Chapter Two
Quill
The woman who sat in front of me in her proper white shirt and pencil skirt looked nervous. Which made me nervous.
Why had I been called up to HR? I tried to think back on my workload and if I’d been late with anything or missed some important email. My mind went blank. I prepared to hear an overview list of my faults. Which were what? My manager had only ever had compliments for my attention to detail and work ethic.
She cleared her throat. My muscles tensed.
“You’ve heard about the layoffs we’ve been forced into?”
Suddenly, my face went numb. Was this what it felt like when all the blood drained from your head, leaving you spinning?
“N-no.”
“It’s unfortunate, but it’s company-wide. Hard times for everyone right now. I’m sorry, Quill, but you are being let go.”
Let go. Let go. Those words had no meaning in the void my mind had fallen into.
She pushed some paperwork toward the front of the desk. “If you could just sign where I’ve highlighted in yellow, please.” She placed a thick, shiny black pen on top of the papers.
I blinked. “Sign?” My voice sounded so far away.
“You’ll be getting a month’s severance along with the money we owe for this week.” She placed a plain white envelope beside the papers.
“I-I don’t understand.”
“A letter of recommendation has been sent to your personal email,” she continued.
It was as if I didn’t exist. She lived in a separate world and was speaking another language.
She put her hand on the pen, looking at me. “Sign, please. I can’t give you the check until you do.”
She wouldn’t look me in the eye but watched carefully as I took up the pen. I didn’t know what else to do. I could sign my name without thinking. So I did it. In seconds, we were done.
I was done.
***
I walked out of the building with my few possessions in a small cardboard box. I couldn’t feel my feet touch the pavement. The cars in the street sent up little sprays of water from their tires as they passed by. A wind blew through my open jacket. Dots of water fell on my cheeks. Where had that come from?
Finally, I understood two things.
It was raining.
And I’d been fired—laid off—from a job I’d held for the past six years.
The dark-gray sky overhead fit the moment perfectly. I looked up, my breathing shallow. I was twenty-eight. Used to being settled and making a decent salary, so I could pay for a nice apartment I didn’t have to share with five roommates like I’d done in college. Proud to have a savings and the company 401k. I had made it. Living a quiet, steady life the way I liked. Orderly and predictable. Those things were what I told myself meant success. The right way to live.
I got along well with my coworkers and was never late. I had no idea that I wouldn’t be working this same job for the next couple decades at least.
Now, from one second to the next, that was all gone.
The chill of the weather seeped slowly into my skin. But I couldn’t feel it. Not really. The whole world was distant, like a painting I was looking at but not a part of.
My body moved as if on autopilot. I used the crosswalk to get to the parking garage, took the elevator up to where I’d parked, and pressed my key fob. My car lights blinked. I opened the door, got in, and sat, thinking about how odd it felt to be going home at midday.
The driver’s seat wrapped me in a familiar embrace. I loved my car.
“Good thing it’s paid for,” I spoke aloud, the silence tumbling away.
My mind cleared. I waited for more emotions to come. Anger. Tears. Depression.
Nothing.
I took a deep breath then slowly let it out. When I did, all my muscles relaxed. I hadn’t realized I’d been feeling tension in my neck until it loosened to a warm, liquid sensation. My shoulders sagged. My chest eased as if a weight had been lifted off it.
The thought came swiftly. I can do anything I want now.
It seemed an ordinary idea that most anyone might say. But not me.
I’d been raised in porcupine culture. It was often a joke to other shifters that our community units were called prickles. But it was not funny to us. In my prickle, work and security superseded all else. Our quills were not our only barriers. Culturally, we guarded our minds from frivolity or anything that wasn’t considered productive by our standards.
Now this new, alien thought had entered my mind. And my body reacted as if I’d been starved of air since birth.
Seriously. I’d just been laid off. And for nothing I’d done. What was wrong with me? I should’ve been outraged. Mortified. Maybe even wanting a little revenge.
Instead, alone in my car, listening to the silence, I got a little sleepy.
My porcupine chirped deep within. We haven’t gotten enough quality sleep in years. Let’s go home and take a nap.
My mind was clearing. The shock began to wear off…here where I was warm and safe and…and free?
Free from what?
I’d gone from school to college to work. I’d done what was expected by my family. I’d made my parents proud. But this was a new feeling. Something I’d never dared to explore, not even on weekends when I always had planned activities.
I could go get something to eat right now even though it wasn’t dinnertime yet. I could go to sleep and wake up at dusk then stay awake binge-watching TV all night. I didn’t have to get up at 6:30 a.m. anymore. My whole life suddenly lay ahead of me like the most scintillating treasure.
I should have been scared, shouldn’t I? I should have been worried. What if I couldn’t find another job? What if I ran out of money?
But something inside me had cracked open. And I liked it. At the moment, I didn’t have a care in the world. I had savings. I had time. I had a smart mind. Why be scared?
Exactly. My porcupine started muttering, Time to become. To be. To learn of self.
He was right. I had been so proper and good, I’d neglected myself.
And neglected me, he continued. I want to find new friends. I want to hunt a mate.
A mate? I hadn’t thought about that much at all. Maybe something was wrong with me in that arena, too, but even though I was alone, I didn’t get lonely. I was perfectly capable of entertaining myself and keeping busy.
But my porcupine was right. I had neglected him and his will. I rarely shifted. I didn’t ever ask his opinion on anything. Security equaled happiness for porcupines. I thought everything I did involving work and making money was enough for both of us. The most important thing for porcupines was having shelter, having protection from the elements. My prickle taught me that. It forced us to choose logic over feeling.
As I stared out my car’s front window at the cement wall of the parking garage, I realized the truth of my feelings. It was not what I expected. Losing this job was a relief. For me and my porcupine. In the last hour, I’d been thrust out of my comfort zone and into a new realm with a new way of thinking. I’d never make that move on my own. Not ever.
That’s why we’re both feeling good, my porcupine said. Because complacency doesn’t allow growth and change. We need that. This happened for a reason. We need new things. New friends. New experiences. The time has come. We need to find our mate.
I thought of my prickle, my parents. They wouldn’t agree. They would say I needed more stability before I could ever think of having a mate. This, they would say, would be the worst time to even think of it. Without a job, what could I offer?
Your heart, my porcupine said.
“I never knew you for a romantic,” I said aloud.
This is a magical day. You feel it. I feel it. Don’t talk yourself out of it.
Instinct flowed through me. Something was on the horizon waiting for me. Something I’d been missing for all my adult life. I knew it was true. Now I needed to figure out how to create a path toward it.