Images of that night flash before me.
The doorbell rings, followed by three knocks.
I groan from the intrusion of my sleep and crawl out of bed before making my way down the hallway. Peeking into Nicole’s room, I see an untouched bed, which can only mean one thing. She forgot her keys…AGAIN.
“Nik, why do you always do this—it’s 2am,” I scold as I open the door.
“Myssa Conner?” the officer asked.
“Yes?”
Everything after that was a blur. I remember the sound the rain made on the roof in the downpour. The “we regret to inform you”, and the rush of blood to my ears. Not being able to control my sobs as I dropped to the ground. I don’t know how long the officer was kneeling there, holding me until the numbness seeped in. I don’t know how I ended up in the back of his car as he drove me to the hospital to identify her body.
“Myssa?”
I flinch, the vivid memory fading as quickly as it came. I blink for a second, wiping a tear away, realizing there are seven pairs of eyes on me in the conference room, waiting for my answer.
“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” My cheeks heat, and I’m sure that embarrassment has reddened them enough for others to see.
Pete just sighs, gathering his laptop and papers.
I feel like a kid in trouble as he towers over me, a mix of disappointment and sympathy on his face.
“Let’s discuss this in my office, shall we?” He gestures towards the door and then looks over my head to address the rest of our group.
“Everyone else—I think we’re done here. Thank you for your time.”
I follow Pete to his office, and before I can apologize, he motions for me to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
Pete and I have known each other for a better part of ten years, and our boss-employee relationship has morphed into a friendship that feels more like family. I’ve watched his kids grow up, and he’s been there for the failed relationships and advice throughout the years, knowing my parents were no longer around.
“Look, Myssa, as your friend, I have to tell you—I’m worried about you. I know Nicole’s death was sudden. No one could have prepared you for that, and you know I’m here for you if you need me. But to be blunt, you’re barely hanging on, and it’s starting to show. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, and although your projects are still going well, what I don’t want to see is anything slipping because you’re burning out.”
His sympathetic gaze starts to get to me, and I look away, finding a spot on the floor to stare at.
“When Nik died, I told you to take as much time as you needed. Grieving is such an important process, and you didn’t give yourself enough time to do it. You’ve slowly declined since. This meeting today was just our daily, luckily, but it just shows your head is not in the game.” His eyes turn pleading.
I take a minute to let what he’s saying sink in, if I’m honest with myself, I know he’s not wrong. I’d only taken two days off for the wake and cremation, then proceeded to dive into work to escape. The loss was too much to deal with at the time. Thinking about it all right now, my eyes start to sting.
He pauses, his posture stiffening. I can feel it coming.
“But as your boss, I’m going to insist you take a few weeks off. Your projects are pretty much wrapped up, and I think it’s time for you to take some time for yourself. I know you have some vacation saved up, and I’ll match it so you can relax, and clear your mind.”
Trying to hold in the tears, I unconsciously pick at my nail polish. I’d started this job right out of a high school as a project coordinator, and over the years had made my way to Project Manager. I love what I do—the challenges of schedules and tasks and “miracles” I have to sometimes Houdini, give me the self gratification that I’ve earned my spot on the team. So, for him to tell me that I’m slipping has me taken back.
Opening my mouth, I finally look up at him and start a weak protest of his decision. “I?—”
He cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “No, Myssa. Starting today, I want you off. I’ll have your coordinator take over if anything comes up. Go home, take the time you need. Your job will be here when you get back.”
The look in his eyes tells me there’s no point in arguing. The thought of not working makes me uneasy.
I’m not one to deal with my emotions, so this ask is already causing a feeling of uncertainty to roll through me. I don’t want to have to think about what happened, or the nightmares that take over some nights. That voice, the one that finds a way to slowly creep through the cracks of my unconsciousness to pull the strings of my doubt, anxiety, fear—-and sprinkles in some taunting about my sister’s soul for good measure.
My hairs raise on the back of my neck, and goosebumps stand to full attention as the memories of my nights overtake me. Before I get lost in the moment, I feel a warm hand on mine, and like a lifeline, it grounds me. Shaking my head, I blink, finding Pete’s soft brown eyes looking at mine with concern. As a tear escapes, it hits me that I wasn’t even aware that Pete had moved.
“Thanks, Pete.” I stand up, conceding to his plan.
“Would you like me to call someone to have them drive you home?” The sincerity in his voice warms me.
