Desperate (10 page)

W
hen I arrived at work the morning after the necklace incident, I wasn’t thinking about the big milestone demo we had scheduled for the afternoon. I was thinking about Anna and Lily and how they were laughing and giggling like schoolgirls as they cleaned up the bathroom mess.

Anna asked me to get us something for dinner. Her request had a subtext: leave her alone with Lily to complete the cleanup and repair the emotional damage. I could feel Lily wedging herself between Anna and me. What I couldn’t figure out was why.

Grumbling under my breath, I left to get the Chinese food. When I returned, the bathroom was cleaned up and Lily was gone. Anna and I didn’t speak about the incident again, not even the next morning. I was left to wonder if I had overreacted, misread Lily once again. I battled self-doubt all morning, and might have completely forgotten about the demo if Lee Chang hadn’t stopped by my office.

By the time Lee and I arrived at the demo lab, it seemed that everyone in R&D had already gathered for the showcase event of the season. The demo lab was a huge uncluttered room with white linoleum flooring cleaner than any hospital ward. It was here we featured all of Olympian’s real-world applications. Mannequins were spaced throughout, many of them holding cell phones, some wearing portable music players. We even had the front half of an automobile in one corner of the room to demonstrate how our next-generation hybrid car battery would look inside the engine of an actual car. There were computers, cameras, and all sorts of gizmos and gadgets representing the full spectrum of products our batteries one day would power.

That day, we were going to turn on a cell phone powered by what we all believed to be Olympian’s first prototype battery stable enough to present to our CEO. Olympian had been years in the making, and Patrice liked to make a big celebratory deal of our progress along the way. Then again, she also liked to make a big celebratory deal of her twins’ birthdays, so it must have been in her DNA. She’d ordered a couple cases of beer and bottles of soda, brought in pizza from Sal’s, and had her assistant decorate the demo lab with streamers and balloons. I had to admit, the balloons and streamers made me feel kind of special.

Even though this demo was mostly pomp and circumstance, tension was in the air. Adam Wang, our program manager, looked especially nervous. I might have certified the battery, but it was still Adam’s project to succeed or fail. We were waiting for Patrice to show, making small talk, discussing the next phase in our endeavors, sipping beers but not really drinking them. I went over to Adam to offer my assurances.

“Relax,” I said. “All Patrice is going to do is power on the phone, we’ll start the countdown, finish a beer, eat a slice, and then get back to work.”

Adam looked hopefully at the mannequin holding the cell phone powered by the Olympian battery in one hand and the digital timer in the other. The timer would start as soon as Patrice powered on the phone and would stop when the battery ran out of juice. Our calculations predicted the battery would hold more than three times the energy of our competitor’s longest-lasting battery. The subsequent recharge test would complete in less than ten minutes.

My confidence did not reassure Adam. He still came across terribly anxious.

“Why does Matt look so smug?” Adam asked.

I glanced at Matt Simons. He was talking with a group of scientists, his posse, the ones he’d turned against Adam. They believed Adam was leading Olympian down the wrong path. I could understand why Adam was on edge. It was no fun being Matt Simons’s target. Still, I had tested and retested and believed that everything would work perfectly.

“Just ignore Matt,” I said. “He’s all bluster and bravado, but the proof is in our product. We’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, Patrice Skinner entered the lab. We greeted her with polite cheers and clapping. Patrice marched to the center of the room and we formed a circle around her and Amber, our mannequin.

“Greetings and salutations,” Patrice said, her face broadening into a cheery smile. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here today. I spoke with Peter a little while ago, and he’s planning to stop by the lab tomorrow to see the battery in action.”

Peter George was our fearless CEO. We expected that he would come to the demo lab, see Amber the Mannequin holding the cell phone, take note of how much time had ticked on the timer, and praise how long the battery was lasting. For a battery manufacturer, that constituted serious action.

While Patrice was talking, showering us with accolades, I noticed Adam was paying no attention, focusing instead on Matt. Indeed, Matt did look smug, as though all Adam’s dire predictions about Olympian were about to come true. As Patrice’s speech went on, Matt might as well have been licking his chops like a cartoon coyote and Adam the plump sheep of his desires.

“So let us all toast,” Patrice said, “to the future success of our Olympian battery!”

We raised our beers (or sodas, or glasses of water) in unison. Patrice went over to Amber and turned on the phone, and the timer began ticking off the seconds and milliseconds of battery power used. Adam looked relieved. Matt, however, didn’t look any less smug. Patrice came over to my side.

