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My worry over her, my confusion, and my frustration have all pooled into a boulder-sized lump in my gut, constantly churning and twisting, intruding into what used to be an impenetrable bubble of focus.
Maya frowns and shakes her head. "Maybe you just need to hang on. Have a little faith."
Hang on to what? I want to hang onto Janey. But I can't quite figure out how to get there. I give Maya a nod and attempt a smile, then usher her into the building. I don't really understand her advice, but I know she means well. And I really don't want to get into a conversation right now.
I don't want to be delayed any longer.
I need to see Janey.
Waving to Maya, I head straight for the stairs and run up the flights to the HR floor. I don't think I set foot on this floor before Janey. In the past, I would go straight to the twelfth and stay there, usually shut up in my office.
Now, I crave her, even if all I can do is set my eyes on her. That's what I do this morning. Just look at her.
I stop at my usual spot, next to the concrete pillar beside the elevator. I slide behind it so I have the freedom to watch her. Her office is across a sea of cubicles, but my height combined with the glass wall gives me a perfect view into her office.
She’s in there, her golden brown hair shining under the lights. She's been wearing it in a tight braid lately, and I don't like it. She used to let it cascade down her back like a waterfall. I liked watching the way it moved when she laughed. The way she brushed it away from her face made everything in my body lock up. I would have to shove my hands into my pockets to keep myself from reaching out.
That was one of the first clues, actually, that she was different. I've never had to resist temptation the way I do around her. I’ve never wondered what a woman’s hair would feel like running across my palm.
And other places on my body.
I'm still tempted, but now it's by the stupid elastic at the base of her braid. I want to pull it out and unravel that braid. I want the old Janey back. The truly happy Janey, not this version. The one that's suffering and is doing everything she can to hide that fact.
She looks tired. And a little worn. The little lines between her eyebrows look deeper.
A wave of determination washes over me. I will not do this anymore. I won’t wait for her to fade away. Whatever is wrong, we're going to deal with it right now.
I only make it a few steps when another woman approaches Janey. Janey’s face changes. The lines smooth out, and she puts on a smile. The fake Janey is back. The women fall into conversation, and the elevator behind me dings, opening to let off more staff. I get some looks as they pass, but not as many as the first time.
They're getting used to seeing me here.
Clenching my hands, I slowly back away, then slam through the doors to the stairwell. I grip the railing tightly and pull, trying to release some of the tension coursing through my body.
It's not enough. Hours at the gym aren't enough. Nothing will be, until I figure out what’s wrong and fix it.
The work day drags by, which has been happening more and more lately. Very little of what we do is challenging for me anymore. Growing our millions, then billions, was exciting at first. There were always problems to solve and numbers to run. I was in my element.
Numbers have always been my thing. I think they were my dad's thing too. I don't remember much of him, but I do remember him drilling times tables with me. We were on 7x9 when the world flipped upside down. When the glass shattered. When their breathing stopped.
The numbers flash in my mind, and twist my stomach. I'm alone, so I let the memories of the crash that killed them, as fresh as the day it happened, run through my mind. I let my heart race, my face twitch, my breathing speed up. I let myself feel all of it.
The loss is always there. Loss of my mom's warm fingers as they'd brush the shell of my ear. The feel of her silky hair sliding between my fingers. The gentle rumble of her voice as I laid my ear on her chest. Those touches grounded me. Soothed me. They felt like security and safety.
And then they were gone.
Pressing my palms together, I twist, letting my fingers run over each other, making a whoosh sound as they pass. The soothing repetition helps me settle my emotions. Lets me put them back in the box in the corner of my mind.
Today it's not working as quickly as I would like. I need more. More sensation. More input. I move to the wall near my windows and drop into a headstand, using my core to keep me stable as I extend my legs straight up. The rush of blood into my head feels good.
Great actually.
"You're a fucking show off." I startle a little at the words, but not enough to tip out of the headstand. My brothers are always barging in, so I almost always expect an interruption. Unless I’m working…then they could stand beside me and have a full conversation, and I wouldn’t notice.
"I'm in the privacy of my office, Nick. You are the one that barged in."
He snorts and drops into a crouch next to me. I let my feet drop and slowly sit back on my knees. I learned my lesson early on. I got up too fast after one of my first headstands and went down like a felled tree, taking my Lego Deathstar with me. It took me days to rebuild it. It would have gone faster with help, but I was not about to explain to my brothers what happened.
Nick studies me carefully. I study him back, content to wait for him to speak. He came to me, which means he has something to say.
