have an employee we can’t count on to be present. We’re terminating you.”
Isaac shook his head rapidly. He willed himself to keep his emotions in check. “No. I don’t understand. At all. This doesn’t make any sense. Is this a joke?” He looked into Aubrey’s eyes, hoping to see a glimmer of playfulness. When he didn’t find it, he continued to stare at her, silently imploring her not to do this.
Aubrey nodded to Seth, who leaned forward slightly and slid a manila file folder across the table. “Isaac. Don’t play games. I’ve printed out your employment record over the last six months and highlighted the days you didn’t work. As you can see, your absences are excessive. If I printed reports dating further back, the pattern would be the same. Because of the skill you bring to this team, we’ve tried hard to make adjustments; that said, we simply cannot continue to do so.”
Isaac swallowed hard. Reluctantly, he pulled the folder toward him. The noise of it sliding on the table sounded to him like death, like a paper towel being dragged across a flat surface right after someone had used it to squish the guts and the life out of a poor, unsuspecting bug. He swallowed again, looked at the people across from him, and then slowly opened the file. Bright highlights indicated the days he had missed work, different colors indicated different reasons. There was the information, but it couldn’t be true. He hadn’t missed this much work! He hardly ever missed work.
He began shaking his head again. The temperature in the room felt as if it were over a hundred degrees. Sweat poured out on his head and under his arms while his chest constricted painfully. He couldn’t breathe. He loosened his tie just enough to help the choking sensation ease up a little. “This isn’t right. I mean, I see the information, but are you sure you aren’t mixing me up with someone else? I haven’t missed this much work. I haven’t. I—”
“I’m sorry, Isaac, but you have,” Aubrey interrupted. “And yesterday was one too many.”
“But—”
Seth shook his head slowly, and Aubrey held up her hand. “No more ‘buts,’ Isaac. You’ve had enough chances. Yesterday was the last straw. We’re letting you go.”
No. This couldn’t be. It just didn’t make any sense. He didn’t miss work like they were accusing. He didn’t. He came to work. He didn’t miss. He was confused. Heavy guilt joined the rest of his thoughts and feelings, stomping from his mind down to his heart and kicking hard against it. What about his family? The room was slanting and spinning, nauseating him. He didn’t know how to convince them or change their minds, but he needed to. His stress level was rising rapidly, and he was struck across his entire forehead with one of his searing headaches. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
When he opened them, he took off his glasses so could see better and tucked them carefully into his shirt pocket. To make himself more comfortable, he slid down in the chair a little into a bit of a slouch and crossed his right ankle over his left knee. He studied the two people who sat across from him looking so somber. He extended his arms, palms up, and then shrugged. He grinned broadly. “Hey, c’mon, guys. What the heck? It’s me!” He thumped himself lightly on the chest. “I ain’t got a clue what y’all are talking about, but surely we can make this right.”
Aubrey and Seth looked at each other. Isaac laughed. “That was a funny look y’all gave each other. Did it mean, ‘What were we thinkin’? We can’t fire Isaac, because he’s awesome!’ If so, I like that look. Whuddya say? Can we work somethin’ out?”
Aubrey and Seth stood. Seth reached over and yanked the file back, and then, tersely, he spoke. “Isaac. It’s over. You’re fired. I’ll walk with you to clean out your office, and then I’ll take you outside.”
Isaac jumped to his feet. “Whoa! You’re seriously doin’ this? After all this time? We’ve given you so much. We’ve done a really good job. We’ll keep doin’ great things. Ya know what I’m sayin’?”
Again his former employers exchanged glances. Aubrey flatly responded, “We?”
“Yeah!”
She exhaled sharply. “Isaac, I don’t know who you mean by ‘we,’ but ‘you’ are fired.” To Seth, she said, “Take him to his old office to clean it out.”
Seth touched his arm, but Isaac jumped away. “No. No no no no no. Don’t take me to my office. I don’t need anything. I don’t want any o’ that stuff. And don’t walk me out. I’m goin’.” He marched out of the office and down the hall. He paused, threw his hands in the air, and to the people he could see in the cubicles, he shouted, “Be careful! Aubrey an’ Seth make stuff up about ya just to get rid of ya! They fired us. We’ve been fired!” He didn’t wait for a response or a reaction but instead rushed out the door. When he reached the parking lot, he stopped short and pivoted around. He wanted to do something for old times’ sake.
He darted over to a brick column and hid behind it. He ran his hand gently up and down, smiling at the sandpaper-like sensation. The times that he had worn the mascot costume, he had rubbed this column for good luck so he would do stupid things the right way instead of the wrong way. It had been a silly superstition, he knew, but baseball players were notorious for their ridiculously weird superstitions—like those pitchers who wouldn’t step on the chalk lines when coming in from the field to the dugout—so why couldn’t the mascots have them, too?
He looked left, then right, then peered around the column to see if anyone was nearby. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he trotted to the side of the building, flattened himself against it as much as possible, and inched along toward the door that led to the cavernous locker room area. He heard some players, probably gearing up for practice, so rather than walking out in the open, he continued to slink along the wall until he reached his destination: the little room that held the mascot costume. Of course no one was in there. Swiftly, he donned the tree. He inhaled deeply and reveled in the familiar smell of reticulated foam penetrated by sweat tamed by Endbac disinfectant, a scent he associated with fun and love and hard work and team spirit and belonging. Then, no longer hugging the walls, he rushed back outside and onto the empty baseball field. Knowing that players and coaching staff would soon emerge, he didn’t have much time. That was okay, though. He just wanted to have a little bit of fun before he had to go away from this stadium and this team forever. Too bad he couldn’t have Dominic with him. He halted for the briefest of moments to swallow a painful lump. Undeterred, he ran to the pitcher’s mound, pretended to throw a pitch, ran like lightning to home plate, and swung an imaginary bat at his imaginary pitch. Home run! He danced to first base, twirled to second base, cartwheeled awkwardly to third base, and ran to home, sliding when he was only halfway there. That wasn’t very good for the costume, but why should he care anymore? He jumped and cheered and hooted and hollered and didn’t notice security guards approaching until they were almost on top of him. Oops.
He scrambled toward the parking lot. His legs moved faster than the tree trunk allowed, so he crashed hard onto the ground. Fitting, he thought, because his employers just felled him like lumberjacks felled real trees. He didn’t want to be dragged into the building to face anyone again, so he wriggled out of the costume as quickly as he could, tossed it toward the approaching security guards, and ran for his car. He dug the keys out of his pocket, unlocked it as soon as he was in range, jumped in when he reached it, and screeched away, tires spinning on loose gravel.
Once he slowed down and began to breathe normally, he realized that the radio was on. He shook his head. Of course it was on this stupid station. He punched the buttons until he found the country station he was looking for, then rolled down the window and sang and jammed to the music. Traffic was good this time of the morning, so it didn’t take him long to reach the REI store. He loaded up on supplies: a large backpacking
