Talking again

Thirty minutes later I hear a heated phone call. Victoria must have called mother back after the meeting was finished. It goes on for twenty long minutes. When the door opens, she has her bags slung over her shoulder and awkwardly trying to lock the office while also holding the phone to her ear with the dirty coffee cup hanging off a finger.

“I heard you, mom! If you hate them so much, sell them on eBay! Hold on... mom... MOM...” Apparently mom was building up a head of steam and not slowing down. Victoria finally tosses the phone and coffee cup onto the side table. She locks the door and turns to me. She looks exhausted. Her eyes look darker than before. Wrinkles that usually go unnoticed are now emphasized by fresh cracks in her makeup. Her jaw is set. I wonder if she is a sleep grinder.

“I’m leaving. You can leave early if there is nothing left to do.” Penelope’s tiny voice is still blaring away from the basket of sugar packets. Victoria adjusts her bags, then resigns herself to seeing the conversation through to the end. She picks up the phone and walks to the elevator, not bothering to put the phone to her ear until she is halfway there.