Then, four years ago, Greg’s company lost three of its biggest clients in one quarter.
Brandt Logistics. He’d been there eleven years. A route planner. He was good at it. He could look at a map and see a hundred trucks at once.
They laid off his entire department on a Tuesday. Forty people. Boxes by the elevator.
He looked for work for months. Every mortgage payment felt like a fist in my stomach. Fourteen hundred and twenty dollars on the first of every month. I’d lie awake doing math in the dark.
Eventually, we made a decision together. I was earning more. So Greg would stay home with the kids, and I’d pick up every extra shift Bell’s would give me.
Nights. Weekends. Christmas Eve.
I worked sixty-hour weeks for almost two years. I missed Lily’s first ballet recital. I missed Owen losing his first tooth. I came home at eleven at night with my feet throbbing and ate cold dinner standing at the counter.
