It was odd. This happened — like my brain was getting slowly unplugged. I couldn't move. People were talking to me and I couldn't move my head. And my eyes — I could see fine, but it was like my eyes were stuck in somebody else's body. The whole experience was so odd and so spectacularly novel, I began slowly meandering through its landscape.
It was odd. I was braced for it. Getting fired. But when it happened, my brain refused to believe it. It just wasn't real.
I should have kept my mouth shut. I shouldn't have said anything. I should have waited. Stayed in the restroom five minutes longer. And then I would have been saved.
When she hired me, a month before my college graduation, Daniella took my hand in both of hers and said, "I think we're kindred spirits, Smithie. I know we are. I'm going to love having you here."
I wanted to be Daniella. Tall, serene — you felt so good when you were around her. She knew everybody's name and everybody's birthday. She never forgot to send a birthday or anniversary card. Her handwriting was so beautiful, so warm — we all treasured her cards and all the little personal notes of encouragement she'd leave on our desks. And god she was smart. A linguistic genius, she spoke eight languages like a native. Her fluency in Mandarin had made the company famous in China.
I loved this thing she used to do — Daniella had this way of coming up from behind you as you walked down the hall — she'd put a friendly arm around your shoulders and quote a poem or invite you to lunch.
It's difficult to explain. What happened.
It's usually a look or a word. The relationship could continue for a long time after that, but when it's over and you look back, you know what look or word had ended it all. When you lost faith and stopped believing in someone.