The Middle Man

by Gadziala, Jessica

  It wasn't strange either that I was one of the last to leave, sitting there sipping my fifth cup of tea and talking about the forgotten problem of industrial waste water. One of the guys from the meeting--oddly silent in an otherwise very animated group--with curly brown hair and a freckled face and the kind of skinny where he almost looked unwell--moved in across from me, flattening his forearms on the tabletop, and giving me direct eye-contact.

  There was something oddly chilling in his dark brown eyes at that moment too.

  "If you want to talk about the real threat to all of us right now, it is Blairtown Chem."

  Of course there was no way I wasn't going to bite into such a juicy topic.

  Blairtown Chem, like many major chemical companies, had been doing their damndest to distance themselves from the recent bad press surrounding companies just like theirs who were needing to shell out tens of millions of dollars in class-action lawsuits over long-term exposure to their toxic chemicals for weed and pest control.

  They--and their fellow companies--had so-called 'green' products hitting the market that they hoped would distract the public from all the claims about the toxicity of their products still on the market--without even warning labels about potential risks for life-threatening illnesses.

  Luckily for them, the people were worn out on bad news. They were feeling helpless on a melting planet with socioeconomic uncertainty, civil unrest, and a startling political divide.

  Who cared about weed killer when your cousin Bobby suddenly thought it was acceptable to take to the streets decked out in Nazi garb and let the whole world know what had previously been a secret family shame--that Bobby was a racist little asshole?

  There seemed to be bigger issues to be dealt with than what they used to kill the dandelions that insisted on growing in their otherwise perfectly manicured front lawns.

  So Blairtown Chem--and all their fellow chemical companies--stopped making headlines and got to go on with what they were doing.

  "I mean, I think we all know how toxic their chemicals are," I had told him, shrugging, wanting to go back to discussing waste water with the girl with the shaved head and kind eyes, feeling oddly uncomfortable around this new stranger-- I didn't often feel with people. But the girl was quickly pulling on her coat, casting weary eyes at the guy across the table from me, then rushing out.

  "You think you know but you really have no idea," he told me.

  "I'm sorry... who are you?"

  "Rylan," he offered, but didn't extend a hand. Not that I wanted to reach for it anyway. I knew I would find it cold, wrapping mine around my warm mug instead.

  "Gemma."

  "Yeah, I know. Do you want to know what is really going on at Blairtown Chem, Gemma?"

  That was a very loaded question for me.

  Because I was always a seeker of truths, someone who wanted to know as much as she possibly could, who took pride in her thirst for knowledge.

  At the same time, though, a little voice was telling me that I maybe didn't want to be involved with this Rylan guy at all. Not even to learn something that might prove important to know.

  Then he went ahead and sealed both our fates.

  "You know those new 'more natural' weed killers and bug repellants they are coming out with?"

  "Yeah. I mean... I think we all know they aren't as natural as they claim."

  "Bet you didn't know that the tests they submitted to the EPA are complete bullshit."

  That wasn't overly surprising either. Fraud happened in all realms of our world. Even in pharmaceutical drug trials. It happened all the time. Companies generally tried to get away with things if the proposed product was set to make them a fortune.

  "It is going to take a lot more than that to get my interest."

  "Testing went on for two years. That's it. Just two years. And three people died."

  That was sounding dangerously close to a conspiracy theory to me. I mean, to be fair, some conspiracy theories proved true with time, but people had a tendency to get carried away with them a lot of the time. I mean there were people who believed other people were actually lizards. Who knew if this Rylan guy was a tin-hatter, or someone who had genuine information.

  "That seems a little far-fetched. Even for a chemical company."

  "What if I told you that my father was one of those who died?"

  "I'm so sorry to hear that." I was, too. I couldn't imagine losing a parent. But at the same time, people died every day from things that weren't weed killers or bug spray. "But that isn't proof in and of itself."

  "He'd had a check-up right before he was in charge of the testing. Healthy as could be. A year and a half later, he got sick. Really sick. Ninety days after that, he was dead. Cancer, obviously."

  "Again, I am really sorry to hear that. But it just seems unlikely that the chemicals were to blame. I mean from what I know, it takes years of exposure to weed killers to develop cancer from them."

  "The old formula, yeah," he agreed. "That has been the case. But this new formula isn't even on the market yet."

  I swear the coffee shop was getting darker and darker as he spoke. And, suddenly, I wasn't quite as repelled by his intensity as I was drawn to it, a bit hypnotized by it.

  I needed to know more.

  "What is different then? I know everyone is cutting down on the glyphosate because of the sicknesses and lawsuits..."

  "Yeah. But what they aren't telling you is that they are doubling down on the inactive ingredients. Namely, POAEs. Amongst other things. I think you're starting to get it."

  I was, too.

  Because while I was no expert in the matter yet, I did know enough about it to know that inactive ingredients didn't require risk assessment the same way that active ones did. At least not in the U.S.

  "Starting to," I agreed.

