Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

again. “One month’s severance, plus any unused vacation time.” That helped, actually. I had quite a lot of that.
    I stood up. “I assume this is effective immediately.”
    He went back to looking at his desk, rubbing his forehead. “Yes.
    The personnel department has all of your paperwork ready. You can stop there first.” I got his door open, but he stopped me before I walked through. “Jon, I have nine of your colleagues coming behind you.” I knew what he was trying to tell me—nobody wanted to hear about being laid off through the grapevine. He was asking me to be low key about it.
    “Yes, sir,” I said.
    He stood up and came out from behind his desk. “I’m sorry, Jon,” he said, shaking my hand. “I really am.”
    All I could say was, “I am too.”
    I cleaned out my desk. I started out trying to be subtle, but one at a time, my co-workers were returning from their own meetings with Marcus. By the time five of us were cleaning out our desks, the rest could pretty much guess what was coming. Some were despondent.
    Some were angry. One actually seemed relieved. And me? More than anything, I felt betrayed.
    It was two o’clock when I got home, and my house was empty. I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved to not have to tell Cole yet what had happened. I threw my tie and jacket on the floor. I kicked off my shoes. Then I lay down on the couch and stared at nothing.
    How could this possibly happen? That was the one thought that kept circling in my brain, over and over again. How could this happen ?
    I had worked my ass off for that company for nine years. In that time, I had never said no. I had hardly taken a day of vacation. I had been the model employee. And this was how they repaid me? With one month’s severance pay, a handshake, and an apology?
    Would it have been better if I had never accepted the demotion? I would be in Vegas or Utah, but I would still have a job. My gut reaction was to think yes, it would have been better to move. But then I thought about the last few months with Cole, and I knew I had made the right choice. I would not have traded my time with him for anything.
    Which brought me back to my original question. I had done what was right. So how could this happen? I chased it around in my brain, over and over and over, and I got nowhere. I was by turns completely furious and terribly despondent.
    I had no idea how much time had passed. I only knew that I was starting to get hungry. More than hungry, actually. I was starving. I hadn’t eaten lunch. A glance at my watch showed me that it was almost four. I wasn’t sure if I should call Cole or if I should just get shit-faced drunk.
    I was still trying to decide when he found me.
    I hadn’t moved from my position on the couch, and the door was behind me, so I couldn’t see him. But I heard his key in the lock, and I heard him come in. I heard the crinkling of paper which told me had been at the store. “Hey, love,” he said. “Why are you home so early?
    Are you sick?” I didn’t answer at first. He came into view, looking down at me in concern, with a brown paper bag in one arm.
    The words came easier than I expected. “I lost my job.”
    “Oh no!” He dropped the bag of groceries on the coffee table and sat down on the edge of the couch next to me. “What happened?”
    I couldn’t look at him. The sympathy in his eyes was painful, and I kept my eyes on the ceiling. “They’re downsizing. They cut my whole department.”
    “Jonny, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He took my hand, holding it between his. “I don’t know what else to say that won’t sound trite.”
    “It’s okay.”
    “Tell me what you want me to do, love.”
    “Just….” I wasn’t even sure myself until the words came out of my mouth. “Leave me alone for a bit.”
    There was a moment of stunned silence, and then he said, “Okay.
    I can go home.” He stood up, but I gripped his hand tight, so that he looked back down at me. I was able to meet his eyes this time.
    “No. Not for that long. Just give me a few more minutes.”
    “Okay.” He sat back down, looking concerned, still holding my hand. “I was planning to make dinner. Should I still—”
    “That would be great.”
    “It’s Cornish hens with scallio—”
    “What about the wine?”
    “It’s a Zinfandel.”
    “We’re going to need two bottles.”
    “Okay.” He leaned down and kissed me. His lips were soft and a little hesitant and so sweet that