Legally Obligated

Legally Obligated

Jenna Amstel

The rain streaking down the windshield reflected the tears streaming down Raisa’s face. Outside, a leaden bank of cloud veiled the city in a chilly twilight. Streetlights flickered on, and people scurrying by beneath a sea of bobbing umbrellas only added to the dismal mood of the late spring afternoon.

Huddled behind the steering wheel, Raisa stared at the termination letter clutched in her hand with a mixture of shock and anxiety. Though rumors had circulated in recent weeks about potential staff cuts, her job as a marketing assistant had seemed secure and there had even been tentative talk of a promotion.

Past tense, future tense ... the only thing left to focus on now was the present tense.

Raisa thought of Nick, her charmingly eccentric gay boss. Colorful, energetic and buzzing with creative ideas, he and Raisa made a fine team that had earned her commendations and praise. She had been lucky to land the job considering that many of her peers from college still struggled to find work in an uncertain economy. After transitioning from intern to Nick’s assistant in barely over a year, a promising future in her dream career had run aground on the rocks like a storm-tossed ship.

Perhaps the stormy weather was an omen, dogging her drive to work with flooded streets and sluggish traffic that had turned a normally thirty-minute commute into a hour-long headache. She had called Nick to let him know she was going to be late, but uncharacteristically, he had not picked up.

Raisa noticed the somber mood the moment she stepped into the elegant Bahaus style headquarters of Danleigh Images. The receptionist’s glum greeting should have warned her, but Raisa was excited after staying up half the night brainstorming ideas that she had intended to present to Nick, but which now languished as an unopened document on her tablet.

Retrieving a crumpled tissue from her purse, Raisa dabbed her swollen, mascara-streaked eyes. Her temples pounded from an incipient headache, her mind replaying the scenario like a horror film eternally looped at the bloodiest part.

The atmosphere had not improved by the time she stepped off the elevator into the dramatic, starkly contemporary offices of the creative division. Nick’s team of twenty-three staff were gathered in his office. Agitated voices resonated, and through the patterned glass walls, Raisa noticed a couple of female staff members crying.

At that moment, she had glanced at the clock in Nick’s office ... eight fifty-seven a.m., the day her life nosedived into the fear and uncertainty writhing in her stomach. Nick happened to glance her way and looked at her with sad brown puppy eyes. He came out, draped his arm around her shoulder and guided her into his office.

“
I’m so sorry, Raisa,” he said, handing her a sealed envelope. “I fought for you. I fought for all of us.”

For a moment, the floor seemed to lurch beneath Raisa’s feet. Her eyes bounced from face to face, each one representing a life suddenly hurled into chaos by the dictates of a company that cared nothing about the people affected. Raisa wondered about employees with families, or those that had recently moved from other areas, only to now find their lives in total upheaval.

She looked at the envelope, thinking perhaps that if she didn’t open it, the sentence contained within could not be passed.

“What ... what happened, Nick?” she had finally asked in a voice that she didn’t recognize. “What about the campaign ...?”

“Executive decision,” Nick said. “Profits fell for the third quarter in a row, so now we all have. We’re just the first batch to go. Company’s relocating to smaller offices with a skeleton staff.”

“Bastards,” Noelie, a feisty, older black woman, sniffled. “After all these years ... treating us like this. What happened to decency? They deserve to go under!”

A clap of thunder startled Raisa. She glanced up at ominous skies streaked by lightning and rain falling in almost horizontal sheets. The afternoon was as miserable as she was, and creeping home in rush hour traffic was the last thing she wanted to deal with. Strobing lights from a passing police car reflected in the rivulets of rain streaming down her windshield.

Crumpling the termination letter, she tossed it into her purse and reached for her phone. She gazed at the wallpaper displaying a recent photo of herself and her family. The smiling faces of her parents and the confident grin of her younger brother filled her with a sense of longing. Feeling like a little girl lost, all Raisa wanted to do was seek the comfort of her mother’s arms, but her family was back on the East Coast and far from a reassuring hug.

She reached for the keypad, then hesitated. She was not a little girl lost. Those thoughts had to stop or else she’d be back at home listening to an endless litany of
I told you so’s
. Four years out of college ... she was an adult. Running home with her tail between her legs was not an option. She had struggled for independence in a tough job market for grads, but she had persisted and found a career she not only enjoyed but had opened the gateway to the future she had always envisioned.

Raisa tossed the phone back into her purse. Somehow, some way, she was going to overcome this challenge, but for now, she still reeled from the shock and uncertainty of losing her job.

A muffled curse drew her attention to a car parked two spaces away. Raisa glanced out her window to see Noelie huddled beneath the downpour, her enormous purse shielding her carefully styled hair.

“Goddammit!” she mumbled, shaking her right foot after drenching it in a puddle. “Two hundred goddamned dollar shoes ruined because of those jerk-offs. Wait till I call the ...” She paused when she noticed Raisa’s distraught face peering at her through the car window, sighed, and hobbled toward her.

Raisa partially rolled down the window, admitting stray droplets of rain.

Noelie ducked inside and smiled. “You okay, honey?”

“Not really, Noelie,” Raisa said, swallowing a wave of emotion. “I feel like someone just threw me out in the trash, but what can we do?”

“Don’t worry,” she said in her endearingly husky voice. “I’m calling the labor board first thing tomorrow. Downsizing, my ass!  Some jumped up ex-ecu-tive probably didn’t get a fat enough bonus and we’re paying for it?  No way, honey! I put in fifteen years at Danleigh. No way I’m raising the white flag just yet.”

“At least you’re getting a severance package,” Raisa said. “That beats a month’s salary.”

“Yeah, which I’m going to wipe my ass on,” Noelie replied. “You think it’s easy for a woman over forty to find work these days?”

Despite herself, Raisa smiled. Noelie’s irreverent personality could brighten up a wake. She was truly going to miss one of her favorite colleagues.

Noelie’s eyes softened when she noticed the emotion in Raisa’s eyes and reached out to stroke her cheek. “You’ve got such a bright future. Don’t let this slow you down. With the referral Nick gave you, you’ll find something even better.”

“Thanks, Noelie,” Raisa said. “I just hope it doesn’t take too long. It doesn’t seem to be any easier for a woman under forty to find a job either.”  She shook her head. “They could have at least done this before I bought my new car.”

Noelie regarded Raisa for a moment. “Tell you what. A few of us are meeting at The Dockyard. Why don’t you stop by for a drink?  We could all do with getting a few things off our chest. What do you say?”

“Okay,” Raisa said. “I’ll follow you.”

Noelie grinned. “See you in a few,” she said, hurrying off toward her car.

Raisa started the car. She stared at the lucky rabbit’s foot dangling from her keychain and reached to touch it, then withdrew her hand. If her luck was going to change for the better, it was up to her to change it.