Letter of Resignation
This is a short fiction piece, revealing the highs and lows between two partners in a romantic relationship. Styled as a formal resignation letter, this piece plays on the traditional break-up letter between two people in a romantic relationship.
November 27th, 2017
Dear Anna Zuckerman,
I am writing to inform you that I have made the very difficult decision to resign from my current position as your partner in this endeavor. My last day will be December 1st, 2017.
It has nothing to do with Thanksgiving.
Since joining your company on January 1st, 2016, I am so proud of what I have accomplished as your partner.
That New Year’s Eve, at David’s apartment, kissing you on the fire escape, red solo cups in hand as the clock struck twelve. You tasted like cider, because you hate beer, and I had drunk too much champagne. There was glitter in your curly brown hair. The tips of our noses were red from the cold, but as I kissed you, I never felt warmer.
I have learned so much and have grown significantly as a person and as an employee during our year together. From starting new projects to learning new programs, I am thrilled with the experience I have had over the past eleven months.
Walking through the park, our hands laced together, squeezing yours tightly. Hiking with you, holding your hand when you tripped over a branch and cut your leg and joked that you needed to amputate. Learning how to be kind to you while we argued over toothpaste caps and what to get for dinner and the exit I missed on the interstate. You wanted to get to our destination, but I was content to wander.
The decision to leave you has not come lightly, I assure you. After many months of talking to my friends and my therapists, I have decided that not returning to you in the New Year is not only best for myself and my future, but also for your continued success.
I told you, Anna, it has nothing to do with Thanksgiving. It’s the way you spend too much time on your phone when we’re together. It’s the way you need to win every disagreement. The way you always need to be correct. It’s your militant attitude towards the world. It’s your constant need for justice, to see pain brought to those who have wronged you.
It’s a long time coming.
I’m afraid that the twang of my voice and the fact that I jump at constant car alarms and that I’ve never done Molly at 2 a.m. in a club in Brooklyn annoys you. You love the city, the noise, the lights, the people, the energy, and I hate it, and I’m afraid you hate me.
You were born here. It’s in your blood. After all, I’m just a hick.
Remember when you called me a hick? I do. I cried in the bathroom when you made fun of the pictures of me showing livestock in high school, happy and proud of my accomplishments. You called me a hick. You meant it jokingly, but if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, your words are sharp as knives when you want them to be. They can cut.
It has been an honor to work with you, Ms. Zuckerman. The assistance you’ve provided me with and the insight you’ve shared in our field is invaluable to me. I consider you a mentor on both a professional and personal level, and I have learned so much while working for you.
It has nothing to do with Thanksgiving.
You stared, eyes wide, as we drove through my hometown. You said you couldn’t imagine living in a place where cows lined the winding roads, even though I can’t think of anything more beautiful. It has nothing to do with the bitchy way you told my mom you wouldn’t try her fried okra. It has nothing to do with the snarky response you gave my father when he asked you how your work in activism is going. You assumed they hated you when they wanted nothing more than to know you. But you were drunk. You know how you get when you drink red wine.
It has everything to do with Thanksgiving.
Unfortunately, I will not be able to attend our weekend retreat. I apologize for the short notice.
We were supposed to go to that AirBnB in the mountains. Spend the weekend wrapped up in each other. When you first brought up our anniversary, all those months ago, I knew, even then, we wouldn’t make it that far. I think you did, too.
I will be happy to help fill the position that my absence will create. I have many friends that would thrive in the position of your partner.
I’m lying, Anna. I don’t want you to date anyone else. I want you to be miserable. I want you to be heartbroken over me. I want you to spend weeks in your apartment, drinking shitty tequila and eating Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey until you get sick because you’re lactose intolerant. But I know you’ll just fall into David’s bed. You always fall into his bed when something goes wrong. You always tell me it means nothing because he’s a man. It’s just a dick, you say.
Maybe this time it will mean something.
Please acknowledge this letter as my official notice of resignation. I will do my absolute best to ensure a smooth transition before my departure December 1st. I have been so fortunate to be part of this endeavor. I wish not only you, but the company continued success.