𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭 || ᴊᴇɴʟɪsᴀ

𝐭 𝐰 𝐞 𝐧 𝐭 𝐲

Having not heard from Lisa at all Tuesday, on Wednesday morning while eating breakfast at my desk, I texted to make sure we were still on for that night. I was done eating and my teeth were re-brushed but she hadn’t responded. Probably sleeping off a hangover from her night out with friends. Poor darling.
Darling…

After a salon appointment over lunch, I went head down and ass up working until a knock on my open office door startled me from calculations. “Ms. Kim?” Donna from HR stood tentatively in my doorway.

“Donna.” I glanced at her eight-months pregnant stomach. “How are you?”

“Aside from feeling like an elephant, I’m wonderful.”

I stood and gestured to the other side of my desk. “Did you want to take a seat? What can I do for you?”

“I’m fine thank you. I’ve been sitting all day.” Donna held out a folder to me. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I can’t find Mr. Tuan and I need some medical leave approved.”

“Is everything all right?” I asked hurriedly, and simultaneously wondering where Mark was this time—this was his side of the business.

Donna laughed. “Sorry, it’s not for me. It’s for Lisa Manoban.”

First I’d heard of it. Poor thing probably had the flu or something. She’d looked a little tired on Monday night and going out all last night drinking wouldn’t have helped. I took the papers, already thinking about taking her soup or something. “How long?”

“Medical certificate clears her until next Wednesday.”

A week for the flu, she’d need at least that. “Sure thing. I’ll take a look and have it back to you, ASAP.”

“Thanks.” Donna smiled gratefully and left my office.

I glanced at the details. Balancing a pen between my index and middle fingers, I flipped it quickly back and forth on the blotter. The rhythmic tapping stopped the moment I read the details on Lisa's medical certificate.

Vehicular accident. Oh God.

I pushed my chair back so fast it hit the low bureau behind me. “Clare!” I already had my laptop unplugged and tablet shoved haphazardly in my leather tote.

“Yes, Ms. Kim?”

Gathering my bags, I scooted around my desk, catching my thigh on the edge. Panic spilled out my mouth in a stream of words all running together. “Call a car around and cancel everything for the rest of the day. I’m leaving.” I yanked my coat from the hanger in my small closet near the door. “Please.”

“You have that app—”

“Cancel it.” I was already rushing through the office, phone in my hand. “Send anything urgent to me, end of world shit only. I’m off the grid.” In the elevator I called Lisa and got voice mail. I left a babbling message.

Downstairs, I ran through the lobby as fast as my Ferragamos could carry me, out the front door and to Bobby and the waiting car. “Take me to Crown Heights, please. Quickly.”

Queasy fear curled through my stomach as I dialed her. Voice mail again. I left another message. We hit traffic and the thirty-minute drive stretched to almost forty-five. All three calls I made went straight to Lisa's voice mail. All three messages I left were panicked.

Knowing the anxiety attack was baseless didn’t stop it. She’d notified HR that she needed medical leave so she was obviously alive. A week off wasn’t that serious. Despite constantly trying to reassure myself, I couldn’t rationalize. All I could think of was her, hurt badly.