Juan Loses His Job
“Maria, get up,” Juan shook his wife’s shoulder gently. “I’ve got to tell you something.”
“Huh? What is it?” Maria had worked all night. She’d only been asleep for a few hours, and she was groggy. “What’s wrong?”
Juan sat glumly on the edge of the bed. What am I supposed to tell her? How can I say this?
“Ay, güey!” Maria shoved Juan roughly away, “It’s morning and you’ve been drinking! You reek of tequila!”
Juan clumsily sought to hug his wife. “C’mon bebé," he insisted. “Get up. I’ve got something important to talk about.”
Maria sat up, but Juan could tell she wasn’t happy. He needed to talk but he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.
Maria touched his chin with a trembling hand and gently turned his face towards hers. “Dios mío,” she whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“Richard's shutting down the plant.” It was strange, now that he’d finally said it out loud, the terrible news he’d dreaded delivering fell flat and toneless, as if the words themselves were dead and devoid of coherent meaning.
The words had the opposite effect on Maria. “What?” she said, with a rush of rising panic. “What do you mean, shutting down?”
Juan couldn’t feel anything. He didn’t even feel drunk. “He’s gonna go bankrupt.”
“Why?”
Juan explained to her about TSMC’s decision to delay the construction of the chip manufacturing complex and how Richard had borrowed heavily to purchase the specialized equipment he thought he would need. "He's underwater. He’s got to let us all go.”
Maria jumped out of bed and anxiously put on her robe. Juan wished she would look at him or say something.
“It’s gonna be OK…” He said the words, but he didn’t believe them.
“How soon?” Maria said at last.
“What?”
"When does he go bankrupt? How long do we have?" Maria wheeled to face him. There was a hard, calculating look in her eyes that Juan hadn't seen since they were kids living in Mexico.
Juan didn’t really know, “It will take a month or two…” he guessed.
“You’re not going in to work today,” Maria pointed an accusing finger. “Not like that.”
Juan nodded.
“Ah,” Maria turned away again, wringing her hands. “What about your retirement? Do you still get that? We were getting so close.”
Juan hung his head, and the room seemed to spin slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe Richard can’t pay it now?”
Maria cursed, “Richard!”
Her outburst shocked Juan. “It wasn’t his fault,” he objected.
“That cabrón only thinks of himself,” she fumed. “You're gonna get another job.”
Juan’s eyes rolled back in his head. He wasn’t used to Maria speaking this way to him. I can’t blame her, he thought as he fell backward onto the bed.
“Ay!" Maria scolded. “Get off the bed. Go take a shower, you stink.”
Juan struggled to sit up with his elbows. “I’m sorry, cariña,” he muttered. Apologizing was always difficult for him.
“And brush your teeth!” Maria stormed into the kitchen.