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And I have taken a vow to never be in that helpless position ever again.
* * *
As soon as I hit the pavement for my run, I’m greeted by the beautiful morning. Mixed hues of red, orange, and gold paint the sky as the sun eagerly rises from the mountains. It’ll be a heavenly experience to go cycling on these rough terrains.My favorite workout garage band buzzes in my ears as my feet hit the ground on the way back to the hotel. I tell myself I should visit Cherrywood more often. Not to my liking, this is only my second trip in this town. The first was before the office was even up and running.
I look around as the small town slowly wakes up. Smoke rises from the chimneys, shops open and the line outside the local cafe continues to grow. Everything mundane yet a bit magical.
Giving a final glance at my surroundings, I enter the hotel building and return to my room. After taking a quick shower, I open the closet. and my hands, due to some reason, halt for a beat at the tie rack before I pull out the cherry-colored tie.
Finally, I’m all ready and out of the hotel. I open the door of the white rental SUV and stop dead in my tracks. My eyes focus on the ornament hanging in the rearview mirror. Small pink roses made from something soft, like velvet, are woven in a circular ring. My legs shake, and I tighten my grip on the door to avoid falling as memories flash through my mind.
“Aren’t they pretty, my boy?”
“They are, Mommy! Beautiful. Just like you. Rose is my favorite flower because it’s named after you.” The kid who looks like me runs around the garden filled with rose bushes.
“Fuck.” I squeeze my eyes, trying to push the mental images away.
“Get ahold of yourself, Zander.” My voice quivers.
I shake my head, fighting through the haze of nightmares, and pull that shitty shiny thing and throw it out of the car without even noticing where it lands. Once I get inside, I fix the mirror displaced by my jerky movements and take a deep breath.
Fuck. It’s already seven forty-five. I hate being late.
With a hammering heart, I start the engine, program the address on the GPS, and drive toward the company office. I speed on the way, and a few minutes past eight, I’m in front of the building reception. I give a nod to the receptionist, who stands as she watches me marching toward the opening elevator door.
When the elevator car reaches the fifth floor, I find two men punching the call buttons with full force. When I step out, they look up expectantly before their hopeful expressions die.
Okay. I hadn’t hoped for flowers or anything, but I was expecting my staff to greet me with at least a smile.
“Zander, you’re here.” Oscar joins me and the other two men in the lobby. He introduces me to the two interns before leading me to his office. “Sorry, we’re little distracted,” he explains.
“What’s the matter?”
“We’re unable to find Rose, our lead data scientist. She should be somewhere in the building.”
Unexpected panic seizes my brain upon hearing her name. Rose.
What the fuck?
Is nature playing some sick joke on me? Every year on this day, I try so hard to keep myself away from this word, this name. But today, it seems there’s no escape.
Unbeknownst to my state, Oscar continues, “We had a new software’s live release this weekend, and she was in the office. Now we can’t get ahold of her. Security confirmed that she hasn’t checked out of the building.”
“What can I do?” I ask, only after I’m sure my breathing has returned to normal and I’m not going to sound like a squeaky teenager.
I try to loosen my muscles, which have bunched in the last five minutes. Even if I’m uneasy, there’s no way I can ignore any of my employees, especially an assiduous one, from the way Oscar speaks.
“Look around. That’s what we’ve been doing for the last ten minutes.”
I nod and exit his office.
Releasing a heavy breath, I look around the corridor and hustle toward a row of conference rooms. I open each door and peek inside but find nothing. When I exit out of the empty coffee corner, my gaze lands on the small door labeled Office Supplies in a mounted gold label. I turn the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it opens with a soft squeak.
The small room is dark with only a stream of dull sunlight filtering through the small vent. I open the door wider, and it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust before I spot the light switch. When I flip it up, there’s faint swishing sound behind me.
Swiftly turning around, I find a small frame dressed in a green flannel shirt, jeans, and red Converse, bunched in an old two-seater leather couch.
Her face is turned away from me, hiding in the backrest, but then she turns on the couch, which isn’t quite big enough for her to move around on.
