15. Better Late
15
Better Late
Logically, it wasn’t my fault Sal and Janice broke up, if that's even what happened. All I did was help a friend build custom content. But still, if bad things kept happening, the common denominator seemed to be me.
That night, I had an awful nightmare where my brother warned me to get out of the house, that something was coming for us.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I said, gesturing to the bare, sunlit walls and cameras.
The ceiling cracked. Then, the floors.
“Come on,” he urged.
I dove for my backpack, and the house lurched again. A huge chunk of drywall slammed into him. Dust billowed above us, blocking out the sun.
“Victor,” I cried, and ran over, hugging my backpack against my raging heart.
Huge, mechanical spider legs lifted the debris off him. I skidded to a halt as the widow’s silhouette grew. But instead of two round bulbs for a body, the limbs were attached to the spine of a voluptuous human. Kat’s killer smile and red-and-black plaid outfit cut through the fog. “Don’t worry, I’ve got him,” she said.
My lungs churned. “You’re a cyborg? ”
“Isn’t everybody?” She cradled Victor against her neck, encouraging him to drink.
Where was he enhanced? His teeth?
I shuddered and turned away. “We have to find somewhere safe. Maybe True Tech?” The windows were reinforced steel.
Ash appeared, climbing over the hill of our broken home. She wiped her smudged forehead. “That shattered, just like your brother’s back.”
He clung to Kat, eyeing me darkly. If only I’d listened. Things would be fine. I just needed to find somewhere safe. My pulse throbbed in my ears. “Maybe Sal’s place?”
But in my heart of hearts, I knew I’d wrecked that too. Still, I wanted to find him.
I rushed through the piles of rubble in our neighborhood, calling his name. A man about his age and shape stumbled into the distance, peeling off his dusty shirt. Fresh claw-marks marred his back. I had to help him.
“Sal,” I gasped, jerking awake. My pajamas clung to my body in a cold sweat. “Gross,” I muttered.
My subconscious had always been an asshole. I showered, then got ready for work.
At the kitchen table, Victor side-eyed me over his peeled fruit. “Rough night?”
“It had nothing to do with me,” I said, rummaging through the fridge.
“Hmm, intrigue. What happened, dear sister?” He poked me with his sock-clad toes, then his fingers, those frozen death sticks.
“Fuck off.” I kicked him back. The last thing I needed was his judgment.
“Well, let me know if you need help burying a body.” He smirked, then offered me half his orange like a fucking gentleman.
Why did Kat put up with all this crap? Love, I guessed.
Ugh .
When I got to work, I sheepishly returned the purple sparkly phone case.
“What happened?” Ash asked. “He didn’t accept it?”
“They–it wasn’t right. For her. Or him. It wasn’t right, in the end.” I tugged my cap down and hypothesized what it would take to trigger a floor-cracking moment like in my nightmare.
She hung the case back on the wall. “They didn’t want to exchange it?”
“Nope. Didn’t stay for the conversation,” I backed toward the tech desk. “I have to, um, fix stuff. Or not. Don’t know how busy we are.”
She gestured to the empty store. “Zero, what happened?”
“Nothing; nothing with me. Ask Sal. Take him out for a drink.” I hid at my desk.
Unfortunately, Sal wasn’t in. The store wasn't even open yet. Ash called his cell. No answer.
I hadn’t spoken to him since the video call last night, but I couldn’t not talk to him either. For fifteen minutes, I kept pausing my playlist in the hopes the clangs in my headphones were the workshop’s gates rising. Finally, I messaged him.
Me: Hey, are you okay?
Fuck. What a stupid thing to say. He’d just been dumped or something close to it.
Me: Your store’s not open.
Was that too insensitive?
I set my phone on the desk to minimize any more emotional damage, then massaged my temples. He was a nice guy. He built her dream house. He deserved better.
“Oh,” I gasped, sitting up.
Ash stepped away from an indecisive customer. “What?” she asked .
“It’s Janice’s birthday.” I grabbed my phone and scrolled to her page. “He said he was getting her specialty coffee. Maybe he planned not to open until later or took the day off to celebrate.”
