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As if my thoughts have conjured her, I see Sydney walking in and straight toward me. “Hey, are you okay? I didn’t see you this morning. What time did you come in? Did you . . .” She leans forward, closer to me. “Did you go home with that bartender?”
I groan. “Yes.” Her eyes widen, but I shake my head. “No, none of that.” I lift my hands to message my temples.
“Are you hungover? Does your head hurt?”
“I’m fine. It really doesn’t hurt anymore. Just a bit tender.” I set my hands back into my lap to prove that I’m okay. “Sorry if I scared you. I shouldn’t have stayed behind. I should have gone home with you.” I shiver from the memory of last night and how drunk I was, a small convulsion—hopefully not noticeable—but Sydney grimaces and I know she saw it.
“I left there early. I tried not to wake you when I got home, and then came straight here.” I open another email and groan loudly. “God, I’m so far behind. Thank you. I’d be lost without you.”
“If you need anything, I’m here. How are you, by the way? Are you okay being here?” Her voice is lowered, and I know she’s concerned about the inner office gossip that is sure to be circulating from my incident at the funeral.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m okay.”
Sydney leans in. “It’s okay to not be okay.” When I don’t respond, she reaches out to squeeze my hand. “I think you really need to see someone. You have the card the doctor in the ER gave you. Can you please consider calling him? It’s okay to ask for help. It’s hard to lose someone so close to you.”
The memory of Richard makes my heart lurch in my chest. “I just don’t know if I can talk about it, and with Mom always needing me, I’m not sure I’ll have time, you know?”
“You have to start putting yourself first. You’re the strongest person I know. Taking care of your mother, that’s not easy. Maybe now it’s time you find someone to help take care of you. It’s always been hard for you to let people in, to talk about her, but I think it’s time to try. I think this is for the best. No more excuses, Eve.”
“It’s not that . . .” I shake my head.
“What is it then?”
I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. A sweat breaks out across my brow and my heartbeat picks up. A sharp pain radiates down my arm. I reach across my far shoulder and rub at the knot in my left shoulder blade.
“Can we talk about this back at the apartment?”
“Yeah, of course,” she whispers. Her face scrunches as she grimaces. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Michael called a company meeting after lunch. Everyone is afraid we’re getting sacked.”
Michael is now the executive vice president of the agency. If he’s calling a company meeting, it’s a big deal. She shrugs before she heads over to her desk that’s directly diagonal from mine.
I pull out the latest project I’m working on and try to distract myself, but the wait is driving me mad. The walls feel as if they are closing in around me. I wish Richard was here.
I STRETCH my arms above my head and yawn. I’ve been sitting at this desk for hours. I consider drinking the cup of cold coffee on my desk, but I fear even that won’t do the trick. Glancing at the clock, I realize not only have I worked through lunch, but I’m also about to be late for the meeting. My heels click softly on the marble floor as I make my way to the conference room.
Most of the staff, including Sydney, is already there when I enter the brightly lit room. Taking a seat beside her at the long Lucite table that spans the center of the room, I look out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Park Avenue. Snow has started to fall again. Clumps of wet flakes cling to the surface of the nearby buildings, and I lose myself in the white haze.
Muffled sounds reverberate through the room and I turn my attention back toward the center of the table. The atmosphere swiftly changes as Michael Durand walks into the room. Tension swirls in the air.
The fear is palpable.
“Good afternoon, and thank you all for being here. This will be a short meeting. I just want touch upon some rumors that have been floating around. No, we’re not closing,” he says abruptly. A rush of air is expelled from everyone in the room. “However, things will be changing. Over the next few weeks, the attorney will be going over Richard’s will as well as some other pressing business matters that I won’t go into today. I know this is vague and I wish I could give you more assurances, but unfortunately, this is all I have for you. In the interim, I will be in charge. As you are aware, Richard had a silent investor in the company, so until they decide who takes over as CEO, any questions can be directed to me.”
When he finally stops speaking, his eyes flick over to me. Simultaneously all the eyes in the room follow his gaze. They all seem to narrow in suspicion, as if I know something.
I do, but I won’t tell them that.
After Michael leaves, the room erupts in a series of loud whispers. Sydney turns to me and I shrug.
Someone grasps my shoulders from behind. My back stiffens as I turn to find Barry standing there. Where most everyone who works for The Stone Agency is a team player, Barry travels to the beat of his own drum. He’s reserved and prefers to work alone. We’ve never gotten along.
