1. Keaton All （Are Not） Welcome
I will get this promotion or something better,” I whisper as I walk down the gleaming, glass-walled hall of All Welcome, the lifestyle brand I have been working for since I was a college intern twelve years ago. Allison, our CEO—and, well, my hero—is big on the phrase. She claims she has used it to manifest her massive success over the last thirteen years, when she started this brand as a recent college grad. Who am I to doubt her? If I’m going to manifest something, now seems like a good time to start.
Casey, one of our interns, winks at me as she passes me in the hallway and crosses her fingers. Her encouragement boosts me as my stomach rolls with the reminder that Jonathan, the head of HR and my ex, is going to be in this meeting about my “future with All Welcome” too. We broke up about a month ago, after eighteen months of dating, but I still haven’t told my family. I can almost hear my mother’s voice in my head: I don’t like to interfere, but, darling, the man still works for his ex-wife’s company. And you work for him. It is unsavory at best, a recipe for disaster at worst.
Despite my mother’s concerns, I had always felt proud that Jonathan—who was not my superior when we started dating, I might add—Allison, and I have always been able to work together so seamlessly. Allison and Jonathan used to say it was because their relationship was ancient history. And now, so was ours. Because after we moved in together six months ago, Jonathan and I realized that the single thing we had in common was work. Now the three of us are back to being just coworkers. Coworkers with weird personal histories, to be sure, but just coworkers all the same.
I walk to the end of the hall to the smallest conference room. It is the only one that has solid, soundproof walls instead of glass, so it’s the most private. And it’s where most promotion meetings take place.
Allison is already there, as I assumed she would be. Punctuality is one of her core values. The others, as I well know, are transparency, honesty, innovation, and excellence. She is a motivational speaker who gets paid in the high five digits each time she flies off to inspire companies and their employees to reach their full potential. She has a huge conference—All-Fest—each year that literally fills an arena, a line of journals and goal-setting notebooks, and has penned four New York Times bestsellers. We even decided to publish her last book in-house. We were nervous, but it went so well that we’re publishing a handful of other meaningful titles this year by other authors in the space.
It’s very exciting. It is also very on-brand for Allison, someone who many, many women aspire to be like. As I open the door, I see that right now—aspirationally—she is walking on the quiet, non-motorized treadmill in the corner of the room. She has exercise equipment in every conference room and her office because she doesn’t have time for regular workouts, but this ensures she can still honor her body and spirit each day—her words, not mine. She is such a badass. I feel the tiniest twinge of guilt that I can’t remember the last time I actually exercised myself.
“Oh, hi!” I say as I spot Jonathan shifting a stack of papers at the head of the table. I thought the breakup would be harder, but since we have had to work together every day since, it already sort of feels like we’re back to just coworkers. Even at thirty-seven, he still has ashy blond hair and big puppy-dog brown eyes. He’s a good guy. Not my guy anymore. But a good guy all the same. He has been letting me stay in the town house we shared while I frantically look for another apartment. Something decent in my price range in New York City is, evidently, hard to come by. And our breakup made me realize I don’t have so much as a friend’s couch to crash on. My parents’ place is a last resort that I hope I don’t need.
A glass of water is in front of the seat next to him, so I figure it is mine. I take my seat and am shocked when Allison quits walking. She usually keeps working out, getting progressively more breathless as a meeting goes on. Usually, by the end of an hour, I’m translating because I’m the only one who can understand her. Curiously, though, the woman never sweats.
“Keaton, Keaton, Keaton,” she says as she sits down. “Our girl wonder.”
I sit on the edge of my seat, keeping my fingers crossed under the table. “I brought you here today to tell you that I’m pregnant.”
That’s not what I’m expecting to hear, but, still, I gasp and clap my hands. I would know if she was seriously dating someone, so I wonder if she has done in vitro or, knowing Allison, has engineered some new pregnancy procedure that doesn’t involve sperm at all. A woman-only pregnancy. She’d be really into that. It would also be great for our brand. I briefly wonder how on earth she’s going to take care of a child when she works absolutely nonstop. All that aside, she’s obviously telling me I’m promoted because she can’t take on anything else in her state.
“That is great news, Allison,” I chime in. “And I’d like you to know I’m here for anything you need.”
She smiles with an ethereal glow and reaches across the table to take my hand. “I am so glad to hear you say that because there is something I need from you.”
I feel a grin spread across my face, and I glance briefly at Jonathan. He looks kind of… constipated. Which I know he never is because we shared a bathroom in his two-bedroom town house. Maybe he’s worried about what Allison’s pregnancy is going to mean for his job, which I totally get. But now he’ll have me—with my corner office and big, fat salary—to lighten his workload. I try to convey that with my glance, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
Then Allison says, with a light squeeze of my palm, “I’m going to need you to move out of the town house.”
