The next morning, I wake up in my cramped car, my neck is twisted in an awkward position against the center console. Rotating my neck and stretching the sore muscles, I rub the aching spot before sitting up to the sound of monotonous tapping on my driver’s side window. Squinting I can just make out Tom standing outside with a coffee in hand and concern etched on his face.
Jumping up quickly I grab my phone. Shit, I slept through my alarm. Tom motions his hand to the hood where he balances my coffee. “I will meet you at the ramp, kiddo.”
My head pounds, reminding me that drinking on an empty stomach was a seriously bad idea.
I nod to Tom, hiding my wince as I do. Getting up, I hobble to the trunk and rummage through, trying to find something decent to wear. I stink heavily of vodka. I just want to sleep last night off and god knows how much longer until I pass out completely.
Why did I drink so much, anyway? I know better. The memories of my mother hit me, threatening to make me fall to my knees. Instead, I shove them aside, refusing to think of the shitstorm that has become my life. Finding a passable blouse, I smooth it out the best I can and toss my blazer over the top. I rip the hairbrush through my tangled hair, relishing the pain. Anything that keeps my mind off yesterday I welcome. I stuff my foot into my still damp shoe while I hop on one foot and try to walk to the hood of my car at the same time.
I grab the coffee and try jogging down the ramp towards Tom, who’s waiting patiently for me next to the entrance doors. Unfortunately, my actions last night make jogging near impossible. I settle for a quick power walk instead. A quick glance at my phone informs me I have a scant ten minutes before my bosses will arrive.
“Rough night, darl? That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you sleep in.” Tom’s kindness and warmth threatens to break me.
“Yeah, it was pretty rough, thanks for waking me,” I mumble, sipping my coffee and avoiding those sweet eyes. Tom escorts me to the elevator before going about his own duties. Once the doors ping open, I power hobble to the bathroom and do a quick rush job of my make up. My face is puffy, and I look like shit. No, I look hungover with my bloodshot eyes and pale complexion. A slow ache makes its way up to my eyes, sitting directly at my temple. I knew the aftermath of drinking that much would have consequences, but I was prepared.
Once finished, I quickly go to my bag and retrieve 3 ibuprofen and three Advil. I down them with a glass of water. Mom’s secret remedy for hangovers besides greasy food. I smile at the memory before my smile crumples to a frown. I’ll never see her smile again, let alone hear her endless advice, even silly advice like how to avoid a morning hangover. I’m shoved out of my sadness by the ping of the elevator doors.
Tobias and Theo step out. Their normal business persona shatters as their eyes widen upon seeing me. I still haven’t made the morning coffee. I apologize realizing my mistake before racing to the kitchenette and making it. Theo pops his head into the small kitchen door, studying me as if I’m a wounded animal.
“Sorry I was a bit rushed for time this morning. I’m making them now,” I sputter, concentrating on the task at hand. When I don’t hear a response, I turn to see if he’s still there.
He is, but now shadowed by Tobias. I gulp, my mouth suddenly feels like a desert. Tobias’s concerned eyes spark a memory. He’d been at the hospital, he’d tried to reach for me. I was rude and ignored him.
Can’t I catch a break? Seriously, I don’t feel like being scolded. Ignoring them, I finish making the coffees before spinning around and handing mugs to each. I’m late but not so much that our entire day has to be ruined. Theo stares at the offered cup before taking it while Tobias’ face is unreadable. Pity maybe? I’m sure.
“You don’t have to be here. You can go home if you like.” Tobias’ voice is unusually gentle. I sigh, relieved I don’t have to come up with some excuse as to why I ignored him and ran from him last night. I wonder why he was at the hospital anyway.
“Why would I do that?” I question. Don’t they want me here? Have I ruined their schedule after all with my lateness?
“We don’t expect you to work the day after your mother passes. If you need time off, we understand. We can manage on our own, Imogen.” Tobias continues with his soft manner. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he wants to hug me the way he keeps staring.
Why is he of all people interfering in my life? It’s not like we are friends and catch up for drinks after work. I barely know them. I never chat or talk to them outside business hours, I never pry into their lives, and they don’t ask about mine. All of sudden they think they can have some input? I don’t need their pity. I just need to be left alone.
Theo sniffs the air before cocking his head to the side, studying me from head to toe. I’m well aware I smell like I’ve been dipped in vodka. Walking past them, I grab my perfume from my handbag and spray myself, completely ignoring them. Like seriously where will I go? Hang out in the garage all day? To the park again? Maybe the storage shed? Yeah, having time off is the last thing I need.