PART 3
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
I looked at my hands.
The same hands that had held the steering wheel every morning for almost a year. The same hands that had scraped ice off my windshield during winter, paid for gas, carried groceries, and helped my mother whenever she needed something.
And now someone was telling my boss that I had been threatening him.
“Sir, that’s not true.”
“I know you, Gabriel. That’s why I’m calling you instead of making a decision based on one message.”
I swallowed.
“I told him yesterday that I couldn’t pick him up because my mother needed to go to the hospital. I have all the messages. I never threatened him. I simply told him I couldn’t do it.”
“Did you tell him that your mother was having a medical emergency?”
“Yes. Several times.”
“And what did he say?”
I hesitated.
I didn’t want to repeat those words. Somehow, saying them aloud made them sound even uglier.
But Donovan deserved to know.
“He told me to leave my mother at the hospital because she wasn’t alone. He said I should go pick him up because he didn’t want to take the bus.”
There was complete silence.
Then Donovan spoke.
“Did he really say that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Gabriel, send me screenshots of the entire conversation. Don’t delete anything. And don’t argue with him anymore.”
“Okay.”
“Also, stay with your mother. Work can wait.”
I almost broke down at those words.
“Thank you, sir.”
“One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t worry about Isaac’s transportation. He’s an adult. He can figure it out.”
The call ended.
I sat there staring at my phone.
For the first time that morning, someone had reminded me that I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
I sent Donovan the screenshots.
There were seventeen messages, five missed calls, and the audio recording.
I included everything.
Then I placed my phone beside me and leaned back against the wall.
I wanted to believe the worst part of the morning was over.
I was wrong.
At 8:23, my sister called.
“Gabriel, how’s Mom?”
I stood up immediately.
“She’s still getting scans. We haven’t heard anything yet.”
“Have you spoken to a doctor?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh, God.”
I could hear her trying not to cry.
“Listen, I’m leaving work. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay. Drive carefully.”
After hanging up, I looked toward the double doors.
I had never felt so helpless.
My mother had raised me alone after my father passed away. She had worked two jobs, skipped meals when money was tight, and made sure I never felt like I was missing anything.
When I was twelve, she sold her wedding necklace to pay for my school expenses.
When I was twenty, she worked overtime so I could finish college.
And when I got my first job, she cried more than I did.
She always told me the same thing.
“Gabriel, never forget that people will remember how you treated them when you had nothing. So don’t let having a little more make you forget where you came from.”
I had carried those words into adulthood.
Maybe that was why I had helped Isaac for so long.
I thought being a good person meant making life easier for others whenever I could.
I hadn’t realized that some people mistake kindness for an obligation.
At 8:41, a doctor finally came through the doors.
“Family of Amanda Adams?”
I jumped up.
“That’s me. I’m her son.”
He checked the papers in his hand.
“Your mother is stable at the moment. We’re conducting additional tests because her symptoms are concerning for a possible cardiac event.”
I felt my knees weaken.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“We’re monitoring her closely. We don’t want to make assumptions until we have the results.”
“Can I see her?”
“In a little while.”
I nodded.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
He walked away.
I sat down again and covered my face with both hands.
Stable.
It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it was enough to let me breathe.
A few minutes later, my sister arrived.
She was still wearing her work clothes, her hair tied back, and her handbag hanging from one shoulder.
“Where is she?”
“Still inside.”
She sat beside me and grabbed my arm.
“Why didn’t you call me earlier?”
“I didn’t want you to panic.”
“Gabriel, she’s our mother. I have a right to panic.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then she noticed my expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
I handed her my phone.
She read the messages from Isaac.
At first, she frowned.
Then her expression changed.
“Who is this man?”
“Isaac. My coworker.”
“Why is he talking to you like that?”
I shrugged.
“Apparently, because I couldn’t pick him up.”
My sister scrolled through the messages again.
Then she stopped at the one where Isaac had written:
“Well, leave your mom there. She’s in a hospital, she’s not alone.”
She stared at it for several seconds.
“Gabriel.”
“What?”
“Please tell me you aren’t still planning to give this man rides.”
I didn’t answer.
She shook her head.
“You’re serious?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me make something clear. You have spent almost a year helping him. You never asked for gas money. You never demanded anything. And today, when our mother is in the emergency room, he can’t even show basic human decency?”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
She handed my phone back.
“That man isn’t your friend.”
I looked at the floor.
“I think I’m starting to understand that.”
Then her eyes moved to my screen.
“Who’s Donovan Carter?”
“My boss.”
“Why is he messaging you?”
I explained what had happened.
She became even more upset.
“He contacted your boss?”