I look at Jonathan again, not quite comprehending. “Well, I’m looking for a new place, but…” I trail off. Some fuzzy atoms are connecting in my brain.
I remove my clammy hand and take a sip of water just as Allison lets out a breathy little laugh. “Oh my gosh. Pregnancy brain. The baby is Jonathan’s, and I am going to move back into the house y’all have been living in. My apartment is too small.”
I honestly don’t mean to, but I choke and spit the water out, spraying it all over Jonathan. He barely moves to wipe himself off; he only looks really apologetic. And kind of sick.
“My Jonathan?” I squeak.
Allison smiles in a way that feels very condescending. “Well, mine,” she says as she rubs her impossibly flat stomach.
Jonathan barely pipes up. “Well, actually, Allison, I’m not sure I would say I belong to you.”
She smiles at him in a way that conveys, Oh, but don’t you?
“I. What? No. You can’t. It doesn’t…” I’m obviously having some trouble with my words.
“Don’t worry,” Allison says. “We’ll have someone pack up all your things and get them moved wherever you go next.”
“That is literally the last thing I am worried about.” I turn to Jonathan, doing the math in my head. We’ve only been broken up for four weeks. “How long has this been going on?”
“Well, I’m twelve weeks along,” Allison says, batting her eyes at Jonathan.
“What?” I practically scream, realizing this is why I’m in the soundproof conference room. I turn to Jonathan. “Are you insane? We only moved in together like six months ago! You’re the one who talked me into getting rid of my apartment!”
“I’m really sorry,” Jonathan says. “It was so obvious things weren’t going to work out with us that I just… moved on before it was official. It didn’t mean anything at first.”
“But then we realized we were still in love,” Allison says. “That we wanted to start a family. I truly hope this doesn’t hurt you, Keaton, but Jonathan and I think consciously recoupling is the right thing for us.”
Consciously recoupling. This can’t be real. Anger, which I am usually good at controlling, rises in me. The hypocrisy is too much for me to take. “Do you believe your own psychobabble bullshit?” I ask her, my face turning red. “I mean, do you hear yourself? Oh, honesty and transparency are my core values,” I say in a singsong voice.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she says, “because we were here to offer you a promotion to director of marketing. But if you aren’t committed to the brand then—”
“You were going to offer me a promotion?” I practically spit. “A promotion? So we can work more closely while you and your ex remarry and start a family?”
“Oh, we won’t remarry,” Allison says. “Marriage feels so archaic and confining now. But we assumed if the two of us could work so well together after a divorce that surely you could manage…”
That’s when I know I’m going to cry, and that’s the last thing in the world I want to do. I want to be archaic and confined. I want to be married. I don’t want to be married to Jonathan. But the fact that he cheated on me really stings. And, well, explains why he’s been so nice about letting me stay in the town house. Guilt is powerful.
“Jonathan, how could you do this to me? All that time we were planning our future together, and you were screwing your ex-wife?” And I had no idea?
“I’m sorry, Keaton. I really am.”
“You should never be sorry about living your authentic path, Jonathan,” Allison interjects.
I take a long look at Allison, and I can’t believe that I was so enamored with her for so long. Yes, she’s beautiful in this bird-boned, hippie-at-Woodstock kind of way. And she has this soft voice that you have to lean forward to hear, that makes you want to listen. But she’s also selfish. It’s always about her. I know this, and yet I’ve always forgiven her for it because I believed she was a good person deep down.
When I got my internship the summer after my junior year at our shared alma mater, UNC–Chapel Hill, I felt like I had won the lottery. Allison and I together felt like kismet. It was clear I would come work for her after graduation. I knew she was going to change the world. And, well, she has. And so that’s why it’s so hard for me to say, “Why did I buy into this for so long? I did your program to the letter for years, and it’s just now occurring to me that I’m not any better, any more enlightened, than I was when I started.”
“What do you mean did?” Allison asks.
I squint at her. “Did. Now, a lot of mornings, I don’t even make my bed.” I don’t have time since I’m basically running your company, I add, only in my head.
Allison gasps. “Making your bed is a Vision One, Track One foundation habit. Are you even drinking your eight glasses of water? Moving your thirty minutes?”
“Nope!” I say, crossing my arms, feeling childish. I know she is going to be offended by this admission.
“The foundation habits aren’t really that difficult if you’re committed,” she says. “Keaton, maybe you and I should dive into why you’re letting yourself stay stuck.”
