9.
Crystal
The smudge of coffee grounds on the crumpled napkin is like a slap in the face. Austin just drops it on my desk without a glance up from his phone, the list of office supplies scrawled in his hurried handwriting.
“Need these by tomorrow,” he mumbles, already heading back to the sanctuary of his cluttered cubicle.
I stare at the napkin, the very embodiment of disregard. No “please” dances at the edge of the paper, no “thank you” lingers in the air behind him. I’m invisible, a ghost in the machine of this startup while they play at being visionaries.
A part of me wants to stand up, gather my things, and walk out the door—let them learn the hard way how much weight I pull around here. How valuable I am. But I’m also grateful for the experience this job is giving me, and I know no one is raking in the cash at this point. I just wish they’d value what I do for them and be more appreciative. I believe in their work, though, so regardless, I’ll probably stick around. It’s not like I haven’t tried to find other jobs already.
The familiar ping from my cell phone draws me back to reality.
Teagan: Free for lunch?
Her message beams with the warmth we shared at that wild SHN party, where I met her as we worked together, checking in guests. Teagan Kohl, with her brilliant mind, is the head of IntelliThread Innovations, another company here in the incubator. She’s an entrepreneur, a creator, and someone who knows the value of collaboration.
Me: Yes! Save me from the Mexican fiesta in the lunchroom. Meet you at the ladies room in 5.
The prospect of lunch, of escaping this thankless place even for an hour, is a breath of fresh air. Justin believes every problem can be solved by talking, but it doesn’t work with these guys. They remain the same inconsiderate jerks they’ve always been. I am unable to afford moving out and when Justin and I looked at our combined income, I couldn’t find anything even close to what we could afford, so staying here is my only option. However, I am saving money, so eventually, I’ll have the means to leave this situation—my job and the shared apartment—behind. I push Austin’s napkin to the side, a problem for future Crystal. Right now, I’ve got a date with a friend. And that’s what I most urgently need.
A few minutes later, I’m walking with Teagan outside, the sun a rare companion in our trek to Connie’s Bistro. We order sandwiches, the kind with artisan bread and layers of fresh ingredients that offer a small escape in every bite. As we settle on the grass in the park across the way, the warmth seeps through my jeans, comforting against the coolness of the earth beneath us.
“Seriously,” I begin, unwrapping the sandwich as if peeling back the layers of my frustration, “they’ve got no clue how much I do for them.” I take a hefty bite, letting the flavors mingle before I continue. “And Austin acts like he’s king of the world. A dirty napkin for a shopping list? Really?”
Teagan chuckles, but her eyes are sympathetic. “Why do you stay then?” she asks, plucking a blade of grass and twirling it between her fingers.
I sigh, my gaze drifting across the park to where other office escapees savor their lunches. There are a lot of reasons, not all of which I’m ready to share. But I do think Teagan is someone I can trust. “Health insurance,” I confess, the words more bitter than my rye bread. “Got diagnosed with bipolar disorder two years back. And the cocktail of meds I’m on? Not cheap without a decent plan.”
“Ah, the indispensable coverage.” Teagan nods knowingly. Her voice softens. “Anxiety disorder here. I get it. Without my meds, I’d be a ship without a sail.”
“Chemicals.” I smile wryly, lifting my sandwich in toast. “Our unsung heroes.”
We laugh together, a moment of shared understanding.
“Speaking of unsung,” I venture, feeling bold. “How’s your dating life?” She alluded to some frustration in this area the other night, and she was at the event without a date.
Teagan scoffs. “Oh, please. The guys around here think they’re God’s gift. But they’re more like yesterday’s fish market haul, reeking of arrogance and stale pick-up lines. They brag about funding like it equates to the size of their dicks.”
“Yikes,” I reply. “Guess it’s not just the workplace that can leave a bad taste in your mouth.”
“Exactly,” she says, taking another bite of her sandwich. “But enough about the dating cesspool. This sunshine is too good to waste.”
“Agreed,” I say, leaning back on my hands, face tilted towards the sky. The simple joy of the moment washes over me.
The sun winks at us between the leaves as Teagan stretches out on the grass, looking content. “So what’s the story with you and Justin?” she asks after a moment.
I smile. “Justin? He’s…different.” I pluck at the grass. “I met him back in Atlanta, where we were at school. He’s the reason I’m here in California.”
“Sounds like he’s made quite an impression,” Teagan teases, her eyes sparkling with interest.
“More than I expected,” I admit, warmth bubbling inside me. But I’ve said about all I’m ready to say. “I’m happy, Teagan. Truly. He’s a good guy. The rest is just details, right?”
She gives me an encouraging nod, and when I don’t add anything further, she lets the conversation drift away with the breeze, replaced by comfortable silence as we turn back to the business of eating our lunch.
Back at the office, the work is waiting, right where I left it. Austin’s list of office supplies still needs to be managed. I wade through, dispatching orders while taming the wilds of office logistics.
As the printer whirs in protest with a paper jam, Theo pops his head over the cubicle wall, desperation in his eyes. “Crystal, the copy machine’s doing that thing again.”
“All right, give me five minutes,” I say, without looking up.
