No Relation Read Free

whole scenario seem all the more pathetic. I left the plants where they were. They’d die if they came home with me.
    It took some effort, but I thanked Marlene for her assistance, balancing curt and courteous – call it “curteous” – and headed back to Bob’s office.
    True to form, he was sitting at his utterly empty desk, gazing out the window.
    “Settle down, Bob. You have to pace yourself or you’ll just burn out,” I said.
    “I’m sure going to miss your sparkling wit, Hem.” Bob sighed as he stood. “Did you sign off with Marlene?”
    “I did, but just now, when cleaning out my desk, I had a change of heart. You can tear up the paperwork, I’ve decided that you can’t terminate me because I resign,” I said, staring him down.
    Bob smiled and held out his hand. It sort of looked like he wanted to shake, so I automatically reached out my hand. He shook his head.
    “No, Hem, not your hand – the cheque, please,” he clarified. “Since you resigned, you have to give back the cheque. There is no settlement when you resign.” His hand stayed there, outstretched.
    I thought long and hard, for the next three nanoseconds.
    “Whoa! Hang on, I wasn’t quite finished,” I stammered. “What I was about to say was that I resign, um, myself to the, um, decision and associated settlement that you and I agreed to earlier.”
    “Sound thinking.” Bob smirked as he dropped his hand.
    “Well, Bob, it’s been a real delight,” I said as we shook hands a final time. “Of all the colleagues I’ve worked with in my fifteen years here, I will always remember you as, um, one of them.”
    Then, without missing a beat, I spun on my heel and walked out, lugging my plastic bag. Man, I sure told him.

    I was in a surly mood by the time I made it into our apartment on Bank Street, almost at Bleecker, in the West Village. It wasn’t just losing my job. I’d remembered on the way home that I’d lost my wallet on the subway the day before. Funny how losing your job can make you forget about losing your wallet. It was well and truly gone. Stray wallets don’t last long on New York subways, and they never make it to the MTA ’ S Lost and Found.
    When the elevator opened, Jenn and her brother, Paul, were standing there in the corridor with a cardboard box and a couple of suitcases.
    “Oh hi, Paul,” I said. “Are you moving in for a while?”
    Jenn had kind of a dazed look on her face.
    “Shit,” she said.
    “Believe it or not, you’re the second person to say that to me this morning,” I replied.
    “Good to see you, Hem,” Paul mumbled before turning to his sister. “I’ll wait in the car.”
    Paul took the box and hit the elevator button. When the doors didn’t immediately open, he and his box sprinted to the end of the hall and disappeared into the stairwell.
    “Very odd,” was all I said.
    “Hem, what the hell are you doing home at this hour? You’re supposed to be at work. Are you sick?”
    “I wish I were sick. Instead, I’m unemployed,” I reported, trying to hold it together. “I was just laid off. On the upside, I have a big cheque in my pocket that I can deposit just as soon as I can get a new bank card.”
    “This can’t be happening,” she said, almost to herself. “Well, that’s just great news, Hem. Your timing couldn’t be better.”
    It wasn’t the sympathetic response I was looking for. She just stood there with this strange look on her face. Uh-oh.
    I figured it out.
    “Shit,” I said.
    “Hem, um, look, here’s the thing. I’m really sorry about your job. That just sucks. But, I’m leaving. I didn’t want there to be a scene so I was going to call you tonight.”
    “What? Hang on. For a second there I thought you said you were leaving. I must not have heard you correctly. Just run that by me again.” I made a show of leaning in to hear her better as my anger took over.
    “I obviously didn’t expect you to arrive home in the middle of