“Karen called in sick. We’re drowning here. I need you to come back.”
My fingers automatically began typing.
“Of course, I’ll—”
Then I looked at the note.
I remembered Emily asking me not to open my laptop on Sunday.
I remembered her invitation to go shopping.
I remembered every school event I had arrived late to—or missed entirely.
I deleted the message.
“I can’t. My daughter needs me tonight.”
Melissa answered almost instantly.
“If you walk out today, don’t bother coming back tomorrow.”
My hands shook.
For twelve years, my automatic response had always been yes.
Yes, I’ll stay late.
Yes, I’ll cover.
Yes, I’ll rearrange everything.
This time, I typed:
“I understand. I’m still not coming.”
Then I turned my phone over.
