SO MUCH HAD HAPPENED in one short weekend that Olympia woke up Tuesday morning, in Brooklyn, wondering if it had all been a dream. Did Viveka expect her back at work? She hadn’t received a call or message over the weekend telling her not to come. So she figured her job was still waiting for her, assuming she still wanted it. But did she still want it? Unable to answer that question, she found herself filled with anxiety. She dressed in her usual museum uniform (all black). Then she dressed Lola in her uniform (all pink). The two ate a quick breakfast. Then, just as she’d done hundreds of times before, Olympia wheeled Lola to Happy Kids Daycare.
They’d made it three blocks and were crossing Hoyt Street when a Lycra-tights-clad biker appeared out of nowhere and nearly mowed them down. “Watch where you’re going, asshole!” yelled Olympia. She had no idea if the guy had heard her—maybe he was already too far ahead?—but for a brief moment she felt thoroughly gratified by her outburst. Then she remembered Lola’s ears and was racked with guilt. She really had to stop swearing in front of her daughter.
Luckily, this time, all Lola asked was: “Mommy, why are you yelling at that man?”
“Because he nearly ran us over, sweetie,” Olympia told her. “And also because, even though Mommy believes global warming is a dire threat, she also thinks that the guys who ride around Brooklyn acting as if they’re in the Tour de France just because their carbon emissions are lower than mine are really annoying.”
When Olympia arrived at work, later that morning, she encountered a monastic level of quiet. Annmarie and Maximilian failed even to greet her with a Guten Morgen, as they usually did. Instead, they kept their eyes on their screens. The door to Viveka’s office was closed. After twenty minutes, Olympia couldn’t take it anymore, and muttered, “Jesus—it’s like a funeral home in here.” Still, Annmarie and Maximilian didn’t answer. Clearly something was amiss. “Also, is there a reason no one’s talking to me?” Olympia asked.
Annmarie looked at Maximilian. Maximilian looked at Annmarie. Finally, Maximilian spoke: “Viveka said you were to retrieve your belongings and exit the building immediately.”
“Right,” she said. So that was it. Humiliated and relieved in equal parts, Olympia began to empty the contents of her desk. The only question left was whether she should say Auf Wiedersehen, or screw you—or some combination of the two—to her boss. Her bag packed, Olympia decided to knock on Viveka’s office door. Receiving no answer, she turned the knob anyway. She found Viveka leaned over a birth control wheel with a giant magnifying glass. For a split second, Olympia actually felt sorry for her.
“Have you not heard of knocking?!” Viveka screeched as she snatched the disk off her desktop and slipped it into the pocket of her parachute pants.
“I did knock.”
“And I did not answer. Which means you were not welcome to enter.”
“I just wanted to say good-bye,” Olympia told her.
“My family fires you,” said Viveka.
“You can’t fire me because I’m already leaving,” Olympia pointed out.
“Well, you will not be receiving a recommendation from me,” said Viveka.
“If you don’t give me a recommendation, I’m going to tell everyone in the art world that you’re blind.” Olympia couldn’t believe her gall. Was she blackmailing the woman? And if so, was that okay?
Viveka narrowed her eyes at her. “Good luck finding your sperm donor.”
Olympia winced before she regained her composure. “Good luck finding Tuesday’s pill,” she said. “And good luck promoting crappy, misogynist art. Oh, and for the record, Eberhard Fuchs called me a dreckige Hure. Which is why I freaked out on him.”
“Do you not have a bastard child?”
“You’re a terrible person.”
“Eberhard is a visionary. Please close the door behind you.”
“There’s just one thing.”
“What?”
“You have two different gladiator sandals on. I thought you might want to know.”
Viveka looked down at her feet, then back up at Olympia, her face contorted. “EXIT THE PREMISES!!” she cried.
After she left Viveka’s office, Olympia said farewell to Maximilian and Annmarie.
“Good-bye,” they muttered in unison.
“I just have one question before I leave,” Olympia said, pausing at the front door. “How come you guys never smile?”
“What do you mean by smile?” asked Maximilian, stony-faced.
“Never mind,” said Olympia. She shut the door behind her and exhaled.
The unemployment rate was close to ten percent. In two weeks’ time, she’d have no source of income. Plus, she had a daughter to support. But she had enough savings to make ends meet for three months at least, and she could always apply for unemployment benefits. Maybe she’d finally be able to devote herself to her watercolors. But first, she was going to treat herself to a café au lait at her favorite Eurotrash bistro on Madison Ave. She’d read the newspaper and catch up on what was going on in the world. The truth was that she was tired of thinking about herself, tired of thinking about the Hellinger family too. She needed a week off. She’d be seeing her sisters again on Sunday, anyway.