My chest ached without warning—for several hours at a time, my mind was too foggy for me to think clearly, and I’d lost my appetite somewhere between last week and this morning. Whenever I wasn’t researching my symptoms, I was musing about why Andrea still hadn’t unblocked me.
Why she still hadn’t come back…
I picked up my desk phone and called the intern department.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Cross,” a soft voice answered on the first ring. “How may I help you this afternoon?”
“Afternoon?” I scoffed. “It’s nine o’clock in the morning.”
“Um, no, sir…” She hesitated. “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.”
What?I glanced at my clock in disbelief.
“Are you there, sir?”
“Yes.” I opened my laptop, wondering why Heather hadn’t sent me any updates. “I wanted an update on my phone from the support department.”
“Mr. Cross, we’ve taken your phone to Apple multiple times,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with your incoming or outgoing calls.”
“There has to be,” I said. “Send someone up here to take it to the store again. Tell the techs to double- and triple-check.”
“Sir—” She sighed. “A technician personally showed you there was nothing wrong yesterday, remember?”
“No, I don’t.” I shrugged. “Send someone up here to get my phone and stop being so difficult.”
I hung up and logged into my email, seeing a repetitive list of similar subject lines.
Subject:Cancelled Meeting
Subject:Rescheduling Request Approved
Subject:Mr. Cross Is Unavailable… Indefinitely
I scrolled through pages of emails, confused as ever. Not wanting to deal with this without alcohol, I poured myself a shot of whiskey and tossed it back.
Before I could call Heather, my door swung open. Then Aaron stepped inside and slammed it shut.
“People are starting to whisper some pretty ugly rumors around here, Harrison…”
“Good morning to you too, Aaron.”
“The morning was over hours ago.” He strolled closer. “This is the part in our conversation when you ask me what the rumors are.”
“I don’t care.”
“They’re wondering why you haven’t sent a mean memo in weeks.”
“I stopped sending those months ago…”
“Or why you’re holed up in your office, crying like a little bitch.”
“I’ve never cried a day in my life.”
“You need to get the hell out of here, shower, and change out of that shirt.”
“What’s wrong with my shirt?”
“You’ve been wearing it for six days straight now,” he said. “Then again, maybe I should let you wear it for longer since it took you a week to change the last one.”
