She had been in her office for half an hour, going over applications, when the head of admissions, Greg Matson, asked her to come into his office. He had only been there for a year, but had been pleasant to work for so far. He had come to BU from Boston College, and had often relied on Brigitte’s advice and experience about their policies. It had startled her to realize when he arrived that he was younger than she was, as was the woman next in line for his job. Brigitte had been there longer than either of them, but had never wanted the burdens that went with his job. She had always told herself that it was easier for her to continue working on her book if she was in a lesser position, and she had no need or desire to be “the boss.”

Greg invited her to sit down with the same collegial smile he always wore. He said she looked tired and asked if she’d been sick. She said she’d had the flu the day before. They chatted for a while about current applications, and he praised her for her diligence and said she did a remarkable job. He explained to her then about the new computer system they were installing in the next few weeks. He said it would make everyone’s job easier, and allow them to streamline the department, which was always a concern now with tighter money. He said that their main goal was efficiency and staying ahead of budget cuts, and the new computer system had been a great investment. And then, with a small look of apology, he explained that the new computer system meant that they would be reducing the size of the staff in the admissions office. They hated to do it, particularly after she had been there for ten years. It wasn’t personal, he insisted, but she and six other people were being laid off. He said generously that because of her long years of employment at BU, they were giving her a six-month severance package. He said he hoped it would give her the time and money she needed to finish her book. And he said he was really sorry she had to go. He stood up then, shook her hand, gave her a hug, and gently propelled her out of his office and back to her own. He said that arrangements would be made to complete their admissions process for the current applications without her input, and she could leave that day, and get on with her new life.

Brigitte stood in her office, looking stunned. New life? What new life? What happened to the old one? In two days she had lost her boyfriend to a dig in Egypt, and her job of ten years to a computer. She was dispensed with, obsolete, canceled. She hadn’t done anything wrong, everyone explained to her, but she hadn’t done anything right either. She hadn’t wanted to be head of admissions, so she had settled for a mediocre job for ten years. She had been working on a book for seven years that she’d never finished. And she’d spent six years with a man she thought she loved, but who had never made a commitment to her, and that had been good enough for her. In her pursuit of what was easy and without stress, she had rendered herself essential to no one, accomplished nothing, never married, never had kids. She was thirty-eight years old, childless, unmarried, unemployed, with nothing to show for the last decade of her life. It was a stunning blow to her ego, her heart, her self-esteem, her confidence, and her faith in the future.

She got a box from the supply room, put her few belongings into it, and at noon, after saying goodbye to her co-workers, still in a state of shock, she was walking down the hall, feeling dazed, unable to absorb what had happened. It was the weirdest feeling of her life. She felt like a woman without a country, a man, a job. In two days, her whole life had totally fallen apart. She had six months of salary coming to her from BU. And then what? What was she going to do now? Where would she go? She had absolutely no idea.

There were over one hundred colleges in the Boston area, more than in any other U.S. city, and she had ten years’ experience in admissions, but she wasn’t even sure that was what she wanted to do. She had done it because it was easy and undemanding. But was that all she wanted out of life? No demands? She stood in the doorway to Amy’s office, holding the box with her possessions, with a dead look in her eyes.

“What’s that?” Amy asked her. She didn’t like the way Brigitte looked at all. Her olive skin was so pale that it almost shimmered green, and she wondered what was in the box.

“I just got canned. They’re putting in a new computer system. I knew about it. I just didn’t know it was replacing me. Seven of us got fired. Or I think the term is ‘laid off.’ Dumped. Canned. Whatever. It’s been quite a week.” She sounded calm and felt dead.

“Oh, Jesus.” Amy ran around her desk and took the box from Brigitte’s arms. “I’ll drive you home. I don’t have to be back here for two hours.” Brigitte nodded and didn’t protest, as Amy put on her coat, carried the box, and they walked outside. Brigitte felt like she was in shock. She said nothing until they were halfway to her house.

“I feel sick,” was all she said, and she looked it.

