Toska

By Elizabeth C Cabrera

Meg is just trying to get by. This whole adult thing is a lot more complicated than she thought and with a lot more baggage. She's worked so hard to get where she's at, and she feels like things are finally starting to click into place. Eyes forward, nose to the ground, that's always been her philosophy. She's just been given an important projec

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth C. Cabrera
• Release date: Jul 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988060017

Book preview

Chapter 1

If I had to pinpoint the beginning of my downward spiral, I would have to put it to one day in particular a few weeks back. I was running late to work; my alarm hadn’t gone off that morning for some reason. By the time I had awoken, I only had about ten minutes before I was supposed to be at work. Any normal person wouldn’t have cared, it was just a few minutes, right? If under a tight deadline, they might even call in to say they would be a bit late. I, of course, had gone into a blind panic trying to gather my things and change. My mind was in a complete fog as I stumbled through the apartment, tripping over myself to get out the door.

I’m not exactly the most graceful creature when I first wake up in the morning. It usually takes at least a cup or two of coffee to get me to any semblance of a functioning human being. I won’t say that I’m necessarily addicted to the caffeine, but it’s just about the only thing that brings me out of my zombie-like state. To be honest though, there were few adults I’d come across that didn’t treat the stuff like it was the nectar of life.

Rough morning? Gem asked as she watched in amusement. I stumbled past her toward the door, my shirt tangled above my head as I attempted to pull the material down onto my body.

I don’t have any time to fuss with you. I grumbled, finally able to poke my head through the stubborn hole. She was still laughing when I grabbed my bag and shoes and practically slammed the door behind me. When she didn’t rush after me to follow, I breathed out a sigh of relief. The last thing I needed was for her to trailing behind me, harping about whatever thing I did that bothered her that day. Gem was a unique problem in my life. After all, she’s the reason I went down the mental rabbit hole that wound me up in a psychiatrist's chair.

The tired haze clouding my vision didn’t aide my efforts in the slightest. In my haste—and slight disorientation—I attempted to take two stairs at a time which, of course, didn't pan out. I tripped over my own two feet with every third or fourth missed stair I took and had to grab onto the railing for dear life. This torturous pattern continued for the remaining several floors down from my fifth-floor apartment. Why didn’t I take the elevator, one might wonder? Well, that would simply be too convenient. If the maintenance workers that worked in my apartment building ever decided to fix it, I would gladly take it for the rest of eternity. At least while I lived there.

The salary I made from my job wasn’t anything to sniff at, but affording my own penthouse suite was out of the question so I didn’t exactly live in the best of neighborhoods. The building was located as close to the center of the city as one with a job in the downtown area could dream of (and afford). While it wasn’t the crime center of the city, it certainly wasn’t always the safest. During the day time it wasn’t so bad. It felt almost like the kind of popular apartment building you’d see in a TV sit-com. The kind I used to envy growing up wondering if someday I’d make it to the big city. As it turns out, dreams were always a little different from reality.

It was usually at night, though, when a lot of the nearby bars closed, that you wanted to have a buddy system in place to get to and from your apartment. Pit-pocketers were decently common, so most people I knew who lived in the area had some sort of theft-resistant bag or purse they toted around with them, but you’d still hear about people having other items they couldn’t secure down taken. The security cameras they installed all around our building could only do so much, so most people I knew tried not to carry too many valuables around with them.

Break-ins used to be decently common in the area for a while, but with the increase of people installing their own security systems and cameras in their apartments, there were less and less that I had heard about in more recent times. That said, people still kept a close eye on their security systems while they were out of the day, as it hadn’t gone completely away. There was also a fair share of the scarier kind of crimes that even mentioning them would send a shutter down my spine, so the buddy system came in handy quite a bit. Luckily I had Grace, my best friend, who lived in the apartment just above mine, as well as Adam, who lived down the hall. I could call either of them if I needed someone to walk with me.

The fifteen-minute walk to work had been a big factor in why I had moved in, only second to the fact that my two best friends also lived there, and it was relatively cheap compared to some of the neighboring buildings. On any normal day I wouldn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn just to head to work. It was quite pricey for such a small apartment, but the price was well worth the proximity. Any apartment buildings closer than that and you were paying out the nose in rent, and any further away and you had to take the city bus or subway. In such a large and busy city, apartments for the price I was paying were practically a steal, so I thanked my lucky stars for getting what I had. Even if that meant regularly carrying a can of mace in my purse.

I can only imagine what my neighbors thought when they saw my disheveled figure stumbling down the stairs past them. I was still pulling on my coat, tripping over myself, and grunting at them when they attempted to tell me good morning. One of my neighbors, who lived on the floor below me, and who I often chatted with at the mailbox, gave me a sympathetic smile as I passed by her, as if she’d also had a similar struggle at least once in her life.

As I finally made it to the lobby without killing myself, I figured I would probably be just a few minutes late. If I hurried. I could probably just sneak past my boss’s office. A minute or two late wasn’t so bad, right? When I stumbled into the exit, however, my hopes faded. There was such a torrential downpour outside that you would have suspected that Noah would be floating by at any moment to pick me up in his ark.

