1. Olly #2
“Thanks, Gemma. I don’t know what I would have done without your help,” I said, exiting the bathroom and doing a light sprint to the heart of the Information Complex: Jeff’s office and attached conference room, which some of us underlings—okay, maybe just me, the office Trekkie—called The Bridge, like on a starship from Star Trek.
He was a key resource here at Rose, as nothing about this corporation moved if the IT was down.
My direct supervisor, Dolores, the senior records manager, was an encouraging and excellent mentor.
I could honestly say that I genuinely loved where I worked.
I was presently a junior member—on a team of five—who created and administered information systems and essentially made sure that when someone needed a record pulled or stored, be it a receipt for a business dinner to those files on Gemma that I wasn’t supposed to know about, it was able to be done efficiently and expertly, with minimal paper involved.
While to some people, records management might sound about as exciting as waiting for bread to toast, to me, my work was engaging and required me to have excellent attention to detail, something which had always normally been a strength of mine.
“Except when it came to remembering to take the morning-after pill when the condom breaks,” that same asshole voice in my head said, so loudly I swear I had heard it spoken behind me.
I shook my head a few times, probably resembling a dog shaking out its wet coat because I was not going to focus on any unwelcome voices today.
Nope, everything was fine, situation normal, no listening.
I’d take a clonazepam—a type of benzodiazepine—after the meeting, which was technically to manage an anxiety disorder, but I took them to make the voices shut up.
Wait a second...the fetus. If I was pregnant, I probably shouldn’t be popping benzos like they’re Skittles.
Dammit, I needed a doctor’s appointment, stat.
Of course, I never mentioned this off-label use to my doctor.
In our slice of the theoretical multiverse, seeing and hearing things no one else could was often a one-way ticket to a hospital’s mental health unit or being prescribed heavy drugs.
Sometimes both. Hell, most people didn’t even know or believe there even was an actual multiverse, an untold number of realities out there just full of possibility.
To them, it existed in the realm of speculative fiction, and that was that.
Due to Gemma’s magic makeover, I made it to the meeting with one minute to spare and heaved a sigh of relief when I saw the slightly amused expression on Jeff’s face as I entered his conference room.
Robert Barkhouse, Rose’s local chief operations officer, was there, and I swallowed a lump in my throat and refused to be intimidated.
Whatever happened next, the pregnancy would undoubtedly throw a wrench in it, but I couldn’t bring myself to dwell on something unexpected and unwanted just then, even if it was my own offspring.
“Mr. Barkhouse, Jeff. It’s so nice to see you this morning,” I said in a voice full of false bravado.
We exchanged handshakes, and a huge swirl of nausea overcame me right when the boss was holding my hand.
I could feel myself waver a bit, and Robert Barkhouse was nothing if not perceptive.
He pointed at my chair, even rushing to pull it out for me.
A leather portfolio lay there that read Olive E.
McLeod in gold print, which I didn’t dare touch or even breathe on.
“I think you’ve been here long enough to be on a first-name basis, Olive.
May I call you Olive? Or would you prefer Olly?
” Yup, nothing got past him. Not even my nickname, which everyone I knew used.
“Let’s discuss the package we have prepared for you,” he said, almost knocking my socks off.
Package? Like, a “Hey, guess what—you’re fired!
” package? It would fit in with the tempo of the day. Well, fuck.
I said decisively, “It’s Olly now, if you don’t mind.
” Olly fit me so much better than Olive, but still nothing like the name that had whispered through my mind since childhood, through the loss of my family, and persisted through a traumatic brain injury that had roasted so many of my memories: Oliver.
“I knew that.” Jeff grinned. “You carry yourself a bit differently if you’re expecting people to call you Olive.
” Well, we had spent a fair bit of time together, in our team meetings for those of us who dealt directly in records.
I suppose someone as detail-oriented as Jeff would notice things like that.
“Before we get to the meat and potatoes of why we are here, I’m sorry, Olly.
I need you to hand over Gemma Diaz’s Rose cell phone.
” A cold feeling crept up my spine, but my cheeks flushed hot.
