CHAPTER 1 of Book 1, Miss Spelled.
I hugged the fluffy koala I’d snagged at the hospital gift shop as I made my way through the sterile halls of the patient wing. I disliked hospitals. I could count on one hand all the times I had ever set foot in one voluntarily. Nothing good ever came from having to come to a hospital.
I was being silly, of course. I knew Brad was safe and sound. I was a little concerned he hadn’t returned my calls. He had only sent me a text sometime in the early hours of the morning, a text that read ‘Food poisoning!’ followed by several exclamation marks.
I could only assume Brad was overreacting, given his tendency to do so. He was handsome, downright gorgeous. He was the manager at a local men’s clothing store and had modelled for the store’s clothing line on Instagram. The problem was, Brad could be overly dramatic. A simple cold needed bed rest. A lost football match was rigged by the umpire. He got himself uninvited to poker night with some of his male friends whom he deemed to be words I could not repeat.
It was hard to believe someone like Brad would want to date a Plain Jane like I was. I wasn’t exactly a supermodel. Yet for some reason, he’d had eyes for me ever since we had met at a party. He had a charming smile and always seemed to know what he wanted.
Brad had even encouraged me to learn to cook. I wasn’t much into cooking. I was always busy, so it was simpler to buy prepared food and heat it in the microwave. If the package didn’t have microwave instructions, then I didn’t buy it in the first place. It didn’t make sense to spend time over a stove, especially if I could make it in five minutes and not even have to stay in the kitchen. Besides, my attempts at cooking had proven fruitless at best. What’s more, I usually set something on fire.
I frowned and squeezed the stuffed animal as I studied the room numbers. Home cooking couldn’t be all that great if it could land someone in the hospital, I figured. Even if it was just an upset stomach, it was hard to think of Brad in one of these places. Surely he didn’t get stuck in this place over last night’s nachos? Perhaps he ate something after he left my house? I know I hadn’t cooked the chicken for long, but I thought that was a good idea at the time to save the smoke alarms going off again. I’d been pleased it wasn’t another charcoal dinner.
I shook my head and smiled to myself. The fact Brad had been considerate enough not to bother me at work was proof he knew he’d be fine. It was wonderfully kind of him not to insist on me staying at his side, given he knew how much I disliked hospitals.
I sighed when I found Brad’s room number. Finally. I politely knocked on the door and then made my way in. “Hi, Brad. How are you doing?” I beamed at him. My smile disappeared when he shot me a scathing look.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
I looked at his phone lying beside him. He was apparently keeping an eye on it, so he had, in fact, seen my messages. Why hadn’t he responded?
His lips curled into a sneer. “I knew you were thick, but are you really stupid enough not to know when you aren’t wanted?”
My jaw fell. I was perplexed. Where in the world had that come from? Was it his medication making him act this way?
“You are really something, aren’t you?” Brad threw the fluffy koala onto the floor. “You almost killed me, you stupid cow!”
I blinked, struck mute with shock. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I needed to let him have it. I knew I should not let a man talk to me that way, but my mind was a complete blank. Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled to control myself.
This only seemed to make him all the more agitated. “Oh, don’t act like you’re some innocent victim! You put me in a hospital. I knew you were never going to be a five star chef, but how hard is it to make a bowl of nachos without having to call an ambulance?”
“Brad, I ate them too, and I’m not sick,” I pointed out in desperation. I had never seen this side of him. What in the world was going on?
“Yeah, you didn’t get sick. Just get out of here,” he said, as he leant back against his pillow. “We’re done.”
“Done?” I whispered.
“Done. Over. Finito,” he said in a slow, mocking tone. “I only dated you because you’re so plain and desperate that I figured I wouldn’t have to worry about you getting picked up by other men. I don’t need an ugly woman who doesn’t know how to cook. What good are you?”
My mind couldn’t begin to process what I had just heard. I blinked at him as I tried to find the words to say. I wanted to tell him off, call him names, say something witty, anything! Yet my mind was a complete blank.
I couldn’t remember precisely how events unfolded after that. I had a dim memory of pouring a jug of water over his head. I had tried to stuff the koala down his throat, but a nurse rescued him before I got the second paw into his mouth.
Looking back, I felt like an idiot. There were so many small warning signs, little signs so easy to ignore. I never once imagined I would have fallen for such an awful jerk. Why didn’t women have some sort of radar about that sort of thing?
I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath. I had to get back to work. I simply wanted to get through the day and then spend the weekend hiding in my apartment with packets of Tim Tams, a huge amount of ice cream, and old movies. Was there a minimum age limit for becoming one of those crazy cat ladies? Cats seemed to be so much better company at the moment. The only problem was that my apartment building did not allow pets.
I was a little relieved there was a big meeting that afternoon. I didn’t know the specifics, only that the higher-ups were making an announcement. That would take my mind off my upsetting break-up with Brad, and I was hopeful it was good news.
Several employees had been pushing for a raise. They were petitioning for a pay rise across the board, to compensate for having to deal with the cursing, insults, threats and other ugly aspects of human behaviour. In the Complaints Department, my colleagues and I spent hours being blamed for customers’ misery.
Perhaps my day would improve and I would get that pay rise. I still needed to pay for a new oven, repainted ceilings, and something to hide the lingering smell of charred fish in my apartment. Last week’s fried fish dinner had been a disaster. My landlord had been far from pleased, and my timing couldn’t have been worse. It happened right after I was three days late paying my rent.
I hurried to take a seat at the back so I could finish composing myself while I was in the meeting. Hopefully, the big announcement today would put everybody in such a good mood that the afternoon of angry and inconvenienced callers would fly by. I needed a good distraction from Brad.
As soon as the meeting began, my hopes for good news were quickly dashed. The management seemed awfully grim and the heads of the Complaints Department looked miserable, nothing at all like people who had just won pay raises for their department. And even stranger, the Head Office supervisors were observing as well. They never came to the Complaints Department.
My stomach clenched with anxiety when one of the managers stepped forward and addressed the crowd. I wasn’t the only apprehensive one. Nervous whispers surrounded me.
“I will keep this brief,” the man began. He was wearing a too-tight suit and a bland expression. His voice was a monotone. For a moment, I wondered if he had been replaced by a robot. “As you all know, there has been much discussion regarding the human resources of the Complaints Department. However, the ongoing debate over hours has been tabled due to a significant shift in structure.”
The man paused, and we all looked at each other. He cleared his throat and looked around the room. “The Complaints Department is being outsourced to an offshore company, effective immediately. Please clear your desks this afternoon. Payments owed, including those in lieu of notice, will be paid into your accounts within twenty-eight business days.”
Just like that, twenty people were without a job. He could have been commenting on the weather or the colour of someone’s shirt. The man continued speaking, but to me, his voice was nothing but a blur. I was fired?
The other employees frantically argued and protested the announcement. I simply turned and went to my cubicle to decide what I needed to take home with me. I stared fixedly at my half-dead cactus. I had thought it was an artificial plant, but then it had wilted.
I had lost my boyfriend and my job in the same day. What were the odds? At least things couldn’t get any worse.
