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Once we arrive there, I pay the driver before I exit the car. When I make it inside, I’m hit with the smell of bleach burning my nostrils, and I watch nurses in blue uniforms assist their patients. As I advance to the front desk, I greet the receptionist and sign in.
As I stop at my mother’s room, I knock on the white door. She doesn’t respond but stares ahead, sitting in a wheelchair. She can’t talk nor move. After the accident, she was diagnosed with the disorder, persistent vegetative state.
When I stroll to the black table, I rearrange the bright flowers I bought her a week ago as I hum her favorite song, “Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles.
I decorated her room the exact way it was at our old home, with the paintings she spent a fortune on hanging on the eggshell walls and her favorite pink chair next to her bed. Clutching the bottle, I spray a lavender scent all over her blankets and bedding, even though I know she will never regain consciousness again, but I still try to make this place feel homey for her.
As soon as I set the spray bottle down on the table, I glide a chair next to her, plopping down to grab her hand.
“I hope you had a great day today, Mom.”
I kiss her on the forehead, and she doesn’t respond. No body language. No smile. No emotions. No telling me to bring her a sandwich from her favorite deli shop. No asking me about the latest gossip with my friends. And I miss it. I miss her hugs, kisses, and laughter. I miss her mom jokes and how she brightens a room with her smile. I miss how she loved people and her floral shop, and she was so full of life and energy you could feel it from a mile away. A bubbly person, as my father used to describe her. And now… now she’s empty like there are no signs of life in her. Every time I come here, it’s harder because I know she won’t ever be the same. I lost my best friend.
My mom loved me braiding her hair, so I disappear to the bathroom, strolling back with a brush in my hand. I stand behind her, remove the tie, then brush through her locks before braiding her silk wheat blonde hair.
“I got a job interview and moved into my new apartment so I’m not living in Dad’s pool house anymore.” My shoulders sag. “I’m super excited about living out on my own.” I tie her hair at the end of the braid. “Do you think I should wear my good luck Vans to the job interview or would it be too unprofessional?” Drool drips down her chin. “I’ll be right back.”
I leave the room to stroll to her bathroom and snatch a thick washcloth, twist the knob of the faucet, and run water onto the cloth. Once it’s nice and warm, I head back to my mom, wipe the side of her face, then I toss the cloth onto the table.
I pretend she responds, and say, “Yeah, you’re right, it’s best to wear heels. I’ll wear the ones you gave me for my twenty-first birthday. I applied to be on the creative team at Risqué.Hopefully, I’ll be able to live the dream I always wanted.”
Sometimes, I feel stupid for speaking to her because she’ll never respond, but her doctor told me it’s okay for me to do it. My father wanted to pull the plug after the accident, and I begged him not to do it since he has a power of attorney over her life. Maybe it was too hard watching his wife going from full of life to withering away like a plant. We never talked about the accident or his feelings about it. My father doesn’t share his emotions, he tucks them away as if they don’t exist.
Sighing, I sit in the chair, pick up the remote to put it on Netflix, and playGirlfriends.
Mandy pushes the round glasses on top of her pointy nose. “I’m afraid the position you applied for has been fulfilled.”
This was my last hope to get my foot in the door in the fashion business. My trust fund is running low, and I don’t want to go to my father for money because I’ll never hear the end of it, which I wouldn’t blame him for. I’m twenty-four years old and I should know how to take care of myself. I glance out the window. The sun beams high in the sky, hiding behind the Empire State Building. It’s too early for this shit. I didn’t sleep well because I was worried I wasn’t going to be hired.
“The good news is, the new CEO wants to hire you as his executive assistant.”
I crinkle my nose, and I tap my foot on the cream carpet. “The CEO?”
She nods, her grin stretching across her Botoxed face. “Do you want the job?”
It’s better than having no job, and I can use the opportunity to learn from the CEO.
I cross my leg over the other and yank my pencil skirt over my knee. “Sure. How much does it pay?”
Her gaze clings to the monitor. “Two hundred and fifty thousand, annually. You’ll receive health benefits, life insurance, 401K, and free access to the gym under Naked. I’ll print out your contract.” She wiggles her mouse, clicks away on the computer, and the printer makes a noise before it spits out paper, then she hands me the contract.
“You’ll start work on Monday morning.”
“Who is the new CEO?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not allowed to say. I signed an NDA because he doesn’t want people to know before he announces it,” she states. “Just a few pointers. Make sure you do your job, don’t be on his bad side. From what I heard about him, he’s a bit of an asshole toward his employees,” she huffs. “I’ll email you the policy of the company, and you’ll have to submit a drug test tomorrow. Go down to security, grab a badge, and I’ll call them to let them know you’re coming.”
Hopefully, the CEO is not as bad as she’s making him out to be. If so, then we’re going to bump heads. My father taught me to never take anyone’s bullshit and to stand up for myself.
I stand up from the chair and shake her hand. “Thank you.”
She squeezes my hand firmly. “No, thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you and Risquéis happy to have you.”
Later that night, I decide to meet Poppy at a rooftop bar. Poppy sits next to me as she drains her Coke and rum. Her polka-dot dress hugs her small frame, and she has her corkscrew hair in a bun, her makeup light and airy. I flatten my halter neck dress, my hair cascading down my back, and I cover part of my scar with my bangs.
The bar serves great drinks, and I’m grateful because I need it after the long day I’ve had. After I left the interview, I received my badge, then I went home and signed a shitload of paperwork. It was exhausting. By the time I was finished, it was time to go out, and I wasn’t in the mood to leave my cozy condo. My goal is to work with the CEO, get in his good graces so he takes a look at my work, and once the creative team spot is open then he’ll recommend me. It sucks, I wasn’t hired for the job I wanted, but every person’s dream was never handed to them, so I’m going to work twice as hard. Prove I’m better, brighter, than my co-workers.
Poppy snaps her fingers together. “Earth to Lake.”
