A week had passed since the whispering shadow had visited Regis in his room, leaving a trail of unanswered questions and a heightened sense of awareness in its wake. The encounter had unsettled him, casting a long shadow over the days that followed.
But life goes on.
Now, as Regis entered 'The Rusty Anchor' for the team building exercise forced on his group by Mr. Thompson, he couldn't shake the feeling that the shadow's presence had somehow altered his perception of reality. The bar's lively atmosphere, the clinking of glasses, and the low hum of conversations around him felt distant, as if he were observing them from afar.
In the corner, the blues band's music filled the space, each note melancholy. The lyrics repeated and circled back on themselves but still made themselves feel comfortable. You just seemed to know where a blues song was coming from and where it was going even if you never heard it before.
As always, he seemed to be the last to get there, and by the looks on their faces, everyone noticed. No one was surprised.
Nick gave him a quick smile and scooted his chair over to make room.
Thomson's look said his arrival didn't even warrant a frown as he randomly paired everyone off for the first "diversion" as he called it.
As the evening unfolded, Regis partnered with Jenna, the new intern, for the team building activities. Her bright demeanor briefly lifted the fog of his gloomy thoughts. Their shared laughter and easy teamwork during a trivia challenge triggered a spontaneous high-five that somehow lingered, a moment of connection that seemed to defy the professional boundaries between them. The game of darts brought them even closer, their shoulders touching, and Jenna's triumphant smile sent Regis's heart racing.
Stepping outside for fresh air, they found themselves leaning against the building, sharing aspirations and fears under the starlit sky. The connection was undeniable, a thread of understanding that wove between them, pulling them closer in the shared confidences of the night.
When they returned to the bar, the atmosphere had shifted. The space between them was charged with a new energy, a familiarity that bordered on intimate. Their eyes seemed to keep meