17. NINE
NINE
EDEN
Anderson’s face when I slap my letter of resignation on his desk—the piscine gape of his lips and the grotesque bulging of his eyeballs—will forever be filed away as one of my favorite memories.
Sure, his shock might have something to do with the fact that I waltzed into his office without knocking and found him bent over Angela on the dental chair, but it’s gratifying, nonetheless.
“Edith! What the hell are you doing?”
He tucks himself back into his pants in such a hurry that he catches his foreskin in the zipper. Even Angela looks thrilled when he doubles over in pain and whimpers like a dog.
“Just giving you the courtesy of handing in my resignation letter in person.”
He blinks. Gapes again. Then turns an even richer shade of tomato red.
It’s quite the sight to behold. I only wish I hadn’t left my phone in the car so I could take a picture.
“Your what?” His voice is gloriously strained, so beautifully pathetic.
I never would have thought I’d be one for sadism, but I can’t pretend that I’m not experiencing unparalleled levels of satisfaction at his suffering.
“I quit. Effective immediately.”
“You can’t do that.” He composes himself, standing back up to his full height with a wince. “It’s a breach of contract.”
That’s okay, I’ve prepared for this—or, at least, Aspen has. I owe her one. Not just for getting her pre-law friend to highlight all the breaches of conduct he has committed, but also for pumping me full of alcohol before I walked in here to give me the courage to go through with it.
I slip the papers out of my purse and bang them onto the desk beside my resignation. “Page two.” I tap the highlighted sentence. “The Employee’s wages, compensation, or benefits will not be reduced by the Employer without written notice and the Employee’s express consent.”
Anderson’s lips thin, shock giving way to simmering rage.
God, what a power trip. I should have done this weeks ago. “I don’t remember receiving written notice of a pay decrease, nor do I remember consenting to it.” I shrug my shoulder casually then swipe up the papers and stuff them back into my purse. “Funny that.”
He sweeps a hand over his sweaty forehead. “Edith, if pay is the issue, I’m sure we can reinstate your previous salary. It might mean we have to give up that Chesterfield in the waiting area you love so much, but—”
“I hate that stupid couch.” I slap a hand over my mouth from the surprise of having said it.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. No, actually.
I’m not sorry. The couch sucks. It’s ugly and uncomfortable, and no one gives a fuck about it.
You know what you should have done? Updated the computer system so it doesn’t feel like I’m an office clerk in the eighties every time I log on. ”
Anderson stares at me like I’ve grown two heads. Maybe I have. I don’t know what was in that vodka Aspen gave me, but it seems to have given me an entirely new personality. I like this version of Eden. She’s kind of a badass.
“We can certainly discuss that. Just withdraw your resign—”
“Nope.” I wag my finger in his face. It’s condescending as hell and the most fun I’ve had all week.
“I think I’ve said all I need to on the matter, so please excuse me.
I hope I didn’t ruin the moment too much and you can get back to what was clearly some very hard work.
” I look pointedly at Anderson’s zipper that is still halfway undone, then to the fuchsia underwear still strewn across the dental chair.
Anderson splutters. “Edith—”
“It’s Eden.”
“What?”
“My name. How ironic that the day you’re finally learning it is the day I’m leaving.”
I can hear the boiling of his blood as he snatches up my resignation letter and tears it in half. “You won’t get a letter of recommendation from me.”
As if I’d ever want anything from him again.
“Wasn’t expecting one. Good riddance, Anderson. Good luck, Angela.”
There’s scrambling behind me. Some curses. The gentle whispers of Angela trying to calm him down, like she’s gentle-parenting a small child. It puts an extra flounce into my step that was admittedly already flouncier than usual given my level of intoxication and the power trip I’m riding.
But as soon as I slide into the passenger seat of my car, the adrenaline abandons me, and the vodka threatens to make a second appearance.
“So, how did it go?” My sister grins, pulling the car onto the road as soon as I’m buckled in.