“It was one of the few things recovered after the inventory of her work possessions was packed up and sent here, long before you started your employment with us.” His tone was even, not angry, and there was sympathy in his eyes.
Recovered? “You think I stole Gemma’s phone?” I asked carefully, trying to see where this would lead me.
“Not exactly ‘stole,’ but I do think you have it.” He held up his own work phone, unlocked it, and launched the texting app.
“Imagine my surprise to receive a text from her phone saying that you would be a few minutes late, followed by you being, well, just barely on time. I guess you pulled the wrong phone from your desk, purse, wherever, and sent the text on Gemma’s phone by mistake.
If that wasn’t the case, well...I don’t think you were trying to be cruel.
Perhaps you wanted to play a prank on your colleagues.
” He cleared his throat. A thick, wet sound that made me shudder.
“Just turn the phone in to Jeff whenever you are ready, please.”
Then, as if to scream “subject changed,” the folders Robert was holding were plunked onto the table, and he said in that commanding tone that instinctively had me sitting up straighter, “So, as you’ve noticed, Dolores isn’t here.
She’s in the lounge, video chatting with her grandchildren about the trip she’s going to take to visit them in New Orleans now that she’s retired.
” Robert paused, as though knowing I would need a moment to process.
“Which brings us to your promotion offer. You do solid work here, use discretion, and are well-liked and respected by everyone I’ve spoken to about you.
I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt in this cell phone mix-up, we’ll call it.
What it boils down to is that you are a strong asset to this company, and I don’t want to lose you. ”
“Me neither, for the record,” Jeff chimed in, making cheesy finger guns at me.
“We don’t want to lose you, Olive. You’re an Asset to The Organization.
The world out there is dangerous. Just look at what happened to you and your family at Christmas when you, what, tried to run away?
How foolish. You can never get away from us.
We will haunt your footsteps for the rest of your life. ”
Goddess be damned, I didn’t need a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Past right now.
“Quiet!” I internally screamed. A temporary but eerie silence settled over the room, so quiet that I heard the wings of a wayward bumblebee beating near the window.
I got up, opened the window to let the bee escape, and closed it with a bang, the noise making me inwardly jump.
Whatever strange stillness that had taken hold of the room vanished as though it never was.
I sat back in my seat, and Robert pointed at the portfolio on the table, indicating that I should look inside. I took some time to flip through the pages, trying to hide my shaking leg.
“You want me to take over for Dolores. To be the senior records manager,” I exhaled, trying to process.
“Yes, I do,” Robert said with a firm reply. Robert Barkhouse wasn’t used to being told “no,” and I swallowed a few times before Jeff got up, went to a minifridge, and came back with a bottle of water for me.
“Here. Drink up. You look like you’re about to hurl,” Jeff said, unscrewing the cap from the bottle and placing it in my left hand.
“It wouldn’t be that bad, would it? Reporting to me directly, spending more time delegating out your old job as you pick up where Dolores left off, and learning that yes, I am Batman. ”
I let out a burst of laughter that naturally sprayed some water on the contract, but Jeff and Robert didn’t seem to mind as they went over the finer points with me.
We were making a good go of it until suddenly I burst out with “Holy shit!” and had to put my hands over my mouth, lest any more word vomit fly out. Robert raised an eyebrow at me.
“Sorry, sir, er, Robert, it’s just that this says that the position includes an apartment in the new South End building by the waterfront.
” I remembered when Jeff and his husband, Aaron, had our team over for an Asian food feast—the night I got pregnant, now that I thought of it—and the apartment was gorgeous inside.
Spacious, large windows with views of the harbour and a park nearby.
There was also a small playground and a splash pad in the summer.
“A great place to raise a baby,” an unfamiliar voice said.
It was squashed by me saying, “NO! I am not raising this…this…thing that is overtaking my body.”
“No, not a thing,” another voice scolded. “A baby, a child.”
“Well, technically, it’s just a small collection of cells right now,” yet another voice chimed in. “There’s still plenty of time to course correct.”
“There are also plenty of parents out there who would love to have this kid.”