“Girl, it’s good to see you!” Darla Quinn, one of my coworkers flashes a smile at me as I walk into the office. I call it an office, but it’s more like a bunch of desks in an open room. Darla’s dishwater blond hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and she’s wearing makeup for once. Instead of her shapeless shirt and pants, she’s wearing a pair of tailored beige pants and a denim shirt. Her nails are perfectly manicured instead of bitten to the quick. She looks good, which means she’s probably getting some.
“You, too. You seeing anyone new these days?” I ask, sliding into my chair. I’ve noticed that she’s smartened up over the past few weeks, and I know it has to do with a man. I thought she would have told me by now, but she hasn’t. It’s up to me to ask, which I do.
“Mmmmhmmmmmm. Jimmy. He’s six-feet nothing and a long, tall, cool drink of water.” Darla pauses before adding, “And he can go for hours. He’s Italian.”
“Like a stallion!” I chortle, and Darla laughs with me. “I’m happy for you, girl.” I smile at Darla, and she smiles back. I instinctively look around, but my stalker is sitting in jail awaiting trial. I don’t have to worry about her any longer.
I quickly check my blog, and the outpouring of love is tremendous. Many of them tell their own stories about their siblings. SeeNoEvil writes, “I’m the oldest of five boys. Five! Every Saturday morning, we’d get up before our parents, and I’d make them pancake from a box. I’d shape them like Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and other Disney figures. They’d always eat the heads off first before gobbling up the rest. I made myself regular round pancakes because I thought they tasted better.” PizzaEveryDay adds, “I’m the baby of three kids. My brother and sister are at least a decade older, so I often felt like an only. Until my parents died in a plane crash when I was ten. Then, my brother took me into his family, and he and his wife became my second parents. My brother died this year at the age of fifty. I miss him every day.” GallopingTrot reminisces, “I was an only, but I had a cousin who was my BFF growing up. We would giggle over the cute boys at school, and she’s the one who held my hands while I cried over my first love breaking my heart. She now lives in Paris with her husband, but we still talk to each other every day.”
This is why I write my blog posts. Not only do they help me figure out what I’m thinking, but they connect me with other people who feel the same way. I’ve had people write me, thanking me for putting into words what they’re feeling but cannot express. It’s a big, cold world out there. It helps to know that others know what you’re going through. It makes me feel a little less alone. Nothing will ever take away the sting of losing my best friend, but this helps. I shut down the tab and concentrate on my work. Others have taken up my lists in my absence, but it’s time for me to hit the ground running. I’m one of the best workers—I sell the most Groupon coupons almost every day. I want to keep it that way. I’m willing to give myself a mulligan this month, but I don’t want to make a habit of it.
I check my emails periodically. I get one from Doug in the early afternoon. He says he’s willing to talk about Bob whenever I want and wherever I want. I Google him, and I find out that he’s in his late sixties and a widower. He’s a retired engineer, and he spends most of his time gardening. I ask him if he’s willing to talk to me tonight around eight, and he agrees with alacrity. He knows about Bob’s disappearance, and he’s concerned. He says the last time he talked to Bob was three days ago, and it wasn’t about anything in particular. I have to go, so I tell him I’ll talk to him later tonight. Twenty minutes later, I get an email from Samuel. He’s not as forthcoming, and he tells me he has nothing to say. When I mention Bob’s disappearance, he responds that it’s probably nothing. The tone of his emails is off-putting, and I think he’s hiding something. I manage to convince him to talk to me tonight, but he’s adamant that it’s before six o’clock. I agree because I’ll say anything to get him to talk to me.