Susan Donovan - The night she got lucky

Ginger winced.

Not you. I didn't mean you.

Well, I'm taking my sorry ass home, and right now. Ginger rose from the desk and grabbed her bag. It's like a funeral in here. I'll come back tomorrow with boxes from home.

Bea followed her out the double glass doors that divided the features department from the rest of the open newsroom. But really, she said, nearly jogging to keep up with Ginger, what are you going to do for a job?

Ginger shrugged. My job will be finding a job, like half the journalists in this country.

They headed up the center aisle of the newsroom. Ginger stopped to hug a few people and wave at a few others, but she was determined to get to the elevators before she shed a single tear.

When she reached Denise, a sweet girl raising three little kids on a receptionist's salary, Ginger almost lost it. Because Denise was waving a white envelope. I got mine, too, she said in a soft voice. Hold the elevator and we'll all go down together.

HeatherLynn's shrill little bark meant the boys were home from school. Ginger decided to greet them in the foyer to lessen the shock. She was never home this early. She didn't want the boys thinking burglars had broken in during the dayand stopped to prepare homemade lasagna.

Hey, guys!

Jason and Joshua froze in the doorway, their eyes as big as blue plums, bookbags dropping to the floor.

You got fired, Josh said, immediately assessing the situation. Oh, Mom, I'm really sorry.

Jason pointed his nose to the ceiling and inhaled deeply. How long till the lasagna's done?

A third male figure popped up in the doorway, and Ginger groaned loudly, if only in her head. The boys' father laid a hand on each of his son's shoulders and peeked his head inside. You made lasagna? Damn, I wish I could stay but I have a department meeting tonight.

Bummer, Ginger said, waving the dishtowel to usher all of them inside. How was your day, boys? Please shut the door. How's it going, Larry?

Joshua, the youngest by two minutes, stopped to pick up HeatherLynn on his way through the foyer. He held her close and high on his chest, so the dog could tuck her head under his chin. You doing okay, Mumu? he asked, using his childhood nickname for her as he hugged her quickly. You knew this might be coming, right?

I did, sweetheart. I'm okay.

Jason came up and kissed her on the cheek. That sucks, he said, the identical sentiment expressed by Bea earlier in the day. Unfortunately, Bea's and Jason's vocabulary rules weren't identical. Ginger was trying to teach Jason how to behave like a gentleman, while Bea had long ago stopped caring about the rules of polite society.

Ginger sighed. Jason, how many times have I told you not to use that word in the house?

Sorry, Mom. Jason flashed a charming smile eerily similar to Larry's. You getting fired really blows.

Ginger raised an eyebrow, watching her sons stampede past her to get to the kitchen. Doors to the cabinets and the refrigerator were thrown open, and the makings of an afternoon snack began to pile up on the tabletortilla chips, leftover mashed potatoes, Oreos, roast beef, and kaiser rolls. Ginger was grateful for Larry's generous child support payments, if only because it cost a small fortune to keep the boys supplied with carbohydrates.

Keep in mind we'll be eating dinner in less than two hours, she told them.

Awesome, Jason said, his cheeks puffed out with the contents of his sandwich. I'll be starving by then.

Hey, you got a minute? Larry hadn't fully entered the kitchen, but lingered in the foyer, looking sheepish. It had always fascinated Ginger how, after that night he got caught with his pants down, he'd instinctively stopped treating this house as his home. He'd left that night with a duffel bag, and hadn't slept here since.

Sure, Larry. Ginger followed him into the living room. He took a seat in an armchair and she curled up on the sofa. It felt awkward to be with him here, in the living room they'd painstakingly furnished and decorated together, in a house they'd had custom-designed with every comfort and personal preference in mind.

It had always struck Ginger as odd how Larry turned around and bought a house just two blocks away, in the same development, and had it decorated in an almost identical fashion. Whatever made him happy, she supposed. And it certainly made it convenient for the boys, who split their time equally between their parents.

So what are your plans? he asked, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. He was sporting an unfamiliar platinum pinkie ring. How is this going to affect our calendar?

Ginger paused a moment, smiling at him sweetly. Gee, she said. I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at, Larry.

Well, it's just that, you know Larry's pale blue eyes twitched nervously toward the kitchen, where they could hear the boys arguing and laughingwith their mouths full. My plans. My schedule. How's this going to affect all that?

She knew it! She knew he was going to go there! Ginger had just been fired from the only job she'd ever hadher world in turmoiland Larry was worried how it might affect his freedom to shag every coed on campus. If only University Hospital's administrators knew how their chief of urology whiled away his free time.

It's just that, you know, I'm planning on going away to Maui next week, remember? And I wanted to make sure any new job wouldn't, you know, conflict with my plans.

Ginger maintained her vacant smile as she put all of this in its proper perspective. Back in the day, during his first trip through adolescence, Larry Garrison had been a California fraternity hottie with a.359 batting average, a 130 IQ, and an unholy hankering for pretty girls. That's the man Ginger fell in love with. She knew what she was gettinga top-shelf guy who was a little on the selfish side. And today, deep in the quagmire of his second adolescence, Larry was a handsome and highly respected doctor with the same unholy hankering for the prettiest girls. And an ego that had swelled to the size of the North American landmass.

I mean, have you thought about what kind of work you might do? What your hours might be? Larry flashed her one of his toothy grins. The boys are old enough to take care of themselves for the most part, obviously, but we will still need to make sure all the bases are covered.

Ginger sighed deeply, once again awed by her ex-husband's self-centered stupidity. HeatherLynn took that as her cue and toddled into the living room. Without a glance at Larry, she hopped into Ginger's lap, circled around a few times, then curled up in a ball. Larry frowned when he realized he'd just been dissed by his prized bichon.

Ginger stroked the dog's poofy white fur, immediately feeling her blood pressure reset to normal. It was as if her little dog knew exactly when she needed backup.

Ginger looked at her ex-husband and smiled. You know what, Larry?

What? He perked up.

You're an ass.

Larry's hands rose in surrender, a stunned look on his face. Was that really necessary? he asked, his cheeks reddening.

She sighed. I'm afraid it was, and I'll tell you why. Ginger adjusted HeatherLynn and tucked her feet up under her, getting comfortable. My career crashed and burned at about nine this morning, and it's not quite four in the afternoon, so it would be impossible to know how my new job might impact your social calendar, because I don't yet have a new job, you pompous douche bag.

Larry said nothing.

Furthermore, our divorce agreement says that I have up to six months to find another job should I lose my current one, and, in the meantime, you have to increase alimony to replace my salary.

What! Larry stood up as if someone had stuck a pin in his butt cheek. You're crazy.

No, but as you know, I have an extremely good lawyer, she said, smiling again. Ginger had anticipated this. So she placed HeatherLynn on the sofa cushion and walked to the dining room table, where she'd left a file folder. She returned, opening the file to a copy of the settlement agreement. She'd already circled the pertinent paragraph with a yellow highlighter.