Page 87 of Just Past Two

Silas’s knee-jerk reaction was to deny these claims, but he was too logical to dismiss them outright. Instead, he considered the screen. The truth was right in front of him. The arithmetic errors were obvious. He knew he hadn’t been himself lately. He was aware of his increasing struggles to focus at work and succeed at his tasks. “I think there’s some merit to what you’re saying, yes,” he was forced to concede.

“Now I don’t want you to worry. We have no intention of letting you go.” Maria pulled out a folder from a stack of neatly arranged and color-coded file folders on the right side of her desk. The one she withdrew was a red folder. Red, the color of blood. “You’re a valuable employee and we don’t want to lose you. We are, however, putting you on a four-week leave of absence for your mental health. Two weeks will be accumulated health leave, and the other two weeks are from the short-term disability account. Your personal time and vacation time remain untouched because we want you to take all of that, too, before the end of the year.” She slid a sheet over to him from the red folder, and it already had this information typed up, including the reasons for his leave and the date when he was allowed to return.

“So I’m not allowed to work for four weeks?” Silas felt the return of his panic, which was as severe as when he’d been worried about getting fired. “I didn’t realize this was so significant. Can’t I just agree to stop coming in on weekends?”

“No, this is more serious than that.” Elliot’s eyes were kind, but Silas had a hard time seeing anything but his own anger and panic in the reflection. “We fear that without a drastic intervention, this is going to be a perpetuating cycle.”

“But what will I tell my coworkers?” Silas could feel their perceptions of failure on all sides.

Elliot shrugged. “Tell them whatever you’d like. Tell them you’re taking all your vacation time at once. Tell them you have a sick relative. Tell them you’re exhausted and asked to take time off. Or tell them the truth and say that we’re making you take time off so you don’t burn out. That’s up to you.”

Silas leaned back heavily in his chair. He felt uprooted, weightless, that same feeling like when he drank too much or had been stoned, like the way he felt when he was with Matthew. Oh, Matthew. He was going to have to deal with Matthew. “What’s going to happen with my project? I’m not finished yet. I’m close, but I’m not finished. And people are depending on me for my part of the work. I don’t want to let anyone down.” He was going to have to give all that up.

Elliot shifted in his chair to face Silas. His expression was downcast, too, his frown and averted eyes indicating his discomfort. Silas had known him for years. He thought past his own concerns to acknowledge that Elliot probably hated doing this. “We’re going to have the rest of the team pick up where you left off. When you return, you’ll just rejoin them wherever they are.”

It wouldn’t be his project anymore, then. He had always been part of a team, and Elliot was the project manager, but he’d privately thought of it as his, with the other people in the team supporting his endeavors. That was all going to shift, now. “I’m not sure what to do.” That part sounded as empty and hollow as he now felt.

“Do something fun!” Maria flashed him a smile, but Silas could see the traces of pity in her eyes despite that broad, toothy grin. “Go away on vacation. Travel. Take up a new hobby. Spend some time with friends. Go on a cruise. Whatever rejuvenates you.”

What rejuvenated him was work, but he had a feeling he couldn’t say as much to this audience.

“Also,” Elliot added, sounding hesitant, “there are numerous mental health resources available through Wayscorp. They’re in the employee resources section of the website. This isn’t mandated, but I would recommend you speak to a professional.”

Silas felt himself nodding automatically without thinking much about it. He knew the value of mental health professionals, but had never seen one himself. The thought of doing so now evoked an interesting range of emotional responses, none of which were probably healthy. “All right.” He looked from Maria to Elliot, still feeling unmoored. “Can I go now?”

“Sure thing. Stop by HR with this form and we’ll make sure everything gets processed.” Maria tapped the sheet and Silas picked it up, his fingers clumsy.

“Can I finish out the rest of the day?” It was hard not to feel like he was getting fired. All that was missing was a security escort going to watch him pack up a box of his belongings and take the elevator out.

Maria and Elliot exchanged a look. Silas could see the nonverbal communication that went back and forth between them, clues in their facial expressions that he had always struggled to interpret when he was younger. Now, from the way they looked at each other and gave identical small head shakes almost immediately, he could guess that they were having a familiar conversation. They had probably met several times recently, and most likely about him. That was an unsettling feeling.

