My jaw drops. I hear Greta say, “Oh my goodness. That’s terrible.” She must’ve just read the email, too.
My head is spinning. Is this real? Essex was just telling me how he was at his parent’s house this past weekend and now his mother is gone? Is this why he was so confrontational with me? Why he was bitter?
Jake says, “Ay, y’all see that email Shanice just sent? The dictator’s mom passed. I’m sure he won’t shed a tear.”
“Jake, that’s not cool. Chill,” I say. I’m not defending Essex – it’s just the situation. His mother died. He mentioned she was sick, but I didn’t realize she was that sick. And he’d said she wanted to see him married. To see her grandkids. She won’t get to experience any of that now. I’m nearly heartbroken for him. How is he taking this news? A part of me longs to know. I don’t care how ill-mannered he is – losing someone you love is one of the most painful things in the world – doesn’t matter how old they are.
“That’s crazy,” Zahara says, walking over to my desk.
Greta turns around and we’re all looking at each other trying to reconcile this.
“Dang. That’s gotta hurt. I can’t imagine,” Zahara says.
“Yeah,” Greta says. “I was all to pieces when I lost my mama. Whew. This is something. We’ll have to send him some flowers or something.”
I nod.
Greta says, “Look, we all know Mr. DePaul is a hard boss to get along with, but the reality of it is, he’s human and he has feelings just like us. Let’s try to be supportive.”
“Yeah,” Zahara says.
I nod again. I don’t have much to say. I’m actually worried about him. The Essex outside of the office is a more sensible man – the man who took me to lunch and helped me paint my accent wall. The man who bought me furniture. I wonder how he’s doing with all of this.
Realizing it’s not my place to inquire about his family business, I just sit here and think about what I could possibly do to show my support. Even though he’ll probably act like he doesn’t, I think he needs it more than anything right now.