Page 12 of No Such Thing as Serendipity
“Sit down and stop being melodramatic.” She shoved the bowl back to my side of the table.
“Melodramatic, really? I just got tossed out on my ear after fifteen years. Poof.” I raised my fist and threw my fingers open to signify how quickly everything disappeared.
“I get that you’re upset, but it’s just a job.”
Now she’d gone too far. “Just a job,” I said, raising my voice. “It’s not just a fucking job. It was my life.”
She sighed and shook her head. “And therein lies the problem.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Judging by the heat in my cheeks, I must have been ten shades of red.
Emma’s eyes softened.
It enraged me, so I pointed at her. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t need your pity.” In typical Emma fashion, her eyes softened more; whereas, if I were in her shoes, I would have met anger with anger. “Easy for you to judge me since you have the perfect life.” I crinkled my nose as if I’d bit into a lemon.
“I know you’re hurting, so I won’t engage in your hostility.” Her voice was low and words measured. “You have the rare chance and means to do what few people get the opportunity to do. Step back and figure out what’s important.”
“I’ll tell you what’s important—my career. At least it was until it imploded.”
“Blake, you know I love you, but private equity isn’t exactly something to build your life around. It’s a means to an end, and you were just given that end.”
I stared at her in disbelief. While I knew she never understood my ambition, I hadn’t expected her response. “Thanks for letting me know the level of contempt you hold for my profession. Ofcourse, my lowly career will never measure up to yours—shaping the minds of future generations.”
“Your anger is misguided.”
“Oh, I forgot.” I waved my hand toward her face. “You’ve been studying pacifism.”
“It’s Stoicism, but that’s not the point.”
“What is the point then?”
“You. You’ve been unhappy for a long time. The more you try to control things, the more your life spins out of control.”
“What the fuck? My life isn’t out of control.”
“Isn’t it?”
I glared at her. “I lost my job. And according to you, it’s no big deal because it was a pointless career, anyway. But once I put myself out there, I’ll be buried in options.”
She smiled. “Buried. Interesting choice of words, don’t you think?”
“What is your problem? Where is my supportive sister?” I decided not to add passive for fear it would only egg on her aggression.
“Maybe I’ve been doing you a disservice all these years—supporting you no matter what. Perhaps it’s time to try a different tactic.”
“And that would be what? Kick me when I’m down?” I knew it was unfair, but I’d had about enough of her challenging me.
“I prefer to think of it as holding up a much needed mirror.”
“And what am I supposed to see in this mirror of yours?”
“That you’re not happy.”
“Yeah. I’m unhappy that I lost my job.”
“And your girlfriend.”
Ouch.Did she need to bring Marta into it? “Her loss.”
