50.
Jamie
Sienna had dropped her off two blocks away from work and nearly a mile up, after Jamie had reassured her that it would be all right. She’d done the freefall thing, letting herself draw closer to the ground at a vacant lot a couple blocks away from the warehouse, and then gently caught herself on a channel she set up, slowing her momentum to a stop over the last thirty feet or so like a wafting feather. She could see her business clothes strewn just outside her office window where she’d left them while changing hurriedly out of them on her way into the city. She touched down lightly and hurried toward them, gathering them up and looking around furtively. She was hidden by high fences on the different sides of the building, but her office was up above, and she reached up, sliding the window open with a gravity channel as she looked to see if anyone was watching.
When Jamie was sure no one was in sight, she flew up through the window, pants and clothes in hand, and then shut the window behind her. With a quick channel, she locked her door from across the room; the blinds, fortunately, were down so that no one could see into the office. She shut the window behind her with a quick look. No one seemed to be watching.
She dusted off her pants and then tugged them on, prepared to wince when she reached the cut on her leg, but found it nothing more than a raised line where the skin had already mended together. She touched it lightly, feeling the smooth bump where the flesh had been rent, then slipped back into her shoes. She pulled on her blouse, buttoning it while brushing off the dirt that had accumulated on the left breast where she’d left it on the ground. She sighed, then pulled off her mask, wadding it up and pocketing it after giving it a sniff. She blanched; it needed washing desperately. “Even sucking all the water out couldn’t get rid of the smell,” she muttered as she reached out, unlocked the door with a quick channel and then flipped the lights from across the room.
She settled back in her chair and looked down to see a bagel sitting there in front of her. She touched it, experimentally. It was stone cold, of course, the cream cheese spread across its center hard like poured concrete. There was coffee, too, but this she wasn’t too proud to guzzle. It tasted better than the ocean, at least.
The door sprang open and Clarice walked in, looking down at her pad, ensconced in thought. Jamie watched her as she stepped inside then closed the door, fumbling for the light switch. She paused, looking up without seeing Jamie there, perplexed as she realized the lights were on, and then her eyes settled on Jamie in her chair, and a flicker of surprise ran across her face before drooping into disappointment. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Yes, it’s me,” Jamie said, feeling a hint of alarm. Clarice was many things, but coldly disrespectful was not one of them. “I had to step out for—”
Clarice’s look quelled her at once. “A buyer came by while you were out,” she said. “Wanted to speak with you. Could have been a big account, but they left without giving me their name.”
“Oh.” Jamie’s stomach fell. So that was what this was about. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I—”
“Is Kyra okay?”
Jamie blinked. “I—I hope so. Why, did you hear someth—”
“So it wasn’t Kyra?” Clarice asked, pulling her open planner close to her chest. “The reason you were gone? Because I could have seen her being the reason. A reasonable reason—”
“No, it wasn’t Kyra—”
“So then you just left,” Clarice said, sighing. “Again.”
Jamie stared at her. Clarice had never talked to her like this. She was so even-keeled … “I had to go,” Jamie said. “I’m sorry.”
“I shouldn’t be mad,” Clarice said, looking around like she was searching for words or feelings. “This isn’t my company, after all …”
“You’ve been here since the beginning,” Jamie said, feeling the sting. “You’ve helped—”
“Okay, so maybe that’s why I’m pissed off,” Clarice said. “You’re right, I’ve been here since the beginning. I was here for the long nights, the weekend deadlines. I saw how much of yourself you poured into this company trying to get it off the ground.”
“You were right there with me for a lot of it,” Jamie said quietly. The air between was streaked with dust, as it always seemed to be in the factory.
“It tears me up inside seeing you wreck the business you’ve worked so hard to build,” Clarice said, and now her accusing eyes were right on Jamie. “It shouldn’t, but you’re right. I put the time in with you, believed in this place, in your designs—in what we make—and it hurts me physically to watch this.” She walked up to one of the chairs in front of Jamie’s desk and pulled it out, sitting down on the edge of it, so prim and upright. “I get sick to my stomach at night thinking of it. I woke up at two in the morning last night and couldn’t back to sleep worrying that these loans with Mr. Penny might not come through—”
Jamie settled back in her chair, closing her eyes. “I’m not trying to—”
“Oh trust me, we can tell you’re not trying,” Clarice said.
“Not what I meant.” Jamie waved a hand in front of her like she could swat away her problems. “I—you’re talking like this is the end. It’s not. Mr. Penny is working on the loans, and I’ll—I will try to be more present—”
“You’re the straw that stirs the drink here, all right?” Clarice said. “I can do the admin. That part of the business is still cooking along fine. But I don’t have your flair for design, and it’s like you’ve gotten bored with creating new products, and when you’re a design company, you don’t get to rest on your old laurels for very long—”
“I—I know, and I’ll—”
“This is not going to work.”
“I …” Jamie put a hand over her eyes, like she could blot out what she was seeing and hearing.
“If you keep doing what you’re doing, your company—hell, our company—is going to die,” Clarice said, fierce urgency running through her words. “Do you even care?” The question came softer, wearier.
“Of course I care,” Jamie said wearily, her efforts of the day, the night before, and now this all conspiring to drain her.
“Because,” Clarice went on, like she hadn’t said a word, “even when you’re in the building, it’s like you’re not here.”
“There’s just a lot going on right now,” Jamie said, feeling as exhausted as if someone had hooked a machine up to her to drain her blood. “I know I’m distracted—with Kyra, with … other things—”
“Distracted is a good word for it. Did you even see Mr. Penny when he came in yesterday? Because the Jamie I know would have at least recognized the non-monetary assets on that boy—”
“I—I don’t—” Jamie settled her hands in her face. She took a long, slow breath. “I just need to work harder.”
“Yeah, you do,” Clarice said, and here came a hint of pleading. “Or at all, Jamie. You went from eighty to a hundred hour work weeks a year ago to … hell, I don’t know. Ten, maybe? Less? No one’s saying you need to kill yourself like you were before, but … this business is going to die on the vine if you don’t step it up.” She stood up and started toward the door.
“You know,” Clarice said, pausing with her hand on the knob, “when you first started … slacking off, I guess, I thought, ‘Good for her.’ You’d worked long enough and hard enough, I figured you deserved a break. That Kyra deserved a break. Things were … they were starting to really look up around here, really run smoothly …” She shook her head. “But it’s … gone too far the other direction now, Jamie.” Clarice looked back up at her, her warm eyes surprisingly cold. “You’re going to lose everything. The people here are going to lose their jobs.” She ran a hand nervously over her other arm. “I’m not gonna lie. I like working here. I don’t want to go work for anyone else. You’re the best boss I ever had. I don’t want another job, and no one else on Staten Island is going to pay me what you do, so … please. I don’t want to ride the ferry into Manhattan every morning.” She looked right at Jamie, completely sincere. “Get it together. For all of us.” And she shut the door gently behind her.
Jamie slumped, head against the desk, as soon as Clarice was gone. Her fingers were interlaced in front of her, her cheek pressed against them. The words her friend had spoken felt like a huge worm, burrowing its way through her stomach and spreading nausea everywhere it went. She closed her eyes, weary, and muttered. “How am I going to do this?”
She didn’t even realize when she fell asleep less than a minute later, exhausted, and still hungry.