Page 1 of Anyone But You
1
That Man Over There
Victoria
I pinched the bridge of my nose as tears streamed down my cheeks.
“I can’t stand that man. God, please let him get hit by a fucking garbage truck or a food truck or something,” I whispered. I had my third argument of the day with Mr. Ramsey and had to sequester myself in the supply closet at the end of the hall to avoid bludgeoning him to death with my stapler.
“I’d beat his motherfucking brains in with that stapler. Then I’d open it and staple his fucking lips together, so I don’t have to hear another damn thing come out of his mouth!” I seethed.
“Join me in my office once you’re done fantasizing about murdering me with a stapler. We have work to do. Stop usingcompany time for your little bitch fits,” Mr. Ramsey complained through the door.
I bit down on my knuckles to prevent myself from screaming in frustration and repeatedly drove one of my heels into the floor like a petulant child. I had no one to blame for my current situation but myself. I could’ve resigned a year ago when I realized Knox Ramsey and I had clashing personalities. I could’ve walked into his office and dropped my letter of resignation on his desk with a polite smile and a fuck you before filing an EEOC complaint, but the money was good—good enough to endure his toxicity. I’d be out of here like a deadbeat parent if I didn’t have to supplement my mother’s nursing home bill with my income.
At the tender age of 50, my mother began exhibiting signs of dementia after undergoing a hysterectomy. The signs were subtle at first. She would misplace her keys, purse, and the television remote. As time progressed, my mother often lost her train of thought and struggled with communication. The moment she began hallucinating, I knew something was terribly wrong and rushed her to the hospital. I explained all of my mother’s symptoms to the overworked resident, who looked as if she wanted to tell my mother to scootch over so she could get in the bed with her. She bobbed her head as I rattled off my mother’s symptoms, and she remarked that my mother was exhibiting signs of dementia. I laughed in her face. How could a healthy fifty-year-old woman have dementia?
We were referred to a neurologist and blindsided when the results returned. My mother was diagnosed with early-onset dementia due to complications from the anesthesia from her surgery. Two years later, she was completely reliant on assistance with her activities of daily living and could no longer safely live at home. It broke my heart to admit her to a nursingfacility, but my siblings proved to be unreliable, and 24-hour in-home care was more costly and less reliable.
“Suck it up, Tori, and do it for Mom,” I chastised myself as I swiped angrily at my tears.
Thank God I don’t wear makeup to work anymore. What would be the point when I had to run to the supply closet or the restroom for my daily mid-afternoon cry?
* * *
Just to inconvenience Mr. Ramsey, I took fifteen minutes for myself in my office to recuperate. I slumped into my office chair and spun around until I was staring at the downtown skyline that was splashed with red, orange, and pink from the setting sun.
A buzz from my desk distracted me. I opened it and fished out my personal cell phone. It vibrated in my hands several times, and I wasn’t surprised to see my best friends going back and forth about our upcoming trip to Miami.
Brittney:I don’t know about y’all, but I’m already tipsy!
Alyssa:Trust and believe I’m right there with you!
Me:Sadly, I am not.
Brittney:You’re still at work, aren’t you?
Me:You know it.
Alyssa:You’re better than me. I would’ve burnt off on your boss at 5 o’clock on the dot!
Brittney:Alyssa, you know Tori isn’t gonna leave until Mr. Ramsey says she can leave the Big House.
I snickered and shook my head as I responded to their texts.
Me:Shut up, Britt. I’m leaving in thirty minutes.
Alyssa:Standard thirty minutes, or CP Time thirty minutes.
Me:CP Time.
Brittney:Okay, fuck around and miss your flight. You’ll be crying while Alyssa and I are in Miami looking for our hoochie daddies.
Me:You don’t have to worry about that. There’s nothing that’ll make me miss this flight.
Alyssa:How much do you want to bet Tori hasn’t packed yet?
Victoria:Don’t waste your money because my bags are packed and by the door.
