The Untouched: THE UNSEEN SERIES, #2

by Sheldon, Piper

  Dylan gives more bad news about shipping delays and needing part approvals.

  “We need these parts for the upgrade to the test bed yesterday but I can’t get engineering to sign off,” Dylan says.

  Jared sighs. They hadn’t explicitly called him out, but engineering is his domain so it’s obvious who they’re directing the delay at. “I’m not going to sign off on a thirty-thousand-dollar part until I’m sure the design is going to work. That’s just going to bite me in the ass if it fails.” He’s clicking the end of his pen repeatedly and I have the overwhelming urge to grab it and snap it in half.

  “Let’s all just take a breath. Nobody is at fault,” I say.

  “Yeah, well it feels like I’m the one being blamed.” Jared slams his pen down.

  “Nobody is at fault,” I repeat.

  Julia flinches in my periphery.

  “Nobody,” I say once more and look at each and every one of them.

  Julia’s head is down and focused on her notebook. Dylan glares at the door with arms crossed. I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m doing my best but sometimes it feels like our team is too close. We’ve known each other too long and are too free to speak our minds with each other. And then the professional decorum slips. Professional. As if I have any room to talk after the boundaries I’ve crossed with Julia. I’ve been too lax, given the team too much free rein. As though reading my mind and sensing the absolute worse timing, Ken walks into the boardroom not two minutes later.

  Inwardly I curse but I slap a smile on my face. The rest of the team quiets and straightens in their chairs. Ken hovers on the edge of the room listening as the last few people present. His arms and legs are crossed and he seems almost casual, the picture of business, leaning against the wall. The tension that was already there is now palpable. Nobody wants to present bad news to begin with, and now with the lab liaison watching with judgment, the room is heavy with silence. Julia has her hands under the table and I worry she is thinking about what happened at the brewery. I catch her glaring at Ken before she notices she’s being watched.

  Before Julia presents her piece next, I say, “Ken thanks for joining. Have a seat.”

  He shakes his head and gestures to Julia, signaling for her to go on. We share a quick look before she speaks. I’m proud of her. I have no right to be, but when she talks her voice is clear and strong and she doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated by Ken’s presence. Ken jingles the change in his pocket. It’s a tick of his I’ve noticed but only now, as he watches her closely, does it seem vaguely perverse.

  Ken breaks his silence. “The customer says that you are late on two deliveries,” he says to Julia.

  “That would be this month’s financials and the test tech summary. They were due yesterday,” she explains.

  Neither of which were her fault, but she doesn’t blame anybody. She keeps her features cool as he continues.

  “They mentioned the last tech reports were sloppy with errors,” Ken says. “They redlined the whole thing and still haven’t seen them come back yet.”

  “Those are in process,” she explains.

  Again, not her fault. I saw the report, and the errors were technical ones made by rushed engineers working under deadline. She couldn’t have caught those. I want to stand up and explain but I also don’t want to do the typical man-savior thing. She’s explaining herself fine. She isn’t flustered or upset. In fact, what she should be explaining is that those reports wouldn’t have even made the initial deadline if she hadn’t stayed late every day to make sure they were delivered before the end of the day.

  “The Statement of Work says we need to have them turned around in three days. That’s tomorrow. That won’t be an issue, right?” Ken asks.

  “Tomorrow is Saturday,” I say, unable to bite my tongue.

  “Actually, the contract does specify business days. It’s in the calendar definition under Section 8.0. Three business days will be Monday. They’ll be on time to the contract.” Julia explains to the room.

  Ken blinks at her before saying, “If these were delivered correctly the first time it wouldn’t be an issue.”

  “They’ll be on time,” she says simply.

  Julia holds Ken’s gaze.

  “I’ll help,” Jared jumps in, breaking the standoff between them. “I know you gave them to me yesterday. I haven’t had a chance to look at them.”

  Ken nods to Jared. “See that you help her.”

  If anybody else had said that it would have been backing up the team, but something about Ken’s tone comes off condescending. It’s like he only sees her as a helpless girl who needs to be directed. I’m biting my tongue to avoid coming to her defense. I want to explain how she works her ass off for this team and has been sprinting since she was hired not that long ago.

  “The team is doing everything they can,” I say.

  “I’m not worried about that.” His jaw ticks. “It sounds to me like the issue isn’t that people aren’t working hard. You can work hard until you bleed, but if the technology isn’t working that’s another issue,” he says calmly.

  My technology. “It will work. The tests ran perfect last weekend,” I say.

  “But not this week? Weren’t we starting development?”

  “Development is happening. We are ordering parts.”

  “For a design that is failing? The customer would not sign off on that.”

  We’re volleying back and forth, the whole room watching. I risk a glance quickly around the room. They all seem to be biting their tongues. Julia is flushed now when she had been cool and calm only moments ago. She’s blaming herself; I can almost feel it.

  “There comes a point in a contract where the labs have to decide if the technology is viable enough to deliver to the customer. We have passed that point, Nathaniel.”

  “Ken, can we talk offline? Let the team go to lunch?”

  The team doesn’t need to hear this. They don’t need to blame themselves for anything else. Whatever happens, I will take the fall and ensure they are okay. I will always put them first.