“Hi,” Barry says. He doesn’t make eye contact with me. He never makes eye contact with anyone. “Do you know who’s taking over?”
“Hello to you too, Barry.”
His fingers start to tap at his leg. “He told you everything. You have to know something.”
“Sorry, can’t help you.” His brow furrows at my words, but before he tries to press any further, I walk away. Until I speak to my mother, I don’t really know anything, but even if I did, I wouldn’t share it with this creep.
CHAPTER FIVE
EVE
THIS WEEK SUCKED.
Fear gripped me often, nightmares infiltrated my sleep, and my appetite dwindled.
But today is Saturday.
So today is a good day.
Anything is better than the hell I suffered being back at the office. The rumor mill ran rampant at The Stone Agency, and work was so stressful, it was no feat at all to get Sydney to go out. She didn’t judge me on the copious amounts of alcohol I drank to help put me to bed. Work has been stressful for her too, so she happily drinks alongside me.
After waking up at Austin’s apartment and doing the walk of shame last week, I tried to convince Sydney to find another bar to go to, but she said I needed to man up and get over it. That once I ripped the Band-Aid off and act normally, it would no longer be weird and that’s exactly what I did. Austin was cool about me sneaking off. He even bought us a round of shots to make light of the situation.
After freshening up, my phone starts to ring. It’s my mom. I can’t deal with her now. I send her to voice mail, and then throw on nicer clothes. After I’m dressed, I make my way down the street to my favorite diner. With my concussion and then having to go back to work, I had completely skipped my weekly ritual. I’m hoping this little sense of normalcy will help aid me in allowing my life to return to ordinary.
Paradise Diner is famous for their amazingly delicious chocolate chip waffles with extra yummy homemade whipped cream. Well, maybe not world famous, but in Murray Hill it was the only place to go.
Just as I make it to the familiar door, my phone vibrates in my pocket and an unknown number appears on the screen. I shudder inwardly when I wonder who it could be, especially on a Saturday morning. It’s never a good thing when an unknown number calls me.
“Hello.”
“This is Sinai-Grace. Is this Eve Hamilton?” My quickening pulse pounds in my ears.
“Yes, it is. What’s going on? Is it my mother?” Please say she’s okay. Please.
“Your mother was brought in today from an adverse reaction to one of her medications.” Guilt sweeps through me, filling my veins with despair. That’s why she called. She called me and I sent her to voicemail.
“I’ll be right there.” I hang up the phone. I
don’t even ask where she is, which room number. Is she even in a room? I just run. I run as fast as I can to help my mom.
Dashing in the entrance of the hospital thirty minutes later, I head straight to the information desk.
“My mother was brought in today,” I huff out on labored breath.
“Name?” The attendant doesn’t even look up as she addresses me, her expression one of indifference.
“Laura Hamilton.” Her fingers type away at the computer in front of me, and with each tap of the keyboard, the raw and primitive grief I had suppressed overwhelms me and makes it hard to stand.
“She’s just now being moved into a room,” she answers, and I so desperately want to beg her to hurry and tell me the room number. Every second that goes by is a second I’m losing before I can make sure she’s okay.
I’m frantic and desperate by the time the receptionist tells me where I can find her. Turning on my heel, I race down the corridor, then take the elevator up. My footsteps thunder down the hall until I find my mother’s room. When I finally step inside, my legs give way.
She’s lying frail in the bed. Her skin is hollow, and her once dewy glow now looks dull and gray. I sit beside her bed and hold her tiny hand in mine. It’s all bone. Everything inside me freezes for a second. My mind and body are numb. Time stops as I watch her breathe. I silently thank God I didn’t lose her too. Lose her the way I lost my father. The way I lost Richard.
She’s all I have left. She can’t leave me.
Tears well in my eyes. It’s too much. This feeling is too much.
My back tightens, my muscles cord and a soft hum sounds in my ear. The impending doom is all around me.
I can see it. It’s lurching its ugly head, ready to strike. Air. I need air.
The need to turn and run is all-encompassing, it sweeps over me, carrying my feet out the door and into the hallway. In my haste, I collide into something, causing a strangled gasp to escape as I drop to the floor. It feels as though I’m floating underwater, trying to break through the surface.
White knuckles, uneven breathing, suffocating.
Like a thick fog on a rainy day, it hovers above me, blinding me. It darkens the path in front of me until I can no longer see.
I’m rooted in place, stuck.
