Lost In Us

by Layla Hagen

  "Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

  "No." The desperation in his voice sends chills down my spine. "I have a meeting with investors tomorrow morning. If the code can't be fixed, the platform won't be working, I won't have anything t-t-to show… to them," he stutters, then stops, taking in another deep breath. "That would be very bad, Serena. Look, just come here. I promise you, there are so many people here you won't even see me. I'll stay out of your way."

  "That won't be necessary," I say, a knot forming in my throat.

  "I know you can't stand the sight of me. I can't blame you."

  "That's not true," I whisper so low I'm sure he hasn't heard me.

  "I wouldn't have called you if it weren't absolutely necessary, Serena."

  "How bad will it be if you aren't able to show the platform to the investors tomorrow?"

  He laughs nervously. "How bad? I think it's safe to say ramen noodles will become a big part of my diet."

  I clench the sheet in my fist. Bankruptcy. "I'll be right there."

  The second the elevator doors open on the floor of James's office, I feel like I've just entered a football stadium. James wasn't exaggerating. He really must have called up every single programmer he knows. There are at least six times more people than there should be in this office, and their constant chatter, punctuated by the occasional shout from one side of the room to the other, pierces my ears in an unpleasant way. The air is thick with exhaustion and the smell of too many people.

  And the heat of too many computers.

  I stand on my toes, trying to spot James in all the chaos, but give up after a few seconds, and settle for finding someone, anyone I know. I vaguely recognize a blond hunk with whom Jess went out a few times, and who graduated from Stanford last year, but no one else.

  But someone recognizes me.

  "Serena," a surprised voice calls. I swirl on my heels, and encounter one person I was least expecting to see here. In front of me, every bit as hairless and smug as on the plane, is Ralph. Between the talk of constant partying and Christie's heavy-handed hints that his only occupation was spending his trust fund, he's the last person I expected to find in a room where everyone is working hard. Ralph is watching me with his abnormally bushy eyebrows raised.

  "Ralph," I say, hoping I'm more skilled at hiding my surprise than he was.

  "Come on," he says, and without another word leads the way into the chaos. He seems to know exactly where he's going, because he doesn't hesitate. As we squeeze ourselves between groups of people huddled around computers, I notice Parker, throwing his hands in the air in despair, talking with less grace than I've ever heard him talk. He doesn't see me. I look the other way as I pass him, glad I can use the excuse of him being busy to not greet him. I think of James and the state he must be in. I'm glad it is Ralph who found me and not James.

  "Right," Ralph says when we reach the corner of the room where there is a desk with three computers and four twenty-something guys seated in front of two of them, staring at the screen. "Everyone, this is Serena." One of them raises his hand and waves without looking in my direction. The others don't acknowledge me at all.

  "Sit here." Ralph points to one of the two empty chairs in front of the third computer. He sits himself next to me and explains in a few hurried sentences what the issue is. To increase the platform's speed, the programmers did some last-minute modifications to the back-end code yesterday. Somewhere in those modified lines of code lies the bug that caused the platform to completely crash.

  "We've been working on finding the bug for the past ten hours, but another pair of eyes is more than welcome."

  I gulp, watching Ralph lean forward in his seat. His elbows on the desk, he rests his chin on his right hand, his eyes beginning to scan the lines of code. Ten hours is a long time to be looking for a bug without finding it. Especially when there are a few dozen people looking for it. I check my watch. It's three o' clock in the morning.

  With my heart pounding fast, and without another word, I turn my attention to the screen, too. It takes me some time to get acquainted with the code well enough to actually be able to search for a bug. Not a favorite activity of mine. I might be among the top of my class in computer science, but there's a reason I never considered it a career option: I can't see myself programming for hours at a time. I realized this soon enough after I decided on it as my minor, but was too proud to drop it.

