Citizen Girl (36 page)

‘Julia, it’s amazing.’ Her contagious thrill gives me a long-absent swell of pride. ‘What a difference you’re going to make.’

‘
We’re
going to make!’ She peels off her gloves. ‘What’s amazing is the rent, which, thanks to your donation, we can just manage. With the EPA hemming and hawing about the air … the landlord was thrilled to find a group
ready to overlook a little asbestos. Magdalene does have its priorities,’ she laughs.

I hear the sound of sighing stairs and the young man, Julia’s other assistant, appears on the floor, a box of paper towels in his arms. ‘Julia, you need fresh gloves?’ he asks.

‘I think this pair is holding up. How are we fixed for Ajax?’

‘Half a carton left,’ he reports, carrying his haul back to where the young women scrape paint off the alley-side windows.

‘So, do you have it on you?’ Julia asks, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a quick sip.

‘Yes! Here you go.’ I pull the envelope from my purse.

She kisses it. ‘I’m
so
relieved to see this.’

‘So am I.’

She waves it above her head, calling, ‘Everybody! The hundred thousand’s here!’

‘Yeay!’ the man and woman cheer from the back. ‘Woo-hoo!’

‘Keep an ear out for the locksmith, I’m taking it over to the bank.’ They give her an acknowledging thumbs-up before resuming their scraping. ‘Thanks for bringing this, Girl, especially in this weather.’ She pulls her raincoat from atop a stack of boxes by the entrance, which is still flanked by the plastic security gates.

‘Of course. I’m sorry it’s taken this long—’

‘Not your fault, I’m sure.’ Julia slides on her trench, its crisp tailoring disguising her scrub clothes. Pushing into the door, she opens her golf umbrella.

‘Can I walk you?’ I ask as the warm damp air blows
into the musky space. She waves me in under her green awning.

We pick our way through the puddles in silence, Julia holding my waist. ‘Watch it!’ She pulls me back from the brown arc of water sprayed by a passing cab. ‘The subway’s just up there.’

I peer out from under the umbrella, making out the glowing green orbs of the entrance to the 4,5. Dreading the return to the MC bunker, my feet are unwilling to step away.

‘They’re firing almost everyone.’ It comes out in a rush.

‘Are they closing their doors?’ Her eyes widen. ‘What about our funding?’

‘No, they have a new manager, a real manager, she’s going to have them in the black in two months. I’m sure they’ll make good on the rest of your donation.’

‘Oh God – are
you
on the chopping block?’

‘No. But … they want me to do it. Fire everyone.’

She tightens her grip on my elbow to propel me across the flooding street. ‘What per cent?’

‘About eighty-five.’

‘Whew,’ she whistles. ‘Well, then, at least their letting Moldova go wasn’t a reflection on her attitude.’

‘They fired Moldova?’

‘A few days ago. And then we had it out over her wanting me to pay for a computer degree.’ She shakes her head. ‘I know it sounds clichéd, but I’ve got to draw the line. I’ve mortgaged my home, for God’s sakes.’ She switches the umbrella to the other hand. ‘And, of course,
I’m sick about it. None of the others seems to have a contact number for her. It’s unfortunate, but I can only help those who … blah blah blah.’

‘And you are.’

‘As long as there’s money.’ Her voice rises. ‘Okay, well, no need to panic yet. They’ve put you in charge of this, so that’s a good sign. Very impressive.’

‘Not impressive,’ I say, uncomfortable with the compliment. ‘They say I’m the one best positioned, because I don’t know any of them.’

‘They have a point.’

‘Julia, I can’t be the face these people,
the Affected
,’ I pump my fingers in air quotes, ‘see at four in the morning when they wake up wanting to kill someone.’

She turns from me and we’re quiet for a few steps as we shuffle in tandem, trying to keep ourselves evenly paced. I look down at my water-stained heels. ‘Well,’ Julia says, ‘I always buoyed myself with the knowledge that six months after a layoff finds the majority of those let go in better-suited positions.’

‘In this economy?’ Large drops plop onto my exposed shoulder.

‘Girl, they’re going to do it with or without you.’

‘I know that,’ I say testily, feeling as if I’m sharing the umbrella with Grace.

Julia stops, the green dome tilting backwards, the runoff trailing down my exposed front. ‘If you push back anymore on this, you stand a strong chance of being fired yourself.’

‘Believe me, I get that.’

‘Well? Do you plan to?’

‘Yes. No – I don’t know.’

