”Why?” she asked him. ”Why does it matter how I am? How do you think I am?” Her questions were rhetorical, because she knew he had trouble reading other people’s reactions, though she did think – or hope – that he at least could tell that she wasn’t good.
“When I was working for you, I knew how to handle this,” she continued. “I knew to let people know that you were unavailable for the time being, I knew to make sure the bills were paid and any plans in the following week needed to be changed. I knew to feed the cats and follow up on the postponed appointments. I knew what to do and say when I was your assistant. Right here, tonight, for the past two weeks, I wasn’t your assistant and I didn’t know what to say or do. I still don’t.” As she spoke, her voice grew stronger and she could feel the frustrated anger in her, though she didn’t know where to put it, because really? She couldn’t blame anybody but herself for not having considered this.