Chapter 30
It's a fresh Monday morning, and I'm starting my new job as an Internal Dispatch Runner for Helion. I carry internal mail, reports, prototypes, data drives, and packages between departments, zipping from floor to floor, keeping everything flowing without a hitch. Or trying.
The guy who's basically my supervisor, Fabian, walks me through everything on day one.
Part of the gig entails delivering physical docs from Level C up to Level B, Lincoln and Sarah's department, then bringing signed forms over to engineering, picking up test results to run back to admin.
Sometimes I even drop off coffee runs or supply orders if someone's desperate and the machine's on the fritz.
Fabian also instructs me as to what I can expect working this job: most times I'll have to handle small deliveries inside the building, but the great thing about this job is that I do not need technical training, just organization and good communication. It's literally internal delivery.
Simple.
Familiar.
Perfectly fits my background from years of courier/delivery work, hustling packages across Hudson Vale.
Something I did with Lincoln.
Those days were fun. It's how we ended up together. And now the irony is that I'm working doing almost the same job, at the place where he works.
I had only seen Tobias in passing once I came in and headed up to Level B.
He'd pulled me aside briefly, his voice all clipped efficiency as he explained how everyone is too busy with Auralis, how the internal dispatch routes are falling behind.
"We need someone reliable," he'd said, fixing me with that intense gaze. "And who better than someone who spent years delivering packages across Hudson Vale?"
Anyway, now I push my transport cart down the gleaming halls, Morris the cat sitting smugly on top of it, his eyes blinking slowly as he closes them, smiling to himself from his perch.
“What are you smiling at? You need to be earning your keep too, mister. Look at you sitting up there thinking you're special.” I laugh, shaking my head at him.
My route takes me right through Lincoln's department. Today, I'm bringing Tom Mavidson's tablet, along with a few other items. I have my trusty walkie-talkie clipped to my belt too, so communication can flow effortlessly if anyone needs me.
I've actually made a few friends in the department on level B, a lot of them I hadn’t met before. They’re cordial and I find my smiles coming easy, something that clearly Lincoln hasn't missed, as he's always staring at me. Whenever he does, I avert my eyes and try to pretend he's not there.
Why should I give him the time of day?
After some small chit-chat with a couple of the workers at their cubicles, I head back to my cart. I pet Morris as I stock the cart, preparing to deliver stuff to other departments.
There's a gentle hand on my shoulder from behind.
“Hey, what's up? Do you need something?” I ask Lincoln formally.
“Just wanted to see how you're holding up. How's your first day?” he asks.
He looks genuinely interested and also a bit morose. He's trying to butter me up.
“It's all right. People are nice.”
“That's because you haven't gotten to know them yet.” He chuckles nervously.
I don't.
“Anyway, I got to get going. Got stuff to do,” I say, giving him a cursory smile, one that I don't feel on my face.
“Yeah, of course. If you need anything or… I… just let me know,” Lincoln offers, looking unsure.
This is clearly bothering him, us being distant. It's been five days since the blowout of our argument on the sidewalk before the ride picked us up.
After we got home, neither of us spoke to each other, and we stayed in our rooms. On the bright side, we can't get divorced because we're already divorced, even though the irony is that we're fighting like a married couple.
At this point, I don't even know why I'm living in his house. Oh yeah, that's right. Money.
Even though I'm very busy, I have fun, and every time I have to come back up to the department, I'm met with smiles. Part of me wonders if the CEO threatened anybody or maybe the department thinks they need me.
My job is one that's very replaceable, at least so I think, but one of the things I do not miss is that whenever I make it back up to level B, Sarah and Lincoln, whenever they're not in that little testing room, are always together.
Sarah is always on his ass, making sure that one part of her body or another is touching him. If they're talking to another co-worker or relaying whatever it is they're mentioning about the robot, Sarah's shoulder is always brushed up against his arm.
If she's showing something to him on her tablet, he leans over her, his chest almost pressed up against her upper back, making them look very intimate.
And it's clearly very obvious to anybody who can see that the two are more than just coworkers, and it makes me uncomfortable even though it shouldn't.
My shift is from 7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m., which is perfect because I'd be leaving right around when the building starts buzzing but before overtime kicks in.
