“I’m so sorry, love bug. I’m here for you.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I failed you.” This was the first time in my life that I hadn’t followed through with a promise, and it was every bit as painful as disappointing Brogan.
She pulled me away from her and looked me in the eye, her expression turning serious. “You did not fail me, or anyone else, for that matter. You are the strongest, most dependable person I know, and if this idiot can’t see that and believe your word, then he didn’t deserve to have you as an employee in the first place.”
I hadn’t told mom the whole story. I left out the part about Brogan’s father and the exorbitant amount of money, because it didn’t seem fair to dangle that in front of her to add insult to injury. Plus, she was already upset enough that I was putting any of my money toward her treatments.
She smoothed a hand down my arm and squeezed my hand. “Can I get you anything? I know it’s been a long drive.”
“No, I think I just want to lay down for a bit.” The weight of the past day settled deep in my bones and drained the energy from my body.
She nodded and rubbed her hand over my back in small, soothing circles. As much as I needed her right now, I immediately began to miss the life I had created in Seattle. This felt like I was taking a step backward.
I tried to close my eyes as soon as my head hit the pillow of my old bed, but the dread of job hunting scrambled all my thoughts. How was I supposed to get a job when I’d been fired? I’d be blacklisted from media and advertising for the rest of my career thanks to this. Even though it hadn’t been me.
I could see how the conversation would go:
“Can we use your previous employer as a reference?”
“Uh, no. You see we slept together, and then he believed I sabotaged his career. Probably best not to ask about that.”
Yeah, the interviews were going to go great.
If I didn’t list him as a reference, I then had zero experience to put on my resume. All because I’d said no to protect the person I loved. Was it love when that person didn’t feel the same way?
Yes…just unrequited.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lainey Taylor Rule of Life #49
Jobs are never hiring when you need them most.
I spent the next day locked in my room, researching jobs online. I’d only left my bed to grab sustenance and the occasional bathroom break. A film covered my face and teeth, and in the span of forty-eight hours of unemployment, I’d turned into the kid who moves home and lives in Mom’s basement, minus the basement. Apparently no one was hiring in advertising in the Portland area at this time, probably waiting to open positions when school let out this summer. Until then, I’d hunker down and grit my teeth and work at a job I was overqualified for.
I figured if I could hold two jobs, we’d be okay. The salary wouldn’t be comparable to what I made at Starr Media, but it’d make a dent. We’d pay the minimum balance of the bills until I was able to land a job that paid a little more. Mom would have time to recuperate, and I’d be too busy to miss my old life at the firm.
Mom walked into my room, and she wrinkled her nose. “Have you showered?”
I folded my arms over my chest just in case I forgot to put deodorant on. “No.”
She took a shallow breath and moved a little farther away. “You smell like bean dip and bad decisions.”
“Better get used to it, I guess,” I muttered, still looking at my computer screen. There had to be one job out there that paid over minimum wage.
She grabbed my laptop and placed it on the bed beside me, and then sat down. “I want to talk to you about something.”
“Yeah?” I could barely lift my head off my pillow. Unemployment was exhausting. Or at least I was blaming my fatigue and general stabby feeling toward life on that. It was safer than contemplating the real reason.
“I’m going back to work,” she said, her tone final.
I shifted in bed and propped myself up on my elbows. “But you can’t. Your immune system is too weak.”
“I talked to my old admin today. I’m going to teach for an online school. It pays almost as well as my classroom position.” She put her hand on my calf and squeezed. “I want you to take your time finding a job.”
“There’s nobody hiring here. It’s no problem—I’ll take on a couple minimum wage ones and—”
She grabbed my hand, silencing me. I looked up at her, feeling the most helpless I’d felt in years. This woman who raised me, was my everything, I’d failed her by getting fired. She needed me and, dammit, I was going to do anything in my power to help her.
“Sweetie. You need to stop. You’ve done more than your fair share. More than I ever should have let you contribute.”