Why is it taking my mother so long to respond to this text?! It would be my luck that in my moment of crisis, my mother is off fixing someone else’s fuck up. A chilly gust of wind dances around me. I pull the jacket’s hood over my head as my phone vibrates. Finally, my mother responds.
I told Susan about the tumor.
Oh. My. Damn. Heat rises from the pit of my stomach. After taking some very deep breaths, I call my mother. The phone barely rings once before she picks up.
“Now before you start screaming…”
I’m so livid I throw manners to the wind.
“WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU TELL HER?!?!?! YOU PROMISED ME!!!”
Silence. I’m pretty sure Mom is carefully crafting her next sentence.
“Susan called me to express concern over your recent change in behavior. She’s worried about you, but you’re too busy forcing me to keep promises to give a shit!”
I hate when she’s right.
“I’m sorry Mom. I’ll talk to you later. I need to check on Susan.”
“Okay sweetie. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I place my phone in my pocket and go back into the building. It feels like it’s taking forever for the elevator to come down. Good grief. On the way to the 22nd floor, I check my work email. All good feedback about the video game. With a smile on my face, I get off the elevator, walk down the hall, and insert the key into the lock.
Pushing the door open, I see Susan down on the ground. She isn’t moving and a small pool of blood is next to her. As I rush to her aid, I feel a sharp blow to my head and I fall down. I reach for Susan’s hand before everything fades to black.