Friday. Sasha knew Fridays were supposed to be fun, a day of celebration even, signaling the end of the workweek. Usually, she smiled right alongside everyone else and even had a little hop in her step on the way out of the office to happy hour. But today was not the typical Friday. For one, it was her birthday. And two, she felt like hell. Serious hell. To make matters worse, her brain fog was so bad she couldn’t remember if it was her thirty-ninth or fortieth birthday.
She leaned into the bathroom counter mirror with narrowed eyes and tried to clear her mind to find the answer. As she examined two new slight wrinkles on her forehead, she did the math in her head. She pushed away and straightened.
“Fuck. I’m forty.”
She sighed, thought about trying to cover the new wrinkles with makeup, and then rolled her eyes.
“Oh, what’s the use?” She fumbled with her Coach purse, scrambling for her MAC Lipglass and quickly spread some on. Maybe somehow it would help to make her look less dead and zombie-like and more colorful and alive-like, able to move safely among the living. But she didn’t hold her breath. Behind her, the restroom door opened and one of her coworkers entered. Karen caught her gaze in the reflection of the mirror and smiled.
“Sasha, hi. How goes it?”
Sasha thought briefly about telling her the truth. That her hands and feet were swollen and she felt dizzy and nauseous. And should she mention she felt like passing out? No, too much. She shook the thought and forced a smile.
“I’m okay. How ’bout you?”
Karen eased into a stall and locked the door. “I’m well, thanks.”
“That’s good.”
Sasha braced herself on the counter and considered the walk to the parking garage. Could she do it? Could she make it? She would have to. She knew her colleagues would be more than happy to help if she asked; they all knew about her chronic kidney disease. But she preferred to keep her illness and its woes private. She didn’t want to seem different from anyone else.
Karen emerged from the stall and stood next to her to wash her hands.
“TGIF, right?”
“You know it.” Sasha zipped her purse and pretended to examine her eyebrows. She didn’t want to leave until after Karen. That way, if she had to walk slowly or if she had to stop and rest, it wouldn’t be noticed. Most of the day shift had cleared out, and the evening shift was already in production of the latest newscast.
“Say,” Karen said, touching her shoulder. Sasha was certain she would mention her birthday just as others had. But she didn’t. “You look a little…green around the gills. You okay?”
Again Sasha forced a smile. “Oh, you know, I’m just tired. End of the week and all.”
Karen studied her for what felt like ages. Sasha felt her face burn from being scrutinized so closely. What all could she tell? Was it that noticeable? God, she should’ve gone to the doctor two weeks ago instead of cancelling that appointment. But she’d sprained her ankle, and she’d been told by her primary care to stay off of it as much as possible. So she had. Now she feared she was paying the price. Maybe her nephrologist could’ve seen this coming and prevented it.
“Okay, if you say so.” She dropped her hand and gave her a sympathetic look. “Get home safely and enjoy your weekend.”
She left Sasha at the counter and breezed out of the restroom. Sasha exhaled long and hard and gathered her purse. As she emerged back into the large office space, she wondered why no one had mentioned that today was her fortieth birthday. Had she done her math right? What was she missing? Did people not consider forty to be a milestone anymore?
A quick wave of dizziness washed over her, and she struggled to focus as she leaned against the wall next to the elevator. She stared down at her Gucci heels and had an urge to tear them off and walk to her vehicle in her stocking feet. Another wave came as the elevator door opened, and she walked carefully inside, glad to see it was empty.
“Oh, to hell with it.” She slipped off her heels and stretched her toes. “Please help.” But her free feet did little to rid her of the sickening feeling. She blinked and focused on the number panel. She felt like she had on the wrong prescription eyeglasses. Yes. That was exactly it. Only she didn’t. She had in her contacts and they were fine.
The doors opened with a ding, and she hurried out of the elevator and into the dim parking garage. If she could just make it to her Jeep. Sitting inside her new Grand Cherokee would fix everything. The new car smell mixed with the cinnamon air freshener would soothe her and she would be fine. The sickness would be gone. A horn blared to her left, and she jerked as a taxicab screeched to a halt.
“Jesus, lady!”
“Sorry, sorry.” She held up a hand in apology, but to her surprise he climbed from the car.
“You all right? You need a ride?” He was looking at her with concern under the sweat soaked brim of his Diamondbacks hat. “You look like you’re gonna fall over.”
She started to tell him no, to tell him she was fine, but she just suddenly deflated as if all the air had just vanished from her sails.
“Yes,” she breathed. “A ride would be great.”
He rounded the car quickly and cupped her elbow. “You want to go to a hospital or a doctor?”
“No, I just need to get home.” He eased her in the back seat of his warm sedan. It smelled of hot vinyl and dirty carpet. But she didn’t care. She just rested her head against the seat and spewed out her address when he slid into the front seat. He repeated it and asked about her cross streets.
Then the awful realization hit her again just as it did each and every day.
She no longer lived at her home. She no longer lived with Hannah, her partner of fifteen years.
She lived five long miles away with her best friend, Bonnie, in a small room with a clothes rack and an ironing board.
Sasha gave him the correct address and then allowed her heavy eyes to fall closed as a tear slipped down her cheek.