Chapter 4 #2
That article led me to Goldie, one of the subjects Oliver had interviewed while researching the piece. The two had barely spoken, but he had left a card with our office address, which at the time happened to be my apartment.
She showed up at my door in a pair of combat boots that were falling apart, her long black hair soaked through from the rain, but a fire in her eyes that was impossible to miss.
I hadn't known it then, but she was only fifteen when she started working for me, having told me she was eighteen instead.
I knew she was young and had no formal education, but she had a natural instinct for computers and research.
I found out her real age a couple of years later, on the eve of her actual eighteenth birthday.
She had always kept a wall between us, but she had been family to me from the start.
The three of us worked tirelessly side by side for years, bringing the journal to new heights. We were respected, yet unknown. I knew I wanted another journalist to bring a fresh voice and perspective, but after months of searching, I couldn't find anyone who fit.
Then I met Jackie James.
I was driving home from an AA meeting when I spotted a young woman lying on a street bench.
I confirmed her age straight away this time, and when she told me she was in her twenties, I took her home.
Her blonde hair was matted with what I assumed was her own vomit, her skin clammy, her golden brown eyes untrusting.
It took me less than an hour to recognize she was an addict like me, and another hour after that, when I found her rifling through my kitchen cabinets, to realize her addiction was to alcohol too.
I couldn't help but want to protect Jackie. I had been in the same position once, arriving in a new city with an addiction I hadn't yet faced and no family to fall back on. I could admit my help wasn't purely for her. It was also for me, to be the savior I had needed as a child.
Sarah and I helped Jackie find her footing.
I could see demons swirling deep within her, remnants of a past she hadn't yet made peace with, and I wanted to give her the same second chance Sarah had once given me.
I helped Jackie get sober, helped her find a job at the local library, and slowly earned her trust.
One night, I was deep in an edit of an upcoming issue, working through an article Oliver had written, lost enough in it that I hadn't noticed Jackie peering over my shoulder.
Those brown eyes of hers had a habit of seeing into my soul more clearly than anyone else could, better than I could myself at times.
"You need to re-interview her. She's hiding something," Jackie said, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.
"Goddamn it," I mumbled. "Announce yourself next time, why don't you?"
She waved me off with a smile. "Seriously, she's hiding something. Send Oliver back."
I'm not sure why, but I listened. It turned out to be good advice.
I didn't send Oliver. I went myself. Jackie had been right.
The young woman believed to be the victim of a stalker was, in fact, the stalker herself, harassing over a dozen individuals.
Not only had Jackie sensed the woman was hiding something from a transcript alone, she had inadvertently solved an open case.
I hired her on the spot, and she had taken to the team instantly.
Goldie was enamored, Oliver had found a new best friend, and I had found another family member.
The four of us did the unexpected. With Goldie's research skills, Oliver's writing, Jackie's instincts, and my leadership, Fibonacci Files became a respected academic journal, praised by nearly everyone in the field.
With that success came growth, and we quickly outgrew our small office and went searching for a new one. The building we eventually chose had exposed brick walls, expansive windows, and a feeling of history. It was perfect, and there were weeks I had spent more time here than at my own home.
This office, whose walls still bore photographs I had taken, filled with décor I had chosen and paid for, worn from years of use, no longer felt like home. It now housed many of my regrets, ones I was forced to face every day.
Jackie and Oliver haunted my days. No longer friends, just reluctant employees. They still believed in the journal and loved their work, but they avoided me.
Not that I blamed them. They were just two more names on a long list of people I had wronged.
I loved my work, and I had spent the last six months trying to be the owner and leader I had always wanted to be.
It helped that I was sober enough to pay the bills on time and no longer relying on Goldie to pick up my slack.
She had been practically running the company while I was at my worst, but it was time I stepped back up and found my love for the work again.
I was back to filing taxes, managing business registrations, and processing payroll. Goldie continued to handle the majority of editing and arranging of each issue, but final approval remained with me. It was the best compromise we could reach.
"Knock knock." Goldie leaned into the doorway, and her eyes went wide. I was on the floor surrounded by open boxes, papers scattered everywhere from my search for the birth certificate. "Do I even want to ask what happened here?"
I sighed and looked around. "Probably not," I mumbled, standing and stepping carefully through the chaos back to my desk. "What can I do for you?"
She held up a stack of papers. "Expense reports. I need you to sign off on them."
"Hand them over," I said, extending my hand. I worked through the stack, scanning each page briefly before signing. Travel was a constant with our work, all four of us traveling frequently for research, and with that came a mountain of expense reports.