  Ken straightens off the wall. “I don’t think so. It’s simple. This contract is close to having its plug pulled. At this rate, the customer would be kind to not sue us for mismanagement of funds, sloppy deliveries, and failing equipment.” He gestures to me and Julia as though it is our fault. And maybe it is. “I’m telling you all this now so you can’t act surprised when it happens. I believed in this team.” His hands stop jiggling in his pockets. “You’ve disappointed me. If we don’t see major changes by the end of this month, I’ll recommend pulling it.”

  Two weeks. With that, he leaves the room. He knows he has the power to end this because of his relationship with General Smith.

  We sit in silence. I’m seething. That was completely unethical. He shouldn’t have delivered the news this way. These people have families. They have given up so much already.

  “I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have—” I start.

  “Excuse me,” Julia pushes up from the table. Her cheeks are flushed as she quickly collects her things. She’s out of the room in a blur but not before I see her hands tucked in her sleeves. Now that I know what I’m looking for, the signs are clear.

  “I’m sorry, but that guy is an asshole and it wasn’t Julia’s fault,” Dylan says after Julia has left.

  “I should have said something. It’s my fault that report was a mess,” Jared says, rubbing his face.

  “Mine too. She stayed up until almost midnight to deliver mine,” Kate admits sheepishly.

  “I’ll talk to her,” I say.

  Just then my computer beeps with a notification. Jared’s and Kate’s do too.

  “Shit,” I say and they groan.

  We’re already collecting our things and heading to the lab.

  “What is it?” Febin asks.

  “The tests just failed,” Kate says. We leave the room.

  I can’t find Julia, but I suspect her powers aren’t gone after all.


  16

  Julia

  It’s times like these I wish I were a drinker. Instead, I’m forced to be fully aware of the pain pulsing through my joints. I fight back the power that ebbs. To my complete embarrassment, Ken’s announcement in the meeting brought back the sickness in a big way. It wasn’t because of how he talked to me. I’m used to being underestimated and overlooked. It was how he accused Nathaniel of faulty design. I wanted to stand up and shout that it was my fault. I’m making the tests fail.

  After the meeting, I hid in the bathroom for twenty minutes quelling back the light that burned through me. Let them think I’m crying. Better than the truth, I guess.

  I work the rest of the day with Jared on the report finally sending it back to the customer at ten o’clock that night. We are both beyond exhausted as we head for our cars.

  “Sorry about today. That sucked, but it wasn’t anything you did. We appreciate you,” he says as he’s getting into his car.

  “Thanks. I’m sorry this project is so challenging,” I say, playing with my car keys.

  “I know Nathaniel’s design is solid. His brain never miscalculates. We’ve all reviewed it. Something’s not adding up. Maybe the technology just isn’t ready.”

  He’s defeated and so am I. I can’t offer any words of comfort. I know exactly why the tests are failing. After a moment, he looks at me like he’s going to ask me something more but then just says, “Well, have a good weekend. At least we don’t have to come in tomorrow.” He waves a goodbye and drives away.

  Nathaniel’s car is still in the parking lot. He checked on us a few times, bringing coffee and snacks, but left us mostly alone. We don’t know what to say to each other anymore. I think that’s hurting me the most. There was a brief time we were both fully ourselves and working toward the same goal. Now I feel worlds apart.

  I look longingly in the direction of the testing building. I could really use a discharge after my flare up earlier with Ken. My knees are aching so bad I have to hobble into my car. I’m still not in the mood to go talk to him. I’m too tired. I don’t think I’d be able to have a grown-up conversation yet. The anger from earlier in the week has burned out to exhaustion. I freaked out. Of course he doesn’t understand what I’ve been going through my whole life. I’ve been the one going through it, not him. But I still need space.

  I’ll just go home and drink tea and hope it passes soon. That, or I’ll just have to bite the bullet and ask Nathaniel to come let me into the lab. He’d want that, wouldn’t he? Be able to run all the tests he wants. The thought of him treating me like a test subject only sends me deeper into my pity party.

  At home, I take ibuprofen and fire up my laptop. I sip my tea as I watch stupid cat videos to distract me from the pain and ennui invading me. Ginger is mad at me too for being gone so much. He won’t come out from his plant except to eat, and when he does, he pointedly ignores me. Imagine me daydreaming about having a furry pet when a fish is almost too much to handle. I’m so weary, I want to sleep for a year.

  I’m thinking about Nathaniel and his hope for me when I first showed him my disability. Maybe I need to stop calling it that. Maybe it’s not fair to people with real disabilities. I am healthy after all, except when I’m not. He looked at me and saw potential. He saw my light as a gift, where I’ve always seen it as a curse. Maybe both things are true.

  A message pops up in the corner of my screen.

  WeepingAngel: There she is!

  DudeWheresMyTardis: Hi. I’ve been a bad friend.

  WeepingAngel: Stop. I get being busy. How’s today?

  DudeWheresMyTardis: 8

  I answer honestly. I’m lucky to have somebody to share with that understands pain like this.

  WeepingAngel: Shit. I’m sorry.