“We think it’s best if you go right now.” Maria adjusted the stack of folders on her right, making the edges line up again. “We don’t want you to think of this as a disciplinary action, Silas. You’ll be given full pay for the entire time you’re away, and we do want you to come back. This is a precautionary measure for your own mental health. We want you to have a long and fruitful future at Wayscorp, and that starts here.”

It was hard not to feel like his long and fruitful future at Wayscorp finished here, rather than started. Silas got to his feet with the single sheet of paper in his hands, held lightly so he didn’t crinkle it. He tried to find something to say, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Goodbye? Thank you? Go to hell? That last one probably would get him fired. He settled for giving them each a curt nod and walking out of Maria’s office.

He expected Elliot to follow him out and apologize as he accompanied him back to his workstation, but that didn’t happen. Apparently he wasn’t enough of a risk that they thought he’d “go postal,” as the expression went. He was sure, though, that his key card was already being deactivated. Once he walked out of this office, he was done for four weeks. Four weeks to spend on something that rejuvenated him, when he hadn’t felt honestly rejuvenated in . . . he wasn’t sure how long.

Travis looked up when Silas entered the lab. He was the only one currently at work, everyone else probably down in another office depending on their role in the project. Travis’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “Hey, man. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Everything okay?”

This was Silas’s moment of truth, where he had to tell him exactly what was happening or make up some kind of convincing story. The heck with all that. Silas had never been a very good liar. “I’m being put on a leave of absence so I don’t burn out.” He tried out the words in his mouth for the first time, imagining himself having to say them over and over in the future to other questioning parties. “Apparently I’m working too much lately.”

“Aw, dude, that sucks.” Travis clapped him on the back, then immediately withdrew his hand, probably seeing on Silas’s face that physical contact was something he wasn’t ready for just yet. “You okay?”

“I guess not.” Silas laughed, and he heard a touch of hysteria at the edges. He felt himself coming unglued at the seams, like he was going to spill over into different pieces and puddle out onto the floor. “I will be, though, I guess. Don’t, uh, screw up my work too much while I’m gone, okay?” He was trying for a joking tone, but Travis didn’t laugh.

His colleague gave him a serious nod. “You got it, man. Anything you need, you drop me a line, okay? You’ve always been good to me.” He extended a hand.

Silas didn’t think he’d been very good to Travis at all, and felt a bit of guilt at his coworker’s show of support and loyalty even though Silas had, quite frankly, been a bit of an ass to him much of the time. “Thanks.” Silas took Travis’s hand and shook it. Funny, he’d never thought of Travis much like a friend, but the kid had always been nice to him, even when he was being abrasive. Maybe he’d try to kindle something cordial there when he returned, something deliberately nice as opposed to just professionally distant and polite.

If he returned.

Silas shook his head to clear out that terrifying thought and set upon the task of getting his things together. He didn’t have many belongings to gather up except his set of tools, which he kept here at work because he didn’t work on anything that wasn’t for his job. He closed up his tool set, though, and scanned the rest of his station. Nothing. With a final wave in Travis’s direction, he walked out of the office that had felt more like home than his actual home for as long as he could remember.

He didn’t feel sad as he drove to his house. In fact, he felt hollow, empty, burned out, a shell of a person, but not sad. He felt totally lost, but not sad. Not angry, either. He had a hard time feeling much of anything. Numb, he decided. The numbness felt like grief. He remembered grief, the way it settled into the limbs and weighed them down, making everything feel like it was impossible, even simple movement. He remembered the days of lethargy after the funeral was over, when he couldn’t bring himself to shower or dress. That was grief. This was its own kind of grief, less strong but just as deadening. He felt a palpable urge to feel something, anything. Instead, he drove all the way home feeling like he was falling apart more and more with every mile.

Once inside the house, he paced a complete lap. What was he supposed to do now? Just read for a few weeks? Completely waste his time? Ridiculous. Who was he if he wasn’t a biomedical engineer, helping people with every job he completed? He ran both hands through his hair, feeling panic begin to build like it had in Maria’s office. Deep breaths, Silas. He needed to take deep breaths.

A new project. Surely there was some kind of project he could do at home that would help him fill the time and also be useful. He remembered Matthew’s cat, pulled out his computer, and sat down at the kitchen table. This was something he could do.