12. Glitch
12
Glitch
Teens ran up and posed for pics with that temperamental, eight-legged bitch. Instead of dangling above the stairway, she perched on a throne of cheap webbing, a photo op hawking the Hot Contra accessories littering her table. Bristling, I turned away.
She was supposed to be a mech queen, my magnum opus, the ‘fuck you’ to every asshole on my robotics team. Instead, she swung into early retirement as an oversized, tacky figurine. She broke my heart…and fractured more than just my relationship with my brother.
I closed my eyes and shuddered.
“What’s up? Are you afraid of spiders?” Ash asked.
“No, I hate them.” That one in particular.
“Okay.” Her inflection indicated I was being weird. And maybe I was. What did a woman like Ash do in the face of failure?
Silent judgment pricked my neck. My brother lurked on the other side of the lobby, observing everyone. Ominous. Efficient. He’d been a nice buffer in college.
I raised my hand in a quick, awkward wave.
He jerked his chin. ‘These people again? ’
‘Yes.’ I sneered so only he could see. I pulled my fleece higher and gestured to Ash. “Let’s head to our seats.”
Sal and Janice were grabbing napkins, so they wouldn’t be too far behind. I paused at the aisle to let Ash go ahead of me. She hesitated. “Did you want to sit in the middle?” she asked.
“You wanted to keep your distance from Janice,” I reasoned.
“Yep. The end will be fine for me.” She plopped into her seat.
I furrowed my brow at the entrance and joined her. What was taking them so long to get a damned snack?
She crossed her ankles and scrolled through her phone. “Sal’s been talking you up all week.”
“Really?” My brain whirred with possibilities. “What was he saying?”
She rolled her head from side to side as if shaking free the memory. “You’re smart, funny, pretty–”
“He said I was pretty?” That didn’t make sense. I furrowed my brow and craned my neck at the entrance. “He has a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he was pining, just stating it objectively.”
Objectively? My gears ground to a halt. “Wait, so you also think I’m pretty?”
She laughed hard enough to prick my ego.
I wasn’t that bad. Sure, I didn’t use makeup or do my hair, but my eyebrows were separated and clean. Hygiene went a long way. I tugged my cap and compacted myself into the chair.
“I probably shouldn’t answer that either way,” she said, wiping her tears.
“You are my boss,” I grumbled.
“Yeah, I guess. But I don’t think you’ll be with us for long,” she said.
Something whirred in my brain. Was she firing me? I pressed my palms into my knees and stared straight ahead. “Because of the drone incident?”
She snorted. “You obviously want to do more than work at True Tech. ”
“I do lots of things outside of work.” Game, program, organize screws…although I hadn’t built anything lately.
She fixed me with a long look. “You have a degree in robotics. You can fix anything people throw at you. But you’re not exactly a people-person. I give it six months tops before you move onto some tech company.”
“I don’t think so.” I pushed up my glasses, and my cheeks heated. That wasn’t in the cards for me.
“Why not? They’d be lucky to have you.” She nudged me with her knee.
“It’s a very male-dominated industry,” I said, curling my fingers.
“So what? You can still kick ass. I do.”
“I tried to.” Swallowing hard, I glanced at the entrance. “It’s not always worth the risk.”
Sal strode in with Janice, armed with snacks. He smiled upon finding us, then gestured with a flourish to let his girlfriend go ahead. She chose the seat one apart from me, forcing him to shimmy past her knees to sit beside me. As he plunked down, his arm brushed mine. Something tingled in my chest. I drew in my elbows and knees and focused on the trivia on screen.
It was fine. He wasn’t invading. She didn’t know me. They were rearranging snacks. Sal spread his arm out behind her seat. “Comfy?”
She should be. She wasn’t twisted into a pretzel, avoiding her brother, or questioned about life choices by her boss.
A done-up turkey and veggie spread lit up the screen in an ad for local catering. ‘You’ll be thankful you ordered early.’
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you two having Thanksgiving together or with your own families?”
Sal scratched his goatee. “Um, separate. She’s welcome to come, but–”
“Thanksgiving is for family.” She patted his knee. “But I promised I’d save him a piece of my mom’s famous pumpkin pie. ”
“Thanks for thinking of me,” he pulled her closer for a half-hug over the armrests.
“Sal, you’re squishing me,” she scolded. Her nails dug into his arm.
He hissed and loosened his grip. “Okay. Put the claws back in, even if they are pretty.”
She giggled and slapped his leg.
It was weird. Nauseating, the more I witnessed their dynamic, but in a different way than Victor and Kat. At least those two were on the same frequency. These two had been dating longer, but they never considered each other part of the family. Which was true in a literal sense. But somehow, I got the impression Janice was the type to have Friendsgiving and make it no partners allowed. Something was off here.
