“Another programmer.” If Lucas leaves—and that haunted look in his eyes assured me he will before long—I won’t have the time to hire when this project is done. I need to get someone else in here now. “Al’s shown some pretty strong skills as a project manager. Lucas has been impressed. I could use hishelp,too.”
“Al doesn’t want—” Royce rolls his eyes. “He’s sticking with cabling. Apprentice-level work only. Hischoice.”
I stifle my sputter, but Royce glares at meanyway.
“You asked me what I needed. Get me someone with at least Lucas's skill set, have Abby and Orion finish their certifications as soon as possible, and find me someone to help with projectmanagement.”
“Done. That’ll be enough?” Royce taps his notes without looking at me, and for the second time in a week, I think I see a tremble in hisfingers.
“Yes.” Digging for some courage, I stand so we’re on equal footing. “There’s one more thing.” I wave my hand towards the rest of the office. “You’ve built a great company, Royce. We all love what we do, and until a few weeks ago, we all loved coming into work. Every one of us would move heaven and earthforyou.”
He stills, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. I rush to continue before he tells me to get the hell out and “leave it alone” again. “We’re about to get very busy for a very long time. Everyone needs to be at the top of their game. Including you. Something’s changed. You’re slamming doors, jumping down people’s throats. You broke your phone, for fuck’s sake. How long do you think they’ll all stick around in this sort of environment? We’re too close to ‘making it.’ Don’t screw thisupnow.”
“Screw this up? I’m working my ass off to keep this company together so we canmake it.What the hell am I supposed to do? Bring puppies and kittens into the office for playtime?” He’s straightened, and the fire behind his gaze almost makes me retreat, but I’ve done that too often with Royce, and now we’re bothsuffering.
“No. Bring back ‘Beer Fridays,’ buy doughnuts once in a while, suggest we all hit up a happy hour after work—and thenshow up.Anything to let them knowyoucare.”
He cringes, looks down at his feet, and then shakes his head. “Icare.”
“I know that. But I’m not sure they do.” I jerk my chin towards the door. “All they see is a boss who’s losing control of his demons.” I reach out and touch his forearm, hoping he doesn’t pull away. “Takes one to know one,Rolls.”
“My demons are right where they’ve always been. If I’m a little short, it’s just the stress over thisproject.”
“Royce, this isn’t the Coana job. You need help. Are you even sleeping?” His bloodshot eyes hold the answer. “Talk to me. Get on VetNet. Or see a professional. I could give you the name of my shrink.” The hard muscles of his forearm shift under my fingers. “I would have died for you in Afghanistan. You know that,right?”
He jerks away. “Youalmostdid.”
“No. I almost died because some Taliban asshole wanted to take out an entire convoy. That’s not my point. You’re important to me. As is this company. I won’t let it—or you—go down without a fight.” I reach over and grab a pen and Post-It from his desk. “Here’s my therapist’s name. Go talk to her. Or…talk to someone. And try to go easy on the rest ofthem,okay?”
As I press the note into his hand, he tightens his grip, holds onto me for a breath, and then releases me and turns away. Without another word, I slip out of his office and head back to work hoping that this time, he’lllisten.
* * *
By the timeI sink into my recliner later that night, Royce has sent a company-wide email asking everyone to happy hour the next day. I can’t refuse—not after my plea in his office—even though I’ve been looking forward to my date with West all week. I send a suggestive text, then follow it up with another asking for a favor. Maybe if we engage in a little sexting after his job tonight…or at least heavy flirting…he’ll forgive me forrescheduling.
Too tired to go back to my buggy code, I check out the latest threads onVetNet.
Three new members joined us this week, and I welcome them, share a few of my tips for dealing with well-meaning, but dense, family members, and let them know what they’ll find on the resources boards. The Amputee board has a dozen unread posts, mostly WonderLT talking about his physical therapy, and the Vents and Rants board has been quiet, except forHuskyFan.
HuskyFan:I’ve earned enough from my side job to pay the hospital bills, but I don’t have enough cushion to cover the insurance premiums. I can’t do this alone, and if I ask for help, I could end up in an even bigger hole. Every time my wife looks at me, I see the disappointment in her eyes. My son doesn’t understand why Mommy can’t get out of bed, and my mother-in-law won’t even speak to me. Though that’s probably for the best. One mistake and my whole life goes to shit. I can’t let things go on like this. I have to get flush again. You’re the only ones who understand. Why did I let my brother talk me into enlisting? I could have gotten a job and used my skills to kick some serious ass. I’d be a CEO now. Hell, I could be giving Bill Gates a run for his money. Instead, I come home covered in dirt and cobwebs, and the only time I get to use my skills is working a side job for someone I hate. Why can’t I getahead?
His agony bleeds through his words. I spent years after my injuries beating myself up for running into the arms of Uncle Sam, but after enough therapy, I realized no amount of misery would change the past. I drain the last of my lemonade and type out a quickreply.
FlashPoint:You’re not alone. If I’d known I’d get blown up, I’d have gladly begged my family to take me back. But at the time, joining the army was a lot more attractive. All we can do is make the best of what we have now. Your wife and son and the baby-on-the-way should be your main concerns. Ignore your mother-in-law as best you can, and tell your wife how much you love her and how committed you are to finding a solution. And if you haven’t, find a professional to talk to. My shrink saved my life. Morethanonce.
Half an hour later, I take a break from the card key module to find areply.
HuskyFan:Thanks, but my jobs are eating up every spare minute. I’m checking in from my side job, and I won’t be able to go home for another three or four hours. Once things calm down and the baby’s born, I’ll look at that list you sent me. But, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened with yourfamily?
I’m not ready to answer that question. Even fourteen years later, the pain of that day can send me into my own private hell, clutching my grandmother's letter—the one with the only photos I have left of my family—as the burn of tear-brined bourbon masks the overwhelming guilt at my cowardice. But I can’t ignore him. That won’t help either of us. With one last look at the bottle I keep on my kitchen counter, I shove the memories away—back to the dark recesses of my mind where they can’t hurt metonight.
FlashPoint:I was a stupid kid. The details aren’t important, but I ran off to the army to try to fix what I broke. Don’t make my mistakes. Put your family first. You can do that by taking care of yourself. I know it probably feels like you don’t have time to see a shrink right now, but trust me—makethetime.
HuskyFan:Did it work?Runningaway?
FlashPoint:No. I don’t think iteverdoes.
I log off, unwilling to relive those dark days for anyone, and return to Oversight. My eyes water. Well after midnight, I run system diagnostics on the card reader module and the error rate skyrockets.Again.