  The constant chatter around me is distracting, as is the increasingly suffocating air. The tension in the air is almost palpable, like the thinnest sheet of fog. I try to block out all of it. I try to think that this is just another course assignment. One that I've delayed until the last moment. Who am I kidding? I never left anything until the last moment. And no assignment ever had stakes like this.

  A failed course or a bad grade was the worst that could happen. And as minutes pass by, and then an hour, the fact that something much worse than failing a course will happen if someone doesn't find the error in the code stops being just a possibility. It's becoming a reality. One that almost paralyzes me. How bad? I think it's safe to say ramen noodles will become a big part of my diet, James's words ring in my ears.

  I lean forward, closer to the screen, flexing my wrist. At some point during the last hour, I rested my chin on my wrist, like Ralph. He's now so close to the screen that if he leans in a few inches more he'll touch the screen with the tip of his nose. I focus my eyes on the screen and read the lines of code again and again. Until my vision is blurry. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again a few times. My gaze slides at the lower right corner of the computer, at the clock. Another hour passed. I swallow hard.

  Ralph's voice makes me jump. "You're not reading anymore; you're just gazing at that screen, that's no good. You need a break. So do I."

  I realize he's right. Both my elbows are on the desk, and I've got no memory of putting them there.

  Ralph leans back in his chair, massaging his neck. I mirror his movements, and discover that my own neck is stiffer than I thought. Around me, everyone is glued to their computers, some focused, some on the verge of falling asleep. The guys sharing our desks are part of the latter group.

  "You looked surprised to see me here," Ralph says and I turn to him. He's smirking.

  "I could say the same about you."

  He watches me intently for a few seconds then says, "Because I knew James and you broke up. He told me he called you here, but to be honest, I didn't think you'd show up."

  I take a deep breath. I wonder how exactly he knows that James and I broke up. Did James tell him, or did he see James with other women and drew his own conclusions? The image of a disheveled Parker opening the door to James's apartment comes to mind. The image of an almost-naked Sophie follows. I have a strong urge to vomit as I remember that dreadful morning. Did James have one of those wild nights again? Did Ralph accompany him this time? I scrutinize Ralph, pondering whether I can try to scoop any information out of him without him catching on to what I'm doing. The smirk on his face tells me there isn't. He's expecting me to ask him something like this. What he said before was a provocation.

  So I provoke him too. "And I knew that your favorite pastimes include spending obscene amounts of money on brainless activities."

  "They do," Ralph says, not looking the least bit insulted. "But now and then I like to put my hacking skills to some good use. You know, with whatever neurons I haven't killed with brainless activities."

  I snort.

  Ralph opens his mouth, but instead of another provocation, he simply says, "James."

  I jump to my feet and swirl around. Then I'm positive my heart stops for a few seconds.

  James doesn't look like himself. He's got dark circles under his eyes and his skin is so pale, it's scary. A vein twitches in his neck. The faintest smile forms across his lips as he gazes at me. My heart starts back up. When he smiles, he looks like the James I know again.

  "I'm grateful you've come here Serena." Then he looks at Ralp
h and his voice is sharp when he speaks. "Ralph, I remember telling you—"

  "James, I'm doing you a favor, so don't even think of playing the boss with me."

  "Has he been holding you back?" James asks me seriously.

  "What? No. We've been in front of the computer for two whole hours and nothing."

  James tenses up at the word nothing. "Well, we've got two more left, and then it'll be over either way." He's still smiling, but in an ironic way. It gives me chills.

  "What do you mean?" I ask, my heart pounding like mad.

  "That's the investors’ deadline. They're pulling back all their support and investment if it's not fixed."

  "But that's insane. Why—"

  I stop mid-sentence. I know why. This is how Silicon Valley works. This is why I never wanted to enter this world that uses sweat as currency and exhaustion as fuel, to create a world that can crumble in an instant.

  "I need coffee," Ralph says, rising from his seat. He swings an arm over my shoulders, leaning into me. I bite my tongue to keep myself from grimacing as a pungent stink emanates from his underarm. "Do you think you can convince the boss not to kill me if I go on a coffee break?"

