a work in progress

Chapter 29 - Returned

"Good morning Joyce!"

"MC? Is that you?"

"In the flesh," I say, channeling Harper and showcasing myself like Vanna White.

She jumps from behind her desk and rushes toward me. She envelopes me in the biggest bear hug I've probably ever experienced and I feel the wet from tears that have suddenly sprung to her eyes.

"I didn't know what to think," she squeaks.

"Don't cry Joyce. I told you I was going to come back," I say working to free one of my arms and pat her back.

"I know that's what you said but it was all so abrupt. And everyone was just so worried and I didn't know what to say to them."

"I'm sorry it had to be that way."

"Don't ever leave me again."

"I really am sorry Joyce. I know that doesn't fix anything, but I don't know what else to say. Please stop crying," I implore her, attempting to lift her head from my neck.

"Let me just get it all out," she retorts, squeezing me tighter.

After near 15 minutes of intense hugging, she frees me and heads to the bathroom. I brought breakfast because I knew she was going to have this sort of reaction, so while she's out I set up a little morning picnic for the two of us.

"Joyce, I have a surprise for you," I say as she returns. "Actually, I have two. Come see one of them."

"Oh MC, you're never going to believe this, I've been practicing my Spanish."

"Well where is it? Why aren't I hearing it? Por qué no me escucha?"

"Lo siento," she begins enunciating each and every syllable. "Yo tengo un perro. Es un Labrador."

"Que bueno. When did you get it? Cuándo adquirió el perro?"

"Ad- key..."

"Ad-key-ree-oh. It means acquire."

"Like get. Ad-key..." she starts mouthing the rest. "Right. It sounds like it too."

"Pues, dime. Tell me. Cuándo?"

"En la semana pasada. Mi amiga, Jenny..." she fumbles trying to remember words she wants to use. "I don't know how to say it," she sighs. "Last week, my girlfriend Jenny's dog had puppies and she couldn't keep them all. It was either I take one or the puppy was going to the shelter. I couldn't bear it."

"Pobre perro, pero estoy felíz que él tiene una casa buena. I'm glad he has a home with you," I echo. "Cúal es el nombre del perro?"

"El nombre," she repeats whispering a bit searching her memory banks for its meaning. "That's name right?" She asks excitedly.

"Yes ma'am. Cúal es, what is, el nombre del perro?" I ask repeating my question.

"His name is," she begins, "Oh, right, se llama Felipe."

"Felipe, qué bueno. Your Spanish is really coming along." I pause just shy of the break room.

"What's wrong?" she asks nervously.

"Nothing. I just hope you're surprised," I respond mock pleasantly.

"Well, why are we waiting?" Joyce asks exigently, as we approach the threshold of the break room.

"Have a look," I say.

She peaks around the corner and her eyes widen before threatening to release a flood of tears once more. "It looks lovely!" she coos.