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A family emergency…
I don’t know if it’s real or fake, but somehow, I can’t imagine someone like Quintessa playing around about a family emergency, but since she’s testing me, I have no idea what to make of it. I tell the team, “Since Ms. Bailey is not able to attend, you all are dismissed.”
“Mr. DePaul, we can go ahead with the meeting,” Greta says. “We’ll bring Quintessa up to speed when she’s back.”
“No. Go back to your desks and close the door on your way out, please.”
They all file out. Greta is shaking her head. I know she’s sick of me. I hear the guy with the bifocals mumble, “What a waste,” as he exits.
As soon as the door latches, I whip out my cell phone and call Quintessa. She doesn’t answer. I call again, no answer. A call a third time. Fourth. Fifth. No answer. Frustration peaked, I began to send her a text when one comes through from her.
Quintessa: sorry…can’t talk right now
Essex: answer your phone
I call her again.
It rings.
And rings.
And rings.
Finally, she picks up but doesn’t say anything. I just hear noises like she’s in a store or somewhere in a public space.
“Hello? Quintessa?”
I still hear noises, and now I’m getting concerned. What exactly is going on?
“Quintessa, can you hear me?”
Still nothing, but now I can hear her voice. She’s saying:
It’s okay, Dad. We’ll just sit here and wait. Let the doctors do their job.
“Hello? Quintessa, can you hear me?”
I hear a lot of static and wrestling like she’s actively handling the phone. “Hello? Essex?”
“Quintessa, what’s going on? Greta said you had a family emergency. Is everything all right, or is this your test for me?”
“No, it’s not a test, Essex. I—I, um…I have to go.”
“Wait. Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing—it’s just a family matter and—”
“Quintessa, stop for a minute and listen to me. Please.”
“Okay. I’m listening.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
She takes a deep breath and asks, “Why do you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Insert yourself into my life. I told you it’s a family matter. It has nothing to do with you, Essex.”
