Time Zones

I literally wrote this story in like, 15 minutes sometime two years ago, so yes, it's a working progress. When I finally get around to modifying it, though, it will be something great.
______________________________________________________

My mother died last week. She was going on a business trip in Phoenix, Arizona. Something about discussing a matter that I didn’t really care about, though I wish I did now. She wanted me to come with her, but I decided against it, thinking that if it was business, it was boring. “Can’t. I have this big project due later this week in physics. Oh, and the time zones. The time zones will have me all off with time when I come back here.” Those were the best lame excuses I could come up with on such short notice. Truth is, I couldn’t care less about the time zones, and there was no project. My teacher, Mr. Altobelli, would be out all this week due to an unfortunate case of the avian influenza. In the end, my mother went alone.

It was no more than three days later when my father, Richard, and I got the call. My father had to pick me up earlier from school because I was having some heart pains. We were sitting on the couch eating a TV dinner (my father is cooking-retarded, so we keep it simple) later that night when the phone rang. My father refused to get up from his seat, so I was left with the task. I shot him a glare as I headed for the phone. I pick up the receiver. On the other end, an unfamiliar voice spoke. He said his name was Seth Ascher. “I am an associate of you mother’s,” he said. I nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “May I speak with your father?”

I nodded again. “Okay.” I turned around. “Dad it’s for you.”

“Who is it, Isabel?” my father asked.

“I dunno. Some guy that knows Mom.”

My father mumbled something unintelligible (and probably inappropriate), but got up and took the receiver from my hand. “Yeah, what is it?” he muttered into the phone. Some incoherent droning by Seth on the other end sounded then my father said, “Do you have any idea what time it is?” A small comment, then, “It’s 11 at night. Why the Hell would you call so late?”

“Dad, be nice,” I whispered to him, but he waved me off with an impatient hand.

There was more inarticulate speech on the other side. My father murmured, “Yeah, time zones my ass. Whadduya want?” Those time zones do put you all off... I thought. The droning continued. I strained to hear, but failed.

About half way though, my father’s face turned a deathly white. “Yes,” he whispered, “Yes, I understand.” Droning, then, “I know, and thank you.”

More droning ended the conversation. I only understood the last part of the comment made by Seth Ascher. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Sir.” My father nodded, though Seth couldn’t see it, and returned the phone to its base.

“Dad? Daddy? What’s wrong?” I asked, instantly scared.

Dad turned to me, his face almost translucent with fear. “Your mother…” he trailed off.

“What about her? What happened?” I screamed, voice shrill.

“She was on a lunch break after her meeting for her job and she was attacked…”

“No,” I whispered.

My father continued on. “…by some street thugs. They wanted…”

“No, no, no, no…” I chanted.

“…her money. She wouldn’t give it to them. So they…”

“Oh, god, no…”

“…shot her. They shot her in the chest. In front of all those people.”

“No……”

“Your mother’s dead.”

I was barely able to breathe, unable to get the tears and sobs out fast enough.

“When,” I choked out.

“Earlier today,” my father said, without emotion. This was how he usually handled painful situations. “It was before you got out of school.”

Earlier today, in English class, I had to be excused from class. We were reading silently, when I let out a piercing scream, shattering the silence. When asked what was wrong, I stifled, beyond the pain, that there was a sharp pain in my chest. It felt as though a piece of my heart was slowly and being torn away. They sent me home immediately.

A few days after the call, we got the details of my mother’s death. They weren’t pretty. I won’t go into all the details, but there was one thing that caught my immediate interest. The time of death written in the documents was approximately two oh six PM, my time. The pain in my chest happened at about two ten PM. Something told me that it was my mother leaving my soul that caused the pain. I guess it was the time zones that caused the pain that was my mother to become of me a bit late. Told her that time zones mess with perception…