They were her pills. She didn't even miss them. It was that little bit of insomnia when she changed to the swing shift. She couldn't wind down at the end of the day. She used them for a few days, but didn't like the zombie feeling, how hard it was to wake up.
"Why didn't I throw them away? I should have thrown them away? I didn't even notice them missing!" she thought to herself.
There were people all around her, sitting beside her, their arms around her shoulders, sitting in front of her, hands on her knees. They were talking to her. Saying...she didn't know what. Something sympathetic, something reassuring, probably. She wasn't listening, she wasn't there.
It had started as a normal day. K's car didn't wake her up when he left for school, so it was about 10 am when she got up. Once again she wished she knew what was going on in K's head. And again she wished he was five again. Before shit got in his head. He won't even talk to me anymore. I wouldn't understand, he says. I was the one who was pregnant at sixteen! I was the one kicked out of the house!
There was no coffee made and her cigarettes had been pilfered out of her purse (again). She called Bill to see if he wanted to go out for breakfast. She was semi-serious about Bill, and K seemed to like him. Of course, they only seemed to talk about his car - the '69 Camaro she lucked into a couple years ago. I looked like junk to her, but the mechanic (damn cute, by the way), who was selling it for an unpaid bill, said that the engine was still good and would be a good project. And it was Bea's money. How she doted on that boy. That mechanic was Bill, but he was slammed today and couldn't get away. Another reason her shift pissed her off, but it gave her weekends, real weekends.
So she decided just to go and get her cigarettes and coffee at the 7/11 down the street and then veg and catch up on the shows she has K tape for her.
A normal day.
Everybody knew not to call DJ at work. It was impossible to get to her, the message system was dubious, and her supervisor, Richard, was a prick. A college educated prick who wouldn't know how to do her job if his life depended on it, but that didn't stop him from telling her her mistakes. Everybody knew to leave a message on her cell phone.
The cubicles were octagonal, the eighth spot being open. They were arranged in four sets of four, sandwiched by the supervisors and helpers desks in the middle. Her cubby-mates were all older women, and she loved them dearly, but she would have preferred to sit by her best friends - Tasha and Ben. Richard tapped her on the shoulder and pressed the "after call" button on her phone pad, so she wouldn't get any more calls.
"You have an emergency call in operations." He said with a look of concern she'd never seen before.
Operations was the nerve center. They monitored the calls, and the agents, and measured the various statistics sent on up the food chain. A square room, mainframes on two walls , file cabinets on another, and a large window looking out on the call center floor on the last.
"hello?" Her anxiety level was rising.
"Mom? I'm sorry." It was K, his voiced cracked. He was crying.
"What do you mean - sorry?! What's wrong?!" DJ was trying to sound calm, but she felt hysteria creeping in. She pantomimed for a pen and paper to the ops agent.
"I've ruined your life. I'm just a freak, a pervert." He was starting to slur his words.
"You haven't done anything. You are a wonderful person. I love you, K!" In big letters, she writes "call 911" and "My son's killing himself" on the paper. The ops agent jumps to another phone.
"I love you, too, mom."
"Stay with me! Stay with me, honey!" and at the same time:
"I need your address!" the agent on the phone with the dispatcher whispers. DJ turns the paper over and writes her address and phone number.
"I'm really tired, mom. I think I'm gonna go to sleep."
"NO! No, honey, you need to stay with me!"
The ops agent hangs up and tells DJ they're sending an ambulance.
"'night, mom."
"NO, NO!" DJ screams, but K had already hung up the phone. "I've got to go!" She runs out to her desk to get her purse. Tasha had disconnected while DJ was in Ops, and was waiting for her.
What's going on, D?"
"I've got to GO! K's killing himself!" Why were they standing there? Tasha tells Richard she's going too, and tells D she's driving. DJ was grateful, she was in no state to drive home. Bill was waiting in the driveway. She rushes into his arms.
"What are you doing here?"
"K called me. Said some scary shit, like I'm supposed to take care of you. I knew he'd been moody lately, but Christ Almighty! The ambulance just left."
She calls Bea on the way to the hospital.
to be continued
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