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Larissa is the event planner in charge of the gala. There are always last-minute screw-ups with an event of this size and reputation. I relax, knowing we have contingencies in place.
“She is in the hospital…” Ashley’s words fall like boulders on me, and I grab a table for balance. “… for the foreseeable future.”
I drop my purse and rush into a small boardroom for privacy. Then I lean against the door and scream. It might not be the most mature or effective reaction, but it’s the only thing I have right now. I yell until my throat hurts, leaving me exhausted and only marginally composed.
When I come out, Eddie hands me a cup of tea. It’s not hot. A warm jasmine tea, the way I like it. The first sip burns my raw vocal cords, but it soothes me at the same time.
“Is she okay?” I ask. “What happened?”
“It’s not clear. She fainted and they’re running tests. In any case, she’s been put on bed rest for the time being,” Ashley explains.
“Okay.” As much as I want to be pissed at Larissa, I can’t. “I suppose we don’t have a contingency plan for losing our event planner.”
Ashley bites her bottom lip and Eddie shakes his head. I pull out my phone and send a quick note to Larissa to wish her well and reassure her we’ll be fine. Let’s hope the universe gets the message.
“Is there anyone we can bring on board?” I move toward my office, but the silence stops me.
The grim faces almost make me laugh. We stand there in silence for what feels like a lifetime. In the middle of the beige and dark blue office I love so much. An office that might not be the CEO’s corner suite I used to dream about, but it’s so much more.
“Let me flip through my contacts. In the meantime, is there a lawyer I can talk to?” As a nonprofit, we have several young students and recent graduates on call, pro bono.
“I can’t get anyone to come down right now, but I’ll keep calling,” Ashley says.
“Let’s leave that for tomorrow and start calling whoever we can to save the event.”
But a couple of hours’ work gets us nowhere. A lack of availability, or a fee above our budget, pushes us further and further from solving the issue. Those who are available and reasonably priced are not crazy enough to take over two weeks before the event.
My frustration grows into rage, so I decide to leave the office. I can make calls from home. “Let me know if you get someone. I’ll keep calling my contacts.”
The wretched heels I put on this morning are not meant for walking, but I can’t be confined in a car right now. My building is ten blocks from my office. Plenty of time on my aching feet to work through all the frustration that’s built up today.
Halfway home, my phone rings. Hopefully it’s Ashley with good news. But no.
I accept the call. “Dr. Carlson, how are you?”
One of the key opinion leaders in leukemia treatment is always too busy, and we coordinate our occasional work calls weeks in advance.
Given the day I’ve been having, my heart hammers against my ribcage as I wait for him to speak. A second that stretches into an excruciating moment.
“London, I couldn’t get in touch with your father… is this a good time?” He can probably hear the street noise around me.
What? How does he know Dad? “I’m outside, but sure. What’s going on?”
“My office left him several messages. Could you please have him get in touch with me?”
His words swell in my head, drowning me. I try to draw a breath, but my whole body feels submerged under water. The world around me moves in slow motion as the sounds drone on dully. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, deafening me.
“London?”
His voice snaps me back to the conversation. “What’s going on, Dr. Carlson?” He can’t tell me, but I ask anyway.
“London, you know—”
“Of course, of course, thank you for taking the time to call. I’ll make sure Dad calls you back.”
I drop my phone and someone leans down and hands it to me. I blink a few times, trying to focus on my surroundings. A blurry line of cars floats along as I try to avoid people who seem to jump into my path.
Even without any details, Dad being treated by Dr. Carlson paints a gloomy picture.
