Why did I have to be an only child? My life consists of work, mental torment, and hospital visitations, and there is only hope of one of these activities ending any time in the near future; the reason for it ending is not a happy one, so I guess I shouldn’t complain, but I would kill for a normal life. How is it that some women get to be the happy wife and mother, hauling their kids around to ballet or soccer, and I am stuck with a bottle of vodka, and voices screaming at me for companionship? Could I even be that kind of woman some day?
My cell phone rings bringing me out of my pity party. “Hello.”
“Is this Tatiana Spencer?” “Yes, who is calling?” “Ms. Spencer, this is Dr. Bill Moreland’s secretary. I was calling to let you know that your mom’s recent blood work is not great. We were hoping it would be at least another month before her platelet counts would be this low. She asked us to call and let you know, but these results mean that she probably has only a month at best.”
“I see. Thank you for calling and letting me know. I’ll be seeing her in about an hour, so I will let her know that you called, good-bye.”
It is one thing to know someone is dying, it is another to have somewhat of a date. I really don’t have long to get the answers to my questions. In a matter of weeks, she will probably spend more time unconscious than not. Should I even bother to get the answers? Sometimes knowing is worse than not knowing. At least you can claim ignorance. If I know, I will have to wrestle with the truth I may not be prepared to hear.
My boss, Dan Jenkins knocks on my door. He can tell that something is stressing me more than normal, by the blank spaced out look I must have plastered to my face. He has learned to recognize that I withdraw into myself more than usual when I am under stress, especially since it has been a more regular occurrence since my mom was diagnosed with cancer.
“Tatiana, is everything alright, you look stressed?”
“I just got off the phone with my mom’s doctor’s office. They are only giving her a month at this point. I know that means that I probably only have a week or two at best to really spend with her before she is too weak…” I break off my sentence as tears begin to stream down my cheeks.
Dan takes a few steps into my office, hesitant, without knowing what the right level of comfort to offer is. “Tatiana, perhaps you should head over to the hospital now. If you need a few days off, please let me know. I need you to be focused on work when you are here, and I understand the distraction family can be, even in the best of situations. I am truly sorry, and we will do whatever we can to support you, just let me know what you need.”
“Thank-you. I think it is a good idea for me to head over to the hospital now. I can only imagine how my mom is taking the news,” I state as I am wiping tears from my face. “Once I have had an opportunity to talk with her, I will let you know if I need a day or two off right now. I am trying to take those days as she gets closer to the end, but I just don’t know how I am going to feel each day. It is a roller coaster ride of emotions, the kind that makes you feel dizzy and sick to your stomach.” I look up and he gives me that assuring nod of his head with pursed lips that indicate he is uncomfortable filling the role of office confidant. He gives me a weak smile, turns and is off down the hall. Whatever he came in to ask me was forgotten.
I hoisted myself from my chair so I could collect my personal belongings. Most people have a love-hate relationship with work, but this nine by nine room has been my secret place of refuge. While I am working, I feel normal. I feel like I fit in, that I matter. Yes, I screwed it up with Dennis, but hopefully our conversation today ended that little drama. I hate leaving, as I know all my insecurities, my weaknesses, my shortcomings will be waiting just outside the door, tagging along like an annoying little sister who wants to play with the older kids. I have my supervisor role in this company because I would stay late and come in on weekends to get projects completed. My boss saw it as dedication to my job, and a desire to perform above expectation. If he only knew why I really didn’t want to leave.
YOU ARE READING
Tortured Souls (On Hold)
General FictionTatiana Spencer is a 24-year old woman that has known pain and hard times. She drinks to keep the nightmares and voices at bay. With her mother lying in the hospital dying of cancer, she is beginning to learn that the demons of the past and presen...
