Danielle Steel: Legacy

“I’m sorry.”

She left her alone for a few hours then, and started calling her repeatedly that afternoon, and finally Brigitte answered. She sounded awful.

“It’s not his fault.” Brigitte was quick to defend him. “I was stupid not to ask him what his plans were for us. He says he’s not a commitment kind of guy. How did I manage to miss that?”

“You didn’t ask,” Amy said honestly, “and you were both content the way things were. And maybe too scared to ask.” She knew that Ted’s parents had had a bitter divorce that had blown their family apart, and he was skittish about marriage. Amy had figured he’d get over it, and so had Brigitte. And now he didn’t have to. Destiny had intervened and given him a dig in Egypt. “What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. Cry for a year or two. I’m going to miss him.” But even she had noticed in her misery that as sad as she was, she wasn’t as devastated as she thought she should be. So what had she done? Wasted six years of her life because she was afraid of taking a risk and making a commitment? And what happened now? What if she never had kids because of the time she had wasted? Thinking about that depressed her. She didn’t want to end up like Amy, going to a sperm bank, and she knew she wouldn’t. That was a risk that Brigitte knew she would never take. If she had kids, she wanted the real deal, a husband, a family life, or nothing. She didn’t want to bring up children on her own. She had seen her mother, always struggling, always carrying everything alone, all the responsibilities and problems, all the joys and heartaches, and no one with whom to share them. She didn’t feel as brave as Amy or her mother, and she didn’t want to do it alone. She’d rather not have kids, which was beginning to seem like what might happen. It certainly looked like that now. Her whole outlook on the world and her future had changed in the past twenty-four hours, and not for the better. In spite of everything that had happened, her mother had never been bitter. Brigitte didn’t want to be either. It would only poison her own life if so.

“Can I come over after work?” Amy offered. “I can leave the boys in day care till seven, and I can be out of here by five.”

“I’m okay. I’ll be back at work tomorrow,” Brigitte said sadly. “I can’t stay in bed and cry forever.” She had been trying to decide if she wanted to see Ted before he left, but realized that she didn’t. It would just be too hard, knowing that it was over and she might never see him again. She was ready to bury it now. She sent him a text that night, telling him she was okay and wishing him well, and thanking him for six great years together. After she sent it, she felt strange. Crazy even. Six years, and all wrapped up in a single text. That seemed much too easy. And how quickly those six years had ended, in one night. One turn of fate, and it was over.

The snow had stopped the next morning when she went to work. The streets had been cleared by the snowplows. It was bitter cold as she pulled her collar around her neck, and her hands were icy when she got to her office. She had forgotten her gloves. She felt as though she had been gone for a lifetime, not just a day, to mourn the end of her relationship to Ted. She was wearing an old gray sweater, which was the one she wore when she was sad or upset. It was a time for comfort foods, cozy clothes, and all the things that would ease the pain she was in. It was a time of sadness and mourning for her.

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.