Dejeuner?”

I practice my pronunciation out loud as I walk to Mark and Elliot’s office space. It’s a lovely morning, and the birds in the trees above the quiet street are singing. It is the perfect morning for a walk. It is the perfect morning to bring some breakfast to Mark and Elliot.

I am nearly skipping as I walk along the narrow sidewalk. People are out for brunch, sipping mimosas and eating waffles and pancakes topped with whipped cream at pretty iron and glass tables outside a small cafe. The old bookstore is open, and a few elderly couples are sorting through carts of old hardcover volumes. A soft, warm breeze comes off the Hudson, wrestling through the leaves on the trees at my right.

And at the end of the street, where my favorite old thrift shop used to stand, is Mark and Elliot’s new office. I smile and I feel my heart skip a beat when I get to the front window.

For the first time in years, I feel at peace. I feel calm. And I feel cared for. I feel someone else seeing me as their priority. And it’s two people instead of just one.

Mark and Elliot, Elliot and Mark. And me.

I look up at their building, marveling at how lucky I am, and impressed by what they’ve been able to accomplish. There is a tiny, nagging pull deep inside me that says I don’t deserve what they’ve offered me, but I doubt they got where they are by handing out favors for people who don’t deserve it.

Just having them in my life would be enough, and they know it. I don’t need the consultancy offer. It’ll be so wonderful, though, to be able to continue working with The Gutter, even if in a reduced capacity. And I know they have its best interests at heart.

I peer through the window of their office. They aren’t here, and I feel my lips turn down into a frown because I brought them so fresh, hot bread from the bakery. I thought for sure they would be here, and I wanted to surprise them.

I pass the window and go over to the door, putting my hand against it. It opens slightly, and I push it forward a bit more, allowing it to open.

“Hello?” I call as I poke my head into the office. I hope they didn’t leave the door unlocked all night. Even though I know no one would try to break in, they’re liable to get a family of possums or skunks in here if they aren’t careful.

The space looks wonderful. Everything is still a bit dusty, but the space is really beginning to be filled out. I walk over to the reception desk and smile up at their new logo, complete with the name of their new location.

And I feel my heart swell with pride. I’d like to think I was a big part of why they’d decided to take a chance here. They certainly took a chance on me, and I on them. And I’m so glad I did.

I put the bag of fresh scones down on the reception desk. I decide to leave a note with it, so I go into my purse and grab a pen and the small notebook I always keep on me. There’s some French phrases in here, just little things I practice from time to time. Now that I’m shifting into a new role, maybe I will have more time to practice. Maybe I can even book myself a nice vacation and practice my pronunciation in real-life France.

Good morning boys, I write down, I came to look for you but couldn’t find you. That’s okay, because I know I’ll see you soon. Enjoy :)

I could call them, but I think the note is a cute touch. I tuck it under the corner of the bag and notice a black folder on the desk. This must be our contract, and I take the folder in my hands, flipping it open.

Smiling, I glance over the contract. I’ve never been involved in a deal this big before. The biggest deal I’ve ever entered into was for a year’s supply of plastic drinking cups with a local vendor. Of course my attorney will have to review everything before I sign, but this is a big deal for me.

A smile tugs at my lips as I flip the page. Selling is bittersweet, but I know this is the right thing to do.

As I scan the page, though, I begin to find language that is slightly different from the contract the boys presented to me last night. Or maybe amidst all of the excitement, I didn’t read carefully enough. I only ended up reading the whole thing after the boys had fallen asleep, and maybe I was too tired and worn out to focus.

But no, I would never have missed some of these things. On the third page there is mention of small payouts for the alley’s current staff when they are laid off. We never discussed layoffs. This was not in the original contract.

I try to swallow, but my mouth has become dry. I exhale shakily, flipping to the last few pages of the contract.

My heart is racing as I fumble with the pages, putting the folder down on the desk. I steady myself against the edge of the desk, barely able to breathe. There is no clause about me staying on as a consultant.

I feel the corners of my eyes begin to prick with tears. They would never do this to me. This must be a huge misunderstanding - a misunderstanding on my part. I flip back to the first page. This document must be dated. This must be an earlier draft.

And when I flip to the first page and check the top right corner for the date of the contract, I feel like a ton of bricks has been dropped on me. Right there in black and white is today’s date.

This is the most recent version of the contract. I was updated today, and it’s barely ten in the morning.

I inhale deeply, struggling with every moment to get air into my lungs. I struggle against the room around me as hot tears begin to stream down my face.

I wipe the tears away with the backs of my hands, but they keep coming.

I don’t know why they did this to me.

I don’t understand.

Turning to walk toward the door, I attempt to compose myself, but I can’t. I feel betrayed and hurt. So hurt. Disappointed.

And then I hear my phone ding. It’s a text from Elliot and Mark.

Please come to your apartment. We need to speak with you.

They need to speak with me? No. There’s nothing to talk about. I have nothing to say to them.

And I walk out of their office slowly, crushed, my heart slamming inside me. My tongue feels numb, as though I wouldn’t be able to speak to them even if I wanted to. My legs feel like jelly. My arms feel like they are filled with lead. I just want to collapse on the ground.

I imagine myself sinking down against the wall outside their office.

But I keep walking, and I know exactly where I’m going.