02 POV call with boss call from Michelle 936

I was supposed to be working tonight but I swapped my shift with Julio, another chef, so I could get a decent sleep and be fresh for when my wonderful little lady arrives. 

Julio, I will kill you.

"I swapped shifts with Julio, I'm picking up my daughter early in the morning."

"That's great, I'll be sure to tell everyone when I call to cancel their bookings."

"You're not going to cancel all the bookings."

"No, I'm not, I'm going to call a temp' agency and get an over-priced under-skilled chef in for the night and fire your ass if you're not here within the hour."

"You can't fire me because Julio hasn't shown up."

"Watch me."

"But-"

"-No buts. This is your shift, you're responsible for it. If you're not here in seven minutes you're fired."

"I'm stuck in traffic at least fifteen minutes away." 

"Then you've got fifteen minutes to get here, not a second more."

I hear a click on the other end and the line falls dead.

I will reach into Julio's chest and pull out his beating heart.

I won't really. I couldn't, too much mess. Also, I haven't a stomach for violence. Even in films. Anytime there's anything remotely violent I look away. 

I call Julio, but I get his voicemail. I consider leaving a nasty message, but what's the point? Instead I say, "Hey, it's me, you forgot you were supposed to cover a shift for me tonight. Call me when you get this, please."

I hang up and immediately regret using the word please. Why am I so nice? It's all part of this new positivity streak I'm on. Negativity begets negativity. I'm really trying to stay positive, but life has a way. yes sir, life has a way. 

The car in front of me crawls forward a few lazy inches and I wonder if maybe fifteen minutes was under estimating it. At this pace it'll be more like half an hour before I'm at the restaurant. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, staaaaaaay positive. Stay positive. 

I force myself to smile and look at my reflection in the rear-view mirror. I recently read somewhere that if you fake a smile long enough it turns into a real one soon enough. After thirty seconds I give up, I am no longer in the mood to try and force myself to stay happy.

My cell rings again, this time it's just a regular ring-tone, not personalised. I check the caller-ID and see that it's Michelle, my sponsor. I answer immediately. 

"Hey, Michelle, how are you?" I try, with an upbeat inflection. 

All I get is silence from the other end. This is not good. I lower my tone. Shed all fake happiness. "Michelle, are you there?"

I hear breathing now. Followed by a weakly spoken, "I'm here."

"What's up?"

Again, silence. 

"Michelle?"

"I think I'm gonna use."

This hits me like a sledgehammer. Or at least what I imagine being hit by a sledge hammer would feel like. I've never actually been hit by one.

"You're not going to use. Tell me where you are."

"Cafe-Nate."

"That cafe-diner place on Bowden Street?"

"Yeah."

"That place is a shit-hole."

Michelle almost laughs, "It really is. And it stinks.'  

"You need to get out of there."

"I can't. I've made the call and I'm meeting him here."

Double shit.

I know from first hand experience that once you've made the call you're as good as resigned to the fact that you're going to use. It's wasted air trying to talk her out of it over the phone. It's in person or nothing. 

"Okay, I need you to stay where you are and not to do anything until I get there. Even if he turns up before me, just stall until I arrive. Can you do that?"

There's silence on the other end.

"Michelle did you hear me?"

"Yes. I'll try."

"Don't try. Do."

With that, I end the call. Now I'm nervous. Not for me, for Michelle. She's done so well. She hasn't used in three weeks. I had hoped to get her over the one month mile stone, but if she uses today she'll be back at square one and that has its own baggage. 

I close the two foot gap with the car in front of me. Damn it. This is useless. I look across the road at the on-coming traffic where there is about half the amount of cars all moving comparatively quickly. 

My restaurant is near the airport. Cafe-Nate and Michelle are in the opposite direction. If I go to Michelle I will 100% be late and Patrick will very likely fire me. But if I don't go, Michelle will use again and may very well end up destroying her life like I did. 

Damn I hate rocks and hard places. 

As I drum the steering wheel, deciding, a break in traffic on the opposite side of the road opens up. If I was anymore spiritually minded I'd say it was a sign, but I know it's nothing more than a co-inky-dink as my daughter would say.  

Be it Devine intervention or dumb luck, either way I take the chance. I spin the wheel and hammer the gas, double white line be damned. I turn into the oncoming lane of traffic and join the flow. I get honked by annoyed drivers, but no one comes close to crashing. I put the pedal to the floor and burn rubber.

I don't really. The engine of this car is far too weak to burn rubber, but I definitely go hard on the gas.

I'm coming Michelle. Just hang in there.