“I’m really sorry,” Amy said quietly, as they waited for a light to change. Ted had called Amy that morning to see how Brigitte was. He was worried about her, but ecstatic over his new job. It was painful to hear, and Amy felt even sorrier for her and didn’t mention Ted’s call. What was the point? He was as good as gone. And now so was her job. It was a lot to absorb at once. “Sometimes it happens like this, Brig. Everything goes to shit at the same time. It’s rotten luck and worse timing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Brigitte said softly, and sighed. “It’s my fault. I always take the easy way out. I’m so busy trying not to rock the boat and take risks that I wind up going down with the ship. I’d never have the guts to do what Ted is doing. I never wanted to be head of admissions. I never pushed myself about the book. I just want to disappear into the crowd. And now look at me, no job, no guy, no kids, maybe ever, a book ten academics may read one day or use as a doorstop, if I ever finish it.” She turned to Amy with tears bright in her eyes. “What the hell am I going to do with my life?” It was a hard time for her, of taking stock, and facing the mistakes she’d made. She’d paid a high price for them in the last two days. “I never even asked Ted if he wanted to marry me one day. I just assumed he would. It was easier that way. And the answer would have been no. It would have been better to hear it then than find out now. I feel like life has passed me by, and I did it to myself.” She had, but Amy didn’t want to rub salt in her wounds, there were too many of them at the moment. Her man and her job. And all in two days. It was a hell of a blow.

“Don’t beat yourself up. You can’t change the past. There are a gazillion colleges here, you can get another job in admissions if you want. You can even teach. You have the degrees for it,” but she knew Brigitte had never wanted to. She didn’t want the commitment. “You have a great track record. If you send your résumé around, someone will offer you a job.”

“Everyone is cutting back. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should try to finish the book.” Amy nodded, at least it would keep her busy and from getting too depressed, until her wounds started to heal. She had to do something to get through this. She was blaming herself more than Ted. Amy blamed them both, Brigitte for what she hadn’t done, and Ted for what he just had.

“Maybe you should go away for a while. Get a change of scene,” Amy suggested kindly, trying to lift her spirits.

“Where would I go all by myself?” Brigitte was crying as she asked. Traveling alone sounded awful to her.

“Lots of places. Hawaii, the Caribbean, Florida. Go lie on a beach somewhere.”

“That’s no fun alone. Maybe I should go see my mother in New York. I haven’t seen her since Christmas. Wait till I tell her Ted dumped me and I’m out of a job.” Her mother had so much faith in her, and she felt like an utter failure now.

“Maybe that’s not such a great idea at the moment. I think a beach somewhere is a better idea.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Brigitte said, looking unconvinced. Brigitte and Amy carried her things into the apartment, and then Brigitte turned to her friend with a worried expression. “Don’t tell Ted I got fired, if he calls. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me. It’s so pathetic. I feel like a total loser.” He had been promoted, and she had gotten laid off. She would have felt humiliated if he knew.

“You’re not, and he called me this morning. He wanted to know how you are. I think he’s worried about you.”

“Tell him I’m fine. He didn’t change his mind about the dig, did he?” she asked with a hopeful look, and Amy shook her head. He was leaving, as planned, just concerned about her, but not enough to take her with him or to stay. It was over. Amy was convinced, and Brigitte was too.

They sat in Brigitte’s living room for a while, and then Amy had to go back to work. She suggested that Brigitte come to her house during the weekend, and Brigitte said she was going to try and work on her book. And for the rest of the afternoon, she just sat and stared into space, trying to absorb everything that had happened to her. No man. No job. It was a lot to take in all at once, and on Saturday, after hesitating for a full minute, she answered the phone when her mother called. Ted hadn’t called her, or texted her again since the day after their Valentine’s Day dinner. He was entirely willing to let her go and cut off communication. It was easier for him than dealing with how upset she was. He hated crying women. He always said they reminded him of his mother. He was allergic to guilt and blame, and being made to feel like the bad guy. So he disappeared. It seemed cowardly to her.

Her mother was startled when she heard her daughter. “You sound awful. Are you sick?” She was instantly worried. Brigitte was her only child.