It was Christmas, and that meant she was preparing to go home. Her flight was in less than 24 hours, her bags were packed, and her secretary had just finalized the car that would take her to the airport. This would be the last day for the next two weeks for her to do anything productive. Because upon arriving at home, she was relegated to child, second-class citizen, voiceless, opinion-less, Asian daughter.
Well, she admitted, it wasn't that bad. But for somebody who was used to having her voice heard, her orders carried out, her opinions worshipped, having the opposite was like losing her legs. Unacceptable. So, today, her office was a flurry of activity as she quickly tried to cram in as much as she could. Emails, tele-conferences, and contract signings were going on simultaneously, and she had all her assistants running around the building, tracking down orders, making copies, getting her a bagel.
Her brother was holding on Line Two. She couldn't decide whether to take the call. It had been nearly five years since she last saw him, and their relationship had changed dramatically. Her older brother was always the "knowledgeable" one, the one that told her about college admission, grad-school admission, test-taking strategies, what classes to take. The one that basically planned her entire high-school and college curriculum. And though she loved him for it, she also, deep down in her heart, in the places that only came up late at night when she laid, tired but unsleeping, staring at the ceiling and listening to the orchestra outside her window, of taxicabs and buses, cars and motorcycles, entangled in her blankets and her problems, resented him.
"Don't forget to call mom and tell her when your flight arrives," the voice buzzed from the speakerphone.
"I will."
"Yea fine, but she just keeps calling me and going off about how she can't get ahold of you and doesn't know when to pick you up."
"I will."
"Why don't you just do it now? I got work to do here and can't have her calling me every half hour."
"I will." I have work to do too, jerk.
"Do it now. I'll see you tomorrow night." He had already hung up before she had a chance to respond, a chance to tell him to get off her back, to tell him to mind his own business, to tell him... but what did it matter.
These were her last few hours of control, of individuality, and she needed to get some work done. She'll have the secretary call the Mother and hold all personal calls, she'll have her assistants and associates work harder. She'll end up working until very late that night, for in her work, she found refuge; in her work she found the sanity that'll hopefully get her through these next two weeks.
Well, she admitted, it wasn't that bad. But for somebody who was used to having her voice heard, her orders carried out, her opinions worshipped, having the opposite was like losing her legs. Unacceptable. So, today, her office was a flurry of activity as she quickly tried to cram in as much as she could. Emails, tele-conferences, and contract signings were going on simultaneously, and she had all her assistants running around the building, tracking down orders, making copies, getting her a bagel.
Her brother was holding on Line Two. She couldn't decide whether to take the call. It had been nearly five years since she last saw him, and their relationship had changed dramatically. Her older brother was always the "knowledgeable" one, the one that told her about college admission, grad-school admission, test-taking strategies, what classes to take. The one that basically planned her entire high-school and college curriculum. And though she loved him for it, she also, deep down in her heart, in the places that only came up late at night when she laid, tired but unsleeping, staring at the ceiling and listening to the orchestra outside her window, of taxicabs and buses, cars and motorcycles, entangled in her blankets and her problems, resented him.
"Don't forget to call mom and tell her when your flight arrives," the voice buzzed from the speakerphone.
"I will."
"Yea fine, but she just keeps calling me and going off about how she can't get ahold of you and doesn't know when to pick you up."
"I will."
"Why don't you just do it now? I got work to do here and can't have her calling me every half hour."
"I will." I have work to do too, jerk.
"Do it now. I'll see you tomorrow night." He had already hung up before she had a chance to respond, a chance to tell him to get off her back, to tell him to mind his own business, to tell him... but what did it matter.
These were her last few hours of control, of individuality, and she needed to get some work done. She'll have the secretary call the Mother and hold all personal calls, she'll have her assistants and associates work harder. She'll end up working until very late that night, for in her work, she found refuge; in her work she found the sanity that'll hopefully get her through these next two weeks.
