Carolina is back at work, though doing her best to limit her hours. Queenie had been genuinely angry when she’d used Chandler to help her sneak out of the condo and into the office.
“It’s like you don’t even care,” he’d said.
“Of course, I care!” She’d barely closed the door behind her when he started in. “In fact, I’m following doctor’s orders. She told me that I’m supposed to be moving around every day. She said as long as it’s not painful, it’s okay.”
Queenie was so angry he couldn’t speak, his face flush, his eyes narrow. Which was when Carolina finally caught on that this wasn’t just a little spat. Something was brewing.
“What? Just say it.”
“You don’t see it, do you?” His voice came just above a whisper, though loud enough she could hear it tremble.
“See what, Queenie?”
He laughed—the kind born of astonishment rather than amusement.
“This isn’t funny!” It wasn’t. She actually felt fear. Queenie looked as if he were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “Just tell me, please.”
At last, he said, “You act as if the injury only happened to you. But it didn’t. Never mind the time I took off work for the surgery and recovery, the sleep I lost getting your meds and helping you to the bathroom. I care about you, Carolina. It hurts me to see you in pain, but it hurts more to realize that you don’t see me.”
“I—” The defense came so easily, she felt it in her body. A need to tell him that he was wrong. That not only did she see him, she loved him. “I do.”
“You do what?”
This was a game they played, Queenie getting her to repeat his words back to him to ensure she’d been listening. At the same time, this wasn’t the game. He didn’t want her words; he wanted her heart.
“Can you help me to the couch?” She pointed her crutch at the pillows that required intricate configuration beneath her leg, her back, her head. Perhaps it was poor timing to ask him for even more help, but she had overdone it today, and pain was screaming up her leg, scrambling her nerves.
Queenie obliged without fuss or argument. Because he loved her. Because he demonstrated his devotion every day, without fail.
By the time she was settled, tears hung like storm clouds behind her eyes. “I do see you, Queenie. And I’m sorry.” She wanted to reach for his hand, but the coffee table between them may as well have been an ocean. He was too far away, and she had run herself ashore.
There was no escaping her choices.
Carolina behaved herself for the remainder of her medical leave, and once she had been cleared by the doctor to return to the office, she intended to show Queenie that she’d heard him. Caring for herself was caring for them.
It hasn’t been easy. In the aftermath of losing her team lead, Mila, work has felt like trying to outrun a tornado. The last day of the severance window, three additional team members submitted paperwork to leave. That left four vacancies on a team that could barely withstand one.
Mila’s absence is the most crucial, and with no one to fill it, Carolina has taken on most of the responsibilities. She’s effectively trying to perform two full-time jobs, and as predicted, is highly ineffective at doing so.
This evening, she’s doing her best to wrap up and go home when Sandra calls her into her office.
“The deployment of the security patch,” Sandra says. “Where do we stand?”
A recent change one of their third-party vendors made to its software had inadvertently left a small segment of MAVERIK customer data vulnerable to corruption. Prior to the first round of layoffs, Carolina’s team would have resolved the issue within twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Even afterward, the team likely could have deployed the fix within three days. Now, thanks to the “voluntary” packages that Sandra told her likely wouldn’t affect the MAVERIK program at all, they were going on a week with little visible progress.
“I don’t have an ETA for you.” Carolina was too preoccupied to finesse her language. “Deploying the patch is a priority, but we are juggling several priority issues right now. It’s a resource issue.”
Sandra says, “I get it. But you also need to know that this one is on Mark’s radar.”
Learning that a problem on her team has garnered the attention of the CEO should send Carolina’s blood pressure spiking. In a previous life, it would’ve had her reaching for her running shoes and telling the team she’d “be back soon with a solution,” pounding out the miles until she had one.
Tonight, her blood pressure does spike. But this time, it’s from anger, not fear.
“I raised this as a risk months ago. And you said leadership was confident that if anyone left, you could find the resources in-house to backfill.”
Sandra either doesn’t remember that conversation or she doesn’t want to engage. “Mila left for a better position elsewhere. It has nothing to do with the severance packages.”
“No.” Carolina isn’t prepared to let Sandra whitewash this. “Mila happened to get a better job because as soon as she learned of the severance packages, she started looking. She left MAVERIK because she’d lost faith in leadership’s commitment to the program.” Mila had told Carolina as much before leaving. Carolina had taken her to lunch to say goodbye and thank her for her excellent work. Mila thanked her, too, for her leadership, advice, and mentorship.
“Any chance I can get you to reconsider?” Carolina had asked.
Mila answered, “No. It’s done.”
Now Carolina asks Sandra if Mila’s suspicions were true. “Has leadership lost faith in the program?”
Sandra shakes her head.
“Are you certain? Because you also don’t seem to be protecting it. I asked you to exempt my team from the voluntary packages.”
“Every division is making the same cuts. No one was exempt. This tide will eventually turn.” Sandra, Carolina notes, is wearing a pair of plain black flats today. They don’t look expensive. “But as the program lead, Carolina, it’s your job to work with the resources you have. I know it’s not ideal. Believe me, I don’t love having to make cuts, either. I’d much rather be offering people jobs than taking them away.”
Carolina’s phone vibrates in her hand. It’s Queenie confirming she’s still good for him to pick her up at 6:30 p.m.
When they negotiated the time, he’d wanted her to leave at 6:00 p.m. “Ten hours on your feet is too much.”
Still, she’d argued for seven o’clock. “I could work until midnight and not finish everything.” But that only proved Queenie’s point. She couldn’t control the amount of work she had, but she could control the time she dedicated to it. They settled on 6:30 p.m.
Now, it’s 6:15 p.m and she has important emails to send before leaving. “I have to go,” she says. “My ride’s coming in a few minutes.”
“Send me a status from home later tonight,” Sandra says. Her tone is tighter than before, meaning she doesn’t love that Carolina is hobbling out the door, but there also isn’t a whole lot she can do about it right now.
As Carolina returns to her desk, she thinks of Andi, and of how many nights she must have grappled with either pleasing the law partners or going home to her family. Carolina and Queenie never planned to have kids. She’d always considered that an advantage. She wonders now if she was just deluding herself. No company she’s ever worked for has taken everything she can offer without asking for more. There is no “enough.”
Sandra won’t fire her for walking out the door tonight. MAVERIK is already struggling for resources and losing Carolina would set off a crisis. The decision to leave may go on her performance review, which in turn might take a bite out of her next raise or bonus. So be it.
What she doesn’t expect is the feeling that overtakes her as she moves. Her knee aches—Queenie was right that ten hours is too long. And yet, she’s stronger than she was five minutes ago. Her backbone can be a steel rod when she needs it.