“Thanks again for everything, Gage,” she said. “I know these past few years have been very difficult for you, but your leadership has played a huge role in getting us to this point.”

“It’s been the hardest time of my life,” I said, surprised at how quickly I felt heaviness build up in my chest. “But I’m glad to be here with you today.”

“I just want you to know how much we appreciate your commitment.”

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s been a blessing for me to have my work. I don’t know—”

My words got cut short by a sudden and startled shout. “It’s on fire!” somebody yelled.

Bright orange flames flashed from within a plume of thick black smoke that billowed up from Amber’s hand. The overpowering stench of burning plastic overtook the lab. Each poisoned breath battered my lungs. I heard people start to cough and gag, and saw Patrice doing the same as she covered her eyes to keep out the sting of smoke. Everything was happening fast. People were shouting, rushing for the door, confused, unsure of what to do.

I heard a loud
swoosh
as a white spray began to overpower the dark smoke. Thick smoke still clung to the air, but it was no longer fanning out across the ceiling.

Matt stood at poor Amber’s side, clutching the fire extinguisher he had used to put out the blaze. Amber’s hand had melted along with the phone used for our demo. Powerful fans kicked in, working on overdrive to suck out the sickening air. Fire alarms were blaring—a deafening sound coupled with bright, flashing strobes. Patrice gave me a look that shattered my heart. She was crestfallen, visibly dismayed. I could read her eyes:
How could a build I sanctioned catch fire minutes after the phone powered on? Didn’t I test this?

Matt wasn’t looking at me, but I was looking at him. The commotion and chaos continued all around us, but he didn’t seem affected by it in the least. Rather, he looked like a guy who knew he’d need a fire extinguisher before the first puff of smoke ever appeared.

A
nna and I had one of those dinners where the forks and the knives made the loudest sound in the room. A heavy silence weighted us down, the kind that spoke volumes. I knew Anna was still upset with me when she didn’t so much as break a smile after I waltzed in carrying a brand-new medicine cabinet from Home Depot. It was a lot nicer than the one we had before, but still not nice enough to break the ice.

I started to talk about work, hoping that would lighten the mood. I told Anna all about Matt Simons and my suspicion that he intentionally caused the fire.

“I think he did it to get Adam fired, but of course that makes me look bad, too, because now the quality of the product is suspect,” I said, finishing the story even though Anna wasn’t really listening. I was grateful for any conversation, even if it was just my own voice talking. “I think he sabotaged the build, if you ask me,” I continued, taking a bite of the garlic-flavored tilapia Anna had cooked for dinner.

She didn’t ask any questions, but I went on. “We’ve got a very complex configuration management system in place,” I said. “So I think Matt did something to that system that substituted an older build of the product, not the one I approved. Of course, now Adam is a total wreck. He thinks they’re going to fire him. Heck, they might fire me, too.”

That got Anna’s attention.

“Why would they do that?” Anna asked, showing interest in the crazy events of the day for the first time.

“It’s a quality issue,” I said between bites. “I’m the guy who gave this battery the seal of approval.”

“But you said yourself that Matt Simons might have sabotaged the project to get Adam fired.”

I smiled while stabbing a nicely oiled chunk of butternut squash with my fork.

“So you
were
listening.”

Anna’s hard edge softened a bit.

“Honey, of course I was listening. Just because I’m pissed at you doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring.”

“Understood.”

Anna shook her head. “No, I’m not certain you do. So tell me, is your job really in jeopardy?”

“Hard to say,” I said. “It’s not good either way. The CEO was expecting to see a demo of Olympian, and what we gave him instead was a one-alarm fire. I told Patrice we should reverse engineer the battery that malfunctioned and see if it matches the build I approved for the demo. If it doesn’t, then I’d say my job is safe.”

“For now,” Anna said, “but this Matt Simons character isn’t going away. Sounds to me like you need to be very careful. Trust me, Gage, people can be ruthless when it comes to getting ahead. I should know. Managing personalities is a big part of my consulting business.”

“Well, if I do end up losing my job, at least we’ve got yours to fall back on.”

Anna said nothing, while breaking the eye contact we’d finally achieved. Her only response was to take another bite of fish.

“What?” I asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Anna said, but in a way that said yes, something.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s pull. Active listening. Seriously, what is wrong, honey? I love you, I care about you, and I want to know what’s bothering you. Are you still mad about what happened with Lily last night?”