“Because your entire company is crap, Allison, based on making women feel like they aren’t good enough if they aren’t as perfect and motivated and successful as you.” I know I’ve gone too far. All Welcome’s whole premise is that everyone can find their happiness if they make the time to do what inspires them. And Allison has helped people do that. Even still, I can’t help but hit her where it hurts most.
She smiles sadly at me, and I’m torn between regret and hatred. “Keaton, I’m sorry to say, but I think your journey here at All Welcome is coming to an end. I can overlook a spiritually unenlightened reaction in a moment of turmoil, but I can’t have people who don’t believe in the process be a part of this company.”
Jonathan finally speaks up. “Well, maybe it isn’t fair to fire her…”
I know he’s thinking it isn’t fair to fire me because in what world am I not going to sue the hell out of this company for wrongful termination? “Nope!” I say. “I’m fired.”
“Maybe we can discuss a severance package that feels right?” Jonathan says, hesitantly, still trying to smooth over something that has already gotten out of hand.
“Well,” Allison says, still with that slick calm voice of hers, “I feel that giving Keaton severance is offensive; it’s like saying we don’t believe in her or her ability to begin anew. And that simply isn’t true. I do believe in Keaton and the power and beauty of her dreams.”
I am too nauseated to respond.
“Okay,” Jonathan says, standing up. “Allison, we might be making some hasty decisions here.”
No severance, bigger lawsuit. For all her preaching, Allison isn’t a very good businesswoman. Which is why she needed me. Well, that, and the fact that my role as marketing coordinator had morphed really far from my job description. In addition to handling marketing strategies—like advertising, paid editorial placement, and merchandise—I also oversaw all of All Welcome’s social media (which is technically a different department), scheduled all of Allison’s podcast guests, the launches for the four books a year (and growing!) the company is now publishing through its publishing arm, sat in on practically every meeting, and on and on and on.
Allison and I worked together nonstop. We laughed together. We dreamed together. I couldn’t imagine that it could come to this. And I had no idea what she would do without me. It looks like she’s about to find out.
I stand up. “You heard her. I’m fired. No severance. I want all my stuff returned to my parents’ place right away. And you damn well better bring my dog.”
I’m not moving there, I tell myself. Just staying until I find a new apartment. I have some money saved, and besides, I can always go live with my brother for a while instead.
Only, as I storm out of the building and call said brother to tell him what happened and ask him if I can stay, he flat-out says, “No, Keaton. You cannot come live with me.”
I am aghast. “Harris! Are you kidding me? Why can’t I live with you for just a little bit? I’m looking really hard for an apartment.” I pause, putting the pieces together. My brother is my best friend. There is only one reason he wouldn’t want me to live with him. “You have some rando woman living with you, don’t you? And you haven’t even told Mom and Dad. Or me. What is wrong with you?”
“Well, you won’t approve,” he says.
“She’s like twenty-three, isn’t she?”
“Thereabouts.”
“Harris! Get your shit together. Break up with her and choose your sister for once in your freaking life.”
“I’m not not choosing you, Keat. I love you. But just think about it. How cool would it be to use your severance to get away for a while?”
“I didn’t get severance,” I say. “Allison feels that would send the message that she doesn’t believe in my ability to begin anew.”
“O-kay,” Harris says. “Well, you still can’t live here, but I am hiring you a lawyer.”
I enter the code in the keypad to Mom and Dad’s building, which is an easy couple blocks walk from my office—well, it was anyway—and swing open the door. “Mom told me not to move in with him,” I say out loud as I step into the elevator, more to myself than to Harris. “If I had listened to her, maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Oh, Keat. I’m sorry. But, look, I’ll help you find a place to live. We’ll figure it out.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “Can you help find me a job, too? Oh my gosh I don’t have a job!” I am filled with dread. “I have to go.” Tears puddle in my eyes, and I literally have to sit on the elevator floor since my legs won’t hold me up any longer. I realize that I have given every single part of myself to this job that I just walked away from. I don’t have hobbies. I don’t volunteer. All my meals are either from a frozen meal delivery service or DoorDash because who has time to cook? I barely have friends because when would I see them? My social life consisted of Jonathan and Allison and my colleagues and now it’s all just… gone.
The elevator opens, and a woman pushes her walker through. “Hi, Mrs. Ellis,” I say with zero enthusiasm.
She starts. “Oh dear. What are you doing on the floor?”
“Bad day,” I say.
“Well, a bad day is always a good time to visit one’s parents.”
I nod, but then another sick feeling washes over me: Worse than getting dumped, worse than getting fired, I’m going to have to tell my mother she was right.