What Did I Do?

What Did I Do?

I have no idea, Jake; I'm just so glad you found me...

Nadine glances over the wall of her cubical at the clock. The hands of the clock read 6:45. That's twenty-eight more calls before quitting time, she quickly calculated. Nadine had only worked at the call center for seven months, but measuring your business day in the number of calls handled promptly became second nature. Production was drilled into their heads from day one. Speed, accuracy, courtesy, speed, accuracy, courtesy -- greet the caller within one ring, assess their need as quickly as possible, assist as much as possible, and politely get them off the phone. There is always another call waiting, and the process starts all over again.

Her cubical did not face the window, as a Customer Services Rep had to be there at least three years before you could work your way to that side of the bullpen. But she could see the reflection of sunlight off the ceiling tiles as the sky began to slowly turn a dusky orange. Another sunset was about to occur just outside her line of sight. The only light she was allowed was the glare of aging fluorescents and the glow of her computer screen as it told of her next call.

Nadine was on the Blue Team, which meant her shift was 11 AM to 8 PM five days a week. She often wondered, why blue? She realized it was just an arbitrary name, but was there some hidden meaning to it? Blue because working these hours was so depressing, blue to trick us into thinking there would still be daylight outside when our shift ended, or was it that we just simply turned blue as they squeezed the life out of us and called it your job?

She sat slumped in her chair, like silly putty in its egg, and slowly turned to her computer screen as the tone in her headset announced her next caller was waiting. The caller's name, account number, last payment, and current balance were already showing on her monitor as she started to reach for her mouse. She waited momentarily to see what, if any, notes would show up in the comment section of the screen before she clicked the mouse to answer the call.

Just as her eyes began to focus on the screen and her mind began processing the words, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Startled, she threw her head back to see who it was. It was Mike, her supervisor. Nadine retracted her hand a split second before a simple tap of her finger would have had her live-on-line with the next customer in the queue.

Mike was only a few years older than Nadine, but he had worked at the center for almost ten years, an eternity in the customer service world. He towered over her, but only because she still sat slumped in her chair. He was probably only 5'8" or 9," and his gaunt frame made him look more like a scarecrow than a healthy adult male.

Though smoking was not allowed anywhere on call center property, Nadine was sure he smoked as he always had that air of stale cigarette smoke and Old Spice that hung in an invisible cloud around him. His cheeks were drawn and looked like big dimples on his pear-shaped face, and his thick mustache made him look like something straight out of the 70s.

"What," Nadine asked before slipping off her headset and then asking again, "what?"

"I need to see you in my office," he said as he jerked his head towards the door.

"Now?" she said.

He didn't speak but turned and started to walk toward his office. This was actually a relief, Nadine thought as she threw her headset on the desk, clicked her console to busy, and fumbled to find her shoes from under the desk.

Mike was already standing at the door of his office by the time she stepped out into the aisle. She tried to put a smile on her face as she hurried toward him, but what did he want? Did I do something wrong, she asked herself? He wasn't smiling, so I must have done something wrong. Her mind raced with every step. Was I rude; was I discourteous to a customer?

She couldn't think of anything, as issues like that are usually discussed in team meetings on Tuesday mornings. But he wasn't smiling, so something must be up. What did I do?

He stood by the door as she entered and took a seat. He then closed the door behind her. This was serious, she thought to herself as he rarely closed his door. He dropped himself into his chair and, without even a pause, looked her straight in the eye and said, "Nadine, we're not going to need your services anymore." There was then a short pause before he said, "Get your personal effects... you can leave now, and we'll pay you through the end of the day."

Nadine sat stunned, speechless. The butterflies in her stomach instantly transformed into a mass of seething snakes. She thought for a moment that she might actually throw up. A large lump immediately formed in her throat, and her eyes began to fill with tears. Her face flushed as she tried to speak.

"What... what did I do?" she said as she tried to maintain whatever dignity she had left.

"We just don't need you anymore," he said, stone-faced as he leaned back in his chair. "You've got the rest of the day off with pay -- just make sure I get your badge and security card before you leave."

Nadine tried to move, but her legs just would not carry her to her feet. "What did I do?" she pleaded one more time.

