We're Not Related Anymore...

Bad News Over The Phone

Part One: A Death In The Family

Maddie: Present Day

My feet feel like they're about to fall off. My twelve-hour shift has only just ended and the only thing on my mind right now is a hot shower. That is, if my roommates haven't used up all the hot water. It's two a.m. and the sky outside is pitch-black. This far-in the city means you can't really see the stars or moon. All that air pollution clouds up the sky. Fortunately, the whole street is still lit up by all the lamp posts and restuarant lights.

I lift up a chair and rest it upside down on the table and then go behind the bar to fetch the mop and bucket. Only me and one other waitress are here right now to close up the front of house. However, I can still hear some noise coming from the kitchen. I hope Sander, the head chef and owner, is still here. I like to get a ride home from him. He's still a young-ish guy but he's not pervy like some of the other guys who offer to carpool. Sander is sweet and likes little to no conversations during his car rides home. It works for me. After countless hours of taking and remembering orders, there's not much space in my brain for small talk. 

Once I'm satisfied with the cleanliness of the floor, I pack away the mop and go into the kitchen to dump out the water in the sink. The other waitress, Megan, locks up the front entrance and joins me in the back by the scullery area. As she does, she leans against the wall with her arms crossed and gazes across the kitchen to where Sander is in his office. He and one of the other chefs are pouring over a piece of paper. Megan sighs after a moment, her eyes dreamy as they take in Sander's appearance. 

He's only twenty-eight, six-foot-two, and blonde. He has an easy, surfer vibe. The only problem with Sander is that he has a kid already. But as fas as I know, he and his baby mamma aren't together. I've known him for just over a year now, and like Megan, had a crush on him once. But as much as I would love to fall head over heels for a guy like Sander, my heart just can't manage to beat fast enough. It's too bruised after my last love affair ended in flames.

Sander must sense our stares in his direction because his head whips up. He smiles when he sees me. 

"Ah, Maddie, are you done locking up? Do you want a ride home?" I nod and make my way over to his office. I left my bag in there earlier. "What about you Megan? Do you want a ride home?" 

Megan sighs mournfully before answering. "No. I took my car." I think if she knew there was a chance of getting a ride home with Sander, she would've taken the bus to work like me. 

"So it's just us?" Sander asks as I thread my arms through my backpack.

"Yes, chef," I say and he smiles. I wave my goodbyes to Megan and the other chef as Sander leads me out to the back, past the dump site, and to the staff parking lot. He drives an old beat-up something. I've never known much about cars. All I know about Sander's is that it's black and in dire need of a service. Jacob would know what kind of car he drives... I shake my head to rid it of the thought. Sometimes I find myself thinking about him. But that doesn't mean I can't try to stop the thoughts before they form. 

Sander opens up the passenger door for me and I slide in after throwing my bag down in the back. He climbs in a second later and starts the car. 

"Any wild plans for tonight?" Sander asks as he pulls out and gets onto the road. 

"Oh, yeah, totally thinking of hitting up a club right now," I joke as I start to massage my calves. 

"Me too," He agrees, jokingly. "I mean it's not like we have work in the morning or like I have a son I never see." I think he intends his words to come out like a joke but I can sense the bitterness behind them.

"Hey, is everything ok?" I ask, genuinely. When you work as long hours as we do together, you're bound to form some kind of bond. 

"Just trying to maintain a good work-life balance. And it's not so easy doing it while being a single father."

"I'm sorry, Sander. I wish I could help you out." I say, knowing there's nothing I can do. Maybe I could look after his son on my day's off, if he paid me, that is. I try and get extra work on off days. Anything to make an extra buck or two. Maybe, if I had stayed at home, I could've gone to college like the rest of my siblings, like Jacob. But most times, I'm glad I've taken the path I have. It's a more honest lifestyle than the rest of them could ever achieve. 

"Don't worry, Mads. You help me all the time. Sometimes I feel bad for all the times I unload my problems on you, but it's nice talking to someone who listens."

I smile at him, but his gaze is firmly on the road ahead of us. Too soon, we're pulling up outside my dark and dreary apartment building. I live in area that's cheap which means good rent, slightly shitty neighborhood. 

I look out at the street, unable to see much without working street lamps. Sander must be thinking the same thing as me because he asks, "Can I walk you to the door?" 

I shake my head. "I'll run." And I do. From the moment I open his car door, I high-tail it to my building. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sander still in his car. He waits until I'm buzzed into my building before he pulls off. 

Once I'm in, I run up the stairs to my floor two at a time (the building's elevator hasn't worked in years). By the time I get to my door, I'm out of breath and a little bit sweaty. That shower is calling to me more and more. 

Inside, I throw down my bag. All the lights in the apartment are off and I know my roommates must be asleep.

Shelia, the girl who owns the place, has the one bedroom all to herself. The other bedroom is shared between me and Lindsay. I pass her sleeping form as I enter our room and grab some of my clothes before I go shower. I don't bother to turn on the lights knowing that she's a sensitive sleeper and will wake up because of it. 

Once I've grabbed all the things I need in the dark, I go into the bathroom and click the door shut. I grimace at my appearance in the mirror and look away. I need to invest in a concealer to cover up the purple bags under my eyes. 

I turn the water on for my shower. While I wait for it to warm up, I dig my phone out from my worn jeans. It's just about to die but I see I have several notification. I missed some calls so I check my voice mail. The first message I almost delete as I hear it. It's from ten hours ago. 

"Maddie, I hope this is your number. Look, I know you still want nothing to do with me but please call me. I need to hear your voice. Just tell me you're alright."

Jacob's voice is the same deep timbre that I remember. I close my eyes at the sound of it. It makes my heart rate speed up and drowns out the sound of the running water. But instead of calling his number back, I delete his message. 

The next one plays and I almost drop my phone when I hear the voice. It's my stepmother. 

"I got this number from Jacob. He says it might be yours, Maddie. If it is, I need you to call me back immediately. It's about your father, girl. He's dead."

It's crazy how the brain works. How it tries to protect the rest of the body from pain. Denial bubbles up in me as I hear the words. There's no way. My father can't be dead. He's the healthiest man I know. This has to be some kind of prank. Maybe one of Lilian's girls has finally mastered the sound of her icy voice. They're pranking me and it's not true. They just want to hurt my feelings and force me to come home. 

Except, who would do that? No one's that cruel. Not even young teenagers. 

My legs give out and I slide down to the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. I wonder if Jacob knew when he tried to call me earlier. 

But he couldn't have. His voice sounded hopeful. Like maybe after his message, I would finally call him back. 

It's funny. I wasn't intending on ever calling him back. But now a part of me wants to. He's the only person who could ever comfort me after news like this. But I don't call him. Thankfully, my phone dies before I can even think about it. And it's a good thing too. Because, if it wasn't for Jacob Isaacs, I wouldn't have had to hear about my father's death over the phone.

I would've been there when he died.