After the funeral was over and life had to go on, they all went on with their lives, leaving her behind.
The calls stopped.
The invitation to events ceased.
She was forgotten and left to suffer alone.
“Do you want me to bring you an iced coffee? Or maybe one of those little sandwiches from Starbucks?” she asks, drawing me back to the conversation.
The thought of food makes me queasy. “No, thank you. I have a busy day today. My last hurrah before work starts.”
“My baby girl, starting her first job at a major advertising firm.” She breathes in deep. “Your dad would have been so proud.” Her voice is soft, and I can hear the sorrow in her words.
“Are you okay, mom?”
“It never gets easier. But I’m happy you were able to celebrate last night. It’s what he would have wanted.” The line goes quiet for a beat. “What are you up to today?” Her voice resumes its usual cheerful pitch as she changes the subject.
“I want to get some stuff done around here before life as I know it ends.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, darling. You’ll have your weekends.”
I snort. These types of jobs almost never have normal hours. Am I supposed to have my nights and weekends? Yes. But having worked several internships and part-time roles with large companies, I saw firsthand how overworked and underpaid people in my position are.
“Need help?” she asks, steering the conversation elsewhere.
When I moved to the city, my mom followed. After losing my dad and then her friends, she had no reason to stay in Michigan. She packed up the things that mattered most and followed me to the East Coast.
She lives in a tiny loft in Elizabeth, right across the river. It’s a little more affordable and still close enough to drop in whenever she feels like it.
In fact, I’m shocked she didn’t just swing on by today.
“As much as I appreciate it, I have a lot of errands to do. But if I get done early, I’ll head your way,” I offer, hoping not to have hurt her feelings. “Maybe we can have dinner?”
“I’d like that.”
My phone beeps in my ear, alerting me to an incoming call. I pull the phone from my ear and see a number I don’t recognize.
“Mom, I’m getting a call on the other line. I’ll call you back?”
“Sure. Call me later.”
I push accept before the call goes to voicemail.
“Hello, this is Raven.”
“Hi, Raven. This is Shelby from Cavendish Group. How are you?”
“Oh, hi,” I say, sitting up too quickly, causing the room to spin. “I’m doing well. Thank you. Is everything okay with my paperwork?”
I’d sent the last of my paperwork over yesterday and was told they’d call if there were any issues.
“Fine. Fine. We’ve had some huge developments for the company, and we need you to start tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? I had so many plans for these next two days, and they’re shot to hell with one call.
And so it begins.
“Sure,” I say, pulling open the drawer to my nightstand and pulling out a notepad and pen. “Same start time?”