Today is no different than any other day, except for the fact that my father didn't wake up. He's dead, in fact.
I started the day like any other day, by waking up at four am and convincing myself that there was in fact, something to live for (Something that apparently, my father could not do), then I went downstairs, made myself breakfast and ate it, then I showered and got dressed, and because my father was usually up by this time, I went to check on him.
You would think I would be more emotional about this than I am, because we're close. It's been him and I since my mom left, and I took a gap year (that turned into a whole bunch of gap years) to take care I him. I knew this was coming, he knew this was coming, he had been sick, and frankly, he was old. I'm the youngest of four children, the only one who stayed home, and the only one that was unplanned.
The truth is that this hasn't quite caught up with me yet, and I'm currently spinning around in my office chair at the LA Wave, thinking about all the funeral arrangements I'll have to plan, when I was supposed to be focusing on writing a review article on the Beatles new album, or typing the audio interview I recorded from some local band.
My boss stops at my cubicle and stares me down, an eyebrow arched.
"What the hell do you think you're doing Maggie?" I stop my spinning for a good five seconds to stare him down.
"My dad died this morning." I'm not sure why I'm telling him this, it's not going to change anything. Maybe saying it out loud will make it more real to me, but it just tastes wrong on my tongue.
Karl, my boss, frowns and bites his lip.
"I'm real sorry to her that, Magnolia. You can have the rest of the day off if you need it, and I'm here if to need to talk, but not after 4 o'clock-" I shake my head.
"That's okay, Karl. I should get back to work." I smile at him and turn around, pulling open a drawer and rooting around for the voice tape of the band.
"Oh! One more thing, I got an interview with this new band, they're filmin' a pilot for a T.V series on ABC, ask Max for more details, I don't have the time- speaking of." He chuckles and dashes away without completing the sentence. It's natural for Karl to do that, in the four years that I've worked here he's always running late to one thing or another.
I get back to work.
Six hours later I stand up, stretch and make my way over to Maxwell's cubicle. He sits at his desk, typing away, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as a sign of concentration.
I stand by the opening and watch him for a minute before clearing my throat.
"Wanna go grab lunch? You can catch me up on this new work assignment while we're at it, and if I'm sitting for another goddamn minute my spine will snap in two." He laughs and pushes back on his desk, coming face to face with me.
Max is my coworker, and he started working here about a year after I started. He's your classic reporter, thick tourtice shell glasses, slicked back, dark brown hair that was so dark it was almost black, and a thin face. He was attractive, but not in the same way that John Lennon was attractive. We had slept together before, and even gave a relationship a try. That lasted all of two weeks.
Max smiles at me and nods. "Give me a few minutes to get my things and meet me at the door? Thanks for filling in for me on this interview thing, Molls would kill me if I was late coming home again this week." He laughs and stands up, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. I nod my head and head back to my own cubicle, grabbing my own jacket and my satchel, grabbing my notebook and stuffing that into my bag.
I sprint to the door, passing Max to get to the door and giggling when he finally got to the door.
"Wow, Max." he rolls his eyes at me and chuckles lightly.
"Lets get going Maggie, my lunch break is only twenty minuets long today.
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