A Vanishing Line of Hope

Samantha.

Five Years Later in Chicago.

“Get up already, Atlas.” I ran my hand through my son's hair as he snuggled close to me on the bed, sleeping.

Stretching his body, he blinked his eyes open. “Mummy,” His sleepy voice sounded like a whisper, filling me with the memories of Ethnan—how he sounded on that fateful day, speaking in an unsteady tone, holding onto a bottle of whiskey before he sank into my arms. “Can I go with you to work today?” Atlas's question bore some emotions.

I held my breath for a while as I caught his questioning gaze. “No, you can't, Atlas. I am meeting my boss for an important meeting this morning.”

I could hear Atlas murmuring when I rushed inside the bathroom for a quick shower, but I ignored him and turned on the shower.

“Crying? No, boy.” I blurted when I stepped out and saw Atlas facing down on the bed, sobbing.

“I want my daddy.” His eyes were glassy with tears. “Where is he?”

“Don't cry, boy,” I said in a weighty tone, cupping my hand on his chin to lift his face to meet my gaze. “Your father is stuck with work overseas. But, I promise you that he will come to you someday, perhaps soonest.”

“Does he know you leave me behind to go to work all the time and I am lonely….because….I have no one to play with?”

The helplessness in his voice penetrated my gut and I started to feel unsteady. It was the first time he had ever asked me of his father since I gave birth to him. “Atlas…Atlas.” My voice broke. “Mummy also needs to work so she can get you the best things in life. I do not mean to make you feel lonely, okay?”

He nodded his head and turned toward the closet to change from his nightwear. Even though I spoke life to him and made sure his face lit up before I left for work, I still felt deeply wounded by his concerns and the turn of my life. Had I not faced devastating betrayal from my mother my life would have turned out differently.

My mood was listless as I found my way to my workplace, but I feigned a cheerful facial expression when I stepped inside the conference room wherein my boss and work colleagues were settled.

Just like I had expected, my boss's look was tough as though he was on the verge of rage. “I think you are late, Samantha.” His voice was cold.

“I'm sorry, sir.”

“Samantha!” He craned his head to hold my gaze. “The company arranged this meeting for a vital discussion that's about you in particular.” His voice went still as his gaze lingered about for a while, creating an air of tension.

God, please, don't let me get fired. I murmured to myself. I looked at the faces of my colleagues and they all seemed to be at ease, some even had a hint of a smile at the corners of their lips.

“Surprise! Surprise!” Their voices sounded at once, in chorus, as my boss sprang up and his face instantly transitioned into a big smile. “Congratulations, Samantha.” His voice was calm, and for once I was a bit confused.

“What's happening here? Please, can someone explain to me?”

The chorusing voices fell still and my boss cleared his throat. “Samantha, your contributions to this company over the years have been impressive and aspiring, so I thought there's no better way to crown your tremendous efforts than to elevate your position in the company.” His lips stretched with a smile. “Samantha, it's an absolute honor to announce to you that you have been elevated to the position of general manager.”

“No way.” I managed to keep my tone low as excitement flushed my stomach. “This is the best news of my life. I feel honored.”

“You have earned it and you deserve it, Samantha.” He affirmed. “You are so dedicated when it comes to executing your passion.”

I nearly refuted his statement and told him that I learned to be a well skilled interior decorator to have my bills paid because poverty caused the biggest betrayal I ever faced in my life. “Thank you, sir.” I said instead.

“Samantha.” His tone was a bit serious now. “It's now within your duty to have direct contact with our present and future clients.” He paused to glance at his mobile phone for a while. “And some of these clients might demand you to travel down to their location for proper surveys.”

“Alright, sir.”

“Distance doesn't matter.” He added.

Distance doesn't matter. I repeated his statement mentally and the only thought on my mind was Atlas's. How much distance could come between me and my son just to have my bills paid? The news that was exciting to me earlier now felt as though a vanishing line of hope.