"What's going on with Mr. Dickerson? He usually loves picking things apart."
"Who knows. Maybe he really does have a stomachache."
Kate rapped her knuckles on the table. "Ignore him. Let's continue."
I stood in the hallway and drew a long breath.
Afternoon sunlight poured through the window at the far end of the corridor, pooling white and harsh across the floor. I walked over and leaned against the windowsill for a while.
In my previous life, I'd flagged three critical flaws in that program during the meeting. Nelson's face went pale on the spot. Kate's expression hardened right alongside his. I told them the entire thing had to be rebuilt. Testing would be pushed back. We'd need to renegotiate the delivery timeline with the client.
After the meeting, Nelson caught up with me in the hall. Smiled. Thanked me for the guidance, promised he'd go back and revise everything.
I actually believed he meant it.
That same night, he drank himself into oblivion and was killed by a truck.
Kate pinned every last bit of it on me.
She said if I hadn't humiliated Nelson in front of everyone, he never would have gone drinking. He never would have died. I'd destroyed his brilliant future.
But his program did have those flaws. Every single one I'd identified was real.
If it never went live, fine. But the moment it launched, the data errors would have cascaded across the board. The company wouldn't just lose money. It would lose the trust of every client we had.
I did what needed to be done. Said what needed to be said.
But she would never see it that way.
In her eyes, Nelson Gilbert was perfect. The golden boy who'd come home from a prestigious university overseas, wrapped in brilliance. And me? A nobody who'd graduated from a state school nobody had heard of. Who was I to question him?
I was the one who should have kept his mouth shut. So this time around, I said nothing.
That evening, I had just changed out of my shoes at home when Kate pushed through the door.
Displeasure was written all over her face. She tossed her bag onto the couch and stood in the middle of the living room, staring at me.
"What was that about today?"
"Stomachache," I said evenly.
"Don't give me that excuse." She took a step closer. "Do you have a problem with Nelson?"
I didn't answer.
She let out a cold laugh.
"Terry, be honest with me. Are you jealous of him?"
"Jealous of what, exactly?"