I looked around at the other passengers on the subway. Long black coats. Sunken eyes screaming for coffee. Each struggling for space as they contorted their arms to read the paper or play on their smart phones. How was it possible to be so close to so many people yet avoid eye contact with every one of them?
The doors opened.
I pressed my way out of the car onto the platform. People streamed left and right, funneling up to the street or further underground.
My office was in the same building as the subway stop so I never had to see the light of day once I reached midtown.
I rode the elevator up with about ten people, some of which I had known going on twelve years. Brief nods were exchanged, then silence, then "DING"— everybody scattered to their respective desks, offices, and cubicles.
I had a 9am meeting with the new head of my department.
I dropped my things on my desk, hung my coat and went to the bathroom. No lipstick on my teeth. Eye liner smudge free. Hair parted evenly.
As I was about to leave, I paused at the full length mirror. I turned to see myself in profile. Smoothed my shirt over my post-baby belly. Almost, I thought.
Then I took a deep breath and walked over to my new boss's office.
His door was closed.
His assistant said he was in a conference room down the hall.
She'd take me.
She led me to one of the only rooms on the floor with no windows looking in from the hallway. It had a thick modern walnut door and it glided open effortlessly.
Inside sat two people I recognized. Neither one my new boss.
My stomach rose up into my throat as I took in the stony faces and the paperwork. I was frozen in the doorway, my chest caving in on itself. I tried my best to look graceful as I walked over to the table and sank into my intended chair.
Orchestrated sympathy and corporate speak.
Hotness filled my ears preventing me from hearing anything they had to say.
Through pounding heart, I said my piece too.
And then it was over.
In under an hour, I was back on the ground floor carrying everything I had arrived with that morning and a promise from my now ex-asisstant that he would have my belongings shipped home.
Home.
I looked towards the stairway leading to the subway. Then I looked past it to the revolving door that led out onto the street.
As I stepped outside, bright sun and crisp air smacked me in the face.
And then I walked.
I didn't know what this meant for my career. I didn't know why I had been let go after twelve years of receiving nothing but accolades.
I only knew it was Monday morning.
And I was heading home to my darling six month old baby girl.
I wouldn't think about anything else until tomorrow.
This post was based on this week's prompt: DETOUR. It is an event that I have wanted to write about for some time and I thank The Red Dress Club for giving me a way to tell it.
