The next day, I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing, piercing through the silence of my room like a sharp knife cutting through the air. I groggily reached for my phone, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of the previous night's events. As I checked the screen, I saw my Mom's name flashing, and my heart sank a little, like a stone dropping into a deep well. I knew she was going to ask about what happened with Stephanie, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to talk about it yet.
I answered the call, trying to sound cheerful, trying to put on a brave face. "Hey, Mom!"
"Gabriel, sweetie, how are you?" my Mom asked, her voice dripping with sympathy, like honey pouring from a jar. I could tell she was worried, and I knew she had every right to be.
"I'm fine, Mom," I replied, trying to downplay the situation, trying to brush it off like it was nothing.
But my Mom wasn't having it. "Your father told me what happened with Stephanie," she said, her voice softening, like a gentle breeze on a summer day. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I know how much you loved her."
I sighed, feeling a pang of frustration, like a door slamming shut. I knew my Mom was just trying to help, but I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to relive the pain and rejection all over again.
"Mom, it's okay," I said, trying to reassure her. "Really, I'm fine."
But my Mom kept going, her voice filled with concern, like a mother bird worrying about her chick. "Gabriel, you can't just brush this off. You were in love with her, and she rejected you. That's got to hurt."
I rolled my eyes, feeling like a teenager again, like I was 15 and my Mom was still treating me like a child. "Mom, I told you, I'm fine. Can we please just drop it?"
But my Mom wouldn't let it go. She kept pushing, kept probing, like a detective trying to solve a case. "Gabriel, I just want to make sure you're okay, sweetie. You're my baby, and I don't want to see you hurt."
I felt a surge of love for my Mom, but also a bit of annoyance, like a itch I couldn't scratch. I knew she just wanted to help, but sometimes, I wished she would just let me handle my own problems, like a grown man.
"Mom, I appreciate it," I said, trying to placate her. "But really, I'm fine. Can we talk about something else?"
My Mom sighed, finally relenting, like a storm finally passing. "Okay, sweetie. But just know that I'm here for you, no matter what. And if you ever need to talk, I'm here to listen."
I smiled, feeling grateful for my Mom's love and support, like a warm hug on a cold day. "Thanks, Mom. I love you."
"I love you too, sweetie," she replied, her voice filled with emotion. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
I hung up the phone, feeling a mix of emotions, like a rollercoaster ride. I was grateful for my Mom's concern, but also frustrated that she wouldn't let it go. I knew she just wanted to help, but sometimes, I wished she would just let me handle my own problems.
As I got away from the bed, I was met with a harsh reality - I was two hours late for work and had slept past my alarm clock time. I couldn't believe it. I had never been late to work before, and now I was facing the possibility of being fired. I felt a wave of panic wash over me as I thought about the consequences of my tardiness. My mind was racing with thoughts of what my boss would say, what my coworkers would think, and how this would affect my reputation.
"Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?" I muttered to myself, feeling a sense of dread. "I hope I don't get fired. I need this job. I can't afford to lose it."
I quickly got myself ready, skipping some of my usual morning routines like keeping my hair or cleaning my shoes. I just grabbed my things and rushed out the door, hailing a cab to take me to work. As I rode in the cab, I couldn't help but think about how this day was already going wrong. I was late, I was stressed, and I was worried about what would happen when I got to the office.
As I arrived at the office, I was nervous about what to expect. I thought my boss would lash out at me, scolding me for my tardiness. I thought my coworkers would snicker and whisper to each other, pointing fingers and making jokes about my lack of punctuality. But instead, my boss called me into his office and asked me how I was feeling.
"Hey, Gabriel, how are you doing today?" he asked, his voice surprisingly calm and concerned.
I was taken aback by his concern. I had expected him to be angry, to yell at me, to tell me how irresponsible I was being. But instead, he was asking me how I was feeling.
"I'm doing okay, I guess," I replied, still feeling anxious and worried. "I'm really sorry about being late. I know it's unacceptable. I don't know what happened. I just overslept, I guess."
My boss nodded understandingly. "Ryan told me what happened," he said, referring to my friend who had been with me the night before. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened with Stephanie. You should stay strong, Gabriel. These things happen, and it's not the end of the world."
I was surprised by my boss's kindness. I had expected him to be angry, but instead, he was offering me words of encouragement. I felt a sense of relief wash over me, followed by a sense of gratitude.
"Thanks, boss," I said, feeling a sense of appreciation. "I really appreciate it. I don't know what I would do if I lost this job. I need it too much."
My boss smiled and put a hand on my shoulder. "You're not going to lose your job, Gabriel. We all make mistakes. We all have bad days. The important thing is that you learn from it and move on. Just focus on getting your work done today, and we'll talk about it later."
I left my boss's office feeling grateful and relieved. I knew I still had to face the consequences of my tardiness, but at least my boss was understanding. I vowed to make up for lost time and get my work done as quickly as possible. I was determined to prove to myself and to my boss that I was responsible, that I was capable of getting my work done, no matter what challenges came my way.