Page 3 of The Wedding Fake
“Wonderful,” Mom said, as if we were both equally excited by the prospect. “I’ll see you then, sweetheart.”
“Love you, Mom,” I said.
“You too.”
I hung up and gave my full attention to my computer, trying to figure out what needed to be done in order to miss this much work. First, I needed to review my current files and see what I could do before I left. Plenty of people took full weeks off, but I never had, and the idea made my stomach churn.
My to-do app was filled with an array of colorful little lists, each with its own neat line of tiny checkboxes. I found them soothing, as if this single digital page could put order to the chaos of the world.
Add new list
Title: Wedding Bullshit
I colored it purple to match Nora’s most recent hair color and nodded approvingly. Now I just needed to make a list of all the things I had to accomplish before I went out of town.
Thirteen neat little checkboxes later, I’d delineated every damn thing I could think of, and now I stared at the list blankly, changing the background to a cheery turquoise and then back to lavender while I thought.
It was likely I’d think of other things, but for now this list of thirteen tasks was more than a solid start, so I opened a new tab and pulled up my email to shoot a quick message to my boss, Sandra. She was always hounding me to take some time off, so I knew she’d be supportive, but somehow even that knowledge didn’t change the anxiety I felt at taking so much time away from work. What if there was chaos when I was gone? Or worse, what if Sandra realized she didn’t really need me? I sighed heavily, pressing my fingers back into the hard bone above my eye socket, aware again of the dull ache that had never gone away.
I sent a wordy email assuring Sandra I’d get all my work done early and have it submitted before I left, feeling nauseous as I pressed send. Sandra’s response came only moments later, a short three sentences that did little to ease my discomfort.
I know you’ll get it done. Don’t stress. Go home and enjoy your sister’s wedding!
Unlikely. I picked up the phone, pulling up the text chain I kept with my oldest sister, Emily.
Claire: Took off the whole week. Can’t believe that’s necessary.
Emily: I can’t go until Wednesday
I didn’t know why I was angry. After all, I’d predicted this before I’d even agreed to come early, but I was still pissed. I stared at my phone for a full minute, grinding my teeth, then I hit the button to call my sister. “What the hell do you mean you aren’t going until Wednesday?” I snapped as soon as Emily picked up the phone. “Mom said I had to be there Monday.”
I could practically hear Emily’s shrug through the phone. “I can’t come until Wednesday,” she said, as if it were that simple.
“I can’t come until Wednesday,” I protested.
“Then don’t go until Wednesday. Why are you yelling at me?” Emily asked mildly.
I sucked in a long breath, letting it out in one angry snort. I was yelling at Emily because she was the only one who wouldn’t yell back. “I just don’t understand why I would need to take off the extra days of work and you wouldn’t. I know you have patients and all, but my job isn’t just something I can walk away from.”
Emily made a little noise and I frowned irritably, hearing the skepticism in that tiny exhalation. “Don't most people at your job still work from home? Why are you even taking days off?” she asked. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, not wanting to admit she was right.
Most everyone in my department worked full time from home now. A few came in twice per week. I was one of only three people who had gone back into the office full time. The other two were men with small children. And I was definitely the only one who’d gone back into work because I was losing control of my anxiety stuck in my apartment all day.
As a obstetrics resident, Emily had been working on the front lines since the pandemic. Obviously she couldn’t walk away from her job with the ease of an auditor. It wasn’t the same, and I knew I shouldn’t complain to Em after all she’d seen and been through, but I still wanted to complain. I hoped that was human nature and not just me being self-absorbed.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I know how hard your job is.”
Another noise from Emily, this one more like a hum. “My job is a miserable shitshow—agreed—but you can always vent at me, Claire Bear. It’s what I’m here for.”
Somehow, the sentiment only made me feel guiltier. I tended to believe Nora was the selfish, self-absorbed baby of the family, but what if everyone else thought I was the one who only thought of herself? I never broached the subject with them because I didn’t think I could handle that much disapproval. “Thanks, Em. I’m being an asshole, though, so I’m sorry. Are you busy?”
“I’m currently indulging in a bath, so no,” Emily said.
My nose curled. There was something weird about talking to Emily while she sat in the nude, even if it was just a bath.
“Why did Nora need you to come home on Monday?” she asked. “Dress fitting?”
“Yep. How’d you get out of that? You on call?”