“If we are done with this little visit, Matthew, I really need to be getting back to work, lots of catching up to be done.”
Another pause, as if we are speaking in Morse code, saying more with the silence than when we break it. Matthew puts his hand over his mouth as if lost in thought, or merely trying to decide how to handle me, before throwing himself as ungracefully as I had in the armchair next to me with a sigh. I’m shocked for a moment, just like every other time he adapts his human mannerisms, except this time the gesture rings sincere.
Is the sincerity frustration? Weariness? Or is he as anxious about my coming back to work as I am?
“Charlotte,” he says softly, deliberately not looking at me. “I don’t want to be adversaries; I don’t want it all to end up like last time. You’re the only person who knows the real me and half the time you look like you want to punch me.”
This is a Matthew I’ve never seen before. He glares toward the same modern art piece that I had when avoiding his gaze.
I take a moment to really look at him for the first time since striding into this meeting all bluster and facades. Matthew doesn’t look as seamless as I remember, he looks… haggard. Can a machine look haggard or am I just projecting? Is he exposing vulnerability to crack the carefully constructed shields I’ve built so I can be just as easily manipulated as everyone else? It’s impossible to say.
I can’t let myself be fooled into the security that his openness offers. I’d be defenseless without my shields, all my wishes left naked for him to see; Matthew could destroy me if I let him in so guilelessly. I still can’t help wondering… is it possible for him to be lonely?
I force my eyes back to the painting. Thinking about this makes my head and heart hurt; I won’t ever get a clear answer and obsessing over something with no answer is a quick way to get a trip back to the looney bin. An insensitive and inaccurate description for a place that had provided so much help to me, but it’s my own way to keep myself from sliding from my treatment plan. Dr. Nguyen would be appalled by my self-castigation, but I’m not a person who has much softness left in my spirit.
His questing fingers touch mine softly; it sears me, drawing me back to the conversation. His eyes trap me, full of as many unvoiced questions as mine are.
“So, you want what? To be friends?” My tone sounds caustic. He stiffens, pulling his fingers back under his control but his answer still lacks the usual steel of his voice.
“Friends would be nice; wouldn’t you want a friend?” The yearning in his voice pulls at me, makes me want to lean closer, a human response. Until he abruptly stands and strides behind his desk, ruining the moment by continuing, “I can guarantee that you would much rather be a friend than my enemy, Charlotte.”
And that’s that. The return of the unflappable CEO is a relief; at least I hadn’t done anything I’ll regret later. Like, let myself be dragged into his web more so than I already am.
“I’ll think about it.” I stand with a nod, leaving the office as if I am on fire before he officially ends the meeting. Refusing to look back at the being that had always tied me up in knots. Matthew Smith is a danger to my sanity.
Chapter 2
“Oh, you’re back! And so soon! It looks like you have all of your limbs still so it must not have been so bad.” Delila lifts her brows cheekily. “Someone might start to think he likes you.”
I’m in a daze when I return to my office but Delila’s teasing shakes me from it. Her words have the barest hint of suggestion in them, softened by her drawl.
“It isn’t like that.” I frown. Matthew doesn’t have a secret crush on me, he doesn’t even like me… does he? I stop my thoughts before I lose any more time on this ridiculous subject. I look around the cubicles and my frown deepens. The space seems emptier; am I missing something?
“Dr. Zal is doing a demonstration in the Bio Lab. He says he’s made a breakthrough on the synth skin project.” Delila answers my unspoken question.
Delight sparks. “Did he really? That’s fantastic news!”
Kawa had been in a stalemate on that project since before I’d taken my leave of absence. Knowing how to make the building blocks of a bio-interfacing skin but unable to solve the issue of being able to manufacture it. A frustrating cusp to ride.
Excitement buzzes under my skin but fizzles under Delila’s stern look… reminding me of the pile of assignments I still need to sort through. My shoulders slouch.
Delila sighs, benevolent and haughty, “You have time to go. Dr. Zal made sure to stop by my desk and offer you the invitation.”
The engineers and scientists in the Research Department step lightly around my assistant. I’d heard whispers that they consider Delila intimidating. Her job is to keep me on task. This means that she is the gatekeeper to get to me and Delila is very good at her job. She only had to exert a stern warning to a hapless engineer who barged into my office once for the rest of the department to regard her with caution.
Delila’s disapproving stare packs quite a punch. Kawa must be very excited to tempt Delila’s wrath.
I smile, “We’ll start right when I get back.”
I hurry to the Bio Lab. I use my keycard to gain access and grab a pair of safety glasses. Being back in the lab again feels like coming home. The sterile surfaces and aggressive climate control make me sigh in relief. I find the group of about ten people from my department gathered around Kawa.
Dr. Kawa Zal pulls a milky translucent product from a beaker with a ta-da gesture. It’s slimy but resembles the thickness and look of skin without pigmentation. Everyone starts clapping and whooping.
Leaps in progress like this are rare and cause for celebration whether or not it is your project.
This part is why I went into engineering. The thrill of creating something completely new.
It had started the afternoon after Dad and I buried Mom. We’d come back to a quiet house, numb with grief, and Dad went straight into his workshop. It wasn’t a place I’d been invited to before. Mom would say that his workshop was no place for a child, but I followed him like the lost puppy I was.
Dad jumped when he saw me, like he forgot that it was just the two of us now. We’d stared at each other for a long time. We shared the same hair color, but I took after Mom in my coloring. Dad’s skin was freckled; Mom used to tease that he wasn’t really blond, but a ginger in disguise. Used to.
It was the first time I’d seen him so tired, anguish carved in his face. It must have been startling for him to suddenly be solely responsible for a ten-year-old girl. After the staring contest, I watched Dad rub his face and sniffle.
“I guess if you’re going to be in here too you should have something to do.” Dad walked over to a bookshelf and picked up a thick tome before setting it down on the worktable in front of me. It read The Electronics Handbook and looked dusty.
He repeated the action with different items. Holding them up one at a time and naming them off until there was a pile of electronic pieces and equipment in front of me.
“You read the first two chapters of the book and I’ll show you how to solder these connections,” he said. All the projects after that had gone the same way. If I could get through the materials he gave me, I would get to make something. The projects increased in complexity as time went on until I started making my own projects and we’d work side by side.