Because of You

by Julie Cannon

  Kelly’s hands shook as she pulled out a tissue and wiped her cheeks. “I knew this would happen and I came prepared.”

  Barrett saw the effort it took for Kelly to try to smile, and if she didn’t leave this very instant she never would, business and her life be damned. Then Kelly completely surprised her and kissed her on the lips.

  “I can’t even begin to express what you mean to me, so I won’t even try. Thank you and I love you seem so inadequate, but that’s all I’ve got. Now go before I drag you back into my new car, and we’ll both regret it.”

  Kelly kissed her one more time, turned her around, and lightly pushed her toward the automatic doors leading into the airport. Barrett didn’t look back as she heard Kelly’s car start and pull away.

  *

  It was later than usual when Barrett pulled into her reserved parking space. She looked at it for a moment, not having really seen it before. Parking in the space had become more of a habit than anything else, and for the first time she felt a little uneasy because of its prime location.

  Why did she get to park by the front door? Did it mean she worked harder than any other employee? It clearly meant that with rank comes privilege. But today it seemed to say that the big boss gets to park up front and everyone else didn’t.

  Barrett took her briefcase out of the backseat and walked the short distance to the front doors. The building wasn’t the most ostentatious in the complex, nor was it the most humble. It was, however, environmentally friendly, near where she lived and big enough to symbolize the importance of Global Digital.

  She walked inside with several other employees who were talking to each other, overhearing snippets of conversation about the football game last night, the number of tourists on the beach this weekend, and Suzanne’s wedding. Barrett had no idea about any of the three topics. She couldn’t be expected to know the personal lives of every employee. At one time she did. Now that was completely impractical, Digital’s employment numbers approaching three thousand.

  She had no idea who’d played football yesterday, and other than the view of the beach from her back patio, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to one. That troubled her.

  Once she’d spent a lot of time, as the song said, ass in the sand, toes in the water, before she had her own private beach. She’d go to the public beach on the Pacific Highway with her lawn chair, a notebook, two pens, sunscreen, and a large thermos of coffee. That was where she’d envisioned and sketched out what Global Digital could be. Where she’d plotted the roadmap and the strategy and the timeline to get to where she was today.

  Actually what she’d written on those cheap pieces of paper in her forty-nine-cent theme book was nowhere near what Global had actually achieved. How did that happen? When had her vision gone from several dozen employees where she knew everyone’s name and personal events to today? When did she become a target for a fifty-two-million-dollar ransom?

  “Good morning, Ms. Taylor,” the receptionist said, with a tentative smile.

  Barrett studied her as she walked by. Was she new? Had she been there before she left five weeks ago to get Kelly? Had she been there a year? Five years? Barrett was ashamed that she didn’t know.

  More people were waiting in the elevator lobby, and they too chatted about their weekend with friends and family. One even talked about the volunteer day that Global had sponsored on Saturday. From what she could gather, employees had selected four different elementary schools, and with donations from the local hardware store and the generous donation of playground equipment from Global Digital, they’d built new playgrounds that hundreds of children would enjoy, beginning this morning.

  “Ms. Taylor?” said one of the young men brave enough to speak with her. “I’d like to thank you for sponsoring the Build a Playground project this weekend. Without the generosity of Global we wouldn’t have been able to make it happen.”

  Barrett literally didn’t know what to say. Employees rarely spoke to her, and certainly not like this. When did she become so unapproachable? However, what came out of her mouth was her much-practiced, smooth corporate-speak. “Global has an obligation to our community to give back. This was just one of the many things we do,” she said, without even thinking, the words tumbling out of her mouth on autopilot. This time, however, they sounded shallow.

  “Well, thank you again,” the young man said as he looked her directly in the eye.

  He triggered something in Barrett and she held out her hand. “And you are?”

  “Jonathon Trace,” the man said a little hesitantly but didn’t break eye contact.

  “Well, Jonathon, thank you for spending your free time helping those kids. Have a good day.” Barrett released his hand as the elevator doors opened on the young man’s floor.

  “Yes, ma’am. You too.”

  The doors closed behind him, and the remaining employees didn’t look at her but were all looking at her. Barrett couldn’t remember feeling so uncomfortable and under a microscope.

  One by one the employees got off on their floors until she was riding the remaining two floors to the executive suites. The door slid open and Barrett saw, with absolute clarity, the way the vestibule in front of her was furnished. In stark contrast to the other floors, which featured tile, Sheetrock, and pale colors, here she saw plush carpet, mahogany-paneled walls, and subdued lighting.

  Frowning, she walked down the corridor to the suite of offices where she, Debra, and her executive team were located and approached the receptionist’s desk. She knew this woman’s name and how long she’d been here, but little else. Contrary to the receptionist on the first floor, this one looked her directly in the eye as she spoke.

  “Good morning, Ms. Taylor. Welcome back.”

  “Thank you, Caroline,” she said to the woman, continuing through the double doors that the woman had unlocked with a remote under the desk.

  A chorus of “good morning” from the other administrative assistants of her staff greeted her as she passed, and she acknowledged them similarly to her comment to Caroline a few moments ago.

