text: My day starts off as it always does. I groggily roll off of my queen mattress, and enter my bathroom. I brush my teeth, wash my face, curl my hair, apply deodorant, and all of the other mundane morning things. I return to my room and put on my outfit of the day; today’s outfit consists of tight jeans and a floral blouse. After slipping my shoes on, I leave apartment 1b. The drive to work is quick and easy since it’s five in the morning. I clock in, and the day of answering high stress calls begins. “Please send help! My sister just fell down the stairs! S-she’s not getting up! Please!” A frightful sounding teenager implores. “I think there’s somebody in my house. Nobody is supposed to be home right now,” a women’s voice whispers. “I think...I’m having an allergic reaction. P-please help me...” a man wheezes out. You may or may not have been able to guess, but I am a 911 operator. My job is basically dealing with high anxiety situations with extreme calmness. ”Everything is going to be okay, ma’am. Help is on their way right now. Just breathe. Your sister is going to be all right,” I assure you the best of my ability. ”Okay, are you locked in a different room? Can anybody gain access to the room you’re in? Okay, the authorities are on their way. Don’t panic. Just stay on the line with me, please,” I tell the young lady. ”Okay, do you have any allergies you currently know of? Peanuts, okay. Help is on the way, so stay on the line with me in the meantime,” I help the man through his scary moment. Over the years, I have gotten better and better at being calm. Yes, my work is very hard. Many people probably couldn’t handle the types of things I have to endure on the daily. Hearing of people’s pain, their fear, and everything is tough to deal with. I am glad to say, though, that I have never had a freak out on the phone before. Well, there was only one time, but that is another story for another day. On average, I get 50 calls a day. Each ranges from a shooting to a prank call from some random teenager. I can handle it all without the bat of an eyelash. When I get home, sometimes it’s hard to deal with, but I swore to myself that I would never let a caller know that I was scared for them. Every Tuesday I get off 2 hours early. And every Tuesday since 2013, I have gone to Ben’s Diner and Grill off of Highland Ave. That’s exactly where I find myself going today. I pull into my regular parking spot, and enter the restaurant. ”Good morning! Welcome back, ma’am. Your regular booth is already set up. And I think you might have a visitor,” Angel, a waitress who I’ve grown to be good friends with, says. I smile at her, and walk to the far corner of the diner. From about 10 feet away, I see the back of somebody’s head. I assume it’s a girl due to the fact that her hair is in a high ponytail, yet reaches past her slim shoulders. I recognize those shoulders; I’ve cried on them thousands of times. Once I’m about 5 feet away, she senses my presence and she turns around. I am greeted with the warmest smile the world has ever seen. If I had seen that smile in October, I would have fallen to the ground and cried. But it was no longer October and I had recovered. “Hey,” she says cooly. ”Hey, right back,” I reply. Then our regular conversation begins. She asks about my work, my home life, how my parents are, if I have a boyfriend yet, and every small thing anybody wouldn’t care less about. We go on and on for 2 hours, and then comes the hardest part. Angel comes back and tells Tessa that she’s got to go. Tess stands up with me following suit. We walk out of the diner, and she walks me to my car. From there, I repeat what I’ve said the past seven years: “See you next Tuesday.” ”See you next Tuesday,” she returns the goodbye, and I hop into my car. I look back out of the window and she’s already gone. Tessa has been dead for 7 years, but she comes back every Tuesday to talk. 7 Years Ago It was another Tuesday, so I woke up and did my plain old morning routine. I got in my car, and the drive to work was easy as per usual. I walked into my office, and sat at my desk. The first three calls of the day were normal, and didn’t affect me. “I was jogging, and I fell in a ditch. I can’t move my leg. Could you please send somebody!” A man, who sounds as though he’s in agony pleads. “My son is choking! He’s turning purple! I...I don’t know w-what to do! Please, help me,” a terrified mother begs. “There