  DudeWheresMyTardis: You?

  WeepingAngel: Only 5 today.

  DudeWheresMyTardis: Still not great. Are you okay?

  WeepingAngel: I’m fine. I’m drinking wine. It helps. What’s going on with you? You’ve been working too much.

  DudeWheresMyTardis: Probably. Today sucked. I got called out at a meeting today by a big boss. No good.

  WeepingAngel: Damn. I’m sorry. Not what you need on top of an episode.

  DudeWheresMyTardis: Yeah. The whole week was garbage, TBH. I try so hard to make it work but always feel like I’m just treading water.

  WeepingAngel: I understand that feeling. What’s the quote? If you’re going through hell, keep going? Something like that.

  DudeWheresMyTardis: Grandma Sue used to say something similar.

  WeepingAngel: <3

  DudeWheresMyTardis: Don’t you ever just wish you were normal?

  WeepingAngel: Of course I do. But I don’t have that option so I don’t dwell on it. It’s a waste of energy that I need to put toward more important things.

  That’s the thing I love about Angel: she doesn’t mince words; she doesn’t wallow. Whatever her day to day is like, she has never been self-pitying. She accepts who she is and lives her life. I want to be like that.

  I can see she’s still typing … and typing … Every once in a while she gets chatty and it’s always gold.

  WeepingAngel: The thing I’m understanding as I get older is that there is no normal. There are people who choose to live their lives by staying in their lanes. And there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s needed. But there are also people who know they aren’t like everyone else. That they were made for something more. Then there’s people who don’t have a choice. They are “thrust into greatness” and they decide what choice to make.

  I wondered how she saw me?

  DudeWheresMyTardis: I don’t think I’m one of those people. I’ve only ever wanted a normal life.

  WeepingAngel: There’s nothing wrong with that.

  Still. I get the sense that I’ve disappointed her. I get a little twinge of anxiety that I have screwed up something in one of the only lasting relationships in my life. I chew on my lip deciding what to say. After a lifetime of wanting to change who I am, it’s hard not to still long for that. Despite what Nathaniel thinks, I still just want to be free of this curse.

  I watch her continue to type and think about her words.

  WeepingAngel: Anybody can make a difference. There needs to be people who decide that they will be the light that leads those in the dark. Why be ordinary when you can be extraordinary? The world needs exceptional people. Why not be one?

  I read what she’s written two times and feel an ache in my chest. Sometimes I swear she’s in my head. Maybe I’m projecting, but she has an uncanny ability to say just what I need to hear.

  WeepingAngel: Sometimes I think if I had half the health that “normal” people have, I could make a difference. Some people are like that. They want to leave the world just a little better than how they found it. Think of the biggest, most memorable figures in history. They were just normal people who decided to go after something.

  DudeWheresMyTardis: You make my world better <3

  Her proclamation gives me that same nagging guilt that Nathaniel’s admiration does but for different reasons. Was I wasting my potential by fighting it back? But what good had it done? I hope and I fight every day … but what if I’m actually fighting against what I’m meant to be? Against my true potential?

  My body aches from sitting up too long.

  WeepingAngel: Same, girl. Love has a power like nothing else. It shines when there is only darkness.

  Inexplicably, chills spread across my skin at those words. Angel can be so soulful in the most random moments. Go from teasing to profound in a flash.

  DudeWheresMyTardis: I just want to be happy.

  WeepingAngel: Then decide what will bring you happiness and go after it.

  DudeWheresMyTardis: You’re right. It’s time I make the most of my life. On that note, I’m going to bed.

  WeepingAngel: Ha ha! Atta girl.

  DudeWheresMyTardis: Feel better.

  WeepingAngel: I will. I a
lways do.

  Seriously, I love this woman.

  I barely manage to change into pajamas and hobble from door to light, locking and turning things off. I would love to be a person who changes the world, but when I feel like this I’m too lost in my pain to hope for anything more than just normality.

  Still, her words replay in my head as I shuffle to my room. Why be ordinary …

  I don’t remember anything after falling face first into bed. I wake up with a gasp. My room is filled with light.

  “Not again,” I groan but when I look down at my hands, they’re normal.

  I blink around the room and realize the light is of the natural variety. That is to say, it’s sunny.

  “What time is it?” I glare at my clock only to realize it’s almost noon on Saturday …? I guess?

  There’s a knock at my front door. Adrenaline shoots me into action. I bolt up and reach for my robe. I’m half-asleep and moving on autopilot.

  Nobody visits me. Nobody even knows where I live. I shuffle to the door not totally awake.

  I rub my eyes and pull open the door.

  It’s a man. There is a man on my front porch.

  17

  Nathaniel

  The longer I stand here, the more I realize this was a stupid idea. I especially start to worry about the peace offering in my hands. I had intended it as a sweet gesture, an apology. Now it feels more like an insult and me showing up here feels sort of creepy. I spent most of the night worrying about how I handled the week at work and more specifically, how I handled myself with Julia in the testing area. I got too excited about the potential and forgot about the person. I keep waffling between guilt and regret. After she was dressed down in the meeting by Ken and we had to run to the lab, I never had a chance to talk to her, not really.