Margaret sighed heavily, almost sadly. “Look, Brooke. I know this is a huge weekend for you, for Julian. There’s nowhere else you should be, and I hate having to call you right now. But I still have a staff to run, and I can’t do it when I’m short on people.”

“Short on people?”

“I know this is probably the last thing you were thinking about in light of everything that’s going on, but if you’re going to miss work, it’s imperative that you find someone to cover for you. Your shift began at nine this morning and it’s already after ten.”

“Ohmigod. I’m so sorry, Margaret. I know I can clear this all up. Please just give me five minutes. I’ll call you right back.”

Brooke didn’t wait for an answer. She disconnected the call and scrolled through her phone to find Rebecca’s number. She prayed as the phone rang and felt a surge of relief when she heard Rebecca answer.

“Rebecca? Hi. It’s Brooke Alter.”

There was a second’s hesitation. “Oh, hi! How are you?”

“I’m fine, but Margaret just called wondering where I was, and since we switched shifts today . . .” Brooke let her words trail off, fearful that she’d say something irreparably unkind if she continued.

“Oh yes, we were supposed to,” Rebecca said brightly, her voice all sugar and cheer, “but I left you a message saying I wasn’t able to after all.”

Brooke felt like she’d been slapped. She heard a young man screech in glee from the suite’s living room and she wanted to kill him, whoever he was. “You left me a message?”

“Sure did. Let’s see, today is Sunday . . . hmm, I would have left you a message early Friday afternoon.”

“Friday afternoon?” Brooke had left for the airport around two. Rebecca must have called her home phone and left a message on her answering machine. She could feel herself grow more nauseated.

“Yes, now I remember exactly. It would have been about two fifteen, two thirty, because I’d just picked up Brayden at kindergarten, and Bill called to see if we could make it to my in-laws’ on Sunday for a family reunion of sorts. His sister and her husband were flying in with their new baby, a little girl they adopted from Korea, and well—”

“Got it,” Brooke interrupted, again exerting every ounce of willpower to keep from snapping at Rebecca. “Okay, well, thanks for clearing that up. Sorry to hang up, but I’ve got to call Margaret back this minute.”

Brooke pulled the phone away from her ear, but not before hearing “I’m really sorry” from the receiver before she clicked it off.

Fuck. This was even worse than she thought. She forced herself to dial the number, not wanting to waste another second of such a great night.

Margaret picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Margaret, I really can’t apologize enough, but it seems there’s been a huge misunderstanding. I had arranged for Rebecca to cover me today—I hope you know I would never just leave you in a bind like this—but it sounds like she had some sort of last-minute emergency and couldn’t make it. I suppose she left me a message, but I didn’t—”

“Brooke.” The sadness in her voice was unmissable.

“Margaret, I know this is a terrible inconvenience for you, and I’m so sorry for that, but you must believe me when—”

“Brooke, I’m sorry. I know I’ve told you before, but with all the budget cuts, they are breathing down my neck about performance and attendance. They examine each and every person’s time card and record.”

Brooke wasn’t at all unclear on what was happening. She knew she was being fired, and she was absolutely terrified by it, but the only thing going through her mind was, Please don’t say it! So long as you don’t say it, it’s not really happening. Please don’t do this now. Please! Please! Please!

Instead she said, “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Brooke, I’m asking for your resignation. I think your frequent absences and emphasis on your private life have gotten in the way of your commitment to the program, and I feel you’re no longer a good fit.”

The knot in her throat was almost choking her, and she could feel a single, hot tear slide down her cheek. The makeup girl would surely ream her for this transgression.

“You think I’m no longer a good fit?” she said, her voice revealing that she was crying. “I scored the highest of the whole team in the randomized patient evaluations. I had the second-highest graduating GPA at NYU for my year. Margaret, I love my job and I think I’m good at it. What do I do?”

Margaret exhaled, and for a moment Brooke was aware that this was almost as hard for her boss as it was for her. “Brooke, I’m sorry. Due to your . . . extenuating circumstances . . . I will be willing to accept your resignation and confirm with any future employers that you left, uh, voluntarily. I know that’s hardly comforting, but it’s the best I can do.”

Brooke struggled to think of something to say next. There’s not a script for how to end a phone call after you’ve been fired, especially when you’re not letting yourself scream “Screw you!” a half-dozen times. There was an awkwardly long moment of silence.

Margaret recovered first. “Brooke, are you still there? Why don’t we talk more when you come in to clean out your locker?”

The tears were really flowing now, and all Brooke could think about was the imminent temper tantrum of the makeup artist. “Okay. I guess I’ll come by next week?” She didn’t know what else to say. “Uh, thanks for everything.” Why was she thanking the woman who’d just fired her?

“Take care, Brooke.”

She disconnected the phone and stared at it for almost a full minute until the reality of the situation set in.

Fired. For the first time in her entire life, including the countless children she’d babysat in middle school, her stint as a TCBY yogurt scooper in high school, a summer waitressing job at TGI Friday’s, three semesters as a campus tour guide at Cornell, and what felt like a thousand hours’ worth of internship as a graduate student. Now she was finally a full-time, salaried professional, and she was unceremoniously fired. Brooke noticed her hands were trembling and she reached gratefully for the nearby glass of water.

Resentful, uncharitable thoughts popped into her head, making her feel even worse. None of this would have ever happened if it weren’t for Julian. She always had to follow him, accompany him, support him. The alternative being they’d never see each other. It was an impossible situation. She felt a lump in her throat.