Page 52 of Cakes for the Grump
Instead, I repeat a familiar, ragged little mantra.
I’m fine.
I’m fine.
I’m fine.
Lying in bed, I do this until—finally—my despair is reasonably stowed away.
Then I wonder whatto do.
Dropping off the soup for Luke yesterday was an implosive mistake. Things were said. I…walked out on him. He told me to leave…
Am I fired? Or have I quit?
The way to find out is to go into work—but I don’t.
He said:I shut the door first, Rita. Or did you not understand that part?
Anger grows inside me like a pot reaching boil. There’s no way I’m still working for him after all that. It’s not like he’s called to apologize. Maybe he’s glad to be rid of me. Maybe I shouldn’t be working for someone who treats their employees like disposable laborers?—
Again I think, I can’t go back.
But what options do I have?
By mid-afternoon, I muster enough energy to leave my apartment, but don’t bother going outside the building. My feet take me to Janice’s office.
“Good afternoon, dear,” she says when she finally sees me standing by the door. “To what do I owe the pleasure? I would’ve expected you to be out for work today.”
“Actually, I’ve gotten…some holidays from work. You know, the ones they—um—have to give you. Unpaid. And I know the rent is due soon?—”
“Asking for a handout?” questions Janice.
“No, that’s not it,” I cut in. “It—aren’t you always teaching us about taking initiative? So that’s why I thought I could come here and ask—if you’ve got any work on the side for me. I would love to earn money on theseholidays.”
“How wonderful,” says Janice sweetly. “That you listen to me.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, I do have personal projects I could use your help with.”
She names an hourly price well below minimum wage, and I can’t help but flinch.
Janice allows me a moment to collect myself. To tell myself anything coming in counts, at least until I decide to go back to Luke—and check whether I’m still employed by him or not. He’s got options to get anyone to cook for him. Did our fight ruin everything? CanIbear the thought of crawling back for money?
She piles papers together, hitting the edges against her desk so they tidy into a pile. “You can start tomorrow if you wish?”
Humiliated rage pours through me. “Actually,” I say. “Could I start today?”
Janice smiles widely enough to show her snaggletooth. “What commitment. Your mother would be proud.”
Another flinch comes on.
“What is it, Rita? What did I say now?”
“My mother passed away when I was born.”
“How terrible,” she sympathizes in the same tone one would use to comment on the weather.
Pushed on by the fact that I’ve got no other choice, I go through a list of chores assigned to me by Janice. The work is varied, but grueling. After being sent out to get groceries that are too heavy to comfortably carry back, I’m taken inside Janice’s apartment to use a toothbrush to clean the grout between the kitchen tiles.
It’s the first time I’ve ever been inside her unit.
