Two hours later, still sitting at the kitchen table, the cup of lousy instant coffee sat, cold and untouched. My tears had dried, replaced by rage. ... stood up, threw the cup at the sink, breaking it into a million pieces and splashing coffee everywhere. I called my brother, Jazz. His name is Jerry, but he'd been called Jazz since he was about six or seven, two years older than I. Jazz is the calm one, a cool head on his shoulders. He would know how to get me settled down...and how to. Phil poured his soul out to me over a few beers at the tavern telling methat Donna had informed him that he was no longer required."Not so much as, we think you could improve your work, or even twobloody weeks notice, just told me to pack my desk and go" he had saidwith a sneer. "That hard faced bitch is hell bent on installing her own feministenclave there, didn't even want to see me again. Had the termination paymade up in her hand and said she would forward my things as soon as shebloody. More

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