It'll Be Okay

I stare at the clock on the wall, counting the seconds until I can push myself out of this stiff, uncomfortable chair and race my coworkers to the elevator. 

At home awaits a mouth watering beef stir fry and my best friend. Sammy has been with me since I moved from my parents country home to a far off city almost 10 years ago. City life has been good to us. We spend every morning and evening together, taking long walks and exploring the streets around our apartment building, or sometimes hanging out and watching movies together. Aside from the blaring car horns and endless flood of people, the city is beautiful. We never tire of it. 

I've been taking care of both of us with my meager wages from this dead end customer service call center for years. I want more, but opportunities for women like me aren't that common, especially not in a place like this. There hasn't been a promotion in two years. 

When the clock hits 5pm, a chorus of squeaks and scrapes fills the air as every chair in the office pushes away from their desk, freeing the prisoners. For a brief second, I watch the scurrying and listen to the dissonant sound of the herd escaping for the day before I, too, join in. 

I lurch to my feet and snatch my purse, quickly heading for the sweet silver doors of freedom. They are just within my reach when I hear the nasally voice of my supervisor above the crowd.

"Abigail, can I see you in my office?" Fred waves his arm in the air to get my attention, just in case I somehow didn't hear him. I had fully intended to pretend I didn't. 

I suppress a sigh and trudge to the office, watching over my shoulder in despair as the others leave me behind.

Fred's office is separated from the rest of the open office space. He can just close the door and drown out the sound of 25 different voices all talking at the same time for eight hours straight. The office is disorganized as always, with papers piled high, an overflowing recycling bin, a jam-packed shredder, and three empty coffee cups from Betty's Cafe down the street. I wrinkle my nose at the smell of cigarette smoke wafting from Fred and take a seat. 

"Abigail, you've been here a long time now," he smiles at me and I can't help but notice his teeth are yellowing from years of being a smoker. I look at his worn clothes and thinning hair. He's been here even longer than I have, and I'm almost certain he didn't smoke when I started. Fred has been the supervisor here for almost 10 years, but he started out answering phones nearly 15 ago. 

"Six years, sir," I smile back. 

"I'm going to be retiring at the end of the year," he begins.

I gasp in surprise before I can help it, part disbelief, part anticipation. It seems silly, but I never imagined a day when Fred wouldn't be here, but I always knew him leaving was my only opportunity to do better for myself. 

"I know, " he continues. "It's a well kept secret. By the end of the year I'm going to need someone that i can trust to take my place.  Your work has been impeccable.  You have good reviews, you solve problems, you're always on time. I have high hopes for you. This stays between us, though. We don't need to cause a frenzy." 

"Of course, sir!" I grin at the compliment. I'm both impeccable and trustworthy. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, and Abigail?" He puts a hand on my shoulder. 

"Yes sir?" I ask, looking at his hand warily and half expected the next words out of his mouth to be lewd or inappropriate. 

"Impress me," is all he says before he turns back to his desk and dismisses me.

Excitement buzzes through me as I process the news. His parting words echo through my head: "impress me."

I practically sprint home, dodging between countless bodies and bicycles. I hardly notice the heat or the garbage strewn across the back streets that I cut across.

 Sammy meets me at the door when I get home, so I throw my arms around her and let out a sigh of relief.

"You are never going to believe what happened to me today!" I squeal before launching into story mode.  

This is the opportunity I've been looking for. For years I've been looking for a way to make more money and maybe finally be able to afford an apartment in a better part of town. I've always wanted to live near the park. Sammy loves the park. 

I spend the rest of the evening cooking for me and my girl, who stays lounged on the couch. By the time I'm done cooking I've worked myself up enough that I actually believe in myself. 

"I can do it if I focus, I'll need to work extra hard. I'll do this for us baby. It'll be okay," I kiss Sammy's head as I put her plate of beef down in front of her. I know she'll support me no matter what happens. 

Tomorrow I go above and beyond. Fred won't even know what hit him. 

