Chapter Twenty-Six #2
I turn at the sound of Tessa’s voice. Marina and the Ryser Cares folks are standing just outside the office, watching me. I bite my lip and come closer, crossing the parking lot to stand in front of them. Like I’m facing a firing squad.
I fiddle with my phone, running my thumbnail around the edge of the case. How are the geese not running out to interrupt this scene? It’s like they know the worst torture lies in me staying put.
“Amanda says they’re closing the Ryser Cares office. Today.” My voice comes out hoarse, just above a whisper. “Because of the festival buzz, that reporter wrote another article attacking Ryser and…Ryser took it personally. They want to distance themselves from Greenstead to improve their image.”
Arun glances at his colleagues in disbelief. “So we’ve lost our jobs? Just like that?”
I nod reluctantly. “HR’s gonna send us letters in the mail, apparently.”
“I don’t understand,” Marina says. “Why would Ryser punish you all if they’re the ones who invested in the festival in the first place?”
I wince. I look to Randy, hoping for an ounce of sympathy. But he’s staring at me with just as much confusion as everyone else.
“They—they didn’t,” I confess. “After the first article came out, Amanda wanted to get more involved in the festival planning. But when she started trying to turn the festival into something it isn’t, I told her no.
” They’re nodding. They know this much. I swallow and have to force out the rest. “And she…pulled the funding. She said Ryser was stepping back from Greenstead.”
Tessa’s blinking in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
It’s a reasonable question. But when I search for an explanation, nothing I come up with makes sense.
I should have told them. But that would have been admitting that Ryser is every bit as soulless as Marina has long insisted.
It would have been admitting that I’m soulless for continuing to work for them.
It was easier to hide the truth, keep my head down, and let myself believe the lie that we were all working toward a common good, hand in hand with Ryser.
“I–I guess I didn’t want to admit it,” I stumble out. “That Ryser’s as bad as Marina says.”
“We all know Ryser’s terrible,” Tessa says with an eye roll. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“How have we been paying for the festival?” Jen asks. “If Ryser hasn’t been providing the money?”
“I did,” I say quietly. “From my savings.”
Surprise passes over their faces, but this admission isn’t enough to clear the hurt and anger reflected in their eyes.
“Did you know they were gonna close the office?” Randy asks.
I meet his eyes for only a second before I have to look away. “Not for sure. I didn’t know they were gonna close it today.”
“But you knew something,” Randy guesses.
“Yes,” I admit. “When Amanda said she was pulling the funding, she also said they were considering closing the office. She said she felt like Ryser has moved on.”
Marina lets out a skeptical laugh. “Wow, okay. I’m so glad they’ve moved on, even though Greenstead can’t.”
“You should have told us.” Randy’s voice is serious, tinged with hurt.
I remember that moment we shared in the kitchen, our hushed conversation over the boiling kettle, how I made the split-second decision to keep quiet about the possibility of the office closing.
I think of him by my side at the festival, asking how I pulled it off, and how I lied to his face about working something out with Amanda.
It felt like the right decision at the time, a kindness to keep up morale and let us stay in our festival bubble for as long as we could.
But now, I see it as he does: a betrayal.
“I was going to, after the festival,” I try to explain. “I didn’t want to bring everyone down.”
Tessa scoffs. “Thank you for being so considerate of our feelings.”
“You don’t think we could have helped you figure something out?” Arun asks. “We’re a team.”
“No, we’re a team,” Tessa corrects him, gesturing to the five of them. “Lauryn always said she was sent here by mistake. She’s the messiah from corporate and we’re just the Flop House. How could we possibly help?”
“That’s not it,” I whisper. But I can’t blame her for thinking that way. I cringe to imagine what they thought when that version of me showed up here a few months ago, with her blazers and her belief that she was better than this place. She didn’t know anything.
I glance at Jen, who normally has a kind word to say. She may even have the urge to, going by the conflicted look on her face. But she remains silent.
“Okay,” Arun says, throwing his hands up in the air. “I guess I’ll pack my shit and…wait for my letter at home.” He disappears into the office. Randy, Tessa, and Jen follow suit, giving me disappointed looks on their way in.
Then it’s just Marina and me, standing across from each other. Marina’s eyes are round, her brow knit. “Was all of this really just because…you wanted me to think Ryser wasn’t evil?”
I hang my head. It sounds so stupid spoken aloud.
“I wanted you to think I was…” I stop, not sure how to finish the sentence.
Not as evil as Ryser? Good? Noble, even?
Was I delusional enough to believe there was a world where Marina would consider me a good person just because I helped her throw a festival and stretched the truth enough to trick her into respecting the company that destroyed our town?
Marina casts her gaze skyward. “I don’t know where you’re going with that, but I have never thought you’re evil, or anything close to it.
I think you’re confused. And I think you spend way too much time worrying about how the company you work for reflects on you.
Which makes it pretty clear what working for Ryser is doing to you. ”
I can’t quite make sense of her words. They pass over me without sinking in. “What’s that?” I ask listlessly.
She tilts her head, like she can’t believe she has to spell it out for me.
“From everything you’ve told me, you sound miserable.
You hate your apartment, your job is clearly messing with your head, you don’t seem to have friends or do anything fun.
You keep saying you’re gonna start living your life once you’re forty and retired, but…
is that worth being this miserable over? ”
“I’m not miserable ,” I protest, heat rushing to my cheeks. “I’m…planning. I’m a planner.”
“Okay.” The word is hard with sarcasm.
“Besides, you’re one to talk. You live in a house you hate, but you won’t admit you’re in over your head.
You keep complaining that Greenstead is dying, but you’re too stubborn to sell your house and let Solar Summit build something new here.
And I’m pretty sure your weird, stubborn attachment to your run-down house is getting in the way of you actually being happy with Jess—who you’re obviously still in love with. ”
Marina’s shaking her head when I bring up her house—but at the mention of Jess, something in her softens for an instant before her indignance takes over again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe I don’t. But you don’t get to lecture me about how miserable I am if you can’t listen to the truth about yourself.”
“Fine.” She pointedly keeps her glare somewhere behind me.
“Fine,” I shoot back. I glance toward the windows behind her, where the others are packing up their things. I can’t go back in and face their disappointment. But I have no interest in staying out here with Marina’s judgment. Finally, I turn on my heel and start toward my car.
“You’re leaving?” Marina says.
“Yep,” I say without turning around.
“You’re good at that,” she calls after me.
The remark stings, but I don’t bother responding. I get in my car and slam the door shut. As Marina stands there watching, I pull out of the parking lot and head for anywhere that isn’t filled with people I’ve let down.