I took a brief moment to take in the quest I was about to embark on, wondering if it were too late to call in sick. I was still relatively new to the company, so I wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea to chance it.

I fished out the umbrella from my backpack. Luckily, I’d actually remembered to grab it before leaving. A few people stood in the lobby with me, seemingly preparing themselves in the same way that I was to enter the storm raging outside. The only difference between us was that they actually looked prepared to be out in the weather, with rain-boots and heavy coats. Meanwhile, I had put on my work heels, blazer, and pencil skirt. Not exactly the kind of ensemble that one would wear when embarking through this kind of weather. I didn’t have the time to go upstairs to change, so I braced myself.

The wind picked up as soon as I opened the door and stepped outside. The force of it shoved me, forcing the stinging rain in my face and rendered my umbrella essentially useless. I adjusted the angle that I held it above me, determined at that point that I was going to make it to work even if it killed me.

This new angle provided me some relief, but I could still feel the rain sting my legs. It stabbing me in contempt, as if there were some unrelenting forces trying to prevent me from getting to work. It might be extreme, but I thought, in that moment, that the world had been conspiring against me.

The wind tunnel effect faded as I made it out the door and onto the busy street. I trotted down the sidewalk, immersing myself in the crowd and avoiding large puddles as I went. As I walked, I began going over tasks I needed to get done that day in my mind.

I worked for a small marketing firm that specialized in advertising for healthcare companies and medical supplies. We had a good number of smaller clients, such as a few private practices and growing supply chains, and just a couple of larger local hospital clients. I worked on marketing campaigns for our various clients and assisted the more senior members of the staff with their presentations. I had only been with the company for about six months at that point. Grace and Adam had both already worked there, and thanks to their great recommendations, I got the job.

I’d only graduated from college about a year prior, double majoring in both business and psychology. Originally, I had intended to get my MBA or doctorate in psychology, but I couldn’t make up my mind. Or, for that matter, if I really wanted to get further schooling. I was still on shaky ground when it came to what I was doing with my life, and I wasn’t sure if I had necessarily wanted to do either for the rest of my life. To add insult to injury, I was up to my eyeballs in student loans from my undergraduate and didn’t want to immediately add to that with even more student loans. Scholarships had helped, but they had only gone so far. And while I’d been debating my future, I still needed a job, so I took the first one that came my way. I wasn’t sure if this was exactly where I wanted to stay, career-wise, for the rest of my life. But everyone has to start somewhere, right?

Lost in thought at a traffic light, my attention was drawn back to my journey through the monsoon-like weather. I was almost to the office and willed the light to turn green. The finish line was in sight, and this dreary walk from hell was almost over. All I had to do was to cross the street and scurry into the building as quickly as I could. I was already pretty wet despite my umbrella, but I figured most people in the building would be because of the weather. There was a brief moment, just before I saw the bus heading toward me, that I thought there was no way I could get any wetter. Boy, was I wrong.

As soon as the bus passed in front of me, the large puddle of water that had collected on the street kicked back and completely soaked me from head to toe. It was like that moment when you were going down a large water slide at a water park, and the water just consumes your entire being. As if you’d jumped into some dirty city-watered version of a pool. While water parks are fun, this situation was the total opposite.

I stood there a moment and sputtered, coughing out some of the street water I’d also managed to swallow in shock. A metallic taste filled my mouth. I shuddered in disgust. I didn’t even want to think about what muck had been in that. A few bystanders looked at me with pity before continuing across the street, as the stop-light for crossing had finally turned green. Gathering my dignity, I followed them. The water slicked against my skin, causing my legs to rub together and chafe angrily in protest. As if it, too, were trying to tell me to give up and go home, but I was determined at that point.

I had to ignore the odd stares from fellow commuters as they glared at my disheveled appearance. I felt like a wet sewer rat that ran around in the downtown subway station. You know, the ones that likely drank something radioactive and were four times bigger than they should have been, and somehow always bullied you into giving them your pizza. In hindsight, I should have taken advantage of that and run to one of the street vendors near my building to bully them into giving me free food, but my thoughts were pretty secular at the time.

My umbrella was completely useless at that point, despite my determination that it would prevent me from getting any more wet than I already was. I vowed, as I crossed the street, that I would avoid mirrors as much as possible that day. I didn’t dare want to catch a glimpse of what the strangers around me were staring at.

I finally stepped inside, glad to be someplace dry and relieved to, at least, be out of the rain. While others who followed me into the building were only a little damp from the rain, I remained the odd ball out, literally drenched from head to toe. My skirt dripped heavily onto the entrance carpet, so I began making my way to the elevator.

There was no way I would sneak in unnoticed as wet as I was, but at least I would be there relatively on time. The shoes I had worn would have been a death sentence if I attempted the stairs, so I waited patiently for the elevators with everyone else swarming the doors. I wondered briefly if the bathrooms had hand dryers on our floor. I could just use them as a make-shift laundry dryer, right?

