Bereft (Seven Year Itch #2)(4)

Once I reached the main cubicle area, I was met with many emotional coworkers. Women were hugging and sniffling, while I could clearly hear some of the guys talking amongst themselves. Some were even on the phone, possibly with family or clients. They gave me disturbed looks and shook their heads. One guy, a techie, ambled over in front of my path. “Did you know? Did you know everything was going to shit?”

I cocked my neck and gave him a once over. “Did you? Don’t you think I’d have the decency to make it to the meeting if I was aware what was going on? We’re all in the same boat.” I looked around the room and saw others had chimed in on our short conversation. “If I were you, I’d gather your things and leave the building. Take your client list and start making calls. If this is how we’re going down, we’re taking our people with us. Don’t let that little prick take everything from us. We’ve built this company, all of us together. The people we represent will want to stay with us. We have relationships. Use them to your advantage. If the company is going to shit, let’s leave it with nothing worth saving.”

In unison several people agreed. For a second I felt empowered until I got to my desk and understood what had transpired. I was losing my job. Since I’d been in upper management, I didn’t exactly have a huge client list. I’d passed that torch off to someone below me. I’d be shit out of luck, without a paddle in a very deep pool. They didn’t say how long we were expected to continue, but from my standpoint I was done. Without regard for anyone else, I threw nearly twenty years worth of memories into a small paper box, including some office supplies they’d no longer be needing, and exited on the elevators.

Chad came running toward the closing doors. “Rachel, wait, please. We need to discuss this like adults.”

I closed my eyes until I felt the machine operating. There would be no goodbyes, mostly because I couldn’t handle them. I wouldn’t want to. Looking in the eyes of the people who would struggle, lose homes, possibly everything, made me want to commit acts of murder on the little * upstairs. I hoped he choked on the large amount of money he’d be receiving for his grandfather’s hard work. Guys like him made me ill. He’d probably invest it all in some gym that would be out of business within a year of opening its doors.

Because of my shock, I was unable to ask about my benefits, my retirement funds, and any kind of severance, not that it would matter. With a daughter still in college I’d have to struggle to find something else that would pay enough to get me by. I couldn’t let this break me; or end her hopes of graduating from a four year university.

This was devastating – the end of living comfortably. At my age I’d be fighting people the same age as my daughter for a position. Companies weren’t going to hire a washed up employee when they could pick up someone for half the money as a starting salary, and teach them the basics to get by.

This was a travesty. All I could think about was going home, putting on a pair of sweatpants and crying until my husband got home, which would be late in the evening. I thought about him holding me; somehow making my fears go away. Grayson was always good about that. He took care of us - of me. He would find a way to make things work. He’d take the stress off me, and convince me we were better off, somehow, someway.

For the first time since our daughter moved out of the house, I truly needed him. He was the only person in the world to make me feel better about this disaster.





Chapter 2


Rachel


It wasn’t until I made it to the train station when I really lost my shit. I sunk down on a vacant bench and bellowed out sadness. Several people stopped to ask if I needed assistance, but I waved them away from me without explanation. They couldn’t help me, not even my husband could. He’d be as upset about this news as I was. For the time being, I had to keep it to myself? at least until I could break the news to him face to face.

My train ride home was a blur. I spent most of my time convincing myself I’d be okay. I mean, my husband made enough to pay our bills. We would make it work, no matter what we had to cut back on. So long as we had each other, nothing could break us.

When I arrived at home, I noticed my husband’s vehicle parked the same way it’d been when I left earlier in the morning. He obviously hadn’t left to head to the office yet. It was difficult to step out of my vehicle and know I was the bearer of bad news.

I walked slowly toward the front door, struggling to get my key inside the hole once there. Finally the door opened, and all was quiet. I didn’t hear the normal sport’s network blaring from the family room, nor did I hear him on his phone. Since I wanted to check my face before searching him out, I headed into the half bath and used the facilities. At the same time, I heard voices coming from upstairs. I cracked the door because I swore I must have been mistaken, yet I was certain. My husband’s voice was predominant. It couldn’t be mistaken for another. The female voice was also familiar. I heard her giggling playfully while they carried on a conversation. Then it became quiet again.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, can describe how it feels to hear the sounds of your husband kissing another woman. As if my day hadn’t been destructive already, I felt my whole life falling apart in that instant. Fear swept over me, and a million different scenarios played through my mind.

Was he having an affair?

Did I know her?