“I doubt it. This is the peak holiday shopping season, especially for a toy store,” she said.
“Okay, maybe the alternate opener is late,” I reasoned.
“I guess it’s possible. He’s the only one in his family who’s invested in the business,” she said.
The indecisive customer cleared their throat and raised a finger, so Ash took off to help them.
Why wasn’t the toy store open?
I skimmed through Janice’s social media posts. Last night, she’d posted from the Cake Warehouse. She posed with a piece of chocolate cake with ‘Happy Birthday’ written in chocolate sauce next to it. Sal must’ve taken the photo for her, but he wasn’t in any of them unless I counted the flash of his wild shirt beyond the pic of their meals.
I guessed they hadn’t broken up at that point, but he was still barely in the picture.
My gut tightened. The poor guy. This was tragic. But ultimately, for the best.
An hour and a half into service, the gates clanged open. I dashed into the mall to talk to him. “Sal?”
He staggered, disoriented, and twisted around. He was wearing the same shirt from yesterday. Mussed hair. Bloodshot eyes. If he wasn’t so ghastly, I’d think they had a vigorous makeup session last night. “Hey,” he croaked. He sniffled and wiped his nose.
“Are you sick?”
He shrugged, strolling into the workshop. “I slept in.”
That wasn’t really an answer. I pushed up my glasses and followed him in.“Well, if you need soup– ”
“I’ll be fine.” He slumped into his chair and raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to ask how last night went?”
I squirmed farther into my fleece. “We don’t need to talk about it.”
He propped his chin up, his tone steeped in sarcasm. “Aren’t you curious how she liked the island?”
God, he knew. He knew all about my accidental voyeurism. “Okay, fine,” I slapped my sides. “I saw her reaction.”
“How much of it?” he rasped, his gaze boring into me.
My insides knotted. “It was an accident. I only stayed on to make sure the island didn’t error out, then I couldn’t think of a graceful way to exit without her noticing. The last thing I heard was her asking if you saw yourself as part of her fantasy.”
He narrowed his foggy, bloodshot eyes. “So, you didn’t stay long enough to hear my answer?”
I shook my head. Should I have stayed?
His lip twitched up. “You’re a real weirdo sometimes.”
“I know.” I wished it’d come in handy, for once. “I’m sorry for the timing of what I said about your relationship. Maybe I should’ve let you do more of the island so she could’ve seen more of you in it.” He was bound to make it happier, if not technically correct.
He snorted and picked up his phone. “I doubt it would’ve made a difference. I just wish we’d realized we weren’t right for each other before I took her to Cake Warehouse. Now, that place is ruined for me.”
I propped myself up opposite him. “Maybe we could go together. You, me, and Ash,” I said.
“Right.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I need to catch up on some stuff.”
“Okay.” I pushed up my glasses. He wanted me to leave. No more talking .
Nearby, Turkey Tom regarded us with blank, hopeful interest. If anyone could make Sal feel better, it’d be him. I fluffed the plush and placed him next to the register. “I will just leave this here, then. He should still be loaded up with hugs from yesterday if you need one.” I flashed him an apologetic smile. “Is it weird I hope you don’t sell him?”
Chuckling without humor, he shook his head. Probably because that was pathetic.
“But if you did sell him, because that’s your business, I’d find a new comfort. A new friend,” I said.
He furrowed his brow at me, his eyes flashing with confusion and disbelief.
Oh, god. He probably thought I was talking about how he should get over Janice. I squeezed my eyes shut. Minor malfunction. Rebooted. “Anyway, I hope you feel better soon.” On my way out, I waved like a total nerd.
“Thanks, slugger,” he said, sounding ten percent closer to his normal self.
Even if I technically hadn’t hurt him, I still wanted to help. I eyed the faint imperfection on the glass at True Tech. What would be his metaphorical toothpaste to repair his scuffed heart and ego?
I poked my tongue against my teeth, analyzing his moods and laughter in my memories.
Soon, he’d smile again. And I hoped it’d be because of me.