Page 88 of Loathing My Boss
I’m the cause of this disaster. And every disaster.
It isalways, always me. And there’snothingI can do about it. It’s not like I can fight literal Acts of God. No one can.
“I need an ambulance.”
The breaking words spear me through the chest, so I turn.
Further up the road, back toward me, Viktor shakes, holding his phone to his ear. “I…” He swears. “Yes, I’m…” He swears again. Tears clutch his voice. “I’m on Fawn Mountain Road, leading out of Sunset, toward Berkeley Springs.” Fist clenched, Viktor teeters toward me and what remains of his car. Eyes clamped shut. Tears rushing down his cheeks. “I don’t know the damage yet. But I’m pretty sure a tree…just fell…on mywife.”
My stomach lurches as what’s left of my bagel slips from my hand, hits the ground, rolls down the embankment.
“Please…hurry.” He grips a hand over his eyes while tears continue to flood. “I can’t lose her. Ican’t.”
Numb, my legs move, toward him, one frail step at a time.
My mouth opens, but sound doesn’t come. The world around me is static, and I’m static. Beneath the buzz creating an uncomfortable film across my skin, the faint voice of the operator comes into range. “Sir? Remain calm. We’re dispatching a crew right away. Please confirm you can hear me. I need you to assess the situation, so we can do what we can for your wife before the dispatch reaches you.”
Viktor swears. “Okay. I’m calm. I’m…” Breath saws through him. “You’re right. I’m wasting precious moments.” His legs move before he drops his arm from his eyes, and I can’t lunge out of the way in time, so we collide.
As I careen back in slow motion, his phone drops from his hand, hits the asphalt, and goes black. His eyes widen. His brain restarts.
And…he catches me before I hit the ground.
Aching moments pass between us while he stares, fingers bruising my wrist as he holds me unsteadily away from doom.
I croak, “I’m…sorry.”
“You’re okay.”
It hurts to swallow. To breathe. Toexist. “I’m a walking disaster. Sometimes the disasters are dramatic.”
“You’re okay.” His breaths shorten, and he reels me in by my arm until his can wrap firmly—crushingly—around me.
“I stepped out before the tree fell. My chocolate milk didn’t make it. Sorrows. Prayers.”
His fingers dig into my back, threatening to thread with the bones of my rib cage.
I do not rightly know how to deal with a grown man sobbing. On top of me. While seemingly attempting to crawl inside my flesh. So I begin to ramble. “You know that sayingif I had a nickel? Well, not to brag or anything, but if I were being paid for my close calls with trees, I’d have adollar. Painful mishaps are one thing, but nothing has ever been fatal.” I wince. “I mean. Obviously. S-so, you know. It’s fine. I’m fine.” The car is not fine. But I’m the one who arranged the insurance policy on it, so I’m not entirely concerned about it?
I’m rattled, I think. If I’m being honest. Thebig dramatic disastersrattle me a bit. I wish I’d just get completely used to them by now.
I don’t know what else to say. Welcome aboard? Strap yourself in?Pleasestop crying? I’m not licensed to deal with this many emotions? I hope dispatch gets here soon and has one of those shiny panic blankets with his name on it…
My heart sinks the longer Viktor’s trembling hold onme presses the air from my lungs. “Viktor…” I whisper, “…I…” I tilt my head back, stare past branches at the sky. “Are you sure you want to be with me? Are you sure you want to condemn yourself to a life of…this?”
“Don’t talk like that,” he hisses. “Nevertalk like that.”
I tense. “Sorry. It’s just… You’re not taking this well. Andthisand me? You know we’re a package deal.”
He drags himself back,scrapeshis grip from around me to my face, and clutches my cheeks. Eyes damp, he forces me into a kiss that robs the last of my air. With the salt of his tears on my tongue, he says, “I. Am. Sure. When it comes to you, I willalwaysbe sure.”
“But—”
He drapes himself around me again, protecting, consuming. “What makes you think I’d be able to handle losing you in any way, Crisis? How is leaving me any different from…leavingme?”
That’s a fair point. Butstill. “What makes you think I want to watch you suffer like this?”
“Watching me suffer has been your favorite hobby for the past two years.”