Mike sat expressionless and continued to stare straight through her as if she weren't even there.

She slowly rose to her feet and turned to walk toward the door. I won't cry, I won't cry; she kept telling herself. Her slow shuffle had almost become a sprint as she made it back to her workstation. She quickly gathered her belongings, left her badge and security card on the desk, and headed for the front door without a word to anyone.

It was still daylight when she reached her car. The sky was clear, and the air was fresh and crisp against her flushed face. Tears leaked one at a time from her brimming eyes as she repeated over and over, I will not cry, I will not cry.

As she left the parking lot, she turned her car west into the setting sun. She flicked the visor down as the brilliant light hit her directly in the face. "Just tell me why, what did I do?" she kept repeating as she now wiped tear after tear from her face. Her right foot pressed hard against the accelerator as the events of the last several weeks repeatedly played through her mind.

The sun again dipped below the visor and now hit her squarely between the eyes. As she fumbled to find her sunglasses, she failed to notice that the traffic on both sides of her had begun to slow. The orange glow of light before her now turned to bright red. She wiped the tears from her squinting eyes as her right foot pressed harder and harder forward, totally oblivious that the traffic on both sides of her had come to a complete stop. "What did I do?"

* * * * *

Nadine squinted, trying to recognize the pale blue-white light now glaring down at her. Her head hurt so badly she couldn't fully open her eyes, and within moments of first trying to focus, she closed them again and drifted off back to sleep.

"Nadine... Nadine," she heard a voice say. She slowly opened her eyes to that cold, pale blue-white light. It was fluorescent light, like at the office, only different. "Nadine, you're in the hospital -- can you hear me?" the voice said again. She slowly opened her eyes just as someone's face bent over her and shielded her from the blue-white light.

"Hey, good morning Nadine, I'm Bonnie, and you are in the hospital. Do you remember what happened to you?"

Her head hurt so badly that it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. "No," she finally uttered, "where am I -- what happened?"

Her eyes started to focus on the smiling face peering down at her. "You were in an accident, Nadine, a pretty serious one. You've been here for two days -- we weren't sure when you'd wake up."

"Are you, my doctor?" Nadine asked in a trembling voice.

"No, I'm one of your nurses. You were brought in two days ago. The paramedics found your ID, but we couldn't find any relatives of any kind. Is there anyone we should call -- do you have family, parents, a husband?" the nurse patiently asked.

"No," Nadine slowly responded.

"We couldn't find your employer, so we didn't know who to call. The police went by your apartment, and the manager didn't have any emergency contact information on you either." Nadine didn't respond; she just stared at the ceiling. "Where do you work, Nadine? I'm sure they are worried about you," the nurse said.

"I don't have a job," Nadine said as her voice started to choke with emotion. "I mean, I did -- I was fired today -- I meant yesterday -- I mean, the last thing I remember is -- I was fired."

The nurse began to understand, "Okay, Nadine -- you just rest. But are you sure there is no one we should call?"

Nadine never answered -- she just drifted off back to sleep.

The following morning Nadine was awakened by a new voice. "Nadine, good morning. I'm Kerry Beckman; I'm a social worker here at the hospital."

"A social worker?" Nadine asked.

"Yes, I understand that you have not been able to provide any next of kin. Is that right?" Kerry asked in a sympathetic voice.

"My head hurts," Nadine responded. "What happened to me?"

Kerry took Nadine's hand, "You were in a terrible accident. You were brought in by paramedics two days ago, well, almost three days ago now. They found your ID in your purse, but I think, as the nurse told you, they couldn't find any next of kin or any emergency contact information. They also couldn't find your cell phone, or they would have called your contact list. So, I know someone is missing you, but we don't know who to call."

"I don't have anybody," Nadine slowly answered. And after a slight pause, she asked, "How is my car?"

"Well, as I understand it, your car did not survive. Actually, you're in a lot better shape than your car," Kerry jokingly added, trying to get a smile.

It didn't work; Nadine almost broke into tears, hearing the news of her car. "I've got nothing," Nadine said, trying again not to cry.

Kerry realizing her attempt to cheer Nadine up, fell flat. She took a deep breath, and clasping Nadine's hand with both of hers, said, "Nadine, you have your life, and you will be okay. The doctors have told me you will fully recover. Now I know there must be people who are worried about you. Can I call your parents, a brother or sister -- maybe a boyfriend?"

