She was told to fire him and she couldn’t tell the manager that she couldn’t fire him because they were dating and it would be, well, very awkward and probably impossible for her to do. She was that type of person who could not remain neutral about people. Particularly when good sex was involved.
It was easier by far to instead expend effort to make him look good. She added his name to projects after a few minutes’ discussion to make him aware of them. She ran ideas by him and guided him into making decisions that gave him credit. She ensured that it appeared he took short lunches and put in extra hours. She was so good at creating his cover that when it came time for promotions, his name led the list.
When she was laid off in the downsizing he offered his sympathy, made the small noises that spoke louder of whew, it’s you, not me! But he never called her again.
After several weeks of registering at all the job shops, answering ads after updating her resume, and sitting alone under a lap robe on the couch watching talk shows on daytime TV, she considered becoming more hard-nosed, more survival-focused. Each morning she’d lose her resolve.
She lost her apartment when she could no longer meet rent. She sold anything she owned that was salable. Then she got in her car and drove. Up one side of the coastline then across to the other and down. She ran out of money in Mexico.
Broke and near broken, she might have ended up as the sad subject of a country western song. Soft crumples when forced to fit in a box. Round edges turn into sharp corners. She was too smart to be sung about, or maybe it was just a case of survival and luck.
She worked at a small taco stand where she met a wealthy American tourist who happened to be looking for both assistant and wife. Luckily she fell in as much love as he did because she never did learn how to let someone go.
