His eyes lifted.
“Four and a half months ago.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“The company sold two divisions. They eliminated most of management.”
I stared at him.
“You’ve gone to work every morning.”
“No.”
“Ryan.”
“I leave the house.”
“Where do you go?”
“Library.”
My skin went cold.
“Coffee shops.”
He kept talking.
“Recruiting offices. Interviews. Sometimes I sit in the parking lot outside the old office because I don’t know where else to go.”
I could barely process what I was hearing.
“Marissa thinks you still have a job.”
“Yes.”
“She thinks you have paid parental leave starting next week.”
“Yes.”
“She thinks your medical coverage is still through your employer.”
“I moved us onto continuation coverage.”
“With what money?”
Ryan looked away.
That answer frightened me more than anything else.
“What money?”
“Severance.”
“And after that?”
“Savings.”
“How much is left?”
Silence.
“Ryan.”
“Almost nothing.”
I thought about the nursery.
The custom dresser.
The stroller.
The infant car seat.
The home renovation they had done.
“All that baby stuff?”
“Cards.”
“What cards?”
“Credit cards.”
“How much?”
He told me.
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because sometimes your brain needs a useless noise when the number it hears is too big.
“You owe that much?”