I fold over myself with a groan. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“That’s just the adrenaline.” She laughs. “Or the vodka, so if you do throw up, can you aim it away from me? I’d rather not get vomit all over my new Valentino.”
She hasn’t stopped wearing that damn leopard-print purse since she bought it on Saturday. I’ve had to drag her away from every reflective surface we’ve passed in the last two days. Her vanity has become a serious problem.
She eyes herself in the rearview mirror, stroking the black handle. Case in point.
“I’m happy,” she says when she catches my arched brow. “Sue me.”
In no mood to deal with her newfound love affair with her purse, my head sags against my seat. “I can’t believe I did that.”
Shit.
I just left my job. My only source of income. I’m officially unemployed.
The reality of my situation sinks in like a shipwreck.
Oh, God. What the fuck have I just done?
“Eden,” my sister’s voice is gentle as she reaches across the center console to grab my knee. “You’re panicking.”
“No,” I lie. “I’m fine. Totally fine. I have no job. No way to afford rent. A son I need to feed. And an asshole ex-husband trying to take him away from me. Why would I be panicking?”
“With respect, you’re about to have more money than you’ve ever had in your life.”
“Am I?” My stomach roils. “Alex hasn’t mentioned the money since our first conversation.
What if he only said that to make me agree?
Knowing that a woman in my position couldn’t possibly say no.
” Fuck, I think I’m hyperventilating. “Aspen, you need to take me back to the dental office right now. Maybe I can—”
“Eden?”
“Mm?”
“Take a breath and shut up.”
She swings the car into a parking spot on the side of the road without signaling, throwing her middle finger up at the pissed-off truck driver behind us, who slams on his horn. Then she takes out her phone, types something into it, and waits for it to ding without speaking.
“There,” she says once it’s done, pulling back out into oncoming traffic. Remind me to never get in a car with my sister again. “It’ll be in your account by noon.”
“Sorry?”
“The cash. Alex has wired it over. Might take a couple hours, but you’ll have it by tonight at the latest.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Jesus Christ, Aspen, you have got to stop asking that man for money.”
“Technically, I’ve never asked him for money. He’s already promised it to you, and he offered the first time.” She rolls her eyes. “And say what you like about me, but at least I get shit done.”
“I never doubted that about you. It’s your methods I take issue with.”
“Dude, you’ve got to stop worrying so much.” She takes a hand off the wheel to punch me on the arm. “You’ve done the scary thing, and sure, you might not know what comes next, but you’ve just gotta roll with it. That’s the beauty of living in July.”
“Fear?”
“No, idiot.” She slaps the steering wheel. “Freedom.”
“I thought freedom would feel more…freeing.”
She groans. “God, you’re such hard work. Look, try this, put your head back and close your eyes.”
I shoot her a quick side-eye but do as she says.
“Good, now take a deep breath, and think about the fact that you don’t have to rush from Macon’s school to work tomorrow.
You can go for a walk, get a coffee at that little place you like on the corner, or come visit me at work in the bakery.
You can do whatever you want, and you never have to see Dr. Asshat or his naked butt ever again. ”
I can’t deny that she’s making some good points.
“Do you feel it yet? The weight lifting?”
Beneath the panic and the persistent tug of regret trying to make me go back and undo what I’ve just done, I can admit there’s a flicker of something. A tiny spark of light. A sense of relief.
One million dollars.
With that kind of money, I could find a nice place for Macon and me to live in a safe neighborhood with two bedrooms. Maybe even a third for when Aspen stays over. She’d like her own space instead of having to curl up with me on the futon.
I could think about what I want to do with my life beyond raising my son. I could go back to school, study interior design. I could buy more furniture to upcycle and start a little business on Etsy while I build a name for myself.
I could learn to live again.
Sensing where my thoughts have gone, Aspen giggles. “Welcome to July, big sis.”