Just Like Mother

Chapter 3-1

8

On Monday, Elena called me into her office. I had a serious emotional hangover from the weekend. Dark circles graced the skin beneath my eyes, and I was exhausted from turning my fight with Andrea over in my head for hours on end. It was a relief to be at work, where there was some semblance of routine. Where I could forget the void that had opened in my heart.

I grabbed a pen and my favorite notebook, a pink-and-gold number with the phrase ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ foil-stamped on its cover. I kept it as a reminder that I’d very much chosen my own adventure in terms of my career, never bowing out of my competitive and low-paying field even when things got tough. I was proud of how far I’d come.

‘What’s up?’ I asked, closing her office door behind me. ‘God, I had a rough weekend.’ I settled into the chair across from her desk and ran a hand through my hair. ‘I went upstate to see my cousin – you know, the one you met at my birthday drinks. You wouldn’t believe the conversation we had.’ Normally she’d have piped in right away to ask me what happened, her eyes alight with curiosity, but today Elena was uncharacteristically silent. I examined her closely; her shoulders were tensed and her own eyes were red-rimmed.

‘Oh god. I’m sorry. I’ve been babbling about me. Is everything okay? Elena. What is it?’

‘Maeve,’ Elena said carefully, ‘there’s no easy way to say this.’ Her voice faltered. ‘You’re being let go.’

‘What?’ My mind went blessedly blank. ‘Is this a joke? I don’t understand.’

Elena took a long breath, then looked me in the eye. Her own were glistening. ‘I want you to know this wasn’t my choice. I fought for you. But Edward…’ She trailed off. Edward, our editor-in-chief, and I had had a strained relationship ever since I’d turned down his advances two years prior, at an after-party for a prestigious literary award. Elena, of course, knew none of this. No one did.

‘What did Edward say?’ I snapped.

‘Quokka isn’t bringing in enough revenue, compared to the other imprints. We need to make staffing cuts in order to justify the kinds of big-ticket celebrity investments we envision for it. Those six-figure commercial acquisitions are what set Quokka apart from the other imprints here, you know that.’

I sucked in a breath. ‘So you’re keeping Quokka? I brought more to it than any other editor in terms of sales last year. I was the first editor hired to launch it. How can he cut me like this?’

‘He feels we’re too top-heavy,’ Elena explained. She looked down at her hands, which were folded on her desk. ‘Obviously I wasn’t planning for this, or I wouldn’t have gotten you…’ She trailed off.

‘The business card holder,’ I finished bitterly. ‘I guess I won’t be needing that now. Who’s staying?’

‘Mallory, Anthony, and Faye,’ she said.

I went cold. ‘Mallory is at my same level,’ I pointed out, fighting to keep my voice even. ‘And she didn’t achieve a fraction of what I did these past three years. She spends her days curating Pinterest boards.’ Then I paused, taking it all in. ‘I’m the only one leaving,’ I said, as I realized the truth.

‘It isn’t fair,’ Elena agreed. ‘Believe me, I fought for you. I value you so much. You know that. You’re not just an employee to me; you’re my friend. But he needed to get rid of one top-level editor. And he thinks Mallory’s recent acquisition – that t****k star, whatever his name is…’ She waved it off. ‘He thinks that program has legs.’

‘Can’t I take a reduction in salary instead?’ I knew the answer without having to hear it. And there was no way I could have lived on a reduced salary anyway.

‘No.’ Elena shook her head. ‘There are legal reasons we can’t do that. HR will walk you through it all.’

I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket. Likely Ryan with some sexy and inappropriate plan involving my various anatomy later that evening. I silenced it without looking, and refocused. The mention of HR seemed so impersonal. I was reeling; my fingers were trembling in my lap. It was all I could do to not cry.

‘He’s going to make her editorial director.’ I choked out the words. I knew it, suddenly, with the same certainty I knew the real reason he’d let me go, which wasn’t smart of him, not really – I could always reveal what he’d done at that party. But he knew I wouldn’t, if I ever wanted another job in the industry. Besides, what he’d done was gray, murky. He hadn’t crossed the line in any way I could explicitly define. Without me around, he could forget about it altogether and he had the budget to promote Mallory. Was he trying to groom her? Gain her loyalty and dependence so he could do to her what he’d done to me?

‘You could have fought harder for me,’ I said to Elena.

‘Please don’t make this more difficult.’ Her voice was strangled. ‘You can take the day to pack your things and transfer any documents you may still need,’ she went on. ‘And we’re offering three months’ severance.’ I nodded, numb. Three months’ severance was generous, by publishing standards. And technically it was kind of her to let me access my computer at all after a layoff. They were letting me go gently, but the pay wasn’t going to get me far. I felt panic bubbling deep within me. I had no savings and a steep hill, if not a mountain, of credit card debt. When my severance ran out, I’d be ruined. I didn’t have any options.

