Saturday Story 

Happy Saturday, everyone! Please enjoy reading part 12 of my first Saturday Story below. (If you’re new to my blog, you can read parts 1-5 here, parts 6-10 here and part 11 here.) I look forward to posting part 13 next Saturday.

Give your life the green light. It’s A Go!

Amber Green

Rags to Riches: Part 12 

To Riches:

Priscilla was sitting in her home theatre that had been outfitted with luxury recliners and custom art. An alcove housed a popcorn machine, a milkshake bar and a soda fountain. She sat before a screen that stretched the length of the wall that was more akin to those in movie theatres than the big-screen television her husband, Luke was thrilled to purchase just a few years ago.

Priscilla reclined in her chair and flipped through the channels. It had been weeks since she gave herself some time to relax; life was different now, but it was still a whirlwind of responsibilities. Her so-called type A personality didn’t help, as she was a lifelong perfectionist- oftentimes, to her own detriment.

Priscilla grew up the eldest of her siblings; her parents looked to her when she was a kid to set a good example for her sister, Franca and brother, Chris; an expectation she not only achieved, but regularly surpassed. As an adult, Priscilla was a high achiever and wonderful mother; equal parts intelligent businesswoman and nurturing caregiver. Being part of a tight-knit family was a blessing, but Priscilla simply didn’t know when to say “no”. No matter how many people requested something of her, she seemed to juggle everything flawlessly, as Priscilla was relied upon for so many things by so many people- and she secretly worried about not being able to stack up.

Like most parents, Priscilla worried about her boys. Compounded by her day-to-day stresses, sometimes the worry was just too much. It was not uncommon for anxiety and worry- especially when it came to her boys- to plague her. She hid her fears- her anxiety- behind a smile, and carried on.

Luke was her rock. Priscilla was fortunate to have him, as he was aware of the impossibly high standards that she set for herself. He stepped in often to remind her to take some time for herself. Still, as attuned to his wife’s needs as Luke seemed to be, he didn’t know how bad it could get- how Priscilla suffered. This past week, Priscilla struggled silently. Noting that she seemed a little run down, Luke suggested that she take some time for herself, so he took the boys out and left Priscilla to recharge.

Priscilla started watching a talk show about people living paycheque to paycheque; stressed about their jobs and anxiety about their day-to-day lives. Financial security wasn’t the main theme of the show, but each guest brought up the fact that more money would certainly ease their woes. Priscilla reflected on this, as she had lived with some financial instability and (now) great wealth. Money helped to alleviate certain issues (not worrying about paying bills was nice), but the icy grip of anxiety and self-doubt that threatened to swallow her like a back hole still loomed over Priscilla from time to time.

Perhaps she should finally talk to a professional about this.

……

From Rags:

“Hey,” I said, as my sister answered her phone.

“Hey,” Priscilla said. “How was the rest of your night?”

“I don’t know, actually,” I responded honestly.

“You weren’t that drunk when Chris and Dave dropped you off,” Priscilla reasoned.

“No, I was tipsy then; ‘drunk’ occurred a couple of pitchers of margaritas later. Anna had friends over,” I explained.

“Oh. You okay?”

I paused. “Yes, but I would love to talk to you about something; do you have time for coffee later?”

“Uh-oh. Boy trouble?”

“Maybe,” I confessed. “We’re in our thirties. Does it ever become ‘man trouble’?” I asked.

“Is Kevin acting like a man when you’re experiencing these problems?”

I could feel my sister smiling through the phone. Good point. “No,” I responded, and chuckled at my sister’s wit. “See you later.”

“Bye,” Priscilla said.

Priscilla hadn’t had time to put her phone back in her purse before it rang again.

“Hello?”

“Hi honey,” Priscilla’s mother, Melanie, greeted her brightly.

“Hi Ma,” Priscilla said, happily.

“Honey, I know you’re busy, but could you pick up ink for our printer? Your father always gets the wrong one.”

“Uh, yeah, Ma, sure, but you know their employees will help him find the right one, right?” Priscilla said, gently.

“I know, but he almost broke the printer trying to install it last time. Could you come over and do it? It doesn’t have to be today.”

Priscilla heard her father in the background. “Did you tell her about my cell phone? The damn thing won’t work,” he exclaimed in frustration.

“I heard,” Priscilla said.

“Maybe you could help us with that, too?” Her mother asked.

“Sure, mom, but it will have to be after dinner,” Priscilla said.

“Tomorrow’s okay, too,” her mother said.

“No, I can’t tomorrow. Today’s okay,” Priscilla assured her mother, as her call waiting beeped, urging her to answer a call from her brother.

“Okay. Thank you, honey. Love you,” Melanie said.

“Love you, too. Bye,” Priscilla responded. She ended the call with her mother, and answered her call waiting. “Hi Chris,” Priscilla said. “I just got off the phone to Frankie, then Mom. You’re my third call in a row. What’s up?”