  Sharon, who sat at the workstation next to Lori’s, jumped up quickly, hurrying over to the open space.

  “Good morning, Ms. Taylor. Lori just went to the coffee room. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you, Sharon. I’m fine. Lori can come in whenever she’s ready and bombard me with the stack of papers I know she has stacked up.”

  Barrett opened the largest door in the area with a soft metallic click. She stopped just inside and closed the door behind her. Her office was large, measuring twenty-seven feet by twenty-three. She remembered when her architect had showed her the plans for her office, and she remembered the exact measurements. Obviously it had been important to her then.

  Her large, custom-made desk faced the door, a bank of windows spanning the entire length of the room behind it. On the credenza behind the desk were numerous awards from various civic groups to which Global either donated or sponsored their cause. The wood was polished to a high shine, and with the reflection of the early morning sun, not a speck of dust was visible.

  To her right sat a leather loveseat, two antique Elizabethan side chairs, and a coffee table made by the same popular craftsman that had made her desk. Across the room from the casual seating area was a conference table with seating for six and leather coasters with the Global Digital insignia stacked neatly in the center. Heaven forbid that anyone might mar the surface of the table with their coffee-cup ring or the sweat from their glass.

  The walls were adorned with framed pictures, where either she or Global was featured on the cover. Everything except the signed Georgia O’Keeffe she had mortgaged her first house to buy, everything was all about her. Words like ego, narcissistic, and self-absorbed came to mind. She felt sick. The door opened behind her, bumping her in the back. She took a few steps forward and turned around.

  “Oh, sorry, Barrett. I didn’t know you were standing there. Is everything okay?” Concern
hardened Lori’s soft features.

  Lori had been her assistant since the day she could afford one, and that was years after she needed one. Barrett knew more about Lori than any other employee she’d encountered this morning, and that was only because Lori insisted on sharing her life with her. Barrett rarely asked, but that didn’t stop Lori.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Barrett chose not to answer all her questions. Lori was sharp and picked up on her reluctance immediately but knew better than to ask again.

  “Sharon said you were here. I brought you some coffee,”

  “Thanks,” Barrett said automatically. Striding across the office, she set her briefcase on her desk.

  “How was your trip? Get everything accomplished? Get any new deals? Make a boatload of money?” Lori asked jokingly.

  Barrett studied her a moment, deciding which approach to take. She could say the customary yes, had a good trip, made good contacts, and sold a few things, or she could share her experience with Lori. Barrett never talked about personal things in the office. Business was business and pleasure was pleasure, and the two rarely met. How would Lori react if she did?

  What if she said, Actually it was a very stressful five weeks. I hired the same mercenaries that rescued me to go back into the jungle and rescue the other captives, one of which was a woman who, because I didn’t get it done in time, came back pregnant. I paid off the woman’s house so it didn’t go into foreclosure and tried to buy her a car. She refused but did allow me to buy her some new clothes, some of which were maternity, due to what happened to her in captivity after I left, and let me do some other things in my miniscule, pathetic attempt to make up for leaving her. No, I didn’t make any money, no, I didn’t shake any hands, but I did have by far the most productive and insightful five weeks of my life.

  But if she said all that she’d be forced to call 911 because Lori would drop dead right in front of her seventeen-thousand-dollar desk. Of course all these thoughts came to her in a nanosecond, along with the decision that had driven her all of her life.

  “It was good. What do you have for me,” Barrett said instead, shifting into boss mode and effectively shutting down any further conversation. This time, however, Barrett felt the burning need to say more. But she didn’t, and that both comforted and disturbed her.

  *

  It was well past nine when Barrett walked out of the building. Everyone in executive row had gone. They all had lives they were eager to get home to. Only Lori and Debra had commented that Barrett had replaced the expensive artwork, magazine covers, and awards that had covered her office walls with framed prints. She was alone in the elevator, which didn’t stop on any of the seventeen floors below hers. The unknown receptionist in the lobby had been replaced with an equally generic security guard, who barely looked up as she passed.

  She exited the building into the cool summer night. The halogen lights in the parking lot provided enough light for her to be safe and secure, yet were designed to be energy efficient, aka cost-effective. Her car was the only one left in the parking lot. When looking at this same scene she used to think, Yeah, I’m the big boss. I’m here later than any of you. I work harder than any of you. I deserve that parking space, the furnishings on my floor, and the view over my shoulder. Now all these things made her feel lonely and shallow.

  The chirp of the security alarm on her car sounded as expensive as it was. Other vehicles emitted a honk, a series of chirps, or a variety of other obnoxious sounds to indicate that their car was secure from riff-raff, as her Uncle Al used to call it. Riff-raff—the folks that would rather steal than work.

  She opened the car door, the subdued overhead lighting reflecting the rich, smooth leather seats and wood-grained interior. She buckled her seat belt and a soft European voice greeted her. “Good evening, Barrett. What is your destination?”