The other people who had crowded into the elevator with me all leaned as far away as possible, trying not to get themselves wet from my dripping hair and clothes. It was like I had the bubonic plague and simply touching me would give it to them as well. Not that I blamed them. My day could not possibly get any worse.

I was wrong about that as well.

There seemed to have been a pattern in my thinking that day. I tried to be optimistic about whatever bad situation I was thrust into, and life decided to show me that it indeed could be worse. Or at least it felt that way that day.

As soon as I made it to my floor, and the doors opened, my boss, Jennifer Hale, stood directly in front of me. As if she’d been waiting for me to arrive. She had her arms folded across her chest, her face twisted into a pout with one eyebrow raised firmly at me. Her eyes bore into me as I stepped out of the elevator, giving her a shy and rather embarrassed smile.

Good morning! I said, trying to sound cheery.

You’re late. She answered with her usual monotone voice, glancing over to the clock on the wall reading five past eight.

I’m so sorry! I promise it’ll never happen again! It was raining, and I got soaked by a passing bus . . .

She rolled her eyes at me. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ve been waiting for you; I need to see you in my office. Try not to drip too much on my carpet.

Yes ma’am, I answered quietly, following after her as she strutted to her office ahead of me. I wondered if it were too late to play dead or fake an injury. I glanced over to some of my coworkers, who apparently had gathered upon hearing the exchange. All of them watched my walk of shame toward our boss’s office, marching off to what I’m sure they assumed to be my demise. In the sea of faces gathered, my eyes landed on Grace, who was next to our adjacent cubicles. She pointed exaggeratedly at her cup and then pointed at me, silently telling me that I’d have a cup of coffee waiting for me when I was done. God bless Grace.

Chapter 2

Jennifer grabbed one of my coworkers as we headed to her office and quietly asked her to see if there were any spare clothes in the lost and found downstairs. We shared the building with several different small businesses and had a collective space on the bottom floor that could be used by anyone. There was a lost and found box from all the combined offices downstairs by the check-in desk. Who knew what was kept in there, but if it meant the difference between being soaking wet and being dry, I had to take my chances.

I thought it was a nice gesture from Jennifer, at least, to see about getting me something so that I wasn’t soaking wet all day. It gave me a glimmer of hope, for a split second, that she wasn’t too mad. But I also partially thought it was because she just didn’t want me to get her chair wet. When she asked me to remain standing until my coworker arrived, I knew it was the latter.

I shivered from the sudden chill that racked my body. My sight narrowed as I watched her take her seat. She’d gotten a haircut recently, as her hair was cut sharply around her neckline, and the highlighter blonde locks looked almost bioluminescent under the harsh office lighting.

She pulled a file out from one of the drawers of her desk and placed it neatly on top. I couldn’t tell what it was exactly from where I stood, but I knew she usually kept her employee files in that drawer. So, it couldn’t be anything good.

Pen in hand, she opened the file and looked up at me. Now, I know you’re not one to be late, as you’re usually rather timely. I’m going to let it slide just this one time, I’m only making a quick note in your file so that I know we’ve had this discussion. Should it become a problem in the future, we will have it documented that we have indeed spoken about this.

I breathed a sigh of relief, just happy she wasn’t writing me up. Yes, ma’am. Thank you.

Now, Miss Spendierso, besides your lateness, I had another reason for having you come to my office.

Oh?

Yes. As you know, the company has landed a few new clients recently. One of the local hospitals was recently bought out by a private sector and therefore has gone under new management, and a completely new name, The Mercy Crisis Hospital. Due to this revamping, they’ve requested our assistance in creating the best advertisements possible to bring in both new—and old—patients.

Oh, that’s wonderful! I exclaimed, remembering the whisperings of the deal in one of the staff meetings.

She nodded, taking another file from her desk and gesturing it toward me. I’d like you to spearhead this account.

My eyes shot wide open and I audibly gasped. M-me?

Yes, you. I’ve seen some of the work that you’ve done while partnered with some of your more experienced colleagues, and I think now is the time for you to be given your own project. As this is your first solo account, I will of course be keeping an extremely close eye on you. All of the information you’ll need is in this folder. Documentation of the hospital’s new layout, such as their upgraded surgical suite, their proposed vision for the advertisement campaign, and other useful articles are in here. If you need further information, please email either myself or the client contact directly. Her name and information are located there as well.

I had still been considered in training since I’d joined the company and therefore hadn’t worked on anything of my own. I was typically paired with another coworker of mine for an account they were working on, and I was to contribute and learn from them. I had learned quite a lot but definitely had been itching to get something to stamp my own name and personal style on.

I’d sprinkled in a few elements while working with others, but a lot of times they were just minor details that hardly any of the clients had looked too closely at. One client had noticed something I had added in and had complimented it highly, but that was about it. To have something of my very own to create, with my own ideas, was absolutely thrilling.

Thank you so much, Jennifer! I’m so excited to get started with it. I promise I won’t let you down! I answered excitedly as I took the file from her. The new logo was stamped proudly on the front, making it feel even more official.

Please submit your final presentation outline to me by the end of the month, she said. I’ll periodically be checking in on your progress during that time.

Thank you very much!