48 Hours

A mutual friend told me about my former Sir’s brother suddenly dying. His name is Chris. He’s quiet and has a dry humor. I only knew him well enough to know I liked him.

Of course I thought of Boo. My heart crushes. I knew instantly how things would go down. I contemplated just getting in my car and going to whisk away his daughter, just to give him one less thing to worry about during the chaos that is his dysfunctional family.

I know my Daddy would not have understood my actions. So I asked for his number and contacted him, asking if he needed me to get his daughter, already knowing his answer. He quietly thanked me. I hung up the phone and called my brother.

I told him I loved him like gravity.

Then I cried. I chastised myself for these useless tears down my face.

A week or so ago, I talked to my friend and she told me her guy broke up with her. I’ve never met him, although they dated for four years. I started to cry and couldn’t stop myself. I hurt for her and I wanted to wrap her in my arms.

I’m spending way too much emotional energy on things I can’t control lately and I tell myself to just breathe.

So I’m trying to calm down and just focus on Daddy and me. I’m looking forward to the weekend. I need him. We text goodnight and I drift off thinking of the weekend.

I’m awakened by a text in the middle of the night. Its Kik. I think its my Daddy complaining about work, but it isn’t.

My former Sir’s current girlfriend is texting and I steady myself for bad news. Instead she tells me she doesn’t know how to take care of him. I spend the wee hours reassuring her, walking her through the next bit of time.

I wake up tired and cranky but I am so ready to see my Daddy. I just need him to touch me. I’m driving over after work.

At work I am handed a new schedule with an ultimatum. Work the schedule or don’t work here. I am upset and do something I shouldn’t do. I pick up my phone and text my daughter about the schedule change. My boss see me and fires me on the spot.

Yep. I am not supposed to have my cell phone. Nevermind that the person next to me has her cell phone plugged up under her desk, or the woman literally asleep at her desk. I’m fired. A security guard escorts me out.

I text as many people as I know. I need a job now. Help.

The reality sets in. I have $98 in the bank.

That’s when Daddy tells me that they are putting the family cat down. I can’t. I’m spent. I’m crying. I’m a mess. I don’t know the next step and I feel everything at once.

It has been a long time since I have had a panic attack. This one lasts so long I start to panic about panicking, if that’s even a thing.

Then my Former Sir’s ex girlfriend comes over with rum. I want to be alone but she makes me a drink. I don’t cry but I proceed to get shitfaced. I’m horrible company and I know in the morning I’ll have to apologize for something. Laying my head in her lap we drunkenly brainstorm jobs.

She makes my bed, and I drift off.

Oh. My. Damn. I’m too old for this. The morning is bright.

I text Daddy that I just feel horrible. He’s angry with me because I don’t want to go to his house. I’m crying uncontrollably and can’t make him see that I just have nothing left. I wanted him to tell me he loved me and that he understood. Instead he says “You had a bad day. You didn’t want to see me. You wanted to get drunk. You made your decisions.”

If getting fired counts as a bad day, I guess that’s true. So I turn my phone off for most of the day. I manage to fuck up bacon and drink my weight in coffee. I shave my legs and look at résumés.

I cry randomly as the last 48 hours pile up around me.

I think of Chris and Boo and résumés.

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