Before I can fulfill my promise to fix the ink issue no one seems able to manage but me, Justin gently grabs my elbow, pulling me into the seclusion of a quiet hallway. Then his lips are on mine, firm and insistent. The world falls away, leaving only his touch, his taste.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers against my mouth.
“Missed me?” I tease, breathless. “You saw me this morning.”
“Still too long,” he says. “We need a break. Let’s escape for a weekend. Just us, Napa Valley, wine, and nothing else.”
The idea blooms in my chest like spring flowers, vibrant and promising. “I love it,” I tell him. “Just what we need. Are you sure you can take the time away? You’ve been working nonstop since you started.”
“Yep. I told the guys we all needed to get away. We have to recharge somehow, so we’re all going to do it, just not at the same time.”
I nod. “Smart. I think that makes sense. Maybe the time away will spark a breakthrough.”
He gives me another kiss before stepping back. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
I watch him head off down the hall, a flutter in my stomach. A weekend away sounds like a dream, one I’m eager to fall into. But first, I have a battle to win—with a rebellious printer and a needy copy machine.
When I return and open the door to our office space, there’s something unexpected inside—two officers in uniform. My heart hammers as they turn toward me. They stride over, and every pair of eyes in the room follows their movement.
“Crystal Brown?” one of them asks, her voice firm but not unkind.
“Y-yes, that’s me.” My voice trembles.
“Could we speak in private for a moment?” the other officer says, gesturing back out to the hallway.
“Of course,” I reply. I lead them to one of the small conference rooms, which feels like a march to the gallows, each step heavy with dread. What could this possibly be about? Once inside, the walls seem to close in around us.
“I’m Officer Montgomery,” the woman says, her partner standing a little behind her. “Your mother requested a wellness check.”
The words hit me like a gust of cold air.
Justin appears in the doorway, about to join us, but I raise my hand, stopping him mid-step. He hesitates, then nods. “Is everything okay?” he mouths.
I manage a half-nod, even though nothing is okay. He retreats back down the hall.
I return my attention to the officers. “Look, I work at a startup. Downtime isn’t a luxury we get often,” I explain. “I haven’t been able to call my mom as much as she’d like.”
“Understandable,” Officer Montgomery says, softening slightly. “But given your medical history…”
My cheeks flush with heat as she unceremoniously drops the words bipolar disorder into the conversation. How dare my mother betray my privacy like this?
“Please just let her know you’re okay,” the officer suggests. “A quick call might ease her worries.”
“Fine,” I agree, even though nothing about this is fine. “I’ll call her.”
After they leave, I push the door to the office suite open, stepping into a room that suddenly seems too bright, too full of prying eyes.
Justin is immediately at my side, his face etched with concern. “Are you all right? What happened?” he presses.
My mind spirals for a moment. Should I be honest? Teagan was great when I told her the truth. But this is too big a risk—my job, my living situation, my heart, it all hinges on this one person. I’m not ready yet. “Nothing serious,” I lie as smoothly as I can, my heart pounding against my ribs. “I witnessed an accident a while back but didn’t think much of it. They just wanted more information.”
“An accident?” His eyes search mine, looking for the truth I’m not ready to give him.
“Yeah, a guy pulled out in traffic and got hit.” I grimace, as if remembering the incident.
“Okay…” he says, though his hesitation speaks volumes. “If you need anything—”
“Thanks, Justin,” I cut him off gently. “I appreciate it.”
He watches me another moment before finally gathering something from his desk and heading back to the lab. As I stand there, surrounded by the hum of the office, I feel more disconnected than ever.
I sit at my desk and press the cool glass of my phone against my forehead, taking a moment to collect myself. The office has returned to its usual rhythm, with the guys all in the lab, but adrenaline still courses through me. Slowly, I dial Mom’s number, and wouldn’t you know, she sends me to voicemail. Figures.
The beep sounds. “Mom…” I push back the anger and betrayal. “If you ever send the police to check on me again, that’s it. We’re done. Don’t expect me to answer your calls or texts.”
It’s not just about her overstepping; it’s about protecting the fragile barrier between my disorder and the reality I’ve fought so hard to maintain. With a deep breath, I disconnect. It feels good to stand my ground. In fact…
I navigate to her contact, press down until options emerge, and select Block this Caller. It’s a digital amputation, swift and clean, yet somewhere beneath the numbness of my anger, I sense the phantom ache of what I’m losing. I can’t do it. I navigate away from the screen before completing the task.
But if she does this to me again, I will sever all ties to her and my father.
Now, for the hardest part. I lift my head, sliding the mask of professionalism back into place and painting a smile across my features. It should be enough to fool anyone who doesn’t look too closely.
“Hey, Crystal, everything cool?” Theo asks, coming in from the lab.
“Totally,” I say, my voice light, almost airy. “Just another day at the office, right?”
He nods, seeming reassured, and rummages through a box of parts for a moment before going back down the hall to his work. “Are we still good for drinks after work tonight?”
“I’m counting on it.” I take a deep breath and move forward, my feet carrying me through familiar motions, my mind whirring with tasks and timelines. For now, I still have a handle on this semblance of normalcy, even as I wonder how many more cracks I can plaster over before everything comes tumbling down.