Page 5 of Small Sacrifices

When Reid gets home, a look at his phone tells him two crucial things. One: It's close to midnight, and he'll be lucky to get out of bed tomorrow. And two: His parents have been texting him nonstop since he rejected their call at eight and definitely still expect him to call back. Fantastic.

Might as well get it over with, then. Reid taps on his mother's contact before he can think about it for much longer. He doesn't even get to hope they'll think better of it, because his mother picks up on the second ring.

"Reid, darling, are you alright?" she asks before he can even try to greet her.

Reid takes a deep breath and curls into himself on his little gray sofa in his little gray apartment. "I'm okay. I just had to stay a bit later at work today." Saying that is a mistake. Apparently, he's far too tired to modulate his voice, so now he just soundsmonotone. His parents never liked that. On the other end of the line, he can already hear his mother bristle.

"They shouldnotbe doing that. You're an unpaid intern! Next time, you need to say no. Do you hear me, darling? I know it can be difficult for you, but you need to learn it now. Don't fall into bad habits just because it's easy for people to take advantage of you."

There it is.Not like Reid can make his own decisions or decide on his own priorities or anything, oh no. His mother, as an independent artist, also has never had to work within a traditional workplace hierarchy. It's always quite frustrating to sit through her advice. Although usually, Reid isn't in pain right from the start. His head feels fit to burst.

"I'll try," Reid says. "But I'm fine, really. These things happen sometimes, and I need to be able to deal with them. I'm tired, and I really need to go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be difficult, but I can catch up on sleep after that."

If any other twenty-five-year-old said that to his parents, Reid thinks, everything would be fine. Maybe there'd be a bit of commiseration or gentle ribbing about future years working less-than-glamorous office jobs. But Reid's mom makes a scandalized noise and shouts for his father.

"Richard. Richard! They're already making him stay late! I told you this was a bad idea. He's tired, and it'sMonday.How is he going to make it through the week?"

Somewhere in the background, Reid's father grumbles out an answer Reid can't quite hear. The entire situation makes him wish he had literally anything but monochrome walls and furniture to stare at. Maybe an art print on the wall, something with bright colors. He really needs to put some energy into decorating this place. It’s sad.

"But he can't take his medication if he's too tired, you know that!" his mother snaps. "Get over here and help me with this. Stop playing on your phone."

Reid pushes the meat of his palms against his closed eyes until he sees colors. This is so not the subject for this time of day. God, he can't wait for the day he finds gainful employment and doesn't have to constantly explain himself anymore.

He tries very hard to be thankful. His parents still support him financially, even after it took him a bit longer to finish his bachelor's degree because he managed to burn out in his junior year of university. They've mostly accepted his ADHD diagnosis by now, and support him taking medication for it. But there's still a whole host of other issues that they absolutely refuse to address, all the while being extremely patronizing because he'sso sensitive.It's hard to be happy about that.

As Reid's father gets closer to the phone, he lets out the sigh he typically reserves for getting pointed looks from his wife. "The boy will just have to get used to it, Corinne. He'll have to be an adult sometime. Grown men can't afford to need as much coddling as he does. If you want a career, you need to make a few sacrifices."

Reid clenches his teeth. Sadly, the roaring in his ears isn't loud enough to cover his mom's protests that he'll always be her little boy, and she'll coddle him if she damn well likes. Lovely, just lovely. They murmur amongst themselves for a little while longer before Reid's mother takes a deep breath, like she's bracing for something.

"Listen, Reid," she says. "I understand that you want to be independent. But your father and I have decided it’s best to set boundaries for your exploration. If this gets to be too much for you, it'll be us picking up the pieces. And you know we will. Of course we will. We love you."

Her voice, already strained, cracks. At the sound, Reid digs his fingernails into his palms. He should have known this would turn into another reason for her to be upset with him.

"But it's not fair to us to expect to do that when you don't do anything to prevent it," she continues in a wavering voice. "So your dad and I have decided we’ll give you a year. We'll keep paying your rent and your health insurance, and you can do your internships. But after that, you'll need to either stand on your own two feet or come back home. There are many people here who could use your help with their marketing."

As she speaks, Reid feels cold exhaustion spread its tendrils throughout his entire body.A year.Right. That's more than most people get. Distantly, he knows he should be upset about this. Confronting him with something like this after the most taxing day he's had in a long time is just like his mother. But he doesn't have the energy to muster up any reaction. And he worries that if he forces it, he'll say something ungrateful about how he'd rather eat nails than do the social media forBecky's Boutique. So he doesn't say anything.

His father clears his throat. "But don't work yourself too hard, now. If you have another breakdown, you'll be coming right back home so your mother can take care of you."

"I won't have a breakdown," Reid says. His voice sounds wooden, and the words don't quite ring true. But they feel important to say.

"Not if you're careful, honey." The endearment makes his mother's voice go all soft again, and Reid feels a shudder go down his back at how wrong it feels. "But the world isn't built for people like you. You need to keep that in mind. That job you're doing? It's meant for someone more normal who can take a bit of pressure."

Normal.How delightful. Reid forces himself to agree and grinds out an apology about how he really needs to go to sleepright now. After they hang up, he sits there and just stares into empty air for a moment.

Telling himself that they mean well doesn't work. And so he tells himself something else: He'll show them. He'll show them he doesn't need to be normal to be good at what he does. At some point. After he's gotten some sleep.

Chapter 4: A déjà-vu and a first meeting

The next morning, Reid is woken up by his headache long before his phone alarm can blare through the room. There's a relentless pressure-pain at the back of his neck and stretching all the way up above his temples. For just a moment, he tries massaging his achy eyebrows, but the pain that shoots through his face tells him one thing: He's not getting to work without pharmaceutical intervention.

Past Reid knew this would happen, so there's a blister pack of ibuprofen strategically placed on his nightstand. He fills up his mouth with water so he doesn't have to feel the pill go down his throat, and then lies back down to let it take effect. When his alarm goes off, it mostly has.

Unfortunately, this leaves his head clear enough to remember the conversation he had with his parents. God, did that actuallyhappen? He needs to figure out what to do about it. But getting ready for work takes precedence right now.

He opts for tea with his breakfast and packs sandwiches for lunch. In the last few minutes that he has, he closes his eyes and lets himself feel the warmth of the tea spread through his body. By the time he imagines it having spread to his fingers, at least his rapid heartbeat has calmed a bit.

As he reaches the door, Reid's eyes fall on the little plaque that his sister Briana gave him for his birthday. It reads: "REMEMBER: KEYS, PHONE, WALLET." Every time he sees it, he smiles at the silly illustration of a panicked Reid patting down his pockets. He runs his hands over the soft fabric of his dress pants, just to be sure. Keys, phone, wallet—it's all there.

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