  The salesman at the dealership had been very eager to show her the personalized navigation system. The owner could program the greeting and simply state a series of instructions or choices that would, in turn, activate the GPS so she wouldn’t end up somewhere else. Barrett’s company had designed the interactive system that knew if it was morning, afternoon, or evening, depending on the time on the quartz digital clock on the dash. She’d waited for him to finish his pitch before asking to speak to his manager.

  She asked the manager to tell her what he knew about the system, and after he finished, she asked to speak to his manager. Finally she got to the manager of the dealership and informed him of her experience. She then went on to tell all of them exactly what her system did and did not do and that her VP of product development would be in the owner’s office first thing Monday morning to ensure that their customers would not be misled in the future. She made a mental note to send some employees as secret shoppers to the other BMW dealerships to determine if similar misinformation was being communicated. She didn’t tolerate incompetence when it came to a product with her company’s name on it.

  Barrett put the car in drive, ignoring the question. She must have driven home on autopilot because she didn’t remember any of it. Usually she was on the phone with overseas clients or suppliers or simply dictating a reminder note, memo, or letter for Lori to pick up in the morning. Often times she wondered, if she needed to react to avoid an accident, could she?

  Stepping through the door that led into the house from the garage, Barrett keyed in the security code on the alarm-system keypad. The beeping sound stopped, and the only other sound was the heels of her loafers clicking on the tile floor.

  The smell of glass cleaner and furniture polish wasn’t as strong today as it was yesterday when she’d arrived home from the airport. She’d called her housekeeper a few days before she left Denver, and the woman had made a special trip to, what she called it, freshen up the house.

  She rummaged in the refrigerator for something palatable but wasn’t really hungry. She hadn’t eaten any breakfast and had just moved the food around on her plate during lunch with a client. She needed to eat something but couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than open a bottle of beer. She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the couch, lifting her feet to the coffee table in front of her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, suddenly very tired.

  Sleep had eluded her last night and the night before, her last night in Denver. She and Kelly had eaten dinner at a small Italian restaurant not far from Kelly’s house. They’d shared a bottle of alcohol-free wine, three breadsticks, and a pizza. They were both subdued, the conversation was strained, and they’d passed on dessert and gone to bed early.

  Somehow Barrett had made it through today. She’d felt completely disconnected from what was going on and attributed it to the fact that she rarely took time off, and never this long. She couldn’t focus or keep her attention on the topic of conversation. Several times she’d asked for something to be repeated, and once she saw two employees exchange glances. The phrase “she’s just not herself” had certainly been true today. She almost felt like she didn’t belong anymore.

  *

  The ringing of the phone jolted Barrett awake. Calls in the middle of the night were never good news.

  “Hello,” she mumbled, not even bothering to sound awake.

  “Oh, I woke you. I’m sorry.”

  Kelly’s voice on the other end of the line was apologetic. “I never should have called. I don’t know what I was thinking. Go back to sleep.”

  Barrett sat up. “No, no, Kelly. It’s not a problem.” She glanced at the clock. It was 2:42. She thought she’d finally fallen asleep sometime after midnight. “What’s up?”

  “Uh…”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” Barrett suspected what Kelly wanted to say but couldn’t.

  “Yeah.”

  “I get it.” She plumped the pillow behind her after turning on the light beside the bed. “Remember back in the hospital you asked me what made me change my mind and talk to Dr. Hinton? Remember what I said?”

  “Um…”

>   Barrett imagined Kelly’s face scrunching, as was her habit when she was thinking. “I said nightmares, flashbacks, and that I slept with the light on. It took awhile before I could sleep through the night,” which was a minor lie. She had yet to sleep through the night, but Kelly didn’t need to know that. “I didn’t expect to have that problem. I thought that now that I was home and safe, I’d sleep like a baby, as the saying goes. I did fall asleep, but I woke up so many times with dreams that after a while I was afraid to go to sleep. Afraid that if I went to sleep I’d have nightmares and wake up kicking and screaming in the dark.”

  “What did you do? I mean what made it—”

  “Time.” Kelly was having a difficult time asking questions, so Barrett volunteered the information instead. “Also talking to Dr. Hinton, sleeping pills, and complete exhaustion. Not necessarily in that order. But it does get better.”

  “So why is all this happening now? I mean when I was in the jungle I didn’t have any trouble sleeping. If anything, I should have, never knowing what was going to happen one minute to the next.”

  “Because you’re safe here,” Barrett replied softly, practically mimicking Dr. Hinton when she’d asked the same question. “You’re safe, and you know it, but your subconscious just hasn’t quite got there yet.”

  “I suppose so,”

  “What did Dr. Hinton say?”

  “Same thing you did.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Barrett said, attempting to ease some of the tension she could feel even over the phone line. “So what did you do today?”

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  “Oh my God,” Barrett said with fake surprise. “Do you have a camera in my bedroom? I’d better put some clothes on.”

  “You’re trying to change the subject so I won’t think about it.”

  “No, I’m changing the subject because I want to know what you did today.” Since Barrett had returned home, they’d talked every day. Barrett often called Kelly as she drove home from work, and at times their conversation continued well into the evening. They talked about everything and nothing at all. They laughed at each other’s childhood antics and cringed at each “first-time” story.