‘Believe me, I will recommend you to every publisher I know,’ Elena continued. ‘You’d be an asset to any team, Maeve. Edward is making an egregious mistake. I told him as much. And if I ever leave here, which I very well might, if things keep heading in this direction, I’ll hire you in an instant. Not that you’ll need it. You’ll be snatched up immediately. I’m sure of it. You will come out on top.’

She went silent. It was clear I was supposed to excuse myself. To do anything other than sit there, frozen. I couldn’t muster the willpower. She reached across the broad wooden desk and clasped both of my hands in hers. ‘I’d like to remain friends,’ she said.

Was this what friendship was? Maybe I’d never known friendship. Suddenly I felt lonely there with her, lonelier than I ever had alone.

‘Bye, Elena,’ I said, rising to my feet. ‘Thank you for everything.’

When I returned to my desk, I fumbled in my bag and retrieved my bottle of Klonopin, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention. I popped one milligram dry to quiet my jangling nerves, then pulled out my phone and saw that Andrea – not Ryan – was the source of the buzzing. She’d sent three messages. My pulse quickened. It was as if she were a drug I’d been craving.

I clicked on her name with a trembling finger.

Mae, I’m sorry, read the first message. The apology was followed by a long paragraph explaining how terrible she felt and how much I meant to her. Our relationship is my top priority. I would do anything to preserve it, she finished. The following two texts simply read Can we talk? and ?.

My heart lifted. It was strange to feel so devastated and so elated at the same time. All I wanted, in that moment, was to call my cousin and tell her everything. My gratitude over having her to call in a moment like this stole my breath. That was how she’d changed me. She’d given me something that, if taken away, would leave me emptier than I’d been before she’d swooped into my life.

It was 1:30 a.m. that same day – the next morning, technically – and Ryan was reclining against my headboard, spreading his legs wide like he owned the place, letting his body occupy the bulk of my bed as he casually rolled a spliff.

‘So, what, they fired you for no reason?’ he asked, leaning over to kiss me on my temple as though he knew his words might sting and he wanted to soften the blow.

‘I don’t know, Ry,’ I told him. I didn’t feel like explaining it to him – how, after million-dollar net gains yearly and three New York Times bestsellers in the last season alone, I could be so unceremoniously fired.

I was curled to the right of him, occupying a comparatively small amount of space despite it being my bed, my room, my rules. I leaned into him, biting his shoulder lightly, and he reached over to pull me close, giving my hair a gentle tug, which made me self-conscious, even though he knew all about my extensions.

‘Andrea is sending a car for me on Friday,’ I told him. I’d talked to Ryan from behind my closed office door right after my firing, then taken a minute to reply to Andrea’s texts. She’d then called to explain herself. I wound up apologizing too, before telling her about my firing. She’d immediately begun planning, offering me the world.

‘She said I can stay with them upstate,’ I explained. ‘Save on rent, make my severance last longer. But honestly, I’m a little afraid of being up there semipermanently, after what happened last weekend. I hope Andrea doesn’t push the issue. I want to rebuild slowly. I definitely want to go up there this weekend – the quicker we can get past this fight and back to normal, the better…’ I trailed off. I’d been rambling. ‘You think I should do it. Give her my eggs.’

‘I mean, it’s a million dollars, Maeve. I’d give my left nut for that kind of money.’

‘I’m sure.’ Ryan knew nothing of my past. He couldn’t understand the significance. ‘It isn’t something I feel comfortable doing. I know you think it’s crazy, but I’m not changing my mind on this one. The money isn’t worth it to me.’

Ryan looked doubtful. He nodded anyway, accepting my position. ‘So get back out there, make nice with your cousin for the weekend, have a good time, clear your head, then come back to the city,’ he said, drawing me in to his chest. ‘Can you freelance for a while?’

‘I probably can. Maybe even through Elena. So you’ve been paying attention after all,’ I teased.

He took a long drag of the weed, giving me ferocious side-eye. ‘You think just because you’re slumming it with me, I’m not a gentleman?’ he asked. I laughed. Ryan was the only one who possibly could have made me laugh like that after being fired. He grew up in a rough part of LA and always teased me for slumming it, and I always said, ‘How can I slum it with a sommelier?’, and we went back and forth like that even though neither of us was concerned with pedigree. Then he leaned over to tickle me, making me laugh even harder.

‘Oh god,’ I said. ‘Seriously. Stop.’ I didn’t mean it; I was enjoying the relief this moment of lightness provided.

I knew I’d sleep two or three hours, as I usually did on the nights Ryan swung by. It mattered less, now that I didn’t have a job to preserve, though I did have a doctor’s appointment the next day. I knew I’d wake up late, as I always did, pull on a ‘future dress,’ as Ryan called them – half of my wardrobe had no adornments or zippers – slip my feet into a pair of black heels, carefully conceal the shadows under my eyes, and kiss Ryan goodbye. I was never sure what he did in my bed once I was gone. I didn’t particularly want to ask.