21.
Crystal
“What did SHN tell you?” Teagan asks as we hang under the trees in the little park by the office on a beautiful summer afternoon.
“The solution the guys have developed for the battery could change all batteries. SHN has put the paperwork in for a patent, and not just for the automotive industry. They believe any battery-operated product will want to use our technology, and they’ll have to pay us for the usage.”
“That is huge.”
I let out a sigh and nod. I still can’t quite believe it. “The Automotive Showcase will be a test. We’ll see if SHN is reading the market right.”
We’re down to the last week before the showcase. The videographer is finally done filming, and they’re editing the video for our booth now. The guys from SHN are down here at least once a day, and their excitement is obvious. They’ve been a huge help in reaching out to automotive companies to make sure they come by the booth. Everything’s coming together, but I don’t think the guys are sleeping a wink right now.
Teagan shakes her head. “Absolutely amazing. Just remember me when you’re living the high life in Pacific Heights and I’m still struggling with Intellithread.”
“You have people who are interested,” I remind her. “Your life is going to change here very soon. We’ll be neighbors in Pacific Heights.”
“I like that!”
I glance at the silver watch clasped around my wrist, and there’s a familiar tug of urgency. “Sorry, Teagan, I need to get going, and I need to stop back in at the office.” She knows I have an appointment with Dr. McKay to get to this afternoon.
“No problem. Thanks again for the tickets to Velvet Anomaly up in Portland. It was a blast.” She gives me a hug and stands to gather her things. “I know you’re slammed right now with the Showcase, but if you need a break, promise to call me.”
“I promise.”
We say goodbye again when we get back to the building, and we each head for our own spaces. I stop in at the office just long enough to snatch my worn leather bag from the back of my chair, then I make a beeline for the door.
“Hey, where you headed?” Justin’s voice comes from down the hallway, where he’s just stepped out of the lab.
“Quick errand,” I say, a half-truth that sits uneasy in my chest. “Back in a little over an hour.”
“Can you grab me some Swedish Fish on your way back?” He rubs his temples, eyes bloodshot from days tethered to his computer. “I need sugar and caffeine to survive the homestretch.”
“Sure thing.” I nod, guilt nipping at my heels as I slip out of the office. Swedish Fish—the gummy sweetness he craves. But my mind is elsewhere, wrapped in thoughts of Dr. McKay’s office, where I’ll soon unravel pieces of myself I prefer to keep hidden away. I started this for the meds, but Dr. McKay has us doing cognitive behavioral therapy, which has me talking about my feelings, thoughts, and behavior. It’s actually been useful, and she’s great at showing me how they influence each other and how to find patterns I might want to change. I have a long way to go, but I look forward to our appointments. If only she’d lay off on me talking to Justin about my mental health.
I navigate the streets filled with the bustle of city life. It’s a short walk to Dr. McKay’s, one that gives me space to breathe and prepare.
“Crystal, come in,” Dr. McKay greets me with her usual warm smile, though today it seems like a lifeline.
I sink into the plush chair opposite her, the fabric cool against my skin. “Work’s been…intense,” I begin, not even waiting for her to prompt me, and it’s like opening the floodgates. My words spill out, recounting the progress we’ve made, the relentless pace, the fatigue on the faces of my team. “Austin had this idea, and it’s making a real difference. We’re pushing forward with a product that actually functions as intended, and we have batteries for three EV models ready for the Automotive Showcase. Everyone’s poured their soul into this.”
“Sounds promising,” Dr. McKay says, her pen poised over the notepad she always keeps close.
“Promising and exhausting,” I agree. “But we’re a good team. We’re getting there.” Pride swells within me, mingled with exhaustion—our shared currency as we race against time.
Dr. McKay nods, her gaze both kind and piercing. “And you, Crystal? How are you holding up in all this?”
“Me?” I pause, feeling suddenly under the spotlight. “I’m…managing.” The truth is complicated and something I’m content to let go unspoken.
“Good,” she replies, a note of encouragement in her voice that buoys me just enough. “Remember, self-care is crucial, especially when the stakes are high.”
“Of course,” I promise. I know well the delicate dance of pushing my limits while guarding the fragile balance of my well-being.
“Keep that in mind,” she advises again before our time runs out and I’m ushered back into the chaos of the world beyond her door. At least, this time, she didn’t push me about telling Justin my health history. We both know I need to, but this isn’t a good time. Not when there’s so much at stake.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I stop at a local bodega, gathering Swedish Fish and an assortment of chocolate bars—a small token of appreciation for the guys on this final climb. As I pay for the sugary contraband, I realize that if what SHN is telling us comes even half true, our lives are going to shift drastically. I hope the success doesn’t change us too much.
Armed with candy, I retrace my steps to the office, ready to face whatever awaits. I find the team in the lab, much as I left them, leaning into white boards and screens, their concentration palpable. “Got your sugar,” I announce, holding up the bags like trophies. They emerge from their technical reveries, faces lighting up with childlike delight.
“Crystal, you’re a lifesaver,” Justin says, grinning as he snags his Swedish Fish. The others echo his thanks, tearing into the chocolate with fervor. It’s the small victories that keep us going, and right now, candy is king.
