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“Yes,” Neil and I said at the same time.
“I’ll take that.” She swiped the clipboard from Neil. “Right this way, please.”
She guided us down a corridor with several doors on each side and a window at the end, sunlight streaming through. We stopped outside a room.
“How are you holding up?” she asked Christine.
“The pain is easing, but maybe I’m just numb.”
“I’ll check you out right away.” She looked at Neil. “Are you her partner?”
“No. We work together. Her husband is on his way, though.”
She turned to me. “And what relation are you?”
“I also work with her.”
“In that case, both of you, please take a seat in the waiting area if you wish to stay.” She gestured to an adjoining corridor before returning her attention to Christine. “Come on through.” She ushered her into the room and closed the door behind them.
I followed Neil to the waiting area, not knowing what else to do. A few others occupied the space, either playing on their phones, flipping through old magazines, or staring ahead at the plain, white wall. Even with plenty of empty chairs, Neil stood. Though he didn’t look it, I assumed he was too anxious to sit down. So was I. We stood, side by side, in awkward silence, with what felt like an electric field crackling between us.
Only a couple of hours had passed since he had fired me. Now, I had possibly helped save his secretary’s baby’s life. That had to count for something, right? Didn’t he have anything to say on the matter? Apparently not, since he seemed to ignore my very existence, his arms folded across his chest and a grim look on his face.
Why won’t he say something? Anything?
I couldn’t take it any longer. “Would you like me to get you a drink?” I asked, eyeing the tea and water station in the corner of the room.
“No, thank you.”
“I might make myself a tea.” I took one step away.
“You can go now.”
I stopped. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not needed. You can go.”
I tensed. How could he dismiss me so easily after everything I had done and without so much as a word of thanks? “I guess I’ll go then,” I retorted in an even grumpier tone than I intended.
I started towards the exit without looking back at him, but something stopped me. A hand clamped on my shoulder. His hand.
“Amelia.”
“What?” I twirled around to meet him eye to eye.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Thank you.”
Finally.
“For your help today,” he continued.
I shrugged him off, including his grip. “Anyone would have done the same.”
“You showed initiative.”
I felt a flutter of surprise at how sincere he sounded. He had dropped his guard. I had to say something while I had this slither of opportunity. I lifted my chin, and with every ounce of confidence I could muster, I asked the question which had worked its way to the tip of my tongue. “Can I please have my job back?”
My question hung in the air between us.
