone. Prerequisites at this point were a living male.

Being alone never bothered Camryn, not really. In the end, the only person she could rely on was herself. No one else seemed to understand her, or understand her need for independence. It mattered not how she preached to her family about the modern woman, how she didn’t need a man to make her happy. They just saw her singlehood as one more let down. If they could, they probably would have traded her for a mule in an arranged marriage.

Camryn could all but feel their disappointment now. The pity stares. The clicking tongues.
Poor, poor, Camryn. All alone. No one wants her
.

At least she’d bought her own plane ticket. Her family wouldn’t know Maxwell’s would go to waste.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and went back into the living room before the tears could come. Heather would see through her in a heartbeat.

“Why don’t you hire someone? An escort or something.”

Camryn gave her the best “shut-up” face she had in reserve. “Someone’s been watching too much Lifetime again.”

“I’m serious. Hire someone to be Maxwell, then explain the breakup later. They won’t spend the entire wedding obsessing over that then. You never brought him home. They don’t know what he looks like.”

She didn’t know what was sadder, the fact her sister thought the only way she could get a wedding date was to hire one, or late last night she’d thought up the same crazy idea.

“No. Mom and Dad will get over it. Eventually.” She took a sip of coffee. “I’d never be able to pull it off with a stranger anyway.”

“They’re already upset we’re not doing an Orthodox ceremony at church. They’re going to spend the entire trip obsessing over that, never mind your spinsterhood. They’re going to try to set you up with Justin’s distant cousins or something. It’ll be embarrassing.”

Ah ha. The truth. Heather was more worried about her wedding day getting ruined than about Camryn’s welfare. Though she did have a point. One Camryn had already considered.

“Heather, even if this wasn’t absurd, this guy is going to be in your wedding pictures. I’ve been dating Maxwell for over a year. Mom and Dad know we were discussing marriage. I can’t explain away not wanting my date in photos.”

“You need someone we know,” Heather said.

Camryn rolled her eyes as the gears turned in her sister’s head. She was surprised there wasn’t smoke. “No.”

Her sister wasn’t listening, though. She was on a roll. “Someone we wouldn’t mind in photos.”

“No.”

“What about Troy?”

Camryn flinched. “Troy Lansky? As in our brother’s best friend? He doesn’t have enough fingers and toes to count the women he’s been with. This year.”

Heather was undeterred. “Exactly. He never brings a date to family functions. He’s not serious about anyone.”

“No.”

“Think about it, Cam. He knows you. Really well.”

“No.”

“Cam…”

“No.”

Heather stood. “Cam, he’d pass the test.”

Camryn snapped her mouth shut before another no could pop out. Heather was right about that. Troy would pass the test.

Back when they were teenagers, Camryn and her siblings had contrived what they called the dysfunctional test. If anyone they dated could survive a span of time with their family and not go clinically insane,
and
also be approved by the family, then they’d be the one for them. Her brother’s wife, Anna, had passed the test. They had joked about it at their engagement party, letting Anna in on the secret. When Justin passed and proposed to Heather, they let him in on it too.

Camryn had never found someone to even try to pass. As time went by, she figured it didn’t matter if she brought a paranoid schizophrenic with a toenail fetish home, he would suffice. Maxwell probably wouldn’t have passed, but in the eyes of her parents, he would do. Living, breathing male.

Troy, however, passed the test at age ten, when he was first introduced to the family as their foster child. He never talked about it much, but his father was an abusive alcoholic. Having been in and out of their home for foster care until he turned eighteen, Troy had always been an honorary member of the family.