‘Would you really put Magdalene in jeopardy?’ Her blue eyes hold mine, the wall of the downpour solid around us.

‘You can’t think my presence at MC is that influential over your funding.’

‘They’ve entrusted you with a substantial responsibility, they clearly see you as a pivotal member.’

My stomach sours as the rain renews its force, coming down again in thick sheets, pounding the umbrella and dousing our legs. ‘There are one hundred and forty-four lives involved here, Julia.’

‘Who will be let go with or without you.’

‘Yes, I know,’ my voice rises. ‘Listen, I shouldn’t have told you. It’s supposed to be confidential.’

‘Well, I appreciate the heads-up.’ Julia takes a deep breath, then tries to soften her expression. ‘I know it feels awful, but it’s just part of the corporate lifecycle. Okay, Saint Joan?’

‘Okay.’ I muster a smile in return.

‘At least they’re all US citizens, with high school diplomas, and probably much more – families to lean on, families who aren’t buying human meat at the hospital just to keep their children alive.
They’ll
get unemployment.
They’ll
get through this. Remember who you’re helping here.’

‘Yes.’

‘So you won’t risk it for us?’

‘I won’t.’

‘Now run and catch your train before we both get pneumonia and are of no use to anyone.’

For two anxious, utterly stultifying weeks, I balance at the end of Guy’s desk as we both await a ‘go’ from Manley. He reads voraciously, alternating national and local newspapers with shiny software magazines, occasionally jerking out his BlackBerry to make notes. Mostly it’s the monotonous slide of his Coke can lifting up and down off the metal desktop that marks time. Manley checks in routinely, but the ‘new roll-out’ is under wraps until the ‘rightsizing’ is ‘greenlit’, so the meetings are brief and unprecedently efficient. I occupy myself by staring, either at the three pages of the minute-to-minute firing schedule or at a framed photo of Guy and Rex on a golf course, until Rex’s toothy grin blurs with the rest of the stuffy office.

The phone rings, startling us.

‘Yeah? … Hang on.’ Guy passes me the receiver, stretching the curled cord taut, and I grab the soda can before it topples.

‘Hello?’

‘How’s it going, Terminator?’ Buster asks, affecting Schwarzenegger. I glance over at Guy.

‘Can I call you back in a minute?’

‘I’m leaving to swing by the Atari party.’

‘One minute.’ I reach the phone back to Guy. ‘I’m going to use my old phone.’

‘
Total
confidentiality, Girl,’ he intones.

‘Of course. No, that’s my boyfriend.’

‘Is he a journalist?’

Yeah, he’s a journalist. This has all been a big set-up for the
Wall Street Journal
’s Year-End Fifty Biggest Assholes edition. ‘No.’

One nod and Guy’s paper wall is resurrected. I close his door and step out into the sun-deprived office, a mass of heads turning apprehensively in my direction as I scuttle over to my old desk. Ducking down, I reach for the phone and dial.

‘Hi, sorry about that. Guy was sitting on top of me—’

‘Figuratively, I hope, or I’ll have to pound him.’

‘I hate this,’ I whisper, pretending not to see the Affecteds pretending not to see me. ‘That woman from marketing cornered me in the bathroom
again
yesterday, demanding to know if she should close on her apartment. And this place is making a liar out of me every fucking minute I’m here. I don’t think I can stand it much longer.’

‘Monday’s Memorial Day. They must be waiting till Tuesday.’

A base beat erupts behind him and I hear voices singing to the tune of ‘Shaft’, ‘Who’s the man with the plan?
Buster!
’

‘I better get back.’

‘Dudes – two minutes!’ he laughs before returning to me. ‘Okay, so I’m going to swing out to this Atari shindig – they’re really rollin’ out the red carpet for us. Then I’ll come over – may be around five?’

‘Sure. That sounds good.’

‘We should do something fun!’

‘Yeah,’ I say distractedly as I realize that the closest cluster of employees has pushed Stacey out as an emissary, sending her on a tense leisurely stroll in my direction.

‘Something fun,’ he repeats. ‘So any ideas?’

‘I don’t know, maybe there’s fireworks or something.’

‘Cool, and we can swing by Sam’s party after.’ Stacey inches closer.

‘Buster, I gotta go.’

‘See you tonight!’

I return the phone to its cradle.

‘Hi.’ Stacey hovers, the long sleeves of her sweater brushing my forearm.

‘Hi!’ I stand up, but she doesn’t step back, leaving her flushed face only inches from mine.

