Excess Baggage

Excess Baggage
By Debbie Roppolo



“I don’t care if it is Friday, I want those reports on my desk first thing Monday morning!” Cheryl McAdams screamed into the phone. She twisted the receiver cord around her finger as she listened to the assistant babble another excuse.

“Oh sure you could have the reports done by Tuesday. Then after you hand them in, you can go home and explain to your pregnant wife why you don’t have a job.” Cheryl smiled as the dejected assistant agreed to have the reports done on time.

“I thought you’d see it my way,” she said before hanging up the phone. She sank into her padded leather chair, twirled it around and stared out the window of her high-rise luxury office. Ah yes, another spirit crushed, she thought gleefully.

Becoming an executive in Greenbrier and Associates had been a hard fought battle for Cheryl. Through the years, she had clawed her way up the rungs of the corporate ladder, “crushing” all that dared to get in her way. A buzz from the intercom interrupted her celebration.

“Uum . . . Mrs. McAdams. Mr. Greenbrier is here to see you,” whined her secretary. “What should I do?”
“Try sending him in.” Cheryl leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. Idiots, I’m working with idiots.

Before long, a well-dressed older gentleman sauntered into her office. “Kind of hard on the secretary weren’t you?” Mr. Greenbrier asked.

“No harder on her then you were with me.” Cheryl spun the chair around and faced her boss.

He chuckled and sat in a chair near the door. “Always to the point aren’t you? Well, I need you to pack you bags. I have job for you that involves travel.”

Travel? I thought those days were over. “Are you demoting me?”

“Of course not. Sarah Dickerson’s daughter is sick and she can’t make the Templeton meeting in Dallas. I need you to go in her place.”
Cheryl smirked. “Can’t she get a babysitter?”
“No Cheryl, she’s not like you. She adores her children.” Mr. Greenbrier gave her a look of disgust before leaving the office.
“I adore my children too!” Cheryl shouted after Mr. Greenbrier’s retreating form. I can’t believe he implied that I didn’t care about my children.. She punched the intercom button angrily with her finger.

“Amedia, get me the Templeton file,” she barked. A few minutes later, a timid mousy woman entered the office and handed Cheryl the file. I bet she’d jump right out of her skin if I said boo, she thought nastily, brushing past the secretary as she walked out the door.

Cheryl strode across the parking lot to her car, still fuming over Greenbrier’s cutting remark. She unlocked the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, catching a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror.

Eyes that once sparkled with happiness and mischief stared back at her, dull and lifeless. She automatically raised her hand to her cheek and caressed the heavily lined skin. When did I get so old? She was only thirty-nine, nowhere near middle age. Cheryl shrugged to herself and jammed the car into drive. Oh well, can’t worry about it now.

The commute home was nerve-wracking, and Cheryl had developed a severe headache by the time she pulled in the drive. Good lord but I need an aspirin. I feel like someone is tap-dancing inside my head. Her seven year-old daughter, Hannah, met her in the drive as she was getting out of the car. Dimly, Cheryl was aware that her daughter was wearing a soccer uniform.

“Ready to go Mommy?” Hannah chirped. Oh great! Don’t tell me that her game is tonight, Cheryl thought.
Cheryl dropped to her knees so that she was eye-level with her daughter. “Baby, Mama doesn’t think that . . .” She saw Hannah’s smile fade, and her eyes fill with tears.

“That’s okay Mommy. Daddy will take me. He always takes me!” Hannah burst into tears and raced back into the house. A couple of minutes later she emerged, this time followed by Cheryl’s husband, John. Cheryl hated the accusing glares that she got from her husband and daughter as they stormed past.

“John, I have a trip in the morning and. . .” John held up his hand to interrupt her.

“Cheryl please. Your excuses are getting old. If you didn’t want to go. . .” John let his voice trail off as he helped Hannah into the minivan. Without another look, her husband and daughter roared out of the driveway, leaving Cheryl alone. She felt tears forming in her eyes, and angrily brushed her sleeve across her face.

They have no concept of the sacrifices I make for them. This is the thanks I get! Cheryl rose to her feet, brushed off her pants, stormed into her Victorian style house and up the stairs to her bedroom.

She drug her mammoth suitcase from the closet, threw it on the bed, and began throwing clothes haphazardly into the yawning mouth of the suitcase. As she packed, she caught a glimpse of a framed picture on the nightstand. On trembling legs, she walked across the room and picked it up. It was a photo of Cheryl, her husband and their daughter just after she was born. They were so happy then; it was right before Cheryl was named executive at Greenbrier and Associates. With a strangled sob, Cheryl clutched the picture to her chest and fell across the bed where she cried herself to sleep. As she slept, she had the strangest dream.

She was checking into a hotel, as she had so many times before, but to her amazement, she had no luggage with her. “I guess the airline lost my luggage,” she told the front desk attendant.

“Oh no madam. Here comes the porter with your luggage now.”

Cheryl gasped in horror. There were several large grotesque suitcases on a gilded luggage rack. As if she were being pushed, Cheryl walked over and inspected the luggage more closely. She ran her hands over them; they were rough and had a greasy feel to them.

“Are you sure these are mine?” The attendant smiled broader.

“Yes madam. I understand that you drag these around with you everyday. You must get very tired. Take a closer look.” Cheryl hesitated, then looked closer. Each piece of luggage had a word on it. The largest pieces of baggage had the words GREED; HATEFULNESS; IMPATIENCE; INGRATITUDE. There were three smaller pieces of luggage at the very top. Her hands trembling, Cheryl took down the pieces . They were smaller then a change purse, and on them were written the words LOVE; SELF RESPECT; TIME FOR FAMILY.

Cheryl woke from her troubling dream with a start. Anxiously she looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. I’ve only been asleep for 10 minutes, she rejoiced. I still have time to make Hannah’s game. Cheryl grabbed her cell phone from her purse and dialed her work number. Please, please, let someone still be there.
Seconds later, she heard the high tinny voice of her secretary, Amedia. “Amedia, hi. This is Cheryl. Could you please connect me to Mr. Greenbrier’s office.”

“I’m sorry madam, but Ms. McAdams is gone for the day. Perhaps you could call back one day next week. Thank you for calling Greenbrier and Associates.” Cheryl heard the unmistakable click of the receiver being put back on its base, then the line went dead. She counted to ten before calling back.

“Amedia, this is Cheryl McAdams, your boss. I called a few seconds earlier and asked to be connected to Mr. Greenbrier.”

“M-Ms. McAdams. I had no idea that was you earlier. You never referred to yourself by your first name before. I-I ‘ll put you through immediately
.
“Amedia, wait.” Cheryl interrupted. “Before you transfer me, I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate everything you do.” There was silence on the other end.

“Amedia? Did you hear what I said?” Cheryl heard the sound of sniffling .

“Thank you. That means a lot. I’ll connect you now.” Cheryl hummed to the muzak playing on the phone. This is most content I’ve felt in a while, she thought. The muzak ended abruptly and was replaced by the deep voice of Mr. Greenbrier.

“Mr. Greenbrier, I’m glad I caught you before you left. You’re going to have to get someone else to make that meeting.” Cheryl glanced at the old suitcase on the bed and smiled ruefully. “I can’t go because . . . you might say I had too much luggage to fit on the plane.”