“Whatever,” Maggie said, “this is why she’ll never grow up. Yes, she’s the baby of the family, but she’s a damn adult now.”
“Language!” Mom called out.
And as Maggie walked away from the conversation, I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“You still there, princess?” Dad asked.
I swallowed back my tears. “Yeah, I’m still here.”
Mom put on her comforting voice. “You know how your sister is. She’s just cut from a different cloth.”
I shook my head. “I envy that sometimes.”
“Envy what?” Dad asked.
I groaned. “I don’t know, Dad. Her ability to emotionally remove herself, for starters. This would be so much easier if I simply didn’t give a shit, you know?”
Mom scoffed. “Since when did my daughters start having such potty mouths?”
Dad chuckled. “Since they grew into adults, sweetheart.”
While Mom and Dad went back and forth on their positions with cursing, I filled my mind with thoughts of Maggie. If I was more like her, then things wouldn’t affect me as much. Maybe then, I’d have the guts to tell JoJo to suck it the hell up or fire me. I’d be much happier that way. I wouldn’t have so many nightmares that plagued me whenever I closed my eyes. Hell, maybe I’d actually feel comfortable going out into the world and experiencing it instead of working my life away for a measly, moldy apartment that costs way more than it should.
“You still there, princess?” Dad asked.
I wiped at my silent tears and cleared my throat. “Yeah, Daddy, I’m still here.”
Mom sighed. “Just give it a week, and if he really is the same bully that made high school so rough then we can help you out in finding another job.”
It was the only thing that brought me any sort of comfort. “Thanks, you guys.”
“Anytime,” Mom said.
I heard Dad’s smile through the phone. “Of course, Becca. Of course.”
I peeked over at my computer that I had yet to start up. “Well, I better get at it. These numbers aren’t going to crunch themselves.”
“Well, keep your head up, princess.”
Mom interjected quickly. “And don’t forget to stop and eat lunch! You’re always so bad at that.”
I giggled. “Actually, some of my co-workers already invited me out to lunch.”
“See?” Dad asked. “Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”
And there was yet another trait I didn’t inherit from my family. Sometimes, I simply didn’t have the ability to see anything other than the worst-case scenario.
“Thanks for letting me call,” I said.
“You can call anytime,” Dad said.
Mom started rummaging around on the other end of the line. “We love you, honey!”
“Kisses,” Dad said.
I blew them a few kisses before I hung up the phone, then I turned my attention to all of the technology on my desk. I had a laptop underneath my purse that had yet to be unboxed. I had a work cell phone sitting to the right of my computer’s keyboard that I had yet to log into. So, I plucked the typed instructions off the front of the company’s desktop and started setting everything up.
And while the call to my family didn’t really reassure me of anything, it did fill me with a sense of determination.
