Beyond Hope

Chapter 8

"Nietzsche said that."

I adjusted myself in my chair for what seemed to be the hundredth time that morning. I usually found it to be quite comfortable, but not that day.

There was a persistent pounding inside my head, and no matter how hard I tried, there was no way to ignore the constant rhythm of my heartbeat pumping just behind the thin skin of my temples. The lights of the office concurred with my discomfort, as they had suddenly become several shades lighter than I remember them being in the past few weeks.

Pressing the tips of my fingers against the pulsating feeling on the sides of my head gave me a momentary sense of relief, and I squeezed my eyes, wishing I could get away with wearing sunglasses.

Would that be inappropriate? Yes.

People would probably think I had a hangover, which I hadn't. Never had, never will. But I had some knowledge on the matter. More than once I had helped Lily through a rough morning, and I still remembered the comments of some of my friends from high school, the ones I used to hang out with during my brief party girl career. What I didn't know was how the symptoms of alcohol abuse were similar to what happens when you mess up the sleeping schedule you've been following for years.

Sighing deeply, I urged my eyes to focus on the paper in front of me. I was three paragraphs into my reading when the words started to blur against the pages, mocking me by engaging in a complicated dance routine.

It didn't matter. I couldn't remember what I was reading about. The memory of Lily's voice had occupied all the space in my mind.

Mom would never try to interfere in that part of my life, right? She never mentioned anything of the sort to Grace, had she? Probably not, as my sister didn't live to finish college, the perfect timing to think about romantic relationships according to our mother.

But... what if Lily was right? What would I say to her?

Her voice, dripping with disappointment and accusation, echoed in my head. "What have you done, Hope?"

What would I tell her if she tried to introduce me to some random guy the next time I went home?

"Your heart is not in it."

My pen went flying from my hands when my body jumped, startled by the deep voice coming from behind me.

"Jesus, you really were distracted." Mark said frowning, "I'm sorry I had no idea I would scare you. Are you ok?"

I forced a gulp of air into my lungs. I did not hear his door or footsteps or sensed him approach at all.

"I'm fine," I said, pushing my shoulders back to straighten my posture. "I startle easily, but I was focused. I'm working, my notes will be ready soon."

Mark sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, releasing it a second later with a pop. "Sure", he said, his dark eyebrows hiding behind a thoroughly styled wave of hair hanging on his forehead.

He retraced his footsteps back to his office and, before I knew it, I was following him. The last thing I needed to add to my list of concerns was Mark thinking I was not taking work seriously.

"Really," I spoke while his back was still facing me. "Maybe I spaced out, just for a second, but it was just because I didn't get any sleep last night, and I woke up with this headache. But it will never, ever happen again."

"You will never have a headache again?" he asked, turning to me.

"No. I mean, I won't get distracted again. Because that is not acceptable, of course. If only those words just stopped dancing..." Frustration made me whisper the last words. The hope that Mark wouldn't have listened to them dissipating under his crooked smile.