Love in the Time of Layoff: Honey, They Shrunk My Job

Ten in the morning and the phone rings. Marco’s voice sounds wrong. “Are you ok?” I ask. “Not really,” he says. And in the next breath, he shares the news. “I just got laid off.”

Silence on my end. Shock, dread, then sudden relief. At least he hasn’t been hurt, or told me that someone died. But wait—this is really, really bad news. Laid off. Laid off. What kind of phrase is that anyway? How are we going to make it on just my freelance income? How will we buy that stroller for the as-yet nonexistent kid we’ve been trying to have? Does this mean I have to learn to cook? Mortgage payments. Utility bills. All I can muster is a lame “Oh. My. God.” And later, “I love you.”