Friday 4:25 p.m.
Molly tossed her bag on her shoulder and grabbed her car keys. “Come on, Julie. Quitting time. The weekend’s waiting.”
We’d been coworkers for two years, and Molly was one of the happiest people I’d ever met. Rain or shine, she came bouncing into the office each day and filled the space with smiles and laughter. Her presence made the nine-to-five drudgery worth it.
“I’m coming.” I laughed at her excitement. “What are you and Roger doing this weekend?”
“Oh, you know. Just hanging out around the house and probably going for a motorcycle ride in the mountains. Can’t wait to see if the trees are changing colors yet. What have you got planned?”
I lived vicariously through her stories each Monday morning. “Not much. Laundry, house cleaning. Some reading.”
“Girl, you need to get a life outside of work and home.”
“Yeah, maybe someday.” Truth is, I like my quiet life. I don’t need excitement; I had Molly’s stories every Monday through Friday morning.
Monday 8:42 a.m.
I glanced at Molly’s desk. True to her nature, it sat neat as a pin. Prepped and ready for the new week. Her usual routine on Friday included washing her Mikasa tea setting and placing the cup upside down on the saucer. “Don’t want dust or bugs ending up in there.” She said that pretty much every day.
Molly’s propensity for routine ruled her world at work and at home. Her gold wire-rimmed computer glasses rested atop her keyboard. The composition book where she noted down everything work-related sat closed to the right of her computer. The dog-eared pages were marked with scattered Post-it notes that stuck out all around the edges.
The notebook kept her work life in check. Other, younger coworkers laughed at her, deriding her need to write things down. “Just use OneNote,” they would tell her. But Molly was old school, and her system worked. Her productivity and accuracy blew everyone else out of the water.
Her desk was ready and waiting.
8:43 a.m.
The clock ticked over as I pondered Molly’s desk. I’d never known her to be late or miss a day of work. Thirteen minutes past the starting time screamed of chaos in her ordered world. Picking up my phone, I clicked on contacts and pulled up her number. I should call her. Make sure everything is okay. It’s not in my nature to be nosy, but I jabbed my finger on the green call button. The ringing from the speaker echoed in my cubicle.
A colorful book on the shelf in Molly’s cube caught my eye as I waited for her to pick up on the other end. She always had a book to read at lunch. Occasionally, she’d sit in the breakroom with the rest of the team and listen in on the conversations. More often than not, though, you could find her out on the bench in the courtyard with a book. She had eclectic tastes and would read everything from C.S. Lewis to the newer authors like Colleen Hoover.
8:45 a.m.
Concern nibbled at my spirit when I glanced over at Molly’s still empty chair. Should I reach out to the supervisor? My own effectiveness this morning was off, with all the thoughts about where Molly could be. Yes, I should talk to our supervisor. Molly probably called in or scheduled a day off, and they forgot to notify us. I stood and marched over to Anne’s office. Let’s settle this once and for all.
8:46 a.m.
“Excuse me, Anne. I’m sorry to bother you, but I noticed Molly wasn’t here yet and wondered if she had called off for today?”
Anne glanced up from her work, “Molly’s not here? That’s not like her. I’ll give her a call.”
My stomach flipped. “I did try to call a few minutes ago, but she didn’t answer. It’s not like Molly.”
“Well, maybe seeing my name on her phone will get her to pick up. She must have told me she’d be gone, and I’ve forgotten. Go on back to work, and I’ll let you know once I’ve talked to her.”
Reluctantly, I turned back to my cubicle. Dread danced over my spine. Molly didn’t miss work, and Anne didn’t forget when people were scheduled off.
10:00 a.m.
Molly’s empty cubicle seemed to scream at me as I walked by. The pit in my stomach was growing by the minute. Chatter filled the break room as I walked in to refill my coffee.
“Hi Julie, Where’s Molly today? We were looking forward to hearing about her weekend jaunt in the high country.”
“She’s not here.” I snapped. “Am I her keeper?”
Paul backed away. “Hey, no need to get testy. You sit next to her and are buddy-buddy, so I thought you would know.”
Great, now I feel like a worm. “Sorry. She was supposed to be here this morning, and it’s not like her to miss work. She’s not answering my calls. I’m a little worried.”
The new guy from accounting joined the small group. “I just heard there was a bad accident up near Cripple Creek this weekend. Motorcycle versus a big truck on one of those windy roads. Sounds like a couple of people died.”
Suddenly, I felt like I might throw up right then and there. Leaving the room, I headed back to my desk.
10:15 a.m.
Anne stepped into my cubicle. She looked at me and then over at Molly’s space. I didn’t like the look on her face and wished I could just squeeze past her and run away.
I focused on the organized desk of my coworker and friend.
“There’s no easy way to say this.” A quick look revealed tears in my boss’s eyes. “I got a call from Molly’s sister.”
Those words didn’t bode well, and I wanted to wash them out of my ears and pretend they were never uttered.
Her cup and saucer were ready and waiting, but Molly wasn’t.
Photo Credit: Stocksnap from Pixabay
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