ninanevermore

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Six years ago when I worked for the web-based company, I used to go lean up against the wall between Astro Joe’s desk and Señior Matt’s* desk whenever I had something I wanted to announce to them. The first time I did this was shortly after we moved into the new office, when I assumed the leaning position with my arms stiff by my side while I stared up at the ceiling, and blurted out that there was something I needed to tell them. The blood drained from their faces: they both thought I was about to quit.

“I’m knocked up,” I said instead, “You’re going to need to get a temp in here in a few months.”

They let out the breaths they had been holding.

“Congratulations!” Astro Joe said, and Matt concurred. I looked at both of their faces to see if they were being sarcastic or not, and forced a smile when I saw they were sweetly sincere. I was nauseous, feeling fat, and uncertain about whether I was really cut out to be a parent. Every time someone congratulated me, it sounded like a sarcastic thing to say. No one ever meant it sarcastically, though.

( Text goes here )

continued from Wednesday and Thursday.
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Maybe I ran with the wrong circle, because I missed some of the rumors about Felicia’s death. Kelley mentioned one the other weekend that I’d never heard before.

“I heard she killed herself because they wouldn’t let her on the drill team because she was black,” Kelley said. Kelley is a warehouse of rumors. I can’t remember if she was like this back in high school or not, but she certainly has the skinny on what people are saying about everything now.

( Possible explanations for the unexplainable )

Today over my morning coffee, I was thinking about my friend Joy, and the conversation I had with her the day after I lost my job. As soon as I got the ax, I sent out an email to all of my personal contacts telling them not to email at the office anymore and why. But that was not my last day in the office. My friends Joe paid me $50 to come in the next day and teach him everything I knew, since he would be taking over my duties. Never being one to turn down an opportunity to freelance, I took him up on it.

The first thing I noticed when I sat down at my old desk was that I had a voicemail. It was from Joy. I thought it was cute that she would leave me a message on my office phone the day after I told her I no longer worked there. I didn't call her back right away, though. I was working on Joe's dime, so I gave my attention to him and his questions and resolved to call Joy that afternoon.

( Joy brings a message of sadness )

Today on my drive into work, I was thinking about the mother of a little boy in my son's class at his daycare. She is going through something awful, and there's nothing anyone can do for her until she finds the strength to stand up for herself.

I don't even know this woman's name, but her son is called William. He is about 12 months old. His first few weeks in daycare, he whimpered a lot and always seemed very sensitive. Because he always looked so concerned, I always think of him as Sweet William, like the flower. He was used to being with his mother all day, everyday, and neither of them were dealing with the separation very well. Not that they were all that separated; his mother works at the daycare center as a substitute teacher who moves from one room to another each day.

( Sweet William and Job's Tears )