Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Elizabeth
I am sick to my stomach as I rush to get out of my car at the arena, then take off in a run toward where the offices are located. I scan my badge in, holding my breath as I wait for the little light to turn green. When it does, a small sob of relief escapes my lips.
“Lizzie, stop panicking,” Logan begged when I started crying earlier at my apartment. “You’re fine. You got time.”
“I was supposed to be at the office at eight,” I told him through hiccups.
His eyes got big, and he followed suit and jumped out of bed, panic clear on his face as well.
“Shit, I’m so sorry! I thought you had to be in at nine!”
Everything after that was a chaotic mess. I didn’t have time to take a shower, but I managed to clean myself up with a hand towel, and Logan swore to me that I didn’t stink by the time I was ready to leave.
Now, as I walk down the hallway toward where my small office is located, I pray to all the gods that I won’t run into anyone.
Sweat breaks down my back when I hear a door opening, causing me to hold my breath in anticipation.
When no one shows up, I start running, and, before long, I am finally in front of my office.
I pause for a second when I realize the door is closed. I could’ve sworn I left it open yesterday at the end of the day. My entire body is tight with anxiety when I press on the handle and the door opens.
“Thank you, God,” I murmur to myself when I notice there’s no one in here.
With speed that I didn’t even know I was capable of, I hurry and sit at my desk, opening the bottom drawer in one swift move, and dropping my handbag in there.
I then touch the keyboard, and my computer comes to life.
I have to type in my password three times until it finally takes it.
By the time I am logged in, my hands are clammy, and my armpits feel sweaty and gross.
I lean back against my chair and close my eyes in relief. I may have actually pulled this off.
“Knock, knock,” someone’s voice calls out from the doorway. My eyes snap open, only to find Jennifer, one of the organization’s HR ladies, smiling at me. I automatically think of the worst, to the point where all the blood rushes to my head, and my chest hurts.
“Do you have a minute?” Her voice sounds happy and chipper but also strong.
She doesn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, she steps inside my office and closes the door behind.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she says as she takes a seat in the only chair I have available across from the small desk I was given.
“Not at all.” I wince at hearing my own voice. It makes me sound scared to death. Which I am.
Jennifer makes herself comfortable in her seat, moving it back and forth a couple of times as she comments on one of the legs feeling loose. I don’t really have the mental capacity to even process what she’s saying, but she seems to be having a good time with it.
“That’s better,” she giggles when she’s finally settled.
I continue staring at her, unsure of how she expects me to react to anything. I figure that the less I say, the better.
“I apologize for barging in like this,” she starts. “I was actually looking for you earlier, but you were not in yet.”
There’s this whooshing sound in my ears, and I wonder if I am about to throw up. My mouth is dry, threatening to choke me to death.
“I-I was a bit late today.” I have no idea how I am even capable to form the words.
Jennifer gives me a sympathetic smile. “That happens sometimes,” she tells me.
Relief floods my system at hearing that. She seems nice about it.
“However…”
My eyes instantly fill with tears. I celebrated too soon.
“You seem to be having a bit of a hard time getting here on time every day.” Her tone is steel wrapped in a soft layer that gives me a false sense of security.
“Is everything okay?” she asks point blank.
I clear my throat a couple of times, effectively buying myself a few more seconds before I have no other choice but to reply to her.
“Everything is fine,” I croak out.
Jennifer’s eyebrow goes up in question, skepticism obvious on her face.
“Are you happy working here?”
That is another question that’s very hard to answer, at least not without messing up my entire life even more than I’ve already done. I squirm under Jennifer’s scrutiny, feeling like she can see right through me.
“Your silence speaks volumes,” she tells me, her tone softer yet.
“I’m really sorry,” I finally say. “I just wasn’t prepared to have this conversation. Of course I’m happy here.”
I sound terrible even to my own ears. Nothing about what I just said is sincere, and she can tell. She gives me a disappointed look, the one you would give to a small child when you caught him lying to your face.
“That is not the vibe we’re getting from you, Elizabeth.”
I swallow hard as I try to come up with a good excuse on why I suck. Unfortunately, I am too frazzled to think and can’t come up with anything that would hold water.
“I’m really sorry about being late.” The words feel like dirt in my mouth. “I hope you will give me a chance to redeem myself. I promise that this is not who I am.”
Jennifer gives me another sad smile. “This doesn’t make you a bad person, Elizabeth. We all love you and think you are very sweet.”
I smile through the tears that are blurring my eyes. “Thank you.”
“But we all agree that you might not be the right person for this job,” she continues.
My entire world collapses at hearing those words. They represent everything that I was fearing, and everything that I was praying would not happen to me.
“Am I being fired?” I ask, even though it is obvious that I am.
Jennifer purses her lips as she watches me with thoughtful eyes.
“We will have to part ways,” she confirms.
Shame instantly fills my entire body, and I am embarrassed to even look at her anymore.
I drop my face into my hands and let the tears flow.
So many things go through my mind, none of them good.
While I still have some money from the amount I came here with, I spent a lot on a deposit for my apartment, furniture, sheets…
God, those sheets had cost me a fortune.
I doubt that I can return them now that they’ve been used.
Not to mention, my and Logan’s bodily fluids are currently all over them.
“I understand how hard this must be…”
I jump when Jennifer touches my shoulder. I didn’t even realize that she wasn’t sitting in the chair anymore.
