You End, I Begin

November 2011

I was working on a big piece for the next issue of the magazine, which was now my four or fifth in the three months since Joe had let me work on when the phone on my desk began to ring. Seeing one of the receptionist’s, Penny, name flash across the screen, I picked it up.

“Hi Penny,” I said through the phone.

“Hi Abby, I’ve got a call waiting for you,” she told me.

“Who is it?”

“Your mom.”

“Can you tell her I’m in a meeting?” I asked. I wasn’t in a meeting, in fact, I was rarely in meetings, but whenever a family member called, mostly my mom, that’s what I always asked them to say because it was easier. Plus I never liked taking personal calls at work.

“She said to tell you it’s important and she needs to talk to you right away,” Penny told me.

I sighed as I looked at the work on my desk. Hoping whatever it was my mom wanted would be quick, I push my keyboard away from me.

“Fine, put her through,” I instructed. I heard a click noise as Penny transferred the call across and noticed the line had changed.

“Hello?” my mom’s voice came through. It sounded shaky and nervous. I knew immediately that something wasn’t right.

“Hi, mom, everything OK?”

“Um, Abby, sweetie, I didn’t want to do it like this and I didn’t want to have to call you during work...” she said, quietly.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, beginning to worry at the sound of her tone.

“It’s your father,” she said, and right after I heard her sniff, it sounded like she was holding back tears. I was dreading the next words to come out of her mouth. “I came home from work and found him collapsed on the floor,” she began, taking a break to sniff loudly. “I-I called 911 and they couldn’t help him.”

She stopped talking and it felt like my world had stopped. I was just sat there in silence while everyone else in the office continued with their lives and their work. I felt as though I was frozen to the spot.

“Mom?” I asked, after around a minute of neither of us talking.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, he’s gone,” she sobbed out. At this point, I couldn’t show any emotion, that just wasn’t me. I just had to get out of this office.

“I can’t be here, I’ll call you back in a bit, mom,” I told her, replacing the handset.

Standing up from my desk, I walked through the office to the toilets and that was when it hit me. The tears began streaming down my face as fell to the floor on my knees. He was gone. My dad, the man who had always been there. The man who I admired more than anything else in this world. Gone and I would never get to speak to him again. He was only 45, this wasn’t fair.

After a few minutes, I stood and looked in the mirror, trying to clean my face up from the make up as best I could with water and my hand. Walking back out to my desk, I felt a few people look at me. It wasn’t until I reached my desk that anyone said anything.

“Woah, Abby, everything OK?” Connor asked from the desk next to mine. I couldn’t speak, I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I simply shook my head and stared straight ahead. Connor jumped up from his desk and came over to mine, kneeling on the floor next to my chair. “Abs, what’s happened? Do you want to speak to Joe?”

At this point, I imagined that Joe would be the only person I could speak to, as he was always so polite and helpful. I just hoped he’d help me now. Connor stood up and walked with me to Joe’s office.

“Abby, what’s happened?” Joe asked, as I slumped down into the chair facing his at his desk. Both he and Connor had asked ‘what’s happened?’ and the truth was, I didn’t even know. At this point, all I knew was that my dad had died and nothing was going to bring him back.

“My mom just called,” I managed to get out, although my voice was low like a whisper. “My dad collapsed earlier. He’s dead.”

“Oh Abby, I am so sorry to hear that,” Joe said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Can I just go home?” I asked.

“Of course, don’t worry about anything, I’ll get someone else to cover any work for you,” he told me. “Just go, be with your family and if you want the next few days off, we’ll understand.”

And just like that, I was out of there. I picked up my bag and walked out of the building without so much as another word. Once outside, I called my mom from my cell.

“Hi sweetie,” she said as she answered, still sounding very teary.

“Mom, I’m coming home,” was all I could say.

“Oh thank god, we all need to be together right now,” she said. “Alex is coming home for a few days as well.”

“What happened to dad?” I asked.

“The doctors say he had a heart attack at home, which is why he collapsed,” she explained. “They’re not sure how long ago it happened because he was home alone, but they said that it may have been a few hours before I found him. It was too late to treat him properly, his heart just stopped working.”