is a man on the top of the building, and he looks like he’s about to jump. Please send a fire truck to use their ladder and get him,” a man tells me. For a new person in the field, they be feeling too much pressure and freak out my calls like these. These are all calls that I have experienced before, and know how to handle. “Sir, I have an ambulance on the way. Is there any chance you can crawl out of the ditch, and make yourself seen?” I help the man. “Alright, ma’am, I know it may seem like you’ll hurt him, but could you please try and give him the Heimlich maneuver? Help is heading your way now,” I assist the lady in helping her son. “Alright, just stay calm. Help is on the way. If necessary, please talk to him,” I advise the man. It wasn’t until around 2 that I got the call that would change my life forever. The phone rang, and I answered with the regular “911 what’s your emergency” spiel. The voice that replied to me sounded too familiar. “I’ve gotten into a horrific car accident. My car is flipped over, there’s glass everywhere, I’m bleeding. My two friends in the car aren’t moving. We were hit head on. I...I’m starting to see a light,” the lady said to me. I hesitate in answering her, “Okay...stay calm. Help is on the way. In the meantime, can you tell me your name?” She didn’t say anything for a minute, but when she did, I could help but gasp. “Tessa Allgood. My name is Tessa Allgood.” “Tess, it’s me,” I said to her. “Oh my god. Oh shit. I...I can’t believe I’m talking to you,” she let out a cough. “I’m not doing so hot.” “It’s okay, Tessa. You’re going to be alright. Just stay with me, Tess. It’s okay, you’re okay,” I repeated. The phone was shaking in my hands, and I didn’t even realize there were tears pouring down my face. “Please, Tessa, please.” “Shit, shit, shit. I...I’m not going to make it,” she whispered. I didn’t even know that I screamed but I did. I was screaming into my phone. I was saying her name over and over. I was begging her not to leave me. I was sobbing and telling her how I wouldn’t be able to survive. It wasn’t until somebody came over, and took the phone from my hands that I realized I had a tantrum of some sort. I wish I could tell you I was embarrassed, but I wasn’t. I was broken. I was lost. Tessa was my absolute rock, and she was probably gone. “I need to go to the interstate,” I said to myself. I picked myself up, and began to wobble toward the door. I could hardly see because of how much I had been crying, but I couldn’t care less. “Stop,” my manager said, “you’re not going anywhere like this. You can’t drive when you’re such a mess.” “I have...to see her,” I exclaimed. “You...you can’t,” a voice said from behind me. “I’m sorry. She’s gone.” I simply remember hearing a buzzing noise and then hitting the floor and everything going black. 5 Weeks Later It was after Tessa’s funeral, and I had cried so much that I knew I couldn’t drive home. About one block away was a cute little restaurant that I decided to go to. The walk was grueling only because I was thinking about every little thing. I walked in, and a waitress named Angel began to guide me to a table. I walked behind her as we got closer and closer to the back. The diner was almost completely empty, except for a blonde girl at the very corner booth of the diner. As I was nearing the back corner, the lady turned around, and I couldn’t hold back my gasp. I stumbled backward like I had been punched in the gut; although it felt like I had since all the air seemed to leave my lungs. “This seat is alright, right, miss?” Angel asked me with a knowing smile on her face. “Of course it is,” Tessa answered for me. She stood up from the table, and proved that it’s not a hallucination due to the fact that she touched my hand. I couldn’t do anything, but let her pull me into the seat. From there, she talked at me about how her journey to heaven has been. Every single detail left me more and more amazed. About 2 hours later, Angel came back and told Tessa that it was time to “depart”. Tessa stood up, and I was hesitant in following. When she looked back at me, I realized she wanted me to follow. I did as I assumed she wanted me to, and walked behind as she went out of the diner. She stopped about 2 feet out of the restaurant, and turned around. “See you next Tuesday,” she smiled the smile that I had missed so much. With tears in my eyes I repeated, “See you next Tuesday.” By: Sophia Cusick