Shoving a bite into his mouth, Austin hands me a list—on a piece of paper this time—wires, components, and more sodium chloride. “For the prototype EV batteries,” he explains. “Thank you.”
“Consider it done,” I reply, pocketing the list and waving as I return to my computer in the office to place the orders. In these moments, I feel most connected to our success. Each item checked off brings us one step closer to standing out at the Automotive Showcase.
Order confirmed, I find myself with a sliver of time—a rare commodity these days—so I slip away to a quiet conference room, closing the door behind me. I don’t talk to my parents very often, but I promised Dr. McKay I would reach out. If I don’t do it now, I’ll never get it done before my next appointment. The sunlight slants through the blinds, casting long shadows across the table, a reminder that the day is waning here but still at its height in Florida.
My hand shakes slightly as I dial the familiar number, the sequence embedded deep in muscle memory. It rings, a sound that at one time would have filled me with warmth, but now brings anxiety. The call connects, and the moment of truth awaits.
“Hey, honey!” Mom’s voice crackles through the phone. “I’m so glad you’re calling. We miss you so much.”
Dad’s baritone rumbles in the background, a sure sign he’s listening in.
“Everything’s fine,” I assure them, my fingers tracing the cool surface of the conference table. “I’m seeing Dr. McKay regularly, and I’m stable.” The words make me proud, a small declaration in my ongoing battle for normalcy.
“Stable? That’s good, sweetheart,” Dad says. “But what about school?” I can imagine him leaning closer to the phone.
“Actually,” I interject before they can spiral into their well-worn lecture, “I’ve enrolled in a class at UC Berkeley for the fall.”
There’s a pause, and then Dad chuckles. “What are you, becoming a hippie?”
“Compared to you, probably,” I quip.
Their relief is almost tangible. “We’re just glad you’re continuing your education.” Mom sighs, her worry momentarily assuaged.
“Also…” Dad chimes in, “when do you plan on bringing that boy, Justin, home to meet us?”
I press my lips together, thinking of Justin’s chaotic schedule and the tangled web of our lives. “With everything going on, it won’t be soon,” I tell them.
“That’s unfortunate.” Mom sighs again, and I can practically see Dad’s frown.
“Y’know, you could always come visit out here,” I suggest, though the words seem futile even as they leave my mouth. They’ve never ventured west of the Mississippi, and I doubt they’ll start now.
“Maybe one day,” Mom says. That’s the noncommittal response I’ve come to expect after growing up in their house.
“Sure, one day,” I echo, letting the conversation and my expectations drift away into silence.
The phone’s weight grows in my hand as silence stretches across the line.
“Have you told Justin about your bipolar disorder?” Mom’s voice is sharp with concern.
A lump forms in my throat, and the words come out more quietly than I intend. “I haven’t brought it up.” I clutch the phone tighter, bracing for impact.
“Crystal,” she starts, her tone tightening, “if he truly loves you, he will accept you as you are.”
Her words sting, mixing guilt with the fear already simmering inside me. “It’s not that simple, Mom. He’s under a lot of pressure with work…” I trail off, knowing my excuses sound hollow.
“Pressure or not,” she persists, “you should be honest with him. And if he can’t handle it, then—”
“Then what?” I cut in, frustration mounting. “You want me to just pack up and crawl back to Georgia Tech or Florida?”
“You being closer to home would put our minds at ease,” Dad interjects, his voice stern.
“But what about me? About my mind?” I mutter. “I’m here because I’m part of something and because of Justin. We have something special.” My words are a plea for understanding, but they fall on deaf ears.
“It doesn’t seem so special if you’re afraid telling him the truth will make him leave,” Dad says flatly.
His words hit like a punch, leaving me reeling. My heart races, and the familiar feeling of being trapped creeps up. I need to escape. “Look, I have to go,” I say abruptly, fumbling for an excuse to end the call.
“Crystal, we only want what’s best—”
“I understand. I’ve got to go. Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.” I don’t wait for their response. I just press end and drop the phone onto the table like it’s on fire.
Staring at the silent device, I take a deep breath, trying to shake off their words. It won’t do any good to let their doubts infect me now. I need to focus on something else.
A ping and a message on the screen rescues me—a notification. The order I placed for Austin has arrived. That’s quick, even for me. I zip out to the front desk to grab the package and hurry to the lab.
“Hey, guys!” I call as I approach.
Austin and the others are huddled near the German car. Their faces light up when they see me.
“Wow, Crystal, that was fast!” Austin exclaims, grinning as he takes the package from my hands.
“Fast and efficient, just how I like it,” I quip, forcing a smile.
“Oh, that’s why you’re with Justin,” Rhys teases.
I shake my head and offer him an eye roll. Then I cross my arms and shrug. “That’s life, living with all of you.”
“Thanks for this,” Justin says, coming to my rescue, or his own. I’m not sure which. “You’re a lifesaver.” They all nod in agreement.
“Anytime,” I reply, and this time my smile is real. Their appreciation drowns out the frustration left by my call with my parents.