Ethan
Barbie is still offline by the time the daily update meeting comes around.
It’s just Ed and me the moment I hop on the call.
I must have misheard her when she planned on taking PTO last weekend for her move.
I thought she was only taking Thursday and Friday off, but it’s Monday, and the company chatbot hasn’t come online to grill me over my team’s data yet.
“All right, Carter,” Ed says. “It’s just a boy’s club today. A real ol’ sausage party, if I say so myself.”
I immediately hit the mute button, simultaneously pinching the bridge of my nose. I’m certain he doesn’t know what the phrase means, but I don’t want to test my theory and see if I’m right.
When it comes to Ed, I simply go with whatever he says.
“Well, not just today. It’s going to be a boy’s club for the unforeseeable future.”
Unmuting my mic, I pick up my thermos and unscrew the cap. “What do you mean, Ed?”
He heaves out a weary sigh. “The B&E Dream Team is no more. Barbie abandoned us.”
“Barbie did what?” I almost choke on coffee as it slides down my throat.
“She quit on us,” he says.
I stare at his icon while the muscles of my back become tense.
I thought she wasn’t leaving until the end of the month. There are still thirteen days left of August. We still haven’t finalized the revisions for the annuity SOP. It’s on the agenda for Wednesday’s call.
Why didn’t she bring this up to me? She could have mentioned it last night when we were playing this farming game she wanted me to download.
All I did was fish at some pier I stumbled across while she ran around petting our co-op’s chickens and cat—which she named Ethan Catter despite my suggestion to go with Pie Junior—and watering crops.
“Well, she’s quitting,” he clarifies. “Last day’s on the thirtieth, but she’s as good as gone with all the sick leave she’s using. It’s such a shame she’s leaving. Frank and I wanted her eyes on post-production.”
I’m barely listening to him. Barbie would have told me if today was her last day.
Why wouldn’t she? Just last week, she gave me the play-by-play of the interview she had for her internship before sending me a link to an alt-rock playlist she made with songs she heard on the drive to the oceanographic research center.
She said it matched my vibe, whatever that means.
Most of the songs were already on my workout playlist, anyway.
“So,” I hedge, “who’s taking over as QC’s project lead?”
“Joe,” he says, and I fight my groan. I’ll do it later on my break, not while I’m on a call with my manager. “I think he’d be a great replacement for Barbie. He’s been involved with many reports.”
“May I suggest Emily?” I reply. “Someone with an eye for detail? We could do a test run with her and see how the QC team would be under her. I can see someone like Emily creating pivot tables for all the data errors—”
“That’s a good idea,” Ed says. “We should include pivot tables in these reports.”
I frown at my monitor. We do have pivot tables in the reports. It was the first thing Barbie did after she was onboarded. She tidied up spreadsheets with pivot tables to break down the large amount of data her team would produce. And there were many of them. She was always detail-oriented.
“I could give Emily… the notes from the conference’s leadership seminar,” I say slowly. “The big one on Friday.”
“Or Joe,” Ed supplies, oblivious to the fact that the leadership seminar was on Thursday. “You know, Carter, I’m glad the conference provided you with useful information.”
“You are?”
“To tell you the truth—and this stays between you and me—the conference was always meant to be more of a trip than business,” he says, which has me staring at my screen in absolute surprise.
“The company can’t afford to give raises this year, so Frank and I thought we’d bring along our two favorite rockstars this year as a way to show our appreciation. ”
I don’t know where to begin with this. Or what to respond with. Dead silence seems like the appropriate response at this point.
“Don’t tell Joe,” Ed adds. “The B&E Dream Team has been my most productive team by far, but who knows? Maybe Joe will exceed expectations.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose again. Joe is going to be a massive downgrade from Barbie. Any of her replacements will be. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Oh my God,” she laughs. “He told you I resigned today? I just wanted to use up all my sick days since I can’t cash them out. I’ll be back on Wednesday so we can go over the annuity SOP one last time before you submit the update form.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. What kind of bot would I be if I didn’t provide any input?” she deadpans, then gasps. “Did you dig up my melon?”