I have a little over a couple of hours to go, but now it's lunchtime.
I had carried a little container with me, one that I placed in the fridge on level B since the break room there is bigger.
There are so many people in the break room, so I go over to one of the empty cubicles to sit there.
Everyone is talking to each other. All I have for company is Morris as he purrs, pawing my face while he sits there on the cubicle desk in front of me, begging for some of my chicken salad.
Picking up my fork, I feed him some. The cat is so awesome that he knows how to eat off of a fork, something that I didn't train him to do, but he just picked up on.
“Look at all those bad habits you took from the house. You're spoiled, you know that?” I smile at him.
“Hey buddy,” Lincoln says, coming over. He picks up the cat, kissing him on the head and hugging him before placing him back down on the cubicle. Morris jumps down onto the ground and starts roaming around the department.
“Morris, don't go too far. I don't want you eating someone's papers and then we get in trouble,” I say. Morris answers me with a soft and so cute meow.
I take another bite of my chicken salad, closing my eyes softly as I relish the taste of the feta cheese in the salad. Still sitting, I look up at Lincoln, wondering what he wants.
“Why don't you come to the break room with me to have some lunch?” he asks with a smile.
“I'm already eating my lunch here.”
“You’re technically supposed to eat it in the break room,” he says.
“I'm almost done. I mean, I have half left, so…”
“Gabby. The CEO actually wants people to eat their lunch in the break room.”
Closing my eyes and inhaling, I rise, parking the cart. Snapping my fingers and making a swish noise with my mouth, I call for Morris, who comes bounding happily toward me on silent paws.
Naturally, the kitty follows Lincoln and me into the very large break room with a gigantic fridge.
There are several tables, and it almost feels like a mini restaurant. Now that I'm not so busy, and the people that were in here are now absent I can actually appreciate it.
Lincoln sits on one of the tables, not taken up.
“Wait, where is everyone? Aren't there like 50 people in this department or something?”
“The few that are here eat very fast, but the rest of them prefer to go out and get some air and get their food from outside. Or they take a nap in their car,” Lincoln informs me, biting into what looks like Chinese food.
When did he get that?
“I see. If they want to take a nap in their car, is that not going to cut down on the time they have to nap by having to walk all the way there and then back?” I ask.
“People are here so much, Gabby, that the very little bit of time that they have to be away from work, they treasure it. Seeing the outside and getting to enjoy the quiet of your car is a luxury for people in this department that work 16 hours on average almost every day.”
I nod at this, understanding.
My salad is almost finished, and the food that he's eating smells so good.
I pick at my salad. I hate it when I finish my food first and then I'm still hungry, watching someone else eat.
Lincoln's fork slips into my salad bowl, giving me a piece of his teriyaki chicken. I fight the urge to smile warmly, my heart feeling full.
My eyes find his. His face looks so soft, so kind, still filled with love. Smiling again softly, he puts half of his food in my bowl, scraping some of it straight in there.
“Lincoln, you need this more than I do.”
“No. I know you want it.”
“I didn't ask for it though.”
“Yeah, but I know you,” he says flatly, continuing to eat his much smaller portion, barely having left any for himself.
“No, take some of it. You gave me too much, and I already ate my salad,” I say as I start pouring some of the food back into his plate from my bowl.
“No. When I give you something, I expect you to keep it,” he says, pouring the food back into my bowl, leaving himself with even less than he had before.
“Lincoln, your brain runs on fuel.”
“I'm not a car,” he jibs.
“Link, seriously,” I say, raising my bowl, but he places his hand over mine, stilling me.
“I ate something, a bagel a little earlier. I promise I'm fine. It would make me happy to see you enjoy it. Seriously,” he says, smiling faintly at me.
The truth is, I want the food. All the physical running around back and forth has made me hungrier than what a salad can suffice.
I don't know why I'm shocked at his kindness.
This is who he's always been since we met.
At some point, we lost sight of that, but under all of it, Lincoln has always looked out for me and taken care of me and put his needs after mine.
And even though he claimed he ate a bagel, I know that he's hungry.
With three pieces of chicken left, I stab them with the fork and hold the fork to his mouth. His eyes lock on mine, and I give him a smile.
He then opens his mouth to eat what I give him.
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