“Hey! Well, you’re used to that,” Chris said. “We’re always in touch.”

That’s true, but not generally in the span of five minutes, Priscilla thought.

“I love those work boots you got for me,” Chris said, “Luke said that you’re going to the mall to pick out gifts for the boys’ friends. Could you pick me up another pair while you’re there?”

“Sure,” Priscilla said. “I have to get to work now, okay? Talk to you later,” Priscilla said.

“Great! Thanks! Bye,” Chris said, and disconnected.

 …

 With such a busy home life, sometimes Priscilla felt that her job offered her a little peace. That was not the case today, as everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. By lunch time, Priscilla was worn out.

Her cell phone buzzed; it was the boys’ school.

“Hello?” Priscilla answered.

“Yes, hello. This is Ms. White; may I speak to Mrs. Bruno-Rhodes, please?”

“Yes, hello, Ms. White. This is she. Is everything okay?” Priscilla inquired, her pulse increasing a little.

“Well, it has come to our attention that Nicholas has been bullied. I would like you and Mr. Rhodes to come in to discuss it with us,” Ms. White explained.

Priscilla paused for a moment. Stunned, she asked, “My Nicholas has been bullied?”

“Yes. We’ve had a problem with a couple of students bullying others. As you know, we have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying, and there was an altercation between them and your son today. Everything is fine, but we’d like to be as proactive as we can in reference to this matter through open dialogue,” Ms. White said, as if reciting a memorized line from the student handbook. “Could you and Mr. Rhodes meet with me today after school?”

“Yes, of course. I will pick up my son shortly,” Priscilla said, mentally assessing her already packed day.

“That’s your decision, but everything really is fine. Nicholas will be okay until the end of the day,” Ms. White assured her.

Priscilla wasn’t convinced, but she decided to call Luke before deciding. “Okay. Thank you, Ms. White,” Priscilla said, and disconnected. Priscilla sat for a moment. How could I not have known that my child is being bullied? Why wouldn’t he have told me? He hasn’t been acting differently, she thought, but maybe I haven’t been paying attention, and missed the signs, she thought, guiltily.

Luke answered his phone on the second ring.

“Hey,” he answered, sounding relaxed.

“Hey. Nick’s school called. He’s been bullied,” Priscilla said in one breath.

“Really?” Luke asked, sounding surprised. “Did they give you any details?”

“No,” Priscilla answered shrilly, “but they want to meet with us after school. Can you make it? I think I should go pick him up now.”

“Uh- yeah, of course I can make it, and no, you shouldn’t pick him up. The school would’ve told you to pick him up, if needed,” Luke said. “You’re sounding stressed. It’s okay. Everyone was bullied when we were kids. Schools have to be careful, but I’m sure everything’s fine.” He paused. “Are you okay? I have a feeling that you’re mentally reviewing parenting blogs and terrible news articles as we speak,” he said, gently.

He knows me too well, Priscilla thought.

“We’ll meet with the school, and then take the boys out for pizza,” he said.

“Okay, but you’ll have to take the boys home after dinner. I have to go to the mall, buy gifts for the kids’ friends and another pair of boots for Chris, buy printer ink, stop by my parents’ house and meet Frankie for coffee,” Priscilla said.

“Exactly how many hours does your day have?” Luke asked.

“It’s a busy week, or else I would shuffle things around,” Priscilla explained. “I can manage.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to,” Luke reminded her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. See you at the school,” Priscilla said.

“See you then. Bye,” Luke said and disconnected.

I can’t believe I didn’t know what was going on, Priscilla admonished herself, privately. How did I not know? Oh my gosh, I hope CJ and Jordan aren’t being bullied, too. Priscilla thought, anxiously.

………

Note from the author:

I write each post close to (or on) my self-imposed Saturday deadline each week, however, I follow a weekly outline that I created for numerous posts of Rags to Riches about five weeks ago.

Upon reviewing my outline for this week (in which Priscilla deals with anxiety, and she reflects on the ways in which substantial wealth does not solve all of one’s problems), I paused at the thought of writing the above, as Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain (people who lived what seemed to be picture-perfect lives) committed suicide this week.

Though I never met either of these two individuals (I’m just a freelance writer living in Canada), I was rocked by news of their deaths. If you are experiencing mental health issues or entertaining thoughts of self harm, please reach out to your trusted support system and seek professional help immediately. If you notice a change in someone’s behaviour or get a gut-feeling that something is not right with someone you care about, please offer assistance. As long as it’s done in a caring and sensitive manner, I feel that we must risk NOT minding our own business in order to offer a helping hand from time to time. It’s up to us to reach out to each other, to check in and provide support when life gets tough (even if everything appears to be prefect to the outside world).

Loneliness and depression knows no limitations and does not discriminate.

The world is a better place with you in it. Thank you for reading.

…

Please enjoy Rags to Riches: Part 13 here.

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

© 2018 Amber Green