“Yes,” Anna said, flatly. “But that’s not why I’m being quiet.”

Truth be told, I wasn’t in the greatest mood myself. The double whammy of the necklace incident followed by the exploding battery was taxing enough. Add my suspicions about Lily, and I deserved to be downright ornery.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’ve gone silent?” I said, making eye contact, feeling genuine, remembering what I’d learned from our therapist, Dr. Small.

“I want to stop working when the baby comes,” Anna said. “Maybe for a year.”

“And you’re worried I’m going to lose my job,” I said, following her train of thought, or so I believed.

“It’s important to me to be home with the baby for that first year.”

“But how are you going to build your business back up?”

“I’ve got a great reputation with my clients. I’ll outsource some of the work and postpone some bigger projects. Also, I have a very big opportunity with Humboldt coming up. I’m traveling to Minneapolis in a couple of weeks for the final presentation. If I get this job it’ll be a game changer for me. It would allow me to take the year off, assuming you still have a job.”

“I won’t get fired.”

“I’m just saying, for your wife and your future child, please do everything you can to make it all right.”

“Of course,” I said, getting up to come around the table and give Anna a tender kiss. “I’ll go see Patrice in the morning. I’ll find out what started the fire.”

Anna looked up at me and I saw a twinkle in her eyes. “This active listening stuff works great, huh?” I said. “We fixed that problem without even a spit of anger.”

“Oh, I’m still angry. Gage, you’re risking this amazing situation of ours.”

“By this situation, you mean Lily?”

“Yes, Lily.”

Here I swallowed, resisting the urge to say more.

“You don’t think it’s even a little bit weird?” I said. “Lily being the one to find the necklace?”

“I think you’re being paranoid.”

“Think about all the fights we’ve had lately,” I said. “They’ve all been because of Lily.”

“Oh, you think Lily is trying to come between us?”

That was as good a time as any to retake my seat. I could feel the rumblings of a major fight coming on. I needed to dig deep and show some restraint, because I had a plan. I wanted to say, “Yes, I think she’s trying to turn you against me.” But if I so much as hinted at what I was thinking, Anna would explode. I could see the anger smoldering. To go after Lily would be like using a backhoe to unearth a gas pipe. I’d be attacking Anna’s soul, her maternal desires, and the child Lily promised to us.

Still, I couldn’t stop my thoughts. What could Lily be after? I tried to guess at her agenda, come up with some logical explanation for these strange series of events, but nothing held together. The model rocket gift and the missing necklace pitted me against Lily while leaving Anna stuck in the middle. Was that Lily’s intention, and if so, to what purpose? Were those the reasons for Brad’s warning about some dark energy? And what about the strange encounter with Anna’s mother?

Soon enough, I’d get some answers. Soon enough.

“A lot of strange things have been happening lately,” I said. “Maybe the strain is getting to me.”

“Adoption is no easier than pregnancy. In fact, in a lot of ways, it’s harder. So I have a lot of strain, too, you know.”

“I do. I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been easy.”

“What is it that you need, Gage? I just have this feeling you’re looking for excuses to keep this from happening.”

I need to know if I can trust Lily.

I need some kind of a sign.

Instead of voicing my concerns, I said, “I’ll try to be better. Look, I’m sorry if my behavior has upset or worried you. I’ll do everything I can to make sure my job is secure and I’ll back off on questioning Lily.”

For now.

“I could use a little more support from you.”

“I promise.”

“You know we have the home study orientation coming up? It’s the night before my trip to Humboldt. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

“Yes, I remember.”

It was then I caught a flash of something bright yellow inside the built-in china cabinet directly behind Anna. Looking closer, I could see it was a mug shaped like Pac-Man, painted the same banana-yellow color as the arcade game character. A vase stood next to the mug. Its blue and purple hues were a lot more fitting with Anna’s tastes than the Pac-Man mug.

“What’s up with Pac-Man?” I asked.

Anna glanced over her shoulder to where I pointed.

“Oh,” she said. “Lily and I painted pottery today. She painted it for a friend who likes the game.”

I said nothing as a sick feeling swept through me.

“I’m guessing you forgot today is Kevin’s birthday,” Anna said.

I lowered my gaze. Every year on her son’s birthday, Anna painted a single piece of pottery as a way of honoring his memory. It was the only painting she did these days, because painting pottery was one of his favorite things to do, she had told me.