“Yes.”
“After telling you to abandon Mom?”
“Yes.”
She leaned back and let out a long breath.
“Unbelievable.”
For the next twenty minutes, we sat together.
Sometimes we talked about Mom.
Sometimes we said nothing.
Then my phone started vibrating again.
Isaac.
I ignored it.
Another message arrived.
“Are you seriously ignoring me?”
I turned the screen off.
A few seconds later, another notification appeared.
This one was from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hey Gabriel, this is Marcus from the office. Is everything okay? Isaac is telling everyone you abandoned him this morning and got him in trouble.”
I looked at my sister.
She read the message over my shoulder.
“Don’t respond,” she said.
But I couldn’t help wondering what exactly Isaac had told everyone.
I opened the office group chat.
There were several unread messages.
Most of them were ordinary work conversations.
But then I saw a message from Isaac.
It had been sent at 8:12.
“Some people pretend to be good friends until you actually need them. I’ve learned my lesson today.”
A coworker replied.
“What happened?”
Isaac answered:
“Gabriel promised to take me to work, then decided to abandon me because he had some family issue. Now I’m probably going to get written up.”
Another coworker wrote:
“That’s unfortunate. Hope everything works out.”
Isaac responded:
“Honestly, I don’t expect anything from people anymore.”
I stared at the screen.
Family issue.
That was how he described my mother being rushed to the emergency room.
I felt something inside me change.
Not anger exactly.
Something colder.
I had spent eleven months worrying about whether Isaac would be late, whether he had somewhere to be, whether he would be comfortable during the drive.
And apparently, he had spent those same eleven months believing my time belonged to him.
I closed the group chat.
“Are you okay?” my sister asked.
I nodded.
“I’m just tired.”
Then, at 9:16, Donovan called again.
“Gabriel, are you able to talk?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve reviewed everything you sent me.”
I waited.
“There’s something else you should know.”
My stomach tightened.
“What is it?”
“Isaac didn’t just send me one message.”
I sat up.
“What do you mean?”
“He sent me an email last night, before your mother was taken to the hospital.”
I stared at the phone.
“Last night?”
“Yes. He claimed that you’ve been using company time to provide transportation for him and that your arrangement has caused problems with your punctuality.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“He also suggested that you’ve been asking him for money to cover gas expenses.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t process what I had heard.
“Sir, I’ve never asked Isaac for money.”
“I know. But I need to ask you something. Have you ever been late because you were picking him up?”
I thought carefully.
There had been mornings when Isaac overslept.
Mornings when traffic was terrible.
Mornings when he asked me to stop at a convenience store because he needed breakfast.
But I had always planned around those delays.
“I’ve occasionally arrived a few minutes later than usual, but I always made up the time. And I’ve never used company time to drive him anywhere. I pick him up before work, on my own time.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Why would he make something like that up?”
Donovan didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Because he may have wanted to get ahead of a complaint.”
“What complaint?”
“Gabriel, Isaac has been late several times this month. HR has already spoken to him about his attendance. Yesterday, he told management that his transportation problems were caused by another employee.”
I felt my mouth go dry.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
I looked at my sister.
She could tell something serious was happening.
Donovan continued.
“According to his explanation, you had agreed to provide him with transportation every day, and you had suddenly become unreliable. He suggested that the company should consider your behavior when reviewing his attendance record.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was unbelievable.
“Sir, he never paid me a cent. I never signed anything. I never promised him anything. I was just helping someone who needed a ride.”
“I understand.”
“And now he’s blaming me for his attendance?”
“That’s what it appears to be.”
I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees.
“Sir, I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything yet. HR is reviewing the situation. I’ve asked them to preserve the emails and messages. You should continue keeping your records as well.”
“Okay.”
“And Gabriel?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let this distract you from your mother.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thank you.”
After the call, my sister took my phone.
“What happened now?”
I told her everything.
She shook her head slowly.
“So he knew he was having attendance problems, and he decided to make you responsible?”
“Apparently.”
“That is not a friend. That’s someone using you.”
I didn’t respond.
Because deep down, I already knew.
At 10:02, the doctor finally allowed us to see Mom.
My sister and I walked into the room together.
Amanda was lying in a hospital bed with a heart monitor attached to her chest. Her purse was resting on the chair beside her.
When she saw us, she smiled weakly.
“Look at my two children. You both came.”
My sister immediately went to her side.
“Of course we came, Mom.”
I pulled a chair closer.
“How are you feeling?”
“A little tired.”
“Does your chest still hurt?”
“Not as much.”
The doctor had explained that they were continuing to monitor her while waiting for the test results.