Goldie glanced at the stacks of papers on the floor. "Do you ever get rid of anything?" she asked, amused, picking up a loose page. "Is this a bill from twelve years ago? Why do you still have this?"
I shrugged and kept signing.
"He's a hoarder. Always has been," Jackie said from the doorway. She didn't make eye contact with me, giving me the cold shoulder as she always did these days. It was rare that I could catch her gaze, and when I did, I wished I hadn't.
Goldie glanced between us, the tension thick enough to cut. She was caught in the middle at work, living with me, having been my entire support system through this stretch of sobriety, while Jackie was one of her oldest friends, and I was not Jackie's favorite person at the moment.
I was willing to admit the rift between us was completely my fault. I had apologized for it. But some cuts run deep enough to leave a permanent scar, and I hadn't just cut Jackie. I had rubbed salt in the wound before it could even begin to heal.
Her life had been falling apart five years ago.
She was unearthing painful details about her family and her past, and instead of supporting her, I pushed her away.
I threw away our friendship without a second thought.
I had told myself at the time it was to protect her.
She had just started seeing Will, and I didn't like them together.
In some misguided attempt to play the father figure, I had tried to keep them apart.
It was stupid and selfish, and I could see that now.
But at the time I was drinking, terrified Jackie would find out, and already starting to spiral.
The thing was, Jackie would have forgiven me if I had said any of that when it happened. She had a big heart and a willingness to accept people's faults that most people didn't possess. My problem was that I had kept up the act of pushing her away for years.
Not only had I pulled away as her friend, but I had tried to fire her as her boss, and stepped back from all duties as her sponsor.
She had found a new one years ago, but neither of us had ever spoken about any of it.
She had tried, in the beginning, but I had turned a cold shoulder every time, caring more about my drinking than about her.
At a certain point, you run out of second chances and have to accept that you destroyed one of the most important relationships in your life for the sake of a bottle.
"Is there a reason you hold onto everything?" Goldie asked, her tone a shade too bright to be convincing as she tried to cut the tension.
I shrugged as I continued to rifle through the expense reports.
"Comes from a childhood of only being allowed a trash bag worth of belongings," I mumbled, signing the last document and sliding the stack across the desk to Goldie.
She nodded, accepted the explanation without pushing, and took the papers.
I turned to Jackie, keeping my tone as neutral as I could. "What can I do for you?"
I could see the urge to roll her eyes or make an obnoxious remark written plainly on her face, sitting right on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back. Instead, she pulled an envelope from her back pocket and held it out to me.
"You've been nominated for an Achievement in Journalism Award," she said, and seemed physically pained at the idea of me being recognized for anything.
I took the envelope and read through the details. Most of my staff had received countless awards for their work, and they deserved every one. It was why I nominated them for as many as I could. But I had never received one myself.
"Shit," I mumbled, genuinely shocked that anyone had found me worthy of recognition. I looked back up at Jackie, who was watching me with a curious expression. "Thanks for bringing this to me."
She nodded and left, leaving me bewildered.
"Let me see that," Goldie said, snatching the document from my hand and reading it over. "This is incredible."
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. Instead, I resumed my search for the birth certificate, curious now to see if I could make out my mother's name, knowing what I was looking for this time.
I should have been more focused on the award, but with everything swirling around the letter, I couldn't get there.
Gabriel hadn't just written to me. He had invited me to come see him.
That was where my mind kept landing, on the possibility of meeting my brother in the flesh, of learning about my mother firsthand, maybe even understanding why I had been given up.
The award felt inconsequential by comparison.
"Fai," Goldie trailed off and turned to me.
"Do you think you could handle things here for a week?" I asked, giving up on my search for the birth certificate. I had a feeling I knew where it had ended up.
Goldie nodded. "Sure. We already have the next issue queued up, so the timing is good. But can we talk about this?"
"Thank you," I mumbled and started putting the boxes back.
"Fai?"
"Yeah?" I asked, still not fully paying attention.
Goldie rolled her eyes and pulled at my shoulder, turning me to face her. "Fai, this is serious."
My brow furrowed. "Why? It's just some award."
"Maybe," Goldie said, "but it's how you got nominated that matters. Jackie did it."
"What?" I grabbed the nomination letter and read it over, landing on the section that noted it was peer-nominated.
"How do you know it was Jackie?"
Goldie picked up the envelope from my desk. "It’s not addressed to you. It’s explaining that her nomination was accepted." She turned it over, pointing to where her name was printed clearly on the return address.
Jackie James.
"Why in the world would she nominate me?" I asked, more to myself than anyone.
"Maybe things between you two aren't as hopeless as you thought."