“Hey,” I say, already exhausted. “Shit’s really going bad at work, babe.”
“Where have you been?” she snaps immediately. “I’ve been calling you all day.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s been?—”
“You just disappear,” she cuts in. “Like I don’t exist.”
I close my eyes. “I’ve been in meetings all day. Emergency ones.”
There’s a sharp inhale on the other end. “So what, I’m just supposed to sit here and wait?”
“No,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m telling you what’s going on.”
“What’s going on?” she demands.
I swallow. “We got called into New York. Manhattan. Corporate.”
Silence.
Then—“What?”
“Next week,” I say. “I’ll be gone for a while. I don’t even know if I can see you before I go.”
And that’s when it happens.
Her voice spikes—high, sharp, panicked. Words tumble over each other, fast and loud, like she’s trying to grab onto something and can’t find a handle.
“You’re leaving? You didn’t even ask me—why didn’t you tell me sooner—this is exactly what I mean?—”
“Sage,” I say, pulling the phone away from my ear slightly. “Sage, stop.”
She doesn’t.
“I need you here,” she says, voice cracking. “I need you with me. Every time you go somewhere without me?—”
“I have to go to New York,” I cut in, louder now. “I could lose my job.”
That finally slows her.
“You’re being dramatic,” she says.
My chest tightens.
“Dramatic?” I repeat. “This is my livelihood. This is everything.”
She starts again—questions, accusations, fears spilling out in a rush. I barely hear the words anymore, just the sound of them.
I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, phone still pressed to my ear.
My heart is pounding now.
If I lose my job?—
Ma.
My sister.
Our family home.