Six months later

I shiver as I unlock the door. The walk home tonight was windy and icy. The weather says a storm is going to be hitting any minute now. I should've left work sooner but I needed to finish up my reports. I've taken over doing Fred's weekly summaries and reviewing customer reports. It'll be great experience for when I land this job. 

I toss my keys on the counter and wince at the jangling echoing through the empty house. The Christmas tree throws a mess of color onto the wall over the couch where I expect to find Sammy, sound asleep. Except she's not. 

"Sammy?" I call, making a quick loop around the living room. 

No answer. Not a sound. I notice her breakfast is untouched, her bed is empty. 

"Sammy!?" I call, a little more frantically. 

When was the last time I saw her? Last night? Did we go for a walk? I don't think so. I had a few reports due and it was freezing. We haven't really had time to walk recently. Did she eat dinner? I can't remember. 

I frantically search the rest of the apartment and find her sprawled out on my bedroom floor. She's breathing heavily, drooling, and the sadness in her eyes tears at my soul. 

"Sammy girl, what's wrong baby," I whisper, dropping to my knees beside her. She whimpers. 

The rush to the hospital is a blur. I struggle to carry her to a taxi and bring her to the nearest emergency clinic. Snow starts falling, coating the road in a matter of minutes. 

When I see the bright red Emergency Clinic sign I release the breath I didn't know I was holding. I carry her inside and explain to the receptionist how I found her. My hands shake. I never thought I'd be in a place like this. 

When they take us into a room and run a few tests, I don't let her go. I sink my fingers into her soft golden fur and kiss her head. 

"It'll be okay, Sammy girl," I tell her repeatedly. I just pray that I'm not lying to her. I wish I'd come home earlier. She must have been so scared all alone. 

"Has she been vomiting?" The doctor asks as he re-enters the room. 

"Only once or twice, I thought I just fed her bad food," I scour my mind for any reports from the neighbor that lets her out at night, but I come up empty.  

"Lethargic?" 

"I mean, she's getting old. She's not so energetic anymore. She likes to chill," I reason. 

"Lack of appetite?"

I remember all of the full dishes I've dumped out and refilled in the last few weeks. How didn't I know?

"I thought she didn't like the new dry food," I whisper. 

"She has advanced stomach cancer. There's not much we can do at this point," he pets Sammy gently while his blue eyes stare into my own. 

I don't move as the words sink in. I know it's not his job to sugar coat things but God could I use some sugar right now. My lip trembles as I try to get my words out. 

"Is there anything?" I plead even though I know the answer. 

"Maybe if it had been caught sooner. This is either a very malicious tumor or it's gone unnoticed. How long did you say she hasn't been eating?" He asks. 

My chest squeezes and shakes. I don't answer. Memories flood into my head. The times I arrived home to a wagging tail and excited howls. All of the walks and exploring. The endless cuddles and kisses. These last few months she's been less enthusiastic, but I thought she was mad at me for working so much. I thought it would pay off in the end when we got to go to the park every single day, instead of once every few weeks. Now, we haven't even been to the park in two months. 

My happy memories are crushed by the countless nights that she carried over her leash, tail wagging, and asked for a walk. I told her I have work to do. I feel the nights that she slept alone because I needed to stay so late at the office that I didn't come home until late. I hear the sad barks that always began at 525, the time I've arrived home every day for six years. I started having the neighbor let her out to keep her quiet. I didn't notice that the howling stopped. The wagging stopped. She was so tired. I was too busy for her. For my best friend. She just wanted me. 

The tension in my chest snaps and sobs rip their way free. I hear the doctor excuse himself after I throw myself down on Sammy's and bury my face into her side. I cry for the friend I lost. I cry for the empty hole in my chest. I cry for the lie I told her just a few minutes ago. 

My phone buzzes. The incoming message reads: "Alan got the job." The screen shatters when it hits the wall. 

Almost as if she knows, Sammy shifts to face me. Her love is unending. Even now, I feel her tongue on my face, wiping away my tears and telling me it'll be okay. But it won't. That was just a lie I told her.