As she said these words, I cried all over again. I wasn’t much of a crier really, I never put myself in situations where I would end up crying. I definitely never imagine myself on a street in the middle of Los Angeles with tears running down my face.

I talked to my mom all the way back to my apartment, just to hear a familiar voice. That was all I wanted right now, familiarity. Even though I’d been here nearly five years now, Los Angeles was still a strange place to me.

Within the next few hours, I’d booked a plane ticket, packed a bag and was at the airport. I’d left a note for Roxy but I doubted that she’d even notice I was gone. Every so often it hit that I’d never get to see my father again and a few more tears escaped.

A couple of hours later, my plane landed in Phoenix and I grabbed my bag, wanting to get out of there and to my family as fast as I could. It was only when I was rushing through the airport to get outside and find a taxi, that I saw a very familiar sight. The blonde hair, the skinny, tall frame, there was no doubt about it. Unlike last time I’d seen him, I was actually kind of thankful to see him here today. It was a sign I was home and that nothing had changed. He was with five other guys and I noticed that he was looking around the terminal as I ran towards where he was stood. I did my best to keep my head down, but I knew I’d get spotted, just when I did want to be.

“ABBY?” he called, as I got closer. I slowed down as I neared him, as I couldn’t possibly get by without having to speak to him. I knew the pain was written across my face and I knew he’d spot it straight away. In a way, it was nice just to see a face I knew, even if it was him. As he saw the look on my face, his turned to a look of concern. “Abby, are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“Hi,” I whispered out. My voice still hadn’t gone back to normal. I walked right over to him, almost the opposite of what I’d done last time I’d seen his face a few months ago.

“You don’t look so good, Abby,” he said. “Is someone here for you?”

“No, no one’s here, I just need to go home,” I told him. The guys he was with seemed oblivious to our interaction.

“OK, but really what are you doing here? I didn’t think you ever came home.”

“My dad died earlier,” I managed to say, although the words didn’t want to come out of my mouth. It still didn’t seem real.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, putting his arms around my shoulders and pulling me in for a hug.

“No, please don’t, Joel,” I told him, pulling away from him. That was the first time I’d said his name aloud in a long time. “Don’t you dare. I just want to be with my family.”

“Sorry, I really am. If you need anything, just get in touch,” he said, seeming slightly uneasy. “I’m going away for a couple of weeks, but even if you just want someone to talk to, call me.”

“Thanks. Anyway, I should go,” I said, trying to bring a smile to my face and walking away.

I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to. Instead, I went outside, found the first cab I could and started my journey to my childhood home. I instructed the driver as to where to stop, pulled my bag out and paid the fare. Turning around to face the house, already I could tell it was different. The last time I was home was four months ago, in July, when I was surrounded by my close family, celebrating the fourth and also my graduation, since I hadn’t come home before that. That was a happy occasion, or at least as happy as I could be in Phoenix. However, this was a very different occasion, one I didn’t think would come for many years.

I opened the front door to the house and breathed in it familiar smell. Even inside, nothing had physically changed but you could tell it wasn’t the same.

“Mom?” I called out. The was no answer, but my younger brother walked out into the hallway.

“Abby!” he said, running over to me and hugging me tight. I dropped my bag and wrapped my arms around him, holding him to me so I couldn’t lose another family member. A few tears escaped my eyes again as we stood there and I pushed them away as we pulled apart.

“How’s mom doing, James?” I asked.

“Go in and see for yourself,” he said, his hand extending to the living room where he’d just come from. I felt sorry for him, he was only 15 years old and he’d obviously had to look after my mom on his own the past few hours, which I’m sure wasn’t an easy task. Walking into the room, I knew it wasn’t.

Our mom was curled up on the couch in what was ‘dad’s spot’ in one of his sweaters, her usually well groomed hair was a mess and her face was red raw from crying. Without either of us saying a word, I sat down next to her and took her hand, lightly squeezing it.

“It’s going to be OK, mom,” I said, although at this point I had no idea if it was or not.