Ash scoffed and scrolled her phone.
Apparently, she agreed .
But this couple had matured, presumably. Maybe they understood one another. I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Can I ask you something? My brother wants me to visit his girlfriend’s family for Thanksgiving. I’m not sure that’s normal. After all, I’m not tied to anyone in their family, and they only recently started dating. Would it be expected that I meet her family, or is it acceptable if I stay home?”
Janice leaned over Sal. “Do you not get along with her?”
“No, we get along fine,” I said. Kat was almost irritatingly friendly.
“What about your family?” Sal asked, his voice gentle.
“They usually make plans with extended friends and family.” I frowned, imagining cranberry sauce over pancakes as a festive breakfast. It wasn’t very appetizing. “I should probably just stay home and eat mashed potatoes.”
“Yes, add some garlic. Lick the bowl.” Sal wagged his eyebrows.
“Sal,” Janice chided.
“What? You never sucked the batter off a spoon?”
“That’s a salmonella risk.” I laid my elbow on the armrest, accidentally brushing his sleeve, and smiled. “I’m not saying I don’t do it, but–”
“See?” He beamed, gesturing. “Mashed potatoes are buttery, garlic fluff meant to be sucked up like ice cream.” He mimed slurping up the contents of a bowl, his tongue flapping about.
Why did he think we needed a visual representation of how to eat ice cream? I chuckled, covering my face. The edge of my fingertips tingled. He was so silly. So easy.
“You’re nasty,” Ash teased.
He raised his chin. “I don’t hear Janice complaining.”
Ash and I scoffed. He froze, then widened his eyes at me in the dimming lights. “I didn’t mean sexually. I was just saying–”
“Previews are starting.” Janice elbowed him in the side.
“Sorry.” He grunted and angled over the armrest.
Why didn’t they lift that? He’d be sore if he stayed that way for an hour and a half.
“It’s fine,” I whispered, nudging his arm.
Janice shot me a sharp look. No talking, right. I adjusted my cap and exchanged a side-eye with Ash.
She arched her brow as if to say, ‘See what I mean?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, unfortunately.’
Those two were not on the same frequency.
The movie wasn’t a masterpiece by any means, but it was sweet and funny, which was all it needed to be.
“I’m worthy of love,” the main female lead insisted.
That part wasn’t so funny. But she messed up, figured it out, and still found her happy ending. If only life was that easy. Input effort, output healthy relationships.
I shuffled out with our group as they chatted about the movie. Would I ever see them again once I quit? Maybe I should join more online games and make friends that way. But that could be such a time–and sometimes money–suck. Plus, once I stopped playing, it wasn’t the same with my guild or whoever. And guys could still be weird about it.
Sal gasped and took off towards the spider mech. “Oh my god, have you seen this thing? It’s so frickin’ cool. We’ve gotta take a picture.”
“No.” Janice chuckled, crossing her arms. “That’s not going on my Must Love Mimi post.”
“Ash, Zero, please?” He pressed his hands together.
She jerked her head at me. “She’s not into spiders. I’ll come in with you.”
Janice sighed and aimed her phone.
Ash stayed stationary, widening her eyes as if frozen in the hopes the widow wouldn’t notice her. Sal mimed running away, mugging the camera in fear, then glee.
What the hell was he doing? I smiled and shook my head. Maybe it wouldn’t kill me to have one photo of my failure as enjoyed by some friends. I pretended to check my phone, but opened the camera app instead. Was it okay to take a pic?
My hands shook as I raised the phone to get a better angle.
“Hey.” Ash nudged Sal and pointed at me.
My lip twitched up. “Say ‘arachnid.’”
“Arachnid,” they wailed, making grotesque, silly faces and wiggling their fingers.
Laughing, I captured the moment. Maybe that spider was still good for something. And this kind of camaraderie was good for me.
I'd have offered to include Janice, but she was busy texting with her friends about the movie while we did our photoshoot. Somehow, they made her laugh more than her boyfriend .
Perhaps Sal wasn’t her soulmate. But maybe that wasn’t a thing. Maybe our friends could be soulmates in ways lovers couldn’t be. At least with good ones. I sent the pic to Sal and Ash.
“Nice,” he cheered, and bumped my fist. “See? You’re conquering your fears, slugger. I’m proud of you.”
A zing raced to my heart. Yep, friends could be soulmates. Platonic soulmates were a thing. But if we were ever going to be besties, I needed to be able to be honest with him about stuff he might not want to hear. Stuff about people he loved. Hopefully, he’d understand. Hopefully, he’d believe me, and we could be on the same frequency.