35. Strain
35
Strain
Strain: A genetically distinct variety of an organism.
OLIVER
Y ujun cringed as he watched me slit open the cardboard box with my pocketknife. “You know, we have people for that.”
Inside the box was the documentation, and I set it aside carefully. Shipment and customs had taken only four days, not the week or two we’d feared, and I refused to waste our luck. There would be no fuckups this time. We’d run these final tests ourselves, then we’d have enough data to present a strong regulatory filing.
I lifted out the Styrofoam case and set it on the lab table. “I know, but these are precious. Nothing can go wrong.” I poked my tongue out between my teeth as I slipped the knife into the joint and cut through the tape.
“It’s the techs’ full-time job to process samples,” he said. “They’re much less likely to slice open their palms or burn their fingertips with dry ice.”
Right. I slipped on my insulated gloves and waggled my fingers at him before I lifted the lid. A few tendrils of carbon dioxide vapor sublimated from the remaining dry ice pellets in the container. Underneath were the sealed plastic bags containing the blood vials.
“My precious,” I hissed.
Sadie plunked herself down on the stool across the table from me. “Let me help. You can read out the numbers, and I’ll catalog them.”
“Sure. Less chance I’ll make a transcription error that way. Wait.” I looked up. She’d already taken off her lab coat and replaced it with her raincoat. Her satchel was slung over her shoulder, and a thick hardcover textbook poked out of it. “It’s Thursday. You have class.”
“I’ll skip it. This is important.” She shrugged off her satchel.
“No,” I said. “School is more important. You’re a scientist, Sadie. You should have the credentials to prove it. Yujun will help me. Or I can dictate the numbers and transcribe them after.”
“I’ll help you,” Yujun said, pulling my laptop toward himself. “Go to school, Sadie. Be a scientist, not a lab rat.”
“Lab techs are equally as important as scientists,” I said. “We need everyone here.” Especially when the whole company was on the line.
“Especially when you’re doing it wrong,” Yujun grumbled. “Switch with me.” He pushed my laptop back toward me and put on his gloves before tugging the sample container toward himself.
Still staring wistfully at the box of samples, Sadie picked up her satchel. “If you’re sure you don’t need me…”
“Go to school,” Yujun and I said at the same time.
“Fine.” She turned and flounced out, holding the door for West as he entered.
“I should’ve known I’d find you in here,” he said. He held up a manila envelope. “I’ve got extra copies of those papers we talked about.”
“Papers?” I repeated. Tessa used to take care of the hiring paperwork. Now that she was gone, I supposed it fell to me, but we hadn’t hired anyone in the three days since she’d stormed out, believing the worst of me. When had I ever given her reason to believe I’d betray her like that? Since she left, I’d wrapped my heart in bubble wrap to keep it together.
“The CRA? Consensual relationship agreement. My team says you and Tessa haven’t returned it yet.”
There was a pop in my ribcage like my heart was trying to beat out of its protective wrap. I’d called her and texted her a dozen times like a pathetic jerk, but she didn’t respond. I suspected she’d blocked me. I wished I’d been able to do anything more than stammer weak excuses in Dr. Perrell’s office, but I’d been frozen by the fear of what would happen to everyone who worked here because of my stupid mistake.
Tessa saw it too, that I’d fucked everything up. I wasn’t worthy of her.
I stared at my laptop’s screen, the spreadsheet blurring. “Don’t need that anymore. It’s over.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” West said. “What…” He glanced at Yujun. “Never mind. I’ll come see you in your office tomorrow, and we’ll talk.”
“Nothing to talk about,” I muttered. When she walked out, it proved she didn’t believe in me. She was right. From the beginning, I’d doubted we could meet our aggressive target for finishing the clinical trials and getting the tests approved. With this delay, time was slipping through my fingers, along with my chance to save the company from a buyout…or worse.
Still, it hurt that someone I thought cared about me had lost faith.
“Are you okay, man?” West asked, leaning a hand on the lab table.
“Lab coat,” I barked.
“Gloves,” Yujun said at the same time.
“Sorry, sorry.” West stepped back, holding his ungloved hands in the air. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I looked up from the spreadsheet and saw the concern on his face. As a human resources professional, he understood that if the company failed, our lab technicians had to compete for jobs not only against all the other qualified workers in the Peninsula and Silicon Valley but also against robots and overseas labs who didn’t need health insurance and a 401(k) plan.
“Can you try to keep Dr. Perrell from rushing into any decisions? We need time. Maybe another week or two. Then we’ll call in every favor we can to get through the approval process quickly. If we can hold off a little longer…” I shrugged, unable to say my hope out loud. Everything would have to go exactly right.
“I’m so sorry,” Yujun said for, like, the fiftieth time this week. “I should have caught the error.”
“Hey.” I waited until he looked up at me. “It’s not your fault. I should have been here, instead of…” I blinked away images of Tessa in that spa shower. I could almost smell the sea sage and my regret.
If she’d never come to work here, I could have focused on the cancer test and never added the endometriosis test to our workload, then we wouldn’t have fucked up the samples. I’d have been here to ensure we didn’t.
“Read it out,” I said, my voice stony.
Yujun read the code on the first sample, and I keyed it in.
“If you need anything…” West’s hand landed on my shoulder.
I shrugged it off. “I’ve got this.” And that’s when I realized I’d become a leader. Simon might have done most of the work in the beginning, schmoozing with investors to get our funding, bringing on board members to advise us, and shielding me from distractions, but he was gone. And I’d stepped up.
It was my company now. I’d do whatever it took to keep it.