There was clicking on the keyboard. “You need an upper GI scheduled. Any particular day work for you?”
“I’m flexible with times and days.”
The woman picked up the phone, made the call and he was walking out the door ten minutes later scheduled for tomorrow at ten.
The last person he expected to see when he walked into the house was his mother.
“Hi, Jayce.”
“What are you doing home? Don’t you work anymore?”
“I work all the time,” his mother said. “But I wanted to talk to you.”
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“It’s fine with me, but I’m wondering when you were going to talk and let us know what is going on. I know my children. I know when one is having a problem. Even when they don’t feel well.”
Pushing food around or wincing after he ate might not have helped much. Or the fact that his parents had been eyeing him eating Tums as if they were M&M’s.
“I’m fine. I really am. Nothing to worry about.”
“There is always something to worry about when my child has a problem. You quit your job without another in place. You came home and I know you’re sick. Or not feeling well. What is going on?”
It was probably time to get it off his chest.
“I quit my job,” he said. “I told you that.”
“But it was sudden,” his mother said. “To the point that you had nothing else lined up. Did you get fired and don’t want to tell us? Or were you let go?”
“No,” he said. “Nothing like that. They didn’t want me to leave. Didn’t even want to take my resignation and gave me a few more days to think it over. But I had to do this.”
“Are you going to get mad if I ask for more of an explanation? You know you’re welcome here as long as you want, but your father and I are worried. He wanted to give you more time. I wanted to ask you last week.”
He laughed. “Guess you compromised.”
Something he remembered a lot in this household.
“We did. Have a seat. Do you want something to eat?”
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
His mother looked him over. He’d seen the concerned face before. “You’re having stomach issues, aren’t you? Do you think you’ve got an ulcer? Your father’s side of the family is prone to them. Dad had one years ago.”
His shoulders dropped. He wished he’d known that.
“Really?”
“Yes. Especially when your father is stressed. It’s not been as bad as it used to be, but he has his moments and he takes medication now to help reduce the acid.”
“Seems like I’m taking after Dad.”
“Sit and tell me about it.”
“Work has been nuts. It always is. I didn’t mind it though. The traveling was great, the fast pace was right up my alley.”
“And you liked to brag about your job,” his mother said, smirking. “Who you knew and got to hang out with.”
He sighed. That was all ego and he played it up a lot. Made himself sound like he had it all and he did.
