is gone. People I’ve worked side-by-side with for the last six years have been laid off without even the courtesy of being told to their faces. Before he gets to the end of the list, I’m openly sobbing. This is the worst day ever.
And it’s all Luke’s fault.
_____
The atmosphere at work is like a funeral for the rest of the morning. Security escorts out the people who were laid off, and part of me wants to leave with them. How can I stay at this company after what they’ve done? After the way Luke betrayed me? How could he do this to my friends and coworkers without even telling me?
And he still hasn’t called me back.
Was he playing me all along? It’s hard to imagine any of the time we had together wasn’t real, but it doesn’t seem possible he could treat someone he cares about this way. I thought he loved me. I loved him. You don’t do this to somebody you love.
The worst part is I can’t reach Jenna. The optimistic part of me tells myself she’s just feeling sad and doesn’t want to talk to anyone. But there’s another part of me that’s genuinely worried about her. After all, she just went through a breakup. And now she lost her job.
I’d feel a lot better if I could talk to her.
At noon, I send one final text to Luke: If you don’t call me back in the next hour, we’re finished. As I hit send, I get a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Because I know he isn’t going to call me back. Which means we’re done.
Luke and I are over.
But I can’t think about that right now. I’m really worried about Jenna.
I finally can’t stand it another minute. I order an Uber and race out the door. I should probably be eating lunch or something, but I have no appetite. I can’t imagine ever wanting to eat anything again, but I probably will if I don’t want to die.
Jenna’s apartment is in Back Bay, about twenty minutes from the office. I call her a few more times in the car, aware I have no way to get into her apartment if she doesn’t let me in. But I’ll figure something out.
When I get to her building, I leap out of the Uber and go straight to the intercom. I find her name and hit the buzzer. I wait for about thirty seconds, then I hit it again. No answer. Damn it.
Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe Jenna just doesn’t want to be disturbed. Or maybe she went out to a bar and is getting loaded.
But something tells me she’s not.
Finally, the buzzer goes off and the front door unlocks. I feel a rush of relief… Jenna is okay. Or at least, she’s conscious enough to hit the buzzer and let me upstairs.
I walk up to the third floor, to Jenna’s apartment. It’s a two-bedroom, which she shares with her roommate Cheryl. The paint on the door is peeling—actually, the whole hallway looks in need of rehabilitation. Jenna doesn’t earn that much at our company—I don’t understand why Luke felt the need to fire her and replace her with somebody cheaper.
Although I remember our conversation about Jenna. He was complaining about the interface she wrote. He said outright that she did an awful job and I should hire somebody to do it better.
I rap on the door, and to my surprise, when it opens it’s not Jenna standing there. It’s her roommate Cheryl, who is dressed in sweats and her red hair is pulled into a messy bun. Her face falls when she sees me.
“You’re not Chinese food,” she says.
“No,” I acknowledge. “I’m a friend of Jenna. Is… is she here?”
Cheryl nods. “She came home early and went to her room. Is she sick?”
It’s not my place to tell Cheryl the whole sordid story. She’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure. “I just need to talk to her.”
Cheryl steps aside and I walk down the hallway to Jenna’s bedroom. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to say. But I’m going to tell her the truth about me and Luke. And promise her that I am going to get her job back, one way or another.
Except when I knock on the door, there’s no answer.
“Are you sure she’s home?” I call to Cheryl.
“Definitely,” Cheryl calls back.
I knock again. Shit. This day keeps getting better and better.
I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet.