Fired.
1432 Words
Elena knew something was wrong before she reached the staff entrance.
The security guard who usually nodded at her did not look up from his desk.
He had been there for almost two years. Every morning, he checked his newspaper, drank coffee from the same blue mug, and complained about the early shift. Today, his newspaper lay folded beside his elbow.
"Morning," Elena said.
He glanced at her.
"Morning."
Nothing else.
Elena slowed, then continued toward the staff lockers.
Her badge was missing.
She had spent most of the walk to work trying to convince herself that losing it had not mattered. She could report it. She could explain that it had fallen somewhere on the executive floor.
She had no idea whether anyone had found it.
Now, standing beneath the white lights of the staff corridor, she wished she had gone home instead.
She opened her locker.
Her work shoes sat inside.
She changed quickly, tied her hair back, and reached for her cleaning jacket.
"Elena."
She turned.
Mrs. Doyle stood several feet away.
The supervisor held a folder against her stomach.
"We need you upstairs."
Elena looked at the clock.
"I haven't started my shift."
"I know."
"Is there a problem?"
Mrs. Doyle's mouth tightened.
"The operations manager wants to see you."
"Why?"
"I wasn't told."
Elena studied her face.
Mrs. Doyle had trained her on her first week. She had corrected her when she used too much disinfectant on the marble floors and praised her when an executive complimented the cleanliness of the forty-second-floor conference room.
Now she wouldn't meet Elena's eyes.
"Should I bring my things?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Elena closed her locker.
She followed Mrs. Doyle down the corridor.
Neither woman spoke.
The operations office was on the first floor, beside the administrative wing. The door stood open.
Mr. Collins sat behind his desk.
A security officer stood beside the window.
Elena recognized him from the night shift.
The same man who had watched her leave the building a few hours earlier.
Mr. Collins pointed toward the chair.
"Sit."
Elena sat.
He opened the folder in front of him.
"Elena Kyarshik, you've been employed by Blackwood Group for three years."
"Yes."
"Your attendance record is satisfactory."
She waited.
"Your performance reviews have also been satisfactory."
Elena looked from him to the security officer.
"Why am I here?"
Mr. Collins removed a photograph from the folder.
It showed her employee badge.
The cracked plastic corner was visible.
Elena stared at it.
"Where did you get that?"
"It was recovered from the executive floor."
Her mouth went dry.
"I lost it last night."
"We know."
"Then I'll replace it."
Mr. Collins put the photograph aside.
"This isn't about the badge."
Elena's fingers tightened around the edge of the chair.
"What is it about?"
He pushed another document across the desk.
"Confidential information was accessed from an executive area during your shift."
Elena read the first line.
Her name appeared halfway down the page.
She looked up.
"I didn't access anything."
"The company has reason to believe you removed confidential information."
"I didn't."
"Your badge was found near the boardroom."
"I lost it."
"You were also seen leaving the executive floor shortly after midnight."
"I was working."
"You abandoned your cleaning cart."
Elena stared at him.
"I was frightened."
"Of what?"
She remembered the footsteps.
The voices.
The men searching the corridor.
She could not tell him.
"I heard people coming after me."
"Why would anyone be coming after a cleaner?"
"I don't know."
Mr. Collins closed the folder.
"That is the problem."
Elena looked at him.
"What are you accusing me of?"
"Stealing confidential company information."
The words sat between them.
She shook her head.
"I didn't steal anything."
"The executive office has filed a formal complaint."
"Against me?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
Mr. Collins didn't answer.
"Can I see the complaint?"
"No."
"Can I speak to whoever made it?"
"No."
"Then how am I supposed to defend myself?"
"You've already been given an opportunity to explain."
Elena looked at the security officer.
He remained by the window.
She turned back to Mr. Collins.
"I've worked here for three years. I've never taken anything."
"I know."
"I've never even opened an executive desk drawer."
"I know."
