What a Weekend!

I will be absolutely honest; my plans for the weekend were to sit in a tattered lawn chair on my friend’s aged,in-need-of repair, untreated wood deck in front of the shallow bayou with murky water and only a few fish and drink an adult beverage or two or many. My week has been nothing but stressful. All week it seemed I put out fires in an attempt not to step on toes I desperately would love to crush. This place I chose may not be ideal, but it works to eliminate any thoughts of work and empty your mind.

The bayou was so still, it looked like soft mud. The sun was a blur of orange and yellow as it settled behind a distant house. My friend started unwinded way before I arrived and now passed out on her couch, faint snores blending with the sounds of nature. The scenery was just what I needed to drown out the screeching shrills of my boss’s voice. If I could go all weekend without thinking about her or work, I would consider it a successful weekend.

Suddenly, far from the mouth of the swamp, I heard a man screaming. A faraway sailboat was floating into the bayou. A sailboat? Only boats ever seen around here were fishing boats, an occasional shrimp boat, a few canoes, and old pirogues. How did a sailboat get in here? We were several hours away from the Gulf of Mexico, several miles from the nearest lake or pond, and the water here was not deep enough to accommodate a large sailboat like the one coming my way.

The boat abruptly stopped about a mile from me. I grabbed an old pair of rubber boots my friend kept on the deck and began to attempt to wade towards the boat as the man continued to shriek on the top of his lungs. Other neighbors came out of their cabins when they heard the commotion, but not one of them jumped in to help.

It took me ten minutes to wade and walk through the dense water. I got to the boat and jumped on. A tall blond covered in blood and mud from head to toe laid there. I wanted to question him how he got his fancy sailboat into the bayou, but there was no time for that.

“She hit her head on the mast and fell out.” The man exclaimed.

“Sir, had she been drinking?” I had no idea why I was asking him this.

“Of course.” He replied.

I kneeled next to her and could see a light white powder coming from her nose. “She has been doing more than drinking.” I thought to myself.

I wiped away the mud from her face and froze. I knew who this was, and I knew that man was not her husband. She was my annoying boss. The coke coming out of her nose made sense to me now. I had caught her several times in the company bathroom doing lines but never believed no matter whom I told.

She wasn’t breathing, and her pulse was faint. Having been trained every year in CPR, I jumped into action. One, two, three, four… thirty deep compressions, two deep breaths with vital signs, so I started again. One, two, three, four, all the way to thirty and two deep breaths again. This time she coughed and threw up large chunks of mud to her left, almost at her male companion’s shoes.

I was relieved but also anxious to find an imaginary trap door and get out of this situation. I stayed there crouched while still catching my breath.

She grabbed me by my shirt and brought me close to her. I guess I was expecting a thank you; instead, she whispered to me, “ You’re fired.”

Man, sometimes people really do suck.