‘How are things going in there? You seem really busy,’ she says furtively.

‘Yeah, Manley has a lot of stuff that she needs help with.’ I move to step around her.

‘Should I be worried?’ She moves with me.

‘Why? No,’ I instinctively rush to reassure her.

‘Girl. Should I be worried?’

‘No, no, I …’ hate myself. ‘Have you talked to Guy?’

‘He’s reassigned me to reception. I know we haven’t exactly been friendly—’

‘Stacey, it’s not about that.’

‘Please, just a straight answer.’

I stare at her hard, willing the intensity of my tone to communicate what my words can’t. ‘I’m not allowed to give you that—’

Guy’s door swings open and he appears behind her,
his expression electrified. I meet his eyes, my breath catches. ‘Lift off,’ he says.

Stacey backs away.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Girl.’

I jog up the steps and we’re in motion. From Guy’s desk I hit
send
on the ‘awards ceremony’ email, while he rounds up the fifteen Unaffecteds and asks them to migrate surreptitiously into his office and stuff themselves in the refuge behind the curtain.

As the Unaffecteds start to arrive, the door to Manley’s heretofore locked office opens, and a dozen off-duty policemen, who must’ve been waiting since dawn, pour out.

‘Girl, you’re up,’ Guy returns. ‘Go.’

I cross to the entrance as people reticently stand from their monitors. ‘Okay, everyone, please take your purses and follow me!’ Fighting my gagging reflex every step, I lead all one hundred and forty-four employees out the double doors, around the loading dock, and up the decrepit factory stairwell.

Steadily we climb the five steep flights in silence, the air thick with dust. Reaching the fire door to the roof, I push against it, but it doesn’t budge. Looking down I realize the door is bolted shut with an industrial padlock. Oh dear God. I bang it against the exit bar –
Clank! Clank! Clank!
– but it’s sealed with a century’s worth of rust. I turn around on the small landing. ‘Um,’ I call over the heads of those just behind me, my voice echoing down the shaft. ‘Sorry, I’m sorry, the roof is closed, so
we’re going to, ah … have to have the, um, ceremony here.’

‘I knew it,’ murmurs a woman next to me, panic flaring across her face, setting off a chain reaction down the steps, anguished and enraged expressions illuminated by bare twitching bulbs.

Squeezing over to the railing, I shakily lift my paper. ‘On behalf of My Company management, I would like to thank you for your service—’

‘CAN’T HEARYOU!’

‘SPEAK UP!’

I take a shaky breath and start again, ‘On behalf of My Company management, I would like to thank you for your service. We greatly appreciate your work—’ my voice falters and I struggle to get through Manley’s script. ‘It is my duty to inform you that we will no longer be requiring your services, effective immediately. You will be afforded two weeks’ severance in return for your signature on a letter of release that is waiting in the lobby. I must also inform you that your experiences while at MC, Inc. are the property of MC, Inc. and that includes this one.’ I raise my eyes from the page and they land on the marketing woman from the ladies’ room, tears rolling down her cheeks as she looks up in disbelief. ‘We will not hesitate to pursue you to the full extent of the law should you violate our confidentiality in this manner. We wish you every success as you continue in your careers. There is no re-entry on ten. Please proceed down the stairs to the lobby. For those signing the release, your personal effects will be boxed up and available for your
pickup in the lobby starting tomorrow.’ I fold the sheet, dizzy. ‘Please, you can go down now,’ I say, my voice small. ‘I’m so sorry.’

For a moment everyone’s perfectly still and, in the near darkness, I question if I’ve read the statement at all. But then movement begins as the steady tread of descending feet clatters below us. I wait at the top with the others, who manage to recoil from me, despite the tightly confined space. When their former colleagues finally clear the path, I follow down all fifteen flights.

In the jarringly bright lobby there’s already an efficient flow of departures as the phalanx of burly policemen hands off non-disclosure forms, patting each ex-employee down as if processing them at an arrest. Faces taut with humiliation, they’re moved towards the doors.

‘Thanks, everyone!’ And there’s Guy, against Manley’s strict instructions, blocking the exit, forcing a handshake and patted hug on each person as they try to leave. ‘Thanks for everything. This is
really
hard on me, having to say goodbye like this. I
hate
this whole thing. It just
sucks
. But you gotta remember, we took a chance, right? You gotta gamble in this business and that’s got its own risks.
Dammit
, I hate this.’ I watch as he dismisses people onto the sidewalk, one woman holding a middle finger up above his oblivious head.