Trying to wipe tears from her face but frustrated by the IV in her arm, she said, "I've got nobody; my car was all I had -- now that is gone."

Kerry, taking a tissue, dabbed the tears from Nadine's face. "Well, some guy has been coming by every day to check on you -- do you know who that might be?"

Nadine looked up and asked, "Who's coming by? I don't know anybody here. I don't have a brother or a boyfriend."

This was the most reaction Kerry had gotten from Nadine, so she felt encouraged by that. "I don't know who he is, but he seems very concerned about you."

"What does he look like," Nadine asks?

"Oh, I don't know. He's probably in his early thirties, about six feet tall, with dark hair -- he was wearing work clothes and boots. Do you know anyone like that?"

Nadine thinks for a moment, "No -- I don't know anybody like that. My head hurts, I hurt all over," she complains as she tries again to move her arms.

Well, you had a severe concussion, a broken arm, and several broken ribs. It's no wonder you hurt all over," Kerry said. "Your airbags saved your life -- the paramedics told me you probably would have been killed if it wasn't for the airbags."

Nadine hadn't realized her left arm was in a cast, which certainly explained the pain she was in. But she was now far more interested in who was coming to check on her every day. That physical description certainly wasn't Mike or anyone else from the office, for that matter. And though she didn't really know her neighbors all that well. It didn't sound like any of them either. It was just so hard for her to think. However, after a short pause, she asked, "What about my cat? I have a cat in my apartment."

Kerry let go of Nadine's hand and opened the file she had in her lap. "The police went by your apartment to look for next of kin or any other personal contact information. The apartment manager let them in, and she said she would take care of your cat until you were able to return home," Kerry said. "Is that okay?"

Nadine nodded, yes.

"What's your cat's name?" Kerry asked.

"Othello," Nadine said slowly and then added with a faint smile, "He's black and white -- can you go check on him?"

"Yes, of course," Kerry responded with a smile of her own. "And when I'm at your apartment, is there anything I can bring you -- robe, toothbrush, change of clothes?"

"Yes," Nadine said. And then, almost with a laugh, asked, "Do I have any teeth left to brush?"

Kerry did laugh at that, "Yes, Nadine, I don't think you lost any teeth. I'll get you a change of clothes, and I'll check on Othello. And are you sure there is no one I can call to let them know where you are?"

The smile quickly faded from Nadine's face, "Thank you, but no. There isn't anyone."

After making a few notes, Kerry closed her file and left the room. Nadine surveyed her new surroundings for the first time and tried to adjust herself to a more comfortable position. There was not much hope of that, and as she tried to figure out the nurse's call button, the thought of who might be coming to check on her kept racing through her mind.

That afternoon she finally met her doctor, who gave an update on her injuries, and the hospital physical therapist got her up and walked her to the bathroom while housekeeping changed her bed. She felt better, but with a cast on one arm and IVs plugged into the other, the nursing staff still had to help her eat her first meal in three days.

She asked everyone if they knew who her mystery visitor was, and no one had any idea. As dinner was served that evening and Nadine debated how she would feed herself, a figure appeared in the doorway to her room. She looked up, and to her surprise, it was her mystery visitor. Just as described, he was tall, in his early thirties, and wearing what appeared to be dirty construction workers' clothing.

A smile filled Nadine's face for the first time in days. "Hi," she said, "you must be my mystery visitor."

"Yeah -- Hi, I'm Jake," he said in an uneasy voice.

"The nurses told me you had stopped by several times," Nadine said.

"Yeah, I just wanted to make sure -- I mean to see if you were alright," he said, still stumbling for words.

"Well, I've been better," Nadine answered. And finally, with a faint smile, she asked, "Do I know you?"

"Uh -- I'm the one that hit you," he said as he started to enter the room. "You just ran that red light, and there was no way I could stop."

"Oh," Nadine said, "so that's what happened."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said as he started to explain. "I had the green light, and you just shot out right in front of me -- there was no way I could have stopped."

"Oh, don't call me Ma'am -- I'm Nadine," she said. She tried to raise a hand to greet him but only tangled her arm further in her IV.