  My eyes dart to James in a fraction of a second, and I know the boss would like nothing better than to punch Ralph. His tightened fists aren't the only indication of this. His eyes, fixed on Ralph's arm, have that glint that I've seen enough times by now to know exactly what it means. It's as unsettling as it was under that tree next to the auditorium when he thought I was seeing someone else, and in the club when Jason was hitting on me, or when he asked if I'd heard from Michael back when we were at Royal Garden.

  It filled me with dread on both of those occasions, but it does something different now. It feels me with hope, to see that he's still jealous. That he still thinks of me as his. Maybe, just maybe, he still thinks of himself as mine too. Only mine. Perhaps he hasn't kissed other lips.

  Ralph is oblivious to all of this. He scans the room as if hoping a fountain of coffee will pop up from the ground.

  "I need coffee too. I think everyone needs some," I say, not because I want to side with Ralph, but because I genuinely don't think anyone in this room can work two more minutes, let alone two more hours, if they don't get caffeine in their system. I unhitch Ralph's arms from my shoulders. The smell of him nauseates me.

  "I know," James says, his fists loose now. "That's why I ordered coffee for everyone."

  As if on cue, I hear a ping from the other side of the room. The elevator doors open and two women appear, one in her forties and one who doesn't look older than me, pushing coffee carts with plastic cups inside the room. I realize now that I could only hear the ping because the chatter in the room has dropped to an almost non-existent level. And while two hours ago, I would've given everything for silence, now I know it's a sign that everyone is truly exhausted.

  And so does James.

  "Excellent timing," I say, as Ralph darts in the direction of the coffee cart.

  James links his gaze to mine, and his next words turn all my limbs into something that has the consistency of melting ice cream. "Smile for me."

  The corner of my lips instantly lift into a smile.

  He smiles as well, then turns to face the room. "Everyone, coffee is here," James says loudly. "Fill up, and please get back to work. There is just under two hours left and I have full confidence that someone in this room of amazing people will find the bug." The desperation that pierced his voice a few minutes ago isn't there anymore. His voice is energetic, lively. Inspiring even. "And then we can all go celebrate at Wellstone's. My treat."

  There are a few appreciative whistles and some applause. Wellstone's is one of the most expensive places around. I head along with every person in the room toward the coffee cart. I wait patiently in the long line that forms in front of it. One glance around the room reveals that not everyone is in the line. James and Parker are seated at their desks, eyes fixed on their computer screens.

  When I finally do manage to get my hands on a cup of steamy coffee, I start looking for Ralph. I find him in front of the elevator, an arm swung around the shoulders of a tall woman with red hair. Ralph's holding a cup of coffee in one hand—the one around her shoulders—and a pack of cigarettes in the other one.

  "Ralph, I hope you're not thinking of sneaking outside to smoke. There's no time for that."

  Ralph turns around in an instant, and the redhead steps away from him, looking relieved. Judging by the youthful roundness of her face and the nervous way she glances around her, as if expecting someone to reprimand her for her behavior, she must be an intern.

  "Ana here and I were just going for a quick smoke."

  "I am sure you can do that after the deadline," I say. I don't specifically say you and Ana because I'm almost one hundred percent sure that Ana has no desire to go anywhere with Ralph. Sure enough, she smiles apologetically and darts off.

  Ralph looks at me grimly then shoves the package in the pocket of his jeans.

  "I can smoke a cigarette in under a minute, you know," he grumbles as we head back to our desk.

  "I don't care how fast you smoke. The only thing I care about is how fast you can find this damn bug."

  We slump in our seats. Staring in his coffee cup, he says, "You honestly believe we'll find it on time?"

