Page 108 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
The thought of Wally sniffing around Gramps’s body, confused and whining, almost makes me sob. I muffle my cries with the palm of my hand. Everyone around me is glued to their computers, headphones on, paying no attention to anyone around them, including me and my breakdown.
The minutes tick by. I call Dad, Maeve, even Ellie. Maeve is the only one who answers, and she doesn’t know any more than I do. Turns out Mom didn’t even think to text her, so I’m the one breaking the news to her.
“But did he—was there anything wrong with him? When you were there, I mean?” Maeve sounds scared.
“I don’t know, Maeve, I don’t know! I didn’t think there was.” I’m pacing the halls now, trying to keep my trembling voice down as it climbs higher and higher.
“I’ve heard of elderly couples who die within months of each other,” Maeve continues in a whisper. “Like they can’t bear to live without each other.”
“So not helping,” I say. “Just—call me if you hear anything, okay?”
The panicky part of my brain threatens to go numb with shock. But then there’s another part of my brain that’s fighting mad. I should be there. I should be there helping Gramps, talking to his doctors in person, getting as much information as I can.I should be there.What the hell am I doing here in this office building across the continent?
I call every hospital within a twenty-mile radius of Sandy Shores. They refuse to tell me anything over the phone. I call Angela, but she doesn’t answer. Is she with him? I hope she’s with him.
I’ve just opened the Alaska Airlines website to search for immediate flights to Tampa when my phone rings.
“Mom?”
“Sorry, sweetie. Hectic day,” Mom says. Her voice is not nearly as frantic as mine.
“What’s going on, is Gramps okay?”
“Oh! Yes.” She sounds like her mind was elsewhere. How is that possible?
“‘Yes’?” I repeat, desperate for more information.
“He had a scare. His friend put him on an ambulance. They thought maybe a heart attack.”
“I knew it.” I take a deep breath. “How’s he doing now?”
“Apparently it was angina. So they’ve given him a new prescription and sent him home.”
I pause, struggling to let go of the pent-up panic. “That’s it? So it wasn’t a heart attack?”
“No, darling.”
“And he’s fine?”
“Absolutely fine.”
I pause again. “Then why didn’t you respond for the last hour?”
“I was in court,” she says simply.
“Oh my God.” I press against the bridge of my nose, my hand shaking with adrenaline. “I thought he was dead.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry, sweetie.” She sounds distracted; I can hear someone talking to her in the background. “I’ve got to run. Sorry again!” She hangs up.
I sit there for a long minute, staring at nothing. I have several unread messages on Slack: an engineering manager arguing about something on the monthly project schedule I sent out this morning, and a UX designer asking me to review something that I’m absolutely not the right person to ask about. A new one pops up, this one from Kat.
Kat White:Hey Mallory, thanks for speaking up in the OP meeting earlier today. Julie and I were discussing the new XR project. It aligns with one of our top Q4 goals, and it would look really great on your performance review if you were to take the lead on it. What do you think?
I stare at her message. I start to type a reply, something along the lines of “Sounds good, thanks for thinking of me!” But I can’t bring myself to type the words. Finally, I get up and walk across the hall to her desk. Our company doesn’t believe in private offices, but shehas a large corner cubicle surrounded by windows. Still, she’s also surrounded by co-workers clacking away on their keyboards.
“Kat, hi.”
“Hey! Good idea to come chat about the project in person. Because we can do that now, ha!” She swivels around to face me, her body language easy and open, clearly expecting me to accept her offer with boundless gratitude. And I consider it, seriously, because it’s so ingrained in me to say,Yes, please, thank you!Whatever it takes to keep my job. But I am quite literally unable to form the words.
