After getting to work I tried really hard to suppress the sinking feeling of foreboding to no avail as my mood was getting sourer by the minute. My mind was being rebellious like a hardheaded teenager as I tried to focus on my customers unsuccessfully as I was making mistake after a mistake. For example, I shortened the first customer in change, forgot to refill the coffee for another, and gave a wrong carryout order yet to another customer after which he came back frustrated, for now he was late for work. This scatterbrained behavior did not go unnoticed by my coworkers and some of my regular customers, as I was asked several times on the reasons why I am behaving like this, however I was lost in trying to explain because I didn’t know myself, but as faith would have it soon will find out.
Around 12:30 PM, the restaurant phone rang and after my coworkers usual greeting she called my name saying that the call is for me. As soon as I got to the phone my brother’s harsh forbidding voice came on the line, “LEAVE WORK! GO HOME AND WAIT FOR ME THERE! DRIVE CAREFULY! GO HOME NOW!” His stern words came fast like bullets and he sounded scared almost desperate. I said, now panic-stricken myself, “WHY! WHAT HAPPENED! WHAT! I CANT JUST LEAVE, IT’S ABOUT TO GET BUSY! WHAT IS GOING ON?” My frantic questions went unanswered as he literally screamed loudly with distress, in my ear “JUST GO HOME NOW!” and a click as the line went dead. I became like marble stone, a statue, with my face frozen in emotionless blank stare, the phone still in my hand, unmoving. I was told later, by my manager, that my face looked pale like a ghost and devoid of any emotion as I looked at her blindly but not really seeing her. I vaguely remember her gently shaking me, asking what’s wrong as I slowly turned around grabbed my car keys but not minding my purse and ran thru the door.
As soon as I parked my car, I rushed out of it almost tripping on the rough gravel of the driveway. I hasty ran up the squeaky old wooden stairs leading to the porch and thru the glass door straight in to the living room only to stop dead in my tracks. My mother was sitting dressed all in black, cradling my brother’s three month old son, a sharp contrast to our all white leather couches. Her eyes were red and swollen as she was looking, more like staring at her grandson and saying with so much anguish “don’t worry we will take