  "See, they cut down on the glyphosate, that's true. But most experts agree that inactive ingredients, like the extra POAEs--and who-knew what else--they added in, can impact the active ingredients in a synergistic way. And my father was around this shit day in and day out for over a fucking year. You can't sit there and tell me a perfectly healthy man with no family history of cancer who ate right and exercised and took amazing care of himself dropping dead after working with these new chemicals is a coincidence."

  Maybe I was going to need to be fitted for a tin hat eventually as well, but I really couldn't see any other possible reasoning either.

  Sure, cancer was a cruel and indiscriminate disease. It struck down the sick and the healthy. It was natural to seek reasons for it, even become paranoid about it.

  That said, there often could be a reason for it.

  That was why people who inhaled toxic substances over a long period of time had it in their lungs.

  Sometimes you weren't paranoid.

  Sometimes there really was a conspiracy.

  "This shit is hitting the market in less than six months. The way they are gearing up to market it as a completely safe alternative to their competitors' shit is going to make them a fortune. And people are going to die."

  If he was right, yes, they were going to.

  And it would take years before everyone started connecting the dots, reached out to other victims, figured out the cause.

  Meanwhile, the pockets of everyone at Blairtown Chem would get weighted down.

  It was unconscionable.

  It was why I was going into the career path I was. To try to make the world a greener and safer place.

  If what Rylan was saying was true, I couldn't just go on and act like it wasn't happening.

  "There's proof of it, I'm sure. Near the end, my father started doing his own tests, started connecting the dots. He even sent samples out to some independent labs for testing. Then he sent them the results. They have to have that information somewhere. And if they are sitting on it, if they know it was unsafe, then they are fucking criminals."

  "He needed you," Lincoln said, cutting through the haze of my memories. "He obvi
ously couldn't get in there, and look for the information. So he targeted you. He put you at risk."

  "You're making him out to be a bit of a villain here."

  "People who knowingly put other people at risk are villains, Gem."

  "He didn't know I was at risk. I mean... not really. He couldn't predict that they would suspect me. And then follow me."

  "I think you are painting him as more naive than he was. He knew it was risky. He knew that if these people were willing to overlook something this potentially explosive just to make money, then trying to get rid of you was not a big deal."

  Maybe there was some truth in that.

  And maybe I didn't want to think terrible things about someone who had lost so much, who was on a very noble mission.

  "What was his plan exactly? Is he going to the police with the information? Because you do know you are going to be investigated if this happens. Whistleblowers can get away with it sometimes if the issue is big enough. But not always."

  I had maybe learned as much. Paranoia over the past several weeks had taken me to the deep ends of the internet. Where all the conspiracy theories lived. Lincoln was right. For every whistleblower who did get commended, who did take down the bad guys, there were at least three others who ended up dead or in jail.

  "I knew the risks going in," I told him. "I mean... to an extent. I don't think I was prepared for how scared I would be all the time. And then how insane I felt at times because I had no idea if I even had reason to be so paranoid and freaked out."

  Lincoln's hand moved out, closing over mine, pulling me over toward the bed where we both sat down.

  "What was his plan?" he prompted again. "To go to the cops about it?"

  "Eventually, I guess."

  "You guess? What the fuck else could he do with information like that?"

  This was why I didn't lead with what Rylan was going to school for.

  Film.

  "Rylan had been keeping track of his father's decline, of his testing and research..."

  "Keeping track how?" Lincoln asked, voice already heavy with skepticism.

  "He was filming it. Doing interviews. He even got a few interviews with one of the other people in the company who died. He just... he needed proof that they knew. That they were knowingly allowing a product that was unsafe to hit the market."

  "Christ, Gem," he said, raking a hand down his face.

  "It's important, Lincoln," I told him. Even now, even knowing all the risk, all the potential sacrifice.

  It was bigger than Rylan and me. It was bigger than his father and the other two people who had tragically died.

  This had the potential to rock hundreds of lives, to upset entire family structures.

  Someone had to do something.

  And I understood my responsibility in that. If everyone just shrugged their shoulders and said 'someone else will do it,' then nothing would ever get done. People like this would always get away with it. Others would always suffer.

  Sometimes you had to be brave, you had to put that target on your back and walk into the range.

  Sometimes little people needed to do big things.

  That was how change was made.

  "I understand that," he agreed. "That doesn't mean I have to like that you needed to be a part of that change. I get why you did it, Gem, I really do. But I hate that you had to feel scared and crazy and get hurt in the process."

  That was fair enough.

  I knew that if it was someone I cared about who got involved in something like this, I would hate it too.

  "Now, what I am really concerned with at this point was the tail-end of that conversation I just overheard."

  "Which part?" Rylan had been ranting and raving so fast that I had a hard time keeping up. He'd been mad that I had run without solid proof that I was found out, thinking that I was paranoid and had now likely ruined any chance of getting back in there if he needed me to.

  "The part about you going back in. Because, let me get something perfectly clear here, you are not going to be doing that. I don't care if you don't like it. I don't care if I have to strap you to this goddamn bed to keep you from doing it. But you are never going anywhere near that place again."