"I'm so sorry, Nadine," he continued before she could cut him off with a feeble wave of her entangled appendage.

"Were you hurt?" Nadine asked.

"Oh no -- I was driving a dump truck. You didn't even see me coming. I had the green light," Jake tried to explain as he moved closer to her bed.

There was a pause before Nadine said, "It wasn't your fault Jake. I had just lost my job -- I was fired. I was crying, and the sun was hitting me in the eyes. And I think I was looking for my sunglasses. It wasn't your fault -- it was mine."

"You lost your job?" Jake exclaimed.

"Yes -- I was pretty upset. A dump truck, huh -- no wonder there is nothing left of my car," Nadine said slowly.

"I thought I'd killed you," Jake said. "I'm so glad you're okay -- I mean, will be okay. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Nadine glanced down at the dinner plate on the tray in front of her. "Well, you can feed me," she said with a slight laugh.

"Sure," he said as he moved up next to her bed. "I've never actually fed anyone before," picking up her knife and fork.

"Well, I haven't been fed by anyone before, at least not since I was a baby," Nadine said with a smile. "We'll just have to figure it out together."

Jake showed up at her bedside again the following morning to help her with breakfast, only in clean work clothes. And then again that evening with boots caked with mud and clothes stained with sweat. And with each appearance, Nadine's face brightened as he entered her room. And he stayed longer and longer at her bedside with each visit.

The second morning he entered carrying her breakfast with him. As he set it on the tray stand and positioned it in front of her, she announced, "The doctor said I'm going home today."

"Really," Jake exclaimed with a bit of surprise. "That's great."

"Yeah," Nadine said. "But what's for me at home? Without my car, I don't even know how I'm going to get there."

"I can take you," Jake said after an awkward pause.

Now Nadine was the one pausing. She wanted Jake to take her home, but she didn't know this guy from Adam. After all, he did just about kill her -- and he did kill her car. A smile slowly filled her face, "Okay," she said.

"Really," Jake exclaimed for a second time. "I mean, sure -- I'd be happy to take you home. I owe you that much -- really -- I do."

"Okay," Nadine said. "They have to get all these damn wires and tubes out of me. That should be some time this morning. The nurse said the doctor would be by around three or four for one final check and that he would very likely release me before dinner."

"Okay, I'll be here at four o'clock. And if you're ready to go, I'll take you home," Jake said as he beamed with excitement.

Straight-up four o'clock, Jake's smiling face appeared in Nadine's hospital doorway. "Oh, my God," Nadine said as she looked up at him, "you clean up really well."

"Well, I took the afternoon off," Jake explained. "If I'm going to take care of you tonight -- I mean through dinner -- huh, get you home." Jake stumbled for words as he was now blushing.

"I know what you mean, Jake," Nadine said sweetly. She was no longer in bed but sitting in a lounge chair, fully dressed, with her arm in a cast and sling. The tubes and wires were all gone, the color was back in her face, and Nadine genuinely looked happy. "I'm just excited to be going home and seeing my cat," she said. But the truth of the matter was that she was happy to see Jake and that he was the one taking her home.

"Are you ready to go?" Jake asks.

"You bet," she said. "But there may be a problem. My hip is very bruised, and I don't think I can climb stairs. I live on the second floor, and my apartment doesn't have an elevator."

"Don't worry, Nadine, I'll carry you up the stairs if I have to," Jake immediately responded.

Though Nadine didn't see how that would be possible, that was secretly the exact answer she wanted to hear.

Upon arriving at Nadine's apartment, the apartment manager rushed to meet them. She carried Nadine's paper bag of clothes and personal effects from the hospital while Jake helped Nadine up the stairs. He didn't actually have to carry her, but he was very accommodating as she leaned on him with every step.

Once inside, and as Nadine hugged Othello in a heartfelt reunion, Jake said. "Okay, I guess I'd better be going."

Still holding Othello in her uncast arm, Nadine quickly said, "Oh no -- don't go. Can't you stay; there is nothing in the house to eat."

Jake was hoping she'd invite him to stay, but he didn't know how to ask. "Okay, I can stay, but what about dinner -- should I order something?" he asks.