Reeling

I spent most of last week in New York interviewing witnesses. It was a great trip- the flights went smoothly, I even caught an earlier one back, landing at 9 p.m. last night instead of 11; the interviews went well and we made great progress in my case; I met up with two friends, eating dinner Wednesday at an excellent midtown restaurant my would-be literary agent, and eating Thursday's dinner at a secret "beside (not behind) the red velvet curtains" no name delicious $10 burger joint with a close friend from law school I somehow hadn't seen since graduation. I walked and walked and walked- Times Square, Fifth Avenue, Central Park, half of it in 3" heels. I attended Fashion's Night Out and bought a very cute top at Ann Taylor while drinking a free glass of champagne. I ran into (literally) Snoop Dogg in Times Square as I rounded a corner and he exited a building. I nursed glasses of red wine over draft interview outlines and live music in the hotel bar until it closed at midnight each night. It was the perfect lawyer's business trip to Manhattan, with the welcome extras of being back in a big city, some personal down time, and spending time with good friends.

The only downside was that I didn't sleep more than 5 hours over the whole 3 days I was there. My hotel sleep issues have reached epic, near-tears-at-4:30 a.m.-because-I-still-haven't-fallen-asleep-yet proportions. By the time I landed at 9 p.m. last night (I can't sleep on planes either, obviously), I was moving around in such a haze of exhaustion I was concerned about my 45 minute drive home. My head was killing me from skipping dinner to make the plane and blinking was starting to get painful. I made it though, steering down the highways through sheer will and the anticipation of jumping in JP's arms for a fierce hug, spending no more than 15 minutes generally making up for my days away, and falling dead asleep before we had to leave at 7:30 a.m. for Landon's first soccer game this morning.

I pulled up in the driveway to see JP sitting in the living room strumming his guitar, with all the rest of the lights off. I walked in the house and he very carefully put down the guitar, gave me a hug, and rather awkwardly stated, "I have something to tell you: Employer cut a bunch of jobs this week... and one of them was mine."

I just stood there. I was so shocked, I was so instantly panicked, I was so fucking tired. He'd just won a most valuable employee award on Monday! Our savings account consists of three renovated bathrooms- we were working carefully to rebuild it, but we've barely started. He just did this- WE just did this. The job hunt. The getting excited for interviews, doing (or watching) the research and prep and dressing up in the suit, so excited and optimistic in the beginning, far less so months later. We just moved, I just took a substantial cut in pay, he liked that job, and ohmygod this is at least part my fault. Working remotely could not have helped when they came down to deciding the people (as it turns out, 20% of the whole division) that had to go. JP is so good, so smart, he deserves so much better than this, he already feels like he doesn't contribute enough, that he hasn't hit his career stride, and now it's another job hunt, another round of trying to tell strangers across a table why he's great.

It took about 5 seconds for all that to go through that in my head and then I threw myself at him. I felt him tense, then relax, and then his jaw start to shake.

"When did you find out?", I whispered.

"Wednesday morning," he answered, unevenly and very quietly. "I didn't want to upset you before the trip. There was nothing you could do from there anyway."

I hugged him tighter. He had spent 3 days alone with it, taking care of the kids, telling me everything was fine, while I was gallivanting around playing power lawyer in Manhattan. No parents to call, no me to hug him and tell him we'll be fine. I hate it. I hate that he was alone with it. I know him well enough to picture him on Wednesday and Thursday nights, worrying, feeling sad, embarrassed, and angry all at once. I also know him well enough to know those few days alone with it might have been what he'd have wanted anyway.

I still couldn't say anything because I felt so badly for him it felt like I'd been punched in my own stomach and I thought I'd probably cry if I talked and I didn't want him to think I was upset at him or that I was worried (which I was, but it was a low boiling distant third to how awful I felt for him) and suddenly he started talking, telling me that he was already on top of emailing out his updated resume. That all his coworkers had been amazing- so upset on his behalf, telling him repeatedly it was the position cut and not him, putting him in touch with contacts all over the DFW area. He's had several calls, submitted his resume for at least 15 positions, and working on more. He kept talking and talking and I wanted to tell him to stop- that of course I knew he was working on that and I knew he'd find something and we'd find a way to be fine in the interim and just STOP IT, I'm so, so sorry you lost your job. And I'm so sorry I wasn't here, I hate that I wasn't here. But I still felt like I'd been punched and I'd only been home for about 10 minutes and I was so tired and I still knew that if I talked I'd cry and I never cry and he'd think I was scared or upset on my own behalf, but I wasn't, I was upset on his. I finally just put my finger on his mouth and managed a "shh" and hugged him. I said that I was so sorry. We'll deal with everything else, but right now, I'm just so sorry. It wasn't enough- I have no idea what would be, but he stopped trying to reassure me that he was working diligently to fix his perceived failure to the family. I could have smacked him for thinking for even a second that was how I'd view it, but it seemed like the wrong message to send.

He sat down and talked about the call- a call he knew couldn't be good when his boss introduced an HR person on the line, and the incredible number of other people whose positions had been similarly terminated. The severance pay- short, but existing; the way he sat in his chair for hours Wednesday morning wondering what he would/could do next.

A little while later we went to bed. Not the fun reunion romp I'd looked forward to the whole flight home, but a quiet, tight cuddle. Despite my 60 minutes of sleep the night before, JP nodded off before I did. I think he was relieved. The event was 3 days past for him, he'd recovered from the blow a bit, taken steps to move forward, and, finally, shared it with me. I was reeling. I am reeling. All day today, I can't stop thinking about it, worrying about it, feeling sad, bad, sorry. Wondering how he can possibly find something in this small city we moved to because of me; fearing he'll end up with a horribly long commute again, this time to Dallas. Wondering if we'll move. Wondering if we can afford to move. Wondering if I'll leave my job so soon after I started it. And feeling, over and over, like I just watched someone I love get knocked down on the street and have to stand behind a glass wall while I watch them get back up.

I'm being dramatic. I try not to be overly dramatic.

I'm not handling this well.