The next morning when I arrive at work, the hallway goes silent as I walk to the nurses’ lounge. I look around, trying to figure out what’s going on. Then I realize it’s me they’re all staring at.
They know. They know about what happened with my husband.
I look over and find Sandra standing behind the nurses’ station. She avoids my eyes as I walk past her, but I stare at her the whole way anyway. She stares at the computer, absently pushing a lock of hair across her forehead over and over.
I go into the lounge and the room clears out almost immediately. I get a few pitying glances, but mostly people are avoiding my eyes as they walk out the door. A voice clears from behind me.
“Abigail, can I see you in my office, please?” It’s Mrs. House, my boss. Her voice is crisp and clear, and I am suddenly worried. She doesn’t wait for my response.
It wasn’t my intention to cause any problems at work, and if I had my druthers, no one would know about what happened last night. But apparently, they do know, and there’s nothing I can do about that.
I put my things away, check my makeup in my locker mirror, and pull my hair out of my face with an elastic band. Then I go to my boss’s office. I find her sitting behind her computer. She taps away until I knock lightly on the doorframe. She looks up, presses her lips together tightly, and motions for me to come in and take a seat in the chair across from her desk. I gingerly sit down and press my hands between my knees.
“We have a situation,” she says.
“I wouldn’t call it a situation,” I counter, but she cuts me off with an impatient wave of her hand.
“We take a lot of pride in the fact that our hospital remains a drama-free zone. That’s why there’s a no fraternization policy.”
“I didn’t fraternize with Sandra,” I say.
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“I didn’t fraternize with Sandra,” I repeat. I sit back, cross my legs, and cross my arms. “My husband fraternized with Sandra.” Fucked her is a more appropriate term, but Gran would kill me if she found out I let loose a word like that at a time like this.
“Sandra came to see me this morning, and she’s afraid you will be feeling less than charitable toward her, and that these feelings might affect the working relationships of the people in your department.” She sucks in a breath. “I’ve given this considerable thought, and I feel like it’s best that we terminate your contract at this time.”
“What?” I couldn’t have heard her correctly.
“Sandra has been an employee of the hospital for more than eight years, while you have been here on a contract basis for the past six months. Since no employee relationship has been created, we feel as though it’s best to sever ties at this point. We do wish you the best going forward.”
She turns to face her computer, dismissing me.
“What did you just say?” I ask. I scoot forward so that my butt rests on the edge of the seat.
She raises her eyebrows in my direction. “Which part do you need for me to repeat?”
I raise my hand and knock the heel of it against the side of my head very gently, like I’m trying to shake something loose. “Did you just say that you’re terminating my contract?”
“Yes. That’s correct.” She’s suddenly fidgety.
“Why?” What did I do wrong?
She stares at me hard. “I mentioned that we take a lot of pride in our reputation.”
“As do I.” My knee starts to bounce with nervous energy. “Did I do something wrong?”
“I can’t tolerate upheaval in my department, and as Sandra has been a faithful employee of the hospital for a long time, I feel like it’s best to take this step to maintain the morale of the department.”
“So Sandra sleeps with my husband, and you’re firing me for it.”
“You were never an employee of the hospital,” she rushes to say.
“So Sandra sleeps with my husband, and you’re terminating my contract because of it.” I stare at her.
“No, our actions have nothing to do with any actions outside the hospital. We just feel like it’s in the best interest of the group to avoid the conflicts we know are coming.”
“What conflicts would those be?”