“You’re so focused on Lily,” Anna said, standing, turning her back to me, “that you’re forgetting your wife.”

“Anna, please . . . I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought you would remember.”

No time of the year was lonelier or sadder for me than Max’s birthday. A parent doesn’t forget it. Some years I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, wait for it to pass, but I always celebrated Max’s life by doing things on that day that remind me of him. Even though it was hard and I was left gutted, I worked on model rockets, drank extra-chocolaty chocolate milk, took a drive to the beach and gazed out at the sea. Some day, when I felt ready, when the time was right, I would finish the model rocket we were building together. I’d tuck a message inside the rocket’s tubular body just for Max to read and send it off to the heavens with a big blast from its E engine.

But today, I was just the husband who forgot that my wife’s pain equaled my own; she had spent her day with Lily and not me, honoring Kevin’s memory.

You’re so focused on Lily . . .

I got up from the table, crossed the room, and hugged Anna, who broke from my embrace quicker than usual.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” I said, feeling like a giant jerk. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Just remember next year, I guess,” Anna said, but her smile was forced and strained.

I could see she was bitterly disappointed in me, as I was in myself. Opening the china cabinet, Anna moved other pieces of PYOP made on other birthdays aside. She retrieved the new vase, along with a mug painted blue and decorated with green circles. She set both pieces on the table in front of me.

“I was debating about painting a mug for you or a vase for me, and Sally, the girl who owns the place, convinced me I should go for the vase. She’s thinking about opening another studio in Southborough or Shrewsbury—she’s not sure which one yet—and I told her I’d be happy to consult with her on the business plan if she’d like. She was so excited, she gave me a free mug to paint and a promise to call—so I might get a new client, and you get a mug.”

I admired both the mug and the vase, not at all surprised by the craftsmanship.

“These are fantastic,” I said, and I meant it. “Thanks for my mug.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Anna said, not sounding at all appeased. “I used acrylic paints on clay that’s been fired to bisque. Sprayed them with a matte finish after I was done. Never tried the technique before, but I didn’t feel like waiting to get the kiln-fired pieces back and now I think I’m hooked. I really like how they came out.”

“Lily did the same?”

“No, she’s going back to get her mug next week. Sally gave Lily the store display Pac-Man because she liked it so much. I’m keeping it here so it’ll be a surprise when she gives it to her friend.”

I wondered who this friend was and when he or she traipsed around Lily’s apartment, but I asked a different question instead.

“So how’d you end up going with Lily?”

“She called to talk about last night’s events,” Anna said, her eyes turning cold. “I told her I was on my way out the door, and she asked where I was going. I told her and she wanted to come along.”

“That’s great.”

“Honestly, it was great,” Anna said. “I’ve never shared that moment before with anybody, and it was incredible to have Lily there. She represents so much positive change in our lives. I came home and probably cried a good hour, but it was worth every second.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” I gave Anna a big hug, this time holding. “What did you girls talk about?”

Part of me was uncomfortable with the idea of Anna and Lily having a life separate from me. If I trusted Lily, I’d certainly feel different.

Tread carefully, Gage . . .

“We talked about last night, for sure, and some other things I’d rather keep private.”

Or Lily asked you to keep private,
I thought.

Anna broke from my embrace to give a sad little smile—as if to say, thanks for trying to comfort me, close but not quite close enough. But I could tell she was glad Lily had been there for her, to share in Anna’s painful past, to celebrate her future joy, and to reveal secrets I couldn’t know.

Anna pulled away and vanished into the dark hallway of our home. I heard our bedroom door close shut.

I knocked softly on the door.

“Anna, please. Are you all right?”

“Gage, I just need to be alone for a while,” came her muffled reply. I retreated to the dining room table, where I sat alone with my thoughts, pushing the food around my plate.

Some time had passed, fifteen minutes, maybe as much as a half an hour. I hadn’t moved from the table when the phone rang. Anna answered it on the third ring. A few moments later, she emerged from the bedroom. Her eyes looked red, but otherwise Anna seemed perfectly composed.

“That was Lily,” Anna said. “She said she doesn’t have any running water.”

I looked up at Anna. The sliver of a smile creased my lips and squinted my eyes. I hoped it wasn’t a “tell,” a clue to Anna that the water loss was no accident.

“Okay,” I said, rising from the table, and headed for where I stored my toolbox. “If it’s not something I can fix myself, I might have to call Brad.”