"I don't understand."
Mr. Collins looked uncomfortable.
For a second, Elena thought he might say more.
Instead, he reached into the folder and removed another sheet.
"Your employment is terminated effective immediately."
Elena stared at the paper.
"No."
Mr. Collins lowered his gaze.
"I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"The decision came from above my department."
"Who?"
"I can't tell you that."
Her laugh came out quietly.
It held no humor.
"So I lose my job because someone says I stole something, but I don't get to know who accused me or what I supposedly stole?"
Mr. Collins said nothing.
"Do I get severance?"
"No."
"Notice?"
"No."
"My final salary?"
"Your outstanding payment is being held until the investigation is complete."
Elena sat back.
Three years of work.
Three years of early mornings, late nights, aching feet, missed birthdays, and holidays spent wiping fingerprints from glass walls while other people celebrated in rooms she was not allowed to enter.
Gone.
She looked at the termination notice again.
Her name had been typed neatly beneath the company logo.
She reached for the paper.
"Where do I sign?"
Mr. Collins looked up.
"You don't have to."
"I'd rather have a copy."
He slid another document toward her.
She signed where indicated.
Her handwriting remained steady.
The security officer opened the door.
"We'll escort you to your locker."
Elena stood.
"All right."
She walked back through the administrative corridor.
The building had filled since she arrived.
Employees hurried toward elevators with coffee cups and laptops. Assistants carried folders between offices. Phones rang behind glass doors.
Then people noticed the security officer walking beside her.
The whispers started almost immediately.
"Is that Elena?"
"I heard something happened upstairs."
"Wasn't she on the executive floor last night?"
"Keep your voice down."
Elena kept walking.
She didn't look at them.
At the staff lockers, she opened her compartment and removed her belongings.
A paperback novel.
Her old cardigan.
A photograph of Ethan taken two summers earlier.
A packet of crackers she had forgotten about.
She placed everything into her canvas bag.
Mrs. Doyle stood near the doorway.
"Elena."
Elena turned.
Mrs. Doyle looked close to tears.
"I didn't know."
"I know."
"I would have helped if I could."
Elena gave her a small smile.
"You've helped me plenty."
Mrs. Doyle reached for her hand, then stopped herself.
"I'm sorry."
Elena nodded.
"Take care of yourself."
She closed the locker.
The security officer stepped aside so she could pass.
As she walked toward the main lobby, the whispers followed.
Some employees stared.
Others suddenly became interested in their phones.
One woman from accounting caught Elena's eye and gave her an apologetic smile.
Elena returned it.
She refused to let them see her break.
At the lobby desk, she handed over her temporary visitor pass.
The receptionist took it without speaking.
Elena adjusted the strap of her canvas bag.
The glass doors waited ahead.
She had walked through them hundreds of times.
Usually, she entered with her shoulders aching and her mind fixed on finishing her shift.
Today, she was leaving with everything she owned in one bag.
The security officer opened the door.
"You're free to go."
Elena stepped outside.
The morning traffic had already filled the street.
Cars moved through the intersection.
People hurried along the pavement.
Nobody knew she had just lost her job.
Nobody knew she had been accused of stealing.
Nobody cared.
She walked to the nearest bench and sat down.
Her hands rested on the canvas bag.
She opened it and took out Ethan's photograph.
He was sixteen in the picture.
His hair had been too long. His smile had been wide. He had complained for ten minutes because she had made him stand in front of a garden fountain.
She traced the edge of the photograph with her thumb.
She had promised him she would find a way.
She had promised their father she would protect him.
Those promises had survived six years of unpaid bills, hospital visits, school fees, and nights when she had gone hungry so Ethan could eat.
Losing one job would not change that.
It would only make the road harder.
Elena put the photograph away.
She stood.
Her phone began to ring.
She pulled it from her pocket.
The screen displayed a number she knew by heart.
St. Mary's Cardiac Center.
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