7.
Crystal
The warmth of the bed holds me hostage, but I’m only faking sleep when Justin’s alarm sounds at an ungodly hour. His side of the bed dips as he rolls out, the faintest hint of daylight peeking through the blinds. I hear the rustle of his clothes, the soft pat of his socked feet against the hardwood floor as he leaves the room. He’s heading into the office again. I keep my eyes shut, my breathing even, feigning the peace of slumber I haven’t truly felt in weeks.
It’s been three months now since we landed in this fog-wrapped city, and I’m more alone than ever. The guys leave each morning before dawn and return to fall into bed at night. I’m by myself all day every day. I’ve had fifteen interviews, resulting in fifteen rejections. Each “we’ll be in touch” stings a little sharper, each polite decline is like a twist of the knife. No degree to flash, sure, but it’s not like all I’m good for is flipping burgers.
My phone pings from the nightstand, a sharp note in the morning silence. I can’t ignore that like I can the mess I’m sure has been made all over again in the rest of the apartment. I crack one eye open and read the message without lifting my head from the pillow.
Mom: Why drop out of school to follow some guy to California?
Jackie. It had to be Jackie who told her. My old roommate, confidante, and supposed friend. Anger flares, hot and quick. I trusted her. I click the button to lock the screen, leaving the message unanswered. I’m not ready for the conversation Mom wants to have.
I stew in silence, the bed emptier without Justin’s presence, and the apartment now quiet since everyone has gone. Mom’s question looms large. Why did I do this?
I sit up in bed and toss back my meds with a gulp of water from the glass that’s been sitting on the nightstand since last night. Scanning the job postings on my laptop, hope flickers feebly with each click. Barista, receptionist, retail—it’s all the same dance, just different tunes. Nothing bites; nothing even nibbles. I slam the laptop shut, the finality echoing off the bare walls.
I go out to the living area and survey the mess left by Justin and his friends—empty pizza boxes, soda cans ringed with sticky residue. It looks like they’ve ransacked the place, not lived in it. I’ll clean it up, eventually. But right now, I can’t deal with the reminders of my current life as part-time ghost, full-time maid.
With a sigh, I grab the remote and flick on the TV. Morning shows beam at me with plastic cheerfulness, hosts chatting about celebrity scandals and the latest weight-loss fads. It’s background noise, white static to drown out the silence and simmering frustration. I sink into the couch, letting the mindless chatter wash over me.
Then my phone pings—a message from Theo. Unlike Austin and Rhys, who treat me as part of the furniture, Theo actually sees me. He and Justin are all that’s keeping me together right now.
Theo: Good morning. How are you holding up?
Me: Fine. Just another quiet morning.
Quiet morningdoesn’t begin to cover the loneliness that stretches out like an endless road before me or the way I’m haunting my own life, unseen and unheard.
Theo: When was the last time you got out?
I look at the ceiling. His question seems like an interrogation under a spotlight.
I pause, the TV’s laugh track suddenly sounding grotesque. When did I last step outside and feel the sun on my skin? Days blend together. I don’t bother to count them. But it’s probably been over a week since I put on something other than pajamas or laughed over drinks with Justin and the guys.
Me: It’s been a while.
Theo: Meet us for lunch today?
Theo doesn’t miss much. He and Justin have probably been comparing notes about me. I hesitate but then realize I have no real reason to say no. My schedule is as empty as the apartment feels.
Me: Sure, sounds good.
It’s a reason to dress, to get outside, to breathe fresh air. Right?
Theo: Great. We’ll see you at the incubator around 12:30.
I set my phone down and stand, stretching limbs stiff from too little use. I’m meeting them for lunch. At least it’s something. A small step, maybe, but in a direction that isn’t confined by these four walls.
We’re not meeting for a few hours, but the invitation invigorates me. I shower and dry my hair and apply makeup. I think I’m excited to have something to do that won’t end in rejection.
I slip into jeans, the fabric alien after days of loungewear, and my sweater is a soft embrace. I glance outside; the San Francisco breeze carries the promise of lunch outdoors.
When it’s time, I step out of the apartment, letting the door click shut behind me and already feeling better than I’ve felt in days.
The walk does additional wonders, clearing the cobwebs of isolation as the city bustles around me. By the time I reach the familiar office building, my pulse has quickened—not from the walk, but with the anticipation of human contact.
“Crystal!” Emerson’s voice is a warm welcome as I enter. Emerson Healy is one of the partners at SHN, and she pretty much runs the incubator. I’ve met her a few times when I’ve brought things to the office. She engulfs me in a hug. “How you holding up?”
“I’m doing just fine,” I lie smoothly, a smile hiding the storm beneath.
When I walk back to the EnergiFusion offices, Theo hugs me as well. “I’m so glad you came.”
“I’m glad you asked.”
He smiles. “Give me just a minute, and we’ll be ready.”
Theo grabs the team as I go to greet Justin, and in a few minutes, we all walk over to the sandwich shop across the street.
Justin laces his fingers with mine. “I’m so glad you’re here. I feel like we never see each other anymore.”
We find a table outdoors and dig into our sandwiches, but Austin and Rhys are like dark clouds ready to burst. They pick at their food, grumbling about something techy before standing abruptly and leaving without so much as a backward glance. I watch them go, wondering what I did this time to upset them.
Justin catches my eye. “Don’t mind them,” he says, his voice low and reassuring. “Just another bug they can’t figure out.”
I nod, unsure how to fill the silence that follows.
Then Theo turns to me. “So, what’s the job hunt looking like?”
I sigh, letting my guard down just a fraction. “Right now, it’s a choice between flipping burgers or…well, flipping burgers.” I laugh bitterly. “For my sanity, I need to do something. But minimum wage isn’t going to cut it for moving out.”
There’s a beat of silence as they digest my words, and I wonder if I’ve shared too much. But I might as well be honest.
Justin’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder, drawing me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts. “Crystal,” he says, a hint of something like hope in his tone, “we think we might have another option for you. Would you be willing to come work with us? We’re swamped and could really use an extra pair of hands.”
I tilt my head, caught off guard. “Work? At EnergiFusion?”
“Yeah,” Justin continues, a smile spreading across his face as he looks over at Theo. “We need someone to handle some administrative tasks and keep things organized, and Emerson’s team is busy with the other startups in the incubator. They can’t get to all we’d need them to do.”
“To put it simply,” Theo adds, “we’re drowning. Between the classes they want us to take and our work, too much isn’t getting done.”
“It was Emerson’s idea to hire someone, and we immediately thought of you,” Justin explains.
“What would you need me to do?”
“Order supplies for the lab, fetch things we need, answer calls—you know, office-manager stuff.” Justin shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but his eyes search mine. “The SHN team is always here to back you up.”
Office managerechoes through my mind, sounding infinitely more substantial than burger flipper. I straighten my back, interest piqued. “What does it pay?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Your salary is like ours, it comes out of SHN’s investment in EnergiFusion, so we’ll need your help keeping costs down. That means it’s minimum wage to start,” Theo answers. “But we’ve got healthcare benefits, and hey, it’s experience you can leverage later on.”
Healthcare. That resonates with me, heavy with the weight of necessity. My medication bottles are getting closer to empty, whispering warnings with every rattle. “I’m in,” I say with a nod before doubt can creep in and choke out the words. Excitement flutters in my chest. “When do I start?”