We’re playing the farming game for the second day in a row. I’m still fishing at the pier. Barbie has been foraging for berries and digging through villagers’ garbage cans. I don’t see what this has to do with farming, but Barbie will say we have chickens if I bring it up again.
“I have no idea what happened to it,” I lie.
“You are a terrible liar,” she replies.
“All right, I didn’t realize the pickaxe could destroy crops. Will it please you if I buy your character ice cream from the stand?”
She bursts into a fit of giggles, bringing an answering warmth to my chest. I let out a sharp exhale and force myself to focus on fishing.
“Make it two,” she says finally. “I need one to cheer me up over my massacred melon and another to celebrate some really good news.”
“What’s the good news?”
“Okay, so, a while back, I contacted an old advisor from college and asked if I could put her as a reference on my application,” she says.
“Well, she reached out to me this morning about this conservation certification course she’s starting.
It’s a new program, collaborating with the local community college and aquarium. ”
“Does this mean you’re no longer doing the internship?”
“No. I’ll be doing it alongside my internship,” she says. “It’s just… This is so close to what I want to do with my life. I’m hoping that this will open more doors for me. Or at least make my resume look more impressive outside the penguins in a bold, size-forty font.”
It’s not hard to picture Barbie at some aquarium, clearly in her element, and shining brightly with happiness while she does something good and meaningful to make the world a better place.
This is the life she wanted. Dreamed of. In California, my brain reminds me, and, suddenly, my chest and shoulders are wound tight.
“I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you,” she says. “My sisters are, too. Bell’s taking me out for celebratory drinks during happy hour tomorrow.”
“Of the fruity kind?” I tease, wishing my voice wasn’t so roughened.
“What else is there?” she responds cheerfully. “Oh. I’m gonna have to call you back. Betty just texted me.”
“I’ll be here, fishing until Aaron arrives,” I reply.
“You can do more besides fishing, Ethan. For starters, you can romance the villagers.”
“Even the fish bait guy?”
Laughter bubbles from her. “Oh my God. I’ll be right back. Try not to dig up any more of my melons while I’m gone.”
She ends the call, and I’m left to my own devices with our co-op farm. I still don’t understand the point of this game, but it’s oddly soothing. At least the fishing part is. Barbie plans on befriending all the villagers and has already created dozens of color-coded spreadsheets.
My phone starts buzzing about ten minutes later, while I’m fishing at a different body of water I’ve discovered.
“Everything good with your sister?”
“Yup. She drove over to drop off food,” Barbie explains. “This is why I can never leave California. Where else can I get homemade spring rolls made just how I like them?”
A small lump forms in my throat. “You can’t make your own rolls? That might solve your problem.”
“Food tastes better when someone else makes it for you. It’s science.”
“Pseudo-science.”
“With a sprinkle of love,” she says. “I have to stop playing before Bell eats them all. Maybe we can pick up where we left off tonight?”
“Tomorrow, maybe? I promised Aaron I’d go with him to check out a Peruvian restaurant that just opened near his place, and he takes forever to eat.”
“I do not.” I look over my shoulder to see Aaron feigning offense from the doorway, clutching his chest as if wounded.
“Tomorrow then.” I hear the soft intake of her breath. “Try not to miss me too much.”
My chest constricts as we end the call. I’m missing you a lot more than I should.
I know better. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel for us. She wants to be near her sisters. She has her internship and the next few years planned out career-wise. Long distance is out of the equation for her.
I don’t see myself ever moving away from my family. Mom has already lost my dad and my stepdad. I want to be near her when Lara’s back in school, so she’s not too lonely.
With Barbie and me, I know our lives are about to become less intertwined. We’re like the ships that pass in the night.
Pursuing anything will only lead to preventable heartbreak when we know this comes with an expiration date. If only we were younger, back when I didn’t care as much about responsibilities and could throw caution to the wind.
“Who were you talking to?”
I’m powering my custom-built PC off as Aaron saunters to my desk. Like my sister, he also has a spare key. Also like my sister, he never knocks or texts before barging into my apartment as if he owns the place.
“Just a chatbot.”
Aaron stops short, and after a drawn-out beat, frowns. “Man, you really need to get yourself a girlfriend.”
And there my brain goes again, thinking about Barbie for the hundredth time today.