Chapter 1 : Part 4

Five Things I Can't Live Without
by Holly Shumas

(Page 4 of 4)

Maggie, though, looked instantly relieved, her worldview mercifully unaltered. "I didn't think you would. But have you been getting enough sleep? Maybe we work you too hard."

"I'm fine," I said dejectedly. I knew that if I pushed just so, Maggie would lessen my workload, relieve me of some of my duties, perhaps even take them onto her already heaping plate, and after my behavior, that would feel absolutely seedy.

As I left Maggie's office, I thought how nothing stinks quite like realizing that the more beatific a setting, the less you belong there.

I found myself walking slowly past the animals' cages (the roomiest cages we could use and still warehouse so many animals). I looked in at them; I mean, really looked at them. It had been a long time since I'd done that. Unless they were making a serious racket or I was writing a bio, the animals hardly registered. That day, as I walked down the row, I met one particular dog's dull eyes. His name was Rudolph, and he was one of our pit bull mixes, the kind that just comes out wrong. He was never going to get out of there. He didn't even try anymore. Most of the dogs showed off when a potential owner walked in. They generally played to their strengths: the little ones yipped and pranced, the bigger, older ones held themselves with a certain watchful dignity, but Rudolph just didn't bother. He sat far back in his cage, often with his back to people walking by. I couldn't remember what Rudolph's good qualities were, I had written his copy so long ago, and he'd become so - well, so inanimate.

I couldn't tell you what shifted for me just then, because I followed my resolution and didn't analyze it. I can only say that in my gut, I simply knew, and I decided to honor that knowledge. I marched into Maggie's office.

"I quit!" I said loudly, filled with righteousness.

"Sit down, sit down," she said. "You can't say something like that standing in a doorway." She looked truly perturbed that I would even consider such a thing, not the quitting, but the doorway delivery.

Chastened, I sat. "I'm quitting," I said again, not as loud but just as forcefully.

"Shut the door, please," she directed in a low voice.

I did so obediently, then perched on the edge of the chair. "I think - " I began again. "No, I feel I need to leave."

"Nora, I hope I didn't upset you too much earlier. I didn't mean to come down so hard on you." Maggie looked genuinely distressed.

"No, no. It has nothing to do with that."

Maggie was quiet. "It's not easy work," she finally said, her face full of compassion. "It's hard to see all those animals suffering. We do our best, but still."

Did she think I was leaving because I couldn't take the suffering of the animals? On the contrary, I took it too easily. That was why I often felt so rotten.

"You're not like the other employees. I know that," she said.

She let it hang there, and I finally took the bait. "What do you mean?" As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn't.

"It's not your calling, so maybe you suffer more than the others who feel they have the power to heal."

What the hell?

"Maybe if you interacted more with the animals instead of just watching . . . it would probably enrich your bios. They'd be more personal."

"But I don't want to interact more with the animals," I said, frustrated that she was missing the point. Did she not see my determination? This is not a negotiation, I wanted to say. I knew myself well enough that if she got me thinking about the decision, I'd get too scared, or I'd want to please her, or both, and I'd stay. And I didn't want to think, I wanted to act. I will not think. Whatever she pulls, don't think.

"You're tentative. And you've been here awhile. It's harder to jump in, the longer you stand on the sidelines. But that doesn't mean it's too late. Tricia can help you. She's great at that."

"I don't think that'll help." You don't think? I mocked myself. Say "it won't." Use forceful language. Blast your way out of here.

"Maybe we could just try it. We could make some changes in your job duties, too, make sure you leave at a reasonable hour so you can sleep and replenish yourself."

My boss wanted to nurture me, and I wanted to throttle her. I decided it was time to put this conversation out of its misery. "It's not about my duties or my work hours. You said it yourself: it's not my calling. I don't want to work in a place where it's everyone's calling but mine." I looked at her kind face, and my annoyance dissipated. I suddenly felt touched that she was willing to fight for me when I felt like such a pariah. "Even if it is such an amazing place. You're tremendous, Maggie."

Maggie looked away. I hoped when I was fifty I'd be able to take a compliment, but in nearly every other way, it would be pretty cool to turn out like Maggie. "I'll accept your resignation," Maggie said. "Could you give me two weeks?"

Two weeks?!!! That's no time at all. You've got nothing lined up. Did you hear me? Nothing! You can't actually -

"Two weeks."

Copyright © 2007 by Holly Shumas

About the Author

I grew up dreaming of being a writer. I woke up after two semesters at an MFA program in creative writing. There are people who are born writers, I decided, people for whom it's write or die. And for me, it just wasn't like that. I could live without it.