  "I know. I'm not."

  I had just been so overwhelmed by Rylan's words that I really just hadn't been thinking straight on the phone with him. Of course, I was not going back in. I knew there was a threat. I had the evidence of it on my face.

  "And if he is thinking you going back is even a remote possibility at this point, you might need to consider that he is the one who might actually be losing it."

  "I don't think he's losing it. I think he is just desperate and passionate."

  "And that makes him dangerous. Honestly, Gem, I don't like the idea of you being anywhere near him in the future. And I don't have a problem telling him that myself. Clearly, I want his information."

  "This isn't his fault. The attack," I clarified when he immediately started to contradict me. "He had nothing to do with it."

  "Did he even bother to ask if you were alright, baby?"

  God, that word was killing me.

  He had always been big on pet names.

  Honey, sweetie, sweetheart, darling.

  But never baby.

  In fact, I wasn't sure I had ever heard that one from him.

  Maybe I shouldn't have been so into it, either. A girl from one of the marches I had attended had gone off on a rant about how men infantilizing grown women was creepy and condescending.

  But, well, there was simply nothing creepy or condescending about it when Lincoln said it. In fact, it was maybe the sexiest thing I had ever heard.

  It was making it hard to focus on the conversation.

  What had he asked me again?

  Oh, right.

  If Rylan even cared that I was hurt.

  It maybe killed me a bit to admit the truth.

  "No, he didn't."

  "I don't like that look in your eye, Gem, but I think you always try to see the best in people. It's sweet. And noble. But it isn't always smart. And sometimes... people just don't have that much good in them."

  "He's doing this for the greater good."

  "You're doing this for the greater good. He is doing it to avenge his father. I'm not going to say that isn't noble too, but it isn't as selfless as your motivations."

  That was honestly... fair. Even if I didn't like to think that about someone I had believed to be motivated in a similar way I was.

  "I feel bad for him."

  "Of course you do. And I think anyone would. But feeling for him doesn't mean you need to sacrifice yourself for him or his cause either. You're just as important as he is, Gem."

  "I will give you his information, but just... be easy with him. He comes across as angry and strong, but he is fragile underneath it all."

  "He's clearly cracking a bit. And, don't worry, it isn't my plan to try to break him down. I just want him to understand that you are done. That he is done using you. You did everything you could. If that is not enough, then he needs to find someone else. Or, honestly, just pass the information on, and let it drop. I don't like the idea of him roping anyone else into this mission. Someone who isn't lucky enough to have connections like you do. Someone who is much more likely to be killed in the process."

  "I'm sorry I lied to you," I told him when the silence dragged on. "I wanted to tell you the truth. But I wasn't even sure at first that there was a threat. And I didn't want to screw the whole mission up if I was just being paranoid. But I hated having to lie to you. Especially, you know, the longer I was in your house, the more time I spent with you." The more I grew to care for him. But I felt it was too soon to say something like that.

  "I won't hold it against you. If you promise not to do it again," he said, then charged on before I even got a chance to assure him I was done with lying, that it wasn't in my nature anyway, that it had been killing me little bit by little bit each time I kept something from som
eone in my life, or outright lied to their face. "We have no shot at this if we don't have trust to build it on," he finished.

  "No shot at what?" I asked, knowing what he meant, but needing specificity, wanting to hear the words.

  "We have something starting here. We both know that. I don't think I am being presumptuous to say that we both want to pursue it."

  "Not presumptuous at all," I assured him.

  "Then we need to start with honesty."

  "Then full-disclosure," I told him, ducking my head a bit, "I had a giant crush on you back when I worked at the office."

  "Then in the interest of full-disclosure, I have to admit something..."

  There was a hint of something in his voice that I rarely ever heard there, something that didn't seem to fit there.

  Insecurity.

  "Okay..."

  "I'm worried I'm going to fuck this up."

  "How so?"

  "I think we both know my history here, Gem..."

  "Oh, the one where you rush into relationships without giving it any thought and without figuring out if you are even compatible with a woman first?" I teased, wanting to ease the uncertainty I saw in his eyes.

  "Yeah, that," he agreed with a snort. "I know people think I don't realize what a stupid fucking pattern it is."

  "I don't think it is stupid to want someone to share your life with. And I think you work a lot. Too much at times. You are always at the office or abroad. It isn't like you work a normal nine-to-five and have all the time in the world to selectively date people. So you just... skip that step. Get them in your space."

  "Trial by fire."

  "Exactly. I can't say I would ever want to go about it that way, but I understand why that has been your pattern." Pausing, thinking, I continued, "But we did kind of go about it that way this time, didn't we? I mean we were kinda thrown together to see if it works. I don't think the method is at fault per se. It can work."

  "It did work," he corrected, hand giving my thigh a squeeze. "I didn't get sick of having you there. If anything, I just wanted more of it."

  "Well, maybe after all this is done, we can arrange that." Then, worrying that was maybe a little too forward, that it revealed too much, I rushed on, "I have been dying to know if the master bathroom tub is as awesome as the guest one."