Chapter Six

Today is Thursday and Ken has let me sleep late again. But I’m not afraid when I wake up. It’s nine o’clock and I have my appointment with the lawyer at 9:30. Crap! I jump in the shower, get dressed, and go. Somehow I think to grab a banana as I run out the door. I seem to do well in crisis I think. I almost have to pull to the side of the road as that thought makes me laugh so hard I cry.

Mr. Lawyer is very soft spoken. He has kind eyes. I am shaking. I take a ½ a pill. Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. Repeat. Repeat as many times as necessary. He makes small talk. How many years have you lived here? What is your husband’s name? He slowly works into why we are here. I tell him my story. Very slowly. We start and stop a lot. He reads my written reprimand and I am embarrassed and ashamed. He reads my last two annual reviews. He shows me applicable case laws. He has taken the time before our appointment to review case law, copy it, and highlight bits and pieces for me to review. I am oddly touched. I can’t look him in the eye. I know I am crazy. It shames me. This is the first time I have met this person and so all he knows about me is I am crazy. He talks slowly and softly. I have to really pay attention to hear him. This forces me to look into his eyes. His kind eyes. I can include him in my fortress. I am safe here with him discussing these hurtful things. We discuss my going into short term disability. He asks why this is not being handled by Workers Compensation. I don’t know.

If you had been fired you would have a very strong wrongful termination case. However, since you have not been fired, it is time to document. Write notes about every meeting. Buy a recorder. Tape any meeting with your supervisor and your manager. We review the legalities of recording in Texas. I think the best thing I can do is just put the recorder on the table. I will not be sneaky. I have to build my burden of proof. The thought of this makes me ill. Physically ill. I just want to work and pay my mortgage.

Unfortunately Tamara, you are a non-political person working in a very politically charged environment. I will not be billing you for this appointment. If you have questions or need advice on how to handle a situation, call. Immediately. Here are a few of my cards. I don’t have a problem with it if your job asks you to sign anything for you to hand them my card and tell them to send me a copy of it first. But most of all, get better. Listen to your doctor. Take your time and get better. I will be praying for you.

And I am out the door and standing in the sun. I call Ken and tell him what Mr. Lawyer had to say. I can remember most of it. My brain is not so mushy today. I am relieved. I look around me and realize I am not in my fortress. I take another ½ a pill and go for a walk. There are people around me. No one knows I’m crazy so it’s ok. I go into a couple of shops on Main Street. Pretty things. My heart is beating way too fast. This was enough for today and I head home.

Ann from HR calls. I take another ½ a pill. My skin starts turning red and I itch all over. Breathe in two three four, breathe out two three four. Concentrate. Ann tells me that the investigation is over and it has been decided that I was ill and needed to leave work. There will be no personnel action taken due to my leaving work. I will be moved to short term disability. Once all my existing leave is exhausted they will ask my co-workers to donate leave to me so I am not short money while I get better. This is good news, but it is also shattering. Even if they move the go-live date, I will not be going to Burning Man. I won’t have any leave. I curl up in bed and sleep.

When I awake, the house is still and silent. I stand at my dining room table with my sewing equipment scattered around on it and feel overwhelmed. I decide to cook supper. Ken will be picking Lillian up from daycare and I can have supper ready. Something healthy and creative. Fish tacos. With peas in butter sauce.

Lillian is glad to be home and she wants my attention. Ken distracts her with books and watching videos of herself on my phone. She loves her videos. I put the food on the plates, strap Lillian into her highchair and she goes to town. Ken takes a bite and says this is great. I take a bite and it is awful. The taco shells are stale. The fish is bland. I tell Ken he does not have to be this careful. I’m not that fragile. I am crazy, not an imbecile. It’s edible if you dump salsa on it. Lillian eats two helpings. She is mastering her fork and her spoon. Ken is hovering around Lillian and I. Usually he does chores, lawn work or out on the tractor doing something in the pastures. Today he just hangs around with us. I am grateful. I am having a hard time keeping up with Lillian. Sarah gets home from class and I go to bed. I have made it through a day. Ken comes into our room and holds me close. You are precious to me. You are not crazy. You are working hard and you are getting better every day and I am so proud to be your husband.  I am safe.