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“Do you need help?” Charlotte has whizzed around to my side of the cab before I’ve even managed to get one foot out.
“It’s okay. I think I can manage.” I swivel in the seat, set both feet on the sidewalk, and haul myself up on the open door.
“See?” I smile at her worried face in the vain hope she’ll smile back. “Almost better.”
And that’s only a slight exaggeration. Charlotte’s amateur massage therapy, a soak in a warm bath, and the ibuprofen she picked up from the nearby drugstore—possibly as an excuse to get out of the room for a few minutes—got me onto my feet. I can tell I’ve turned the corner, and I know from experience that as long as I don’t spend too long in one position, my back pain will eventually fade. Walking is getting easier—it’s the changing from standing to sitting and vice versa that’s now my main issue.
“Just say if you need help.” Charlotte closes the cab door behind me and matches my slow pace as we make our way across the sidewalk to the hub.
She keeps her distance, though. There’s absolutely no danger of us brushing against each other. And yet the air between us feels alive, crackling with what might have been, as we walk silently side by side.
“Look how great the signage is,” Charlotte says with a forced smile, as if she’s a tour guide addressing a group of strangers and not speaking to someone who almost had their fingers in her panties less than a couple of hours ago. Her tone claws at my heart, because trying to pretend nothing happened can mean only one thing—she’s not interested.
She points to the yellow-and-blue lettering forming the words “First Byte” above the full width of the door and windows. And the fake etching on the glass of the logo with the words “Learning Hubs for Kids, by Two Coast Tech” underneath it, looks awesome.
“Oh, that all came out great.” Something in my soul dies as I join in with her jovial nothing-weird-going-on-here vibe. I look up to take it all in, and although I couldn’t be prouder of what Owen and I have achieved—I know he’s going to love it—I also feel absolutely crushed.
The door swings open, and Priya trots out to greet us. “So great to meet you both at last.”
When we interviewed candidates for the manager position, Owen came out here and I’d joined by video link, so this is my first in-person interaction with Priya.
She shakes my hand way too vigorously, and I wince.
“Oh God, sorry,” she says. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve just hurt my back a bit. That’s all.”
“Oh, you should try massage for that,” she says and turns to shake Charlotte’s hand.
“Already have. And you’re right—it was amazing.” I look toward Charlotte, who digs her teeth into her top lip but doesn’t meet my gaze.
“Let’s take a look at the damage,” Charlotte says, marching forward and pulling open the door.
Priya trots after her. “Well, it’s a bit?—”
Charlotte cuts Priya off. “Shit. This is way worse than it looked in the photos.”
Lagging behind, I finally catch up and peer over Charlotte’s shoulder. She smells of the Fiji Sunshine bodywash that was on the side of the tub—all fruity and sweet. I couldn’t help but take a sniff while I soaked.
Then my eyes bring me back to reality. “Holy fuck.”
Charlotte turns her head, startled to see me right behind her. It’s the first eye contact we’ve made since she was straddling me on the bed. That image will live in my mind forever, but right now I have to try to file it away and focus on this unholy mess in front of us.
Not that things with Charlotte aren’t an unholy mess too, but the one in the hub needs to be fixed by Monday.
“I’m so sorry,” Priya says, pushing past us and squelching across the carpet. “I’ve done the best I can.” She points to several dehumidifiers scattered about the space, whirring away. “I had a few volunteers help me wipe down the walls and tables to try to stop them from getting worse. But the rest of our helpers are committed to other things until we open on Monday.”
Charlotte and I follow her inside.
“What the hell are we going to do about this?” I look up at the ceiling, which has completely collapsed in several places, the pipework on full display. It’s bowed and threatening to disintegrate in a few others.
My problem-solving brain races for an answer—but this isn’t like the code or software I’ll happily pore over for hours till I find the fix. This situation relies on getting other people to do stuff. And people are nowhere near as reliable as code.
“The building manager says we have to wait for the insurance adjuster to come out.” Priya wrings her hands. “We have to leave the ceiling like this till then.”
“When will that be?” Charlotte asks as she walks across the room, running her fingers over the damp chairs and peeling desks. Fingers that not that long ago were running up and down my spine.
“Not till next week,” Priya says with a grimace.
