Free Heart and Home by Jennifer Melzer

relationships
and friendships.
    Dad was still holding my
hand when the waitress brought our brunch to the table. As he withdrew, I
forced a smile and tucked into my food, but in the end I mostly just pushed it
around on the plate while I tried to make sense out of the course my life had
suddenly taken upon my mother’s unexpected death.
    “I should probably head back tomorrow,” I sunk my fork down into the
layers of pancake on my plate. “But if you don’t mind, Daddy, I think I’d like
to stay another week.”
    “Like I said, you stay as
long as you need. You’ll always have a place at home.”
    “Thanks, Dad,” I reached
across the table and patted his arm.
    I was so wrapped up in that
whole end of the conversation that I completely forgot about the face I’d seen
in the window. By the time we reached home, the incident itself faded as I
realized I would have to face my boss, Cal Rogers, and try to make him
understand why I was taking another week off. He’d been on me all week, calling
at least once a day to prod me for news on my return. Most of the time I let it
go straight to voicemail and felt guilty when I listened to the message later.
The last time I actually spoken to him, I’d all but guaranteed him that I would
be back in the office by late Monday morning.
    I could already hear Cal’s
patience with my situation evaporating before I dialed his cell phone. A week
for parental death was already like asking for Christmas in July. Telling him I
needed another week could be career suicide, but I had no choice. Something in
me felt compelled to stay on another week.
    “Jan,” he picked up on the
third ring. “You better be calling to ask me to pick you up at the airport or
something.”
    “Hi Cal,” I stared out my
bedroom window into the fog-laden afternoon. “I know it’s short notice, but I’m
actually calling in vacation for this week.”
    “Wasn’t the funeral
yesterday?”
    “Well, yes, but things have
been a little off around here nevertheless, and I need to stay just a little
longer.”
    “Don’t do this to me,
Janice. Replacing you this last week hasn’t been easy, but week two might be
enough to convince me that you are expendable.”
    I squeezed my eyes together
tightly, a sick feeling between guilt and disgust roiling in my gut. “Cal, it’s
not like I called in some lame excuse that my fifth grandmother twice removed
died. This was my mother.”
    “And I understand that, Jan,
but what’s it going to be next week? Getting back into the routine is
therapeutic. You want to heal? Come back to work.”
    “I’ll get back into my
routine next week,” I said. “I just need a little more time here.”
    “You’ve already made up your
mind,” he noted.
    “Yes, I have.” I stood that
plot of firm ground that usually made Cal praise how good I was at not taking
no for an answer. My legs were shaking, but I didn’t budge, not even when I
heard him sigh on the other end of the line.
    “Well then, there’s nothing
else I can say. I just hope that by next week there’s still a place for you
here.”
    I could feel my molars press
down hard against each other as my jaw clenched tighter. “And if there’s not,
it’ll be your loss when I take up a position at the Post-Gazette . Goodbye, Cal.”
    I turned my phone off before
he had a chance to add another layer of guilt and confusion to my already
frazzled mind. Of course, I’d never considered my mentor, Cal Rogers, a friend,
but his callousness seemed to reaffirm everything I’d been thinking while
having brunch with my father. It was like a void lifted away, exposing all the
ways in which my life was either seriously lacking or completely damaged.
    I dropped my phone into the
soft bottom of my purse, and then flopped back onto the bed. The headache from
earlier that morning still throbbed in my temples, and called into question
everything I felt. I turned onto my side and drew my legs up, then snuggled
into the quilt. Maybe a