I was itching before I even opened my eyes. It was still dark when I used my fingers to measure the old hives and discover the new ones. I hadn’t had this much stress in years. I really expected all of the drama to erupt in acne the size of a stop sign, or maybe release itself in clumps of hair. But hives? What torture! The itching, the distraction. It, along with the stiffness in the curve of my back, was the worst possible joke my body could tell me today. These women were wives and mothers, they would instantly read my guilt and worry, and by four o’clock the meeting wouldn’t even be necessary.
I woke up Erik from another evening of trying to sleep and took a deep breath. “This is it, “ I said, “The day they all find out.” He sighed and used his arms to sit up. I heard him reach for his cigarettes on the dresser and then saw his sleepy face glow in the flame of the lighter. “Are you ok?” he asked. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I just hope they will all be ok,” I wished out loud. “What can I do,” I heard him ask as he exhaled the smoke he had been holding. “Nothing,” I plainly say, “Just sit with me for a minute please.” He finished his cigarette and listened to me go over everyone’s story again, as if there were going to be a new ending. Then I got up and started getting the twin’s clothes together and when I returned his eyes were closed again and his head cradled in our pillow.
I dropped off my drowsy girls at my parent’s house and went ahead and washed the nicotine out of my hair, in hopes of no one noticing that I hadn’t showered. I don’t usually try to be the first one in there, and this day of course I was dreading it, but I felt it was important. I knew they were going to be talking, guessing, and worrying. I also knew there was nothing I could do, but I felt like I should be there….consoling them for a death that they didn’t know had happened yet.
When I got to work I found a safety pin stuck on my purse’s zipper with two little charms. I instantly remembered where they had come from. When my daughter had been hospitalized earlier that summer my Catholic mother-in-law and sister-in-law had brought them to her at the hospital in hopes that their faith would be the magic Livy needed to get better. I think it just wasn’t her time and that her life was probably plotted before she even arrived…..but in light of the day ahead I decided that a little magic might not be a bad thing and I pinned them to my ID badge. “Maybe,” I thought, “along with the two Zyrtec I swallowed down, it might at least calm me enough for the hives to back down!”
I used my I-pod to drown out the questions and theories the ladies were tossing around and went straight to work. My hands were fervently playing through the class ring order forms at a speed I was actually surprised with. I had been doing this same exact thing every day for nine years, so being surprised was really….well…..a surprise. My typing speed typically stays within 16,000 to 17,000 keystrokes per hour, but today I was on a roll striking numbers above 20,000. Almost to the apex of my symphony I was pleasantly distracted on the lower corner of my screen by an e-mail alert from an old friend. I asked him on a whim last week what music he was listening to and he had just gotten around to responding. Just around as in, just in time. He mentioned a bunch of bands with strange names that I’d never heard of, but that was exactly the answer I was looking for. I know the songs on the radio, I know the music on TV., I was seeking the kind of music that you only find through word of mouth. After promising I would look them up we continued to chat about nothing back and forth a bit. I filled him in on my dilemma and he instantly offered his support, as always. It’s funny how friends happen that way. You don’t hear from them in years, days, weeks, months and then God throws them in the middle of a never ending day. I took his words and put them in my pocket next to the charms rattling on my badge.
When I took my I-pod off to let my ears breathe I walked right into the middle of the conversation I had been expecting. They had, of course, been speculating all day. “Maybe we are moving to a different building, “one would wonder out loud. “I wonder if it is company wide, or just our department?” another would ask. I couldn’t answer them. I knew the “official” answer but I was told I wasn’t allowed to talk about it. So instead I sat working intently with my headphones blaring, Dave Matthews trying to distract me with his new album, addresses and strange names needing my concentration.
Finally it was four o’clock, everyone was there.
There he stood at the front of the room, nervously wringing the plain piece of paper between his two hands. “Go ahead,” one of the friendly mothers said, “have a seat.” “Nah, that’s ok,” he said, “I sit down all day long.” His explanation seemed false. I wondered quite frankly why he felt he even needed one. The only thing that could have been more awkward then the silence following his response would be the translucent lie that now took its place. He was nervous. I knew why he was standing, close to the door, away from the women. He was chatting and joking with the ladies in the front, pretending that it was just an ordinary day like any other. It wasn’t though. He was about to change lives. After a few minutes of nervous laughter and smiling he awkwardly cleared his throat and the room started to calm down. Clearly he was here for a reason, and everyone from both shifts was here because it was serious.
He was really pale. Almost as pale as his long sleeved white button down shirt. Our job didn’t require dress codes like that so he looked even more uncomfortable surrounded by ladies in shorts and t-shirts….looking up at him with respect and trust. They were completely unaware of the objective of our unusual meeting. I pulled out a piece of scratch paper from my purse feigning the need to take notes. The paper already had details on it, from a phone conversation I had earlier that week with a nurse giving me instructions on Rebekah’s MRI. I grabbed the pink Sharpie out of my purse and began tracing the words I had written in black pen again. No eating after midnight. Be there at 6 am. I looked up and saw him unrolling the script he planned to read. “Don’t do it,” I thought, “Just turn around, no one will ever know what you are supposed to say.” I looked at him attentively but it was clear that my telepathy was failing. He had to, it was his job. I went back to tracing the instructions. I heard some of the same words that he had used two weeks earlier, but it was a much more informal environment then. He sat down with my boss, me, and the other lead operator. There was no script. He just told us what he knew. Today it was almost like he was at a press conference giving a statement. He had a script that sounded like it had to be approved by legal and signed off on by the higher ups. I heard, “due to technology,” and “department will be closed” and the date “11/25.” That perked my interest and I wrote that date down. He hadn’t given us a date before. Then there was nothing. I took a deep breath. It seemed as though it’d been the only breath I had taken that entire day.
When I looked up the woman at the desk next to me was giving me a dirty look. At first I felt as though I deserved her rage because I didn’t tell them everything I had known….consequences be damned. Then her gaze turned into a glare and I almost nervously chuckled. “Does she think I AGREED to this,” I thought, “that I voted to disassemble our careers in some secret meeting? Maybe even suggested it?!?!?!” I thought about challenging her invisible accusation with my own frigid stare, having a “stare off” of sorts to prove that I am not responsible. But the guilt of my secret got the better of me and I just tucked my upper lip under my teeth and looked away. Even though I didn’t cause where we were at, I couldn’t protect anyone from it….and that made me responsible.
“Oh Lord Oh Mighty, Please help us Lord,” broke the silence from the back of the room. I looked back to see one of my fellow employees lifting her sunglasses and dotting her eyes with Kleenex. The other lead operator quickly stood up and went to comfort her, but just as swiftly she stood up and announced, “Gina…..I feel sick. I’m going to have to go home.” Seconds after gaining everyone’s attention and sympathy she sat back down with a few questions. A couple inquiries were made about the employee stock or unemployment, some were retirement or insurance related, but none of them were questions that the poor man in the front of the room could answer. He obviously had done all that he was qualified to do, and, if it would be ok, he would just like to leave before all of their shock and anger found a clear target. So with that he stumbled through an awkward apology and excused himself, leaving both shifts of women….women who had dedicated their lives to his company, alone, together, to sort out their new lives.
