Page 21 of Fresh Canvas
Any triumph I felt soon gave way to the deluge of tasks I was assigned. I had forgotten how fast-paced this job was. While I was smart and could learn fast, the workload alone felt daunting.
Before, I had only worked alongside Barbara. Now, I needed to orchestrate each task with Kate, Blythe, and, unfortunately, Val.
Mercifully, the latter rarely acknowledged my existence. In the unlucky instance he did, his vocabulary seemed to consist only of insults. It was obvious he didn’t have the clearance to get me fired, or he would have done so already.
Thanks to Kate’s help, I made it through my first two months mostly unscathed—besides ordering a hundred misprints from the marketing department and butt-dialing a museum donor.
The new complex computer programs were making more sense. Blythe’s office had become somewhat organized. I even nodded cordially one time in Val’s direction. Dare I say, I was almost hitting my stride.
Home life, however, was the complete opposite.With barely enough time to get home, eat dinner, and spend quality time with Anthony before he went to bed, I felt like a complete failure of a mother.
Anthony’s tough-guy facade couldn’t fool me. The disappointed slump in his shoulders when I arrived late to his piano recital last week hadn’t gone away. The blasted traffic after work always took twice as long as it should, which robbed me of precious minutes with him.
I tried to remedy this by being a “fun mom” and occasionally staying up late together, but all that resulted in was two grumpy, sleep-deprived zombies. No amount of concealer could hide the permanent shadows under my eyes. There were simply never enough hours until I had to be back out the door.
Infidelity aside, Ryan wanting to buy the city apartment made sense.
The commute sucked.
Being away from Anthony sucked.
Ryan’s text messages sucked.
Mom sat with me at the dining room table late one evening.
“I’m failing Anthony, no matter what I choose. I’ve held out as long as I can over this custody battle and Europe thing with Ryan, and he’s not giving up,” I said. “But letting Anthony go? I may as well rip one of my arms off and ship it across the ocean.”
The side of my forehead sank against the tabletop with a soft thud. Her hand stroked the back of my hair as I mumbled between my squished cheeks.
“I've lost so many people. I can’t lose Anthony too.”
“I know, honey. You’ll make the right decision,” Mom said.
Later that night, a sliver of light accompanied me as I slipped into Anthony’s darkened bedroom. His light brown hair was a tangle of sleep against his pillow, sticking up in the back.
Always sticking up in the back.
I smiled, feeling like my heart could burst. Either from the amount of pure, unconditional love for him, or about to combust at the thought of him being away for so long.
My footsteps were silent as I tried to sneak out, but his bed frame and my shin had other plans. I attempted to swallow the whisper-curse that yelped out of me, but it came out anyway.
“Mom?” he asked groggily.
I clenched my jaw, my voice strained. “Yes sweetie. It’s me.” I rubbed the aching bruise forming while balancing on one foot.
“Why are you waking me up?” Anthony groaned. He blinked a few times before catching his bearings and sitting up.
Maybe if I elevated it, the throbbing would subside? I hobbled over to the bed, the mattress dipping as I sat beside him.
Anthony’s eyes turned shifty, the way they always did when he wanted to talk about something but didn’t know how. After last year when he bombarded me about the birds and the bees, I had learned really quickly to read the signs.
“What’s on your mind, sweetie?” I asked.
He stared fixedly down at the scrubby teddy bear he kept hidden from his buddies.
“Don’t be mad, but I heard you and Grandma talking earlier. Dad wants to take me to Europe?”
My pained heart froze. “You heard that?”
