The phone rings. I cringe. It rings, and it rings some more. I
glance towards the source. My cell phone is located on the table,
it continues until my voice-mail picks up. The caller hangs up,
then promptly calls back. Over and over. Over, AND over-again! I
feel my IQ points falling away like breadcrumbs, it's harder to
think. The same result obtained by playing music in department
stores. The buyer gets beat down so poor decisions are made. A
dirty trick. She is no better. My demeanor crunches further
flattening down. Shoulders tighten up and I want to flee. I cower
away. The bully on the other end of that ring is tenacious. It
vibrates. Another text. The motion travels down the legs into the
floor. My cat I stare at, refusing to pick it up. Knowing. The
psychotic freak that I call my boss. My job is more than a
position. I am her slave, but its ok her actions are justified.
It's a lie, a lie I tell myself. I fight my hands to stop shaking.
The line between home and work had vanished. A persistent boss,
completely inept, needy, constantly fears being alone. A person too
afraid to make a decision, she can't even answer her own business
emails. I'm good at my job though, I fill a void. It takes its
toll. Years pass, I grow older. My daughter calls. She needs
something, everything. The one thing children must have. I taught
her all I know. I provided for her, raised her and sent her on her
own. I have nothing left to give, but it must continue. She is
young and inept, needy, fears being alone. Growing up herself,
unable to fill out school forms. Again and again she calls, the new
college student. She is tenacious for answers, persistent for
wisdom. I fill the void in her the best I can. It is my job as a
mother and I am good at it. Years pass some more. I'm even older.
The phone rings constantly, day after day. A grown daughter with a
family of her own. A baby, a new mother. She is completely inept,
needy, constantly feels alone. I give advice, and the dance begins
again. This continues further out into the distance, far into the
fields of time. This is where I feel the weight of it all. The
relentless calling, the never ending buzz. My time passes by. Aging
steadily. Years upon years have passed. I fell alone, afraid, and
inept in handling my last days. I stare at my phone on the table
wondering what to do. Its silence is loud, makes it hard to think.
I feel numbers counting down. Panic. I decide to call my daughter.
Possibly the favor will be returned. Maybe she will fill the void,
maybe I won't be alone, inept or afraid. Perhaps I will make the
right decision before my body dies.
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