“I’m not sure what I am going to do,” I mumble in my hands, not even sure that she can hear me. “Where am I going to get another job?”
The question is rhetorical. I don’t expect Jennifer to do anything right now other than maybe march me out of the building and straight to my car.
“Well, what do you really like to do?” she asks. “What are you passionate about?”
I bring my head back up, but I still can’t deal with looking at her. This entire process feels incredibly humiliating. I’ve never been in this type of a situation before. How do people deal with this?
When she puts a box of tissues in front of me, I pull out a few and take my time blowing my nose and wiping my face.
Thankfully, I didn’t have time to put any makeup on before rushing over here, so I don’t have to worry about my mascara running or anything like that.
By the time I am done cleaning myself up a bit, I am determined to beg for her to allow me to stay.
“I will grow to love this job,” I tell her. “I just haven’t really had a chance to dive into it, you know?”
I feel a sneeze coming, so I pause to do that and blow my nose. She waits for me patiently, probably being a lot nicer to me than she should have to be, or than anyone else would be in this situation.
“I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do when I moved to Texas,” I explain. “My best friend encouraged me to try and use the certificate in nutrition that I received last year. We both took the course together,” I explain, although, no one is asking.
“Elizabeth,” she stops me. “Your qualifications are not in question,” she assures me. “The position you were hired for is how everyone right out of school with that type of certification would start out as. We never thought you would be a bad choice.”
“Why are you letting me go then?” I ask, then wince at how I sound. I am whiny, like a small child, giving her no choice but to treat me as such.
“We are letting you go because you seem to be having an issue with being on time,” she tells me in a firm tone.
“Also, when you are performing your job, it is obvious that you’re not into it,” she adds.
“We see a few bursts of excitement here and there, but this is not where your heart is, and you make it obvious.”
That gives me pause. I thought I was hiding my dislike very well. I am crushed to hear that they all saw right through me.
“Maybe you should look into a position in a field you are truly passionate about,” Jennifer encourages me. “Something that makes you happy. You are the type of person who wears their heart on their sleeve.”
“I love to paint,” I blurt out. “I love art. Where am I going to find a job that pays me to paint?”
Jennifer goes back to her seat across from me. Her face looks pensive, like she is actually giving my problem some thought.
“There are lots of artists who make a living off their art.”
I nod because I agree, however, it’s not as easy as she makes it sound. “That’s for the more established artists. I haven’t sold one piece of anything in my life.”
“But they all started somewhere,” Jennifer points out. “Why are you already leaving from the premise that you are not good enough? Or not as good as the artists who have made a name for themselves?”
Her questions throw me off. They make me realize how insecure I have become. I used to have the world by the ass, and now, look at me. I just got fired from my first real job at the ripe old age of almost twenty-five.
Once again, I drop my face in my hands, trying to hide from the reality that is my life nowadays. “God, I am so pathetic,” I mumble.
Jennifer chuckles softly. “You’re not pathetic, Elizabeth. You’re growing up. Most people experience this at a younger age,” she makes sure to add, just in case I wasn’t feeling crappy enough about myself.
I take a deep breath in as I try to regroup, focus even. I have no idea what to do next. I don’t even want to go back to my apartment, knowing that I can no longer afford it. I could call Logan, but I feel so ashamed.
Dropping my hands from my face, I finally have the courage to look Jennifer in the eyes.
“Is there any chance I can fix this?” I force myself to ask. “I could work more hours. For free,” I add when she opens her mouth to speak. “I could…”
Jennifer puts a hand up to stop me. “I’m very sorry, Elizabeth. The answer is no.”
I stare at her and chew on my bottom lip, scared to death of life and everything it entails.
“What’s next?”
She sighs and stands up from her chair, then waits for me until I do the same.
“I need you turn in your badge,” she tells me. “If you have any personal effects here, please feel free to take them home. Any property of the Aces organization will need to be returned.”
With shaky hands, I bend down to open my bottom desk drawer and pull out my bag. It takes me a couple of times but I finally manage to unzip it so I can pull out the badge I was happy to scan in only minutes before. I place it on the desk, then wait.
“Do you have anything else that would need to be returned?” Jennifer asks in a gentle tone.
I shake my head, unable to speak.
She takes a deep breath and turns to walk out. “I have to escort you outside to your car,” she tells me. “I will try to make it as painless as possible.”
I step into the hallway to follow her, and it feels like the walk of shame despite the fact that we only run into a couple of people. I feel self-conscious and like everyone is aware of what’s going on right now. By the time we make it to my car, I am about to pass out.
Jennifer stops me when I pull the door open. “Are you okay driving?”
I jump back a little, not wanting to deal with her kindness anymore. It suddenly feels fake to me, and I can’t handle it.
“Yes,” I tell her.
I get in the car and slam the door, maybe with a bit too much force. When I glance to the side and see that Jennifer is still standing by my car, I feel bad for being such a bitch.
Rolling my window down, I give her what I am assuming to be a weak smile. “Thank you for not embarrassing me in there…”
She reaches inside the car and pats me on the shoulder, causing me to jump in place.
“Elizabeth,” she says, “I know it feels like the end of the world now, but you will be okay. I promise.”
I nod at her, just like I did before, but words escape me. I’m done talking, so I turn the engine on and put the car into gear. I give her a weak wave before taking off.
As I pull out of the driveway at the arena for possibly the last time, I take a deep breath in, then let it all out. One thing is clear. I’m screwed.