Absolute Silence

15

Monday, February 3rd I approached my Monday morning work with the detached efficiency of a coroner performing an autopsy. I’d packaged up all my raw emotions and tucked them safely away before subjecting myself to the psychological warfare ensuing each day in the executive offices of my bank. When I first realized the toxicity of the environment, I knew I wouldn’t stay. However, for resume purposes alone, I convinced myself I could withstand one year at National Bank. I didn’t want my work history to show that I’d left my position mere months after starting my very first job out of school. I’d survived difficult times before, so I could manage until June. I’d always been ambitious, and I loved the complexity of financing. The manipulation of money involved structure and regulations—clear-cut rules and numbers—so it suited me perfectly. While my parents had always had money, I never entertained the possibility of not working. My mind wasn’t wired to live that way. I needed the distraction. Something purposeful to focus upon. Had my boss not been an absolute d**k, I would have loved my job. As it was, I did my best to keep to myself in my office. Normally, I kept my phone on silent to refrain from coming under fire for disrupting the office. Today, I was off my game, despite my great efforts. My phone chimed with a text, letting me know I’d forgotten to silence it. I snatched the device to turn off the sound and discovered Filip had messaged me. Filip: I want to see you at the club on Friday. The f*****g nerve. It had taken me thirty minutes to realize the knot he’d used could be loosened with a simple tug of one end. I’d begun to spiral into a panic attack, thinking I was stuck there before pulling on the two ends. As if that hadn’t been enough, he’d worked me into a frenzy before walking away. What he’d done had bordered on cruel. I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, and I certainly wasn’t going to surrender myself to that storm of emotions while I was at work. I slid my phone back into my purse without a response. Tuesday, February 4th “They were FDIC auditors, sir. I had to turn over the records,” I explained to my red-faced boss after he’d charged into my office and accused me of breaching our confidentiality requirements to our customers. I couldn’t understand why he was so upset. The Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, or FDIC, was an agency of the federal government. We provided them documents all the time at their request in regard to insuring our customer deposits. This particular request was a bit more specific than most, but I didn’t see any reason to deny them the documents. There was no good excuse for my boss to yell at me. The only explanation was that Donald Carter was a d**k. “You damn well should have run it by me first,” he shot back at me, finger jabbing in my direction. “I want to know exactly what you sent over and the contact information for whoever you spoke to. This gets priority, so don’t be screwing around on social media or gossiping in the break room until you’re done.” He stormed out, leaving a minefield of emotional shrapnel in his wake. It was going to be another lovely week. Wednesday, February 5th After closing out an arduous day at work, I made the hour commute to my parents’ place on Staten Island. My mother tried to coordinate a family dinner once every couple of weeks, and tonight was the lucky night. I would have preferred to hide in my apartment with a bottle of wine, but no luck. I’d been trained well to comply with the wishes of my elders. “Camilla, you haven’t been to Mass with us in over a month. You used to be so good about that.” My mother scrubbed a plate in the sink as she delivered her honey-coated barb. Just what I needed. A guilt trip. That’s what I get for helping clean up. “I know, Ma. I’ve been insanely busy. It’s harder and harder to make short trips out here.” I couldn’t necessarily blame her for expecting me to go to church with them. I’d been the one to create that expectation by not refusing to go years ago. By not telling her about my loss of faith and doubts in the Catholic church, or any organized religion for that matter. I avoided conflict because it was just easier. “I guess I understand, but I sure miss having you there with us.” “You still have Val. She’s not done with school for another few months.” I handed over two more plates as she scrubbed. “Just because she’s still living at home doesn’t mean I can’t miss you being here, too.” She gave me a sad smile that only made me feel worse. “I’ll try to make it back out here soon.” I watched my mom as she made quick work of the dishes and wondered about the woman I’d thought I’d known so well. This was the first time I’d seen her since she revealed that she’d had a secret baby when she was younger and given it up for adoption. I hadn’t spoken to her about it since. Was that part of the reason she was so devout about going to church? How deeply had she been scarred to give up her first child? Would she make any attempt to find him? “Ma, what’s going to happen with the baby you gave up? With … our brother?” I gave voice to my questions, hoping they wouldn’t upset her. My mother kept her eyes trained on her task. “What do you mean?” “Are you going to try to find him?” Her movements slowed, the only sound in the room the hum of bubbles popping in the sink. “I can’t decide. And it won’t matter what I want if he doesn’t want to be found.” She slowly returned to her work without her original vigor.