Randal, Cliff, and I round the corner. My eyes dart across the office—everything in the space seems ornamental, surreal, like it’s from a dream.
A whole room of muffled voices falls silent as we approach. Some stare directly at us. Some refuse to turn away from their screens, like I don’t exist. In a way, I no longer do. Heat crawls up my neck as we pass the watercooler, our footsteps in time with its incessant dripping.
A dizzying pulse rushes through my head. I might faint in the middle of the floor, in front of everyone. And it wouldn’t even matter.
I flash back to my first walk of shame. I fought so hard. Broke everything.
I lock eyes with Rhonda as she shuffles through her desk. Her expression crumbles at the sight of me. She knows. Somehow, she knows.
I take a step back as my gaze lands on Joey. And all the frustration that I was bottling deflates. An emptiness takes its place. I blink a few times, fast. I’ll never see Armin water it with Gatorade again. I’ll never suffer Rhonda’s Christmas decorations. These are just facts, just words. Just the truth.
I stare at the faces around me. I’ve made them hurt. My throat is like a vise holding back the sobs that won’t come.
After all of it—these people were never nothing. This is my whole life, right now.
“Armin’s killing your plant,” I say to Rhonda. “Actually, I don’t know if you remember, but it was my plant first.”
Rhonda’s head shakes. Her jowls rattle as she pulls Joey closer, protective as a mother. Protective as she’s always been.
But they hurt me too.
I stumble to my desk and grab Miley’s zebra. The three pushpins stay in place.
Cliff mutters behind me, “You can go through your drawers and take any material that wasn’t confiscated.”
I shake my head. “Irrelevant now. You can toss it.”
I step away and my gaze snags on the chair stain. I choke up when the realization hits. The wrong I did is too vast, too much.
I have nothing left here.
As I’m turning around, Armin exits the bathroom, headphones around his neck. He rushes toward me, not even noticing the procession flanking me. “Jolene, my mom just call—”
“It’s over, Armin.”
“The party’s off?” His brow creases. “Thanks. It’s for the be—”
“It’s all over.” And I step away, leaving him staring after me.
Cliff and Randal walk me to the elevator bank. As we wait for it to arrive, Cliff squares his shoulders. “You accomplished at least one goal on your list. You nailed it.”
My stomach curdles. “It’s not a Monday, Cliff. What are the stats on letting someone like me go today?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never fired someone like you.” His voice is hollow, distant. Hurt. His gaze falls away from me with finality.
The elevator doors open. Randal and I step inside. Cliff turns from us, not even waiting for the doors to close.
In the elevator, Randal stares at the floor. I say goodbye to him in the lobby, even though our relationship was, of course, parasocial. I’m not sure he even knew my name before today.
I step out of the building for the last time. The wind tickles my cheeks. It’s a sunny day. And I am jobless, with no prospects.
I promptly make work of getting completely destroyed.
My plan involves liquor. I stop at the store and buy as much as I can carry. I won’t have enough for next month’s rent anyway.
When I make it back to my building, Miley’s seated on the bench in the communal area.
“You’re home early,” she says, eyes floating from the bags of booze dangling from my arms to her zebra, clenched in my grip. “What’s going on?”
I push past her without saying a word.