  I don't answer. Instead, I start looking at the lines of code on the screen again, not taking my eyes off it even as I sip coffee from my cup. The noise of steps and chairs being pulled as everyone returns to work distracts me, and I find myself staring at the clock in the corner of the screen instead of the code. Once everyone has taken their seats, stone silence sets in again. The silence makes it even harder for me to concentrate than the noise. My eyes don’t leave the computer screen even for a fraction of a second in the period that follows. They blur again. I try to avoid looking at the clock, but my gaze slides there more often than I'd like. When there's less than an hour left, Ralph props a piece of paper on the lower part of the screen, hiding the clock. I wipe my palms on my legs repeatedly because they're sweaty as hell. Ralph jiggles his foot in a nerve-wracking way, and I put my right hand firmly on his leg when I can't stand it anymore. He stops right away. Somewhere in the room, someone swears again and again in a heavy English accent. Parker.

  And then something that might be a squeal or a scream pierces the air and for a second I fear it might actually split my head in two. More and more people join in the squealing, and then the whole room is standing and squealing. I cover my ears and turn to Ralph, who seems as lost as I am. He frowns, looking around as if fearing everyone has lost their mind. Then he jumps on his feet, a wide grin replacing his frown.

  "Someone found the bug," he mouths to me.

  I'm not very aware of my next actions, but they include rising from my chair and uncovering my ears. The explosive sounds of cheering—and now clapping—doesn't bother me anymore. My head is spinning in a delirious swirl. A lightness fills my chest, spreading and spreading until it overtakes my entire body. I feel just like I did when I jumped from that plane into nothingness. I spot James on the side of the elevator. He's got his back turned to the room, one palm covering an ear, the other pressing his phone to his free ear. I'll have to wait to congratulate him. I search for Parker, thinking that he must be so ecstatic now that I can't find a better moment to make amends with him. It takes me a few minutes to locate him. He's still in front of a computer. Not the one he's been sitting at with James, but at one in the center of the room. He looks focused and determined, but no longer prone to start swearing. Next to him is a black-haired guy with glasses. By the way everyone pats his back, he must be the one who found the bug. The darned error in the code. I want to hug him.

  "Okay," James's voice resounds after a few minutes. Everyone falls silent. "Parker and I need to meet up with the investors right away. How about all of you go over at Wellstone's and we'll meet you there later to celebrate?"

  There is a general buzz of
agreement in the room.

  "Well done, everyone," James says. "Really, really well done."

  Ralph is among the first to reach the elevator, already holding an unlit cigarette between his fingers. The room empties almost completely in the next ten minutes. It's just James and Parker who are left now, talking in low voices.

  And me. I'm three desks away from them, and I'm positive that James knows I'm still here, because he glanced discreetly in my direction a few times.

  "Why don't you wait in the car, Parker? I'll join you in a minute."

  Parker turns around in surprise. He smiles—almost mechanically, without saying anything. If I didn't know him, I'd think that he's just too tired to be his usual self. But I do know him. And I know that the absence of words means he hasn't forgiven me for what I pulled at that charity event.

  "Don't be long," he says to James before leaving.

  "I take it he's still angry with me," I say the moment Parker disappears in the elevator.

  James chuckles, now standing in front of me. He's no longer pale, and the dark circles under his eyes, though still there, coupled with his radiant smile, give him the cool air of someone who's been partying all night.

  "I think Parker still can't quite believe you'd use him like that. Especially since he was such a fan of yours."

  My face must have dropped, because James adds quickly, "He still is, don't worry. Though if we're going to be late to the meeting with the investors because of you, he might definitely change his mind."

  The next words are out before I can think them through. "Will Natalie be at the meeting with the investors?"

  James narrows his eyes. "No," he answers in a measured tone.

  "I thought she owned part of this company," I say indignantly. I'm not quite sure what I'm so worked up about. I should be relieved that he won't see her. And that I didn't have to face her here tonight. But this also means she's more of a scum than I thought: omnipresent when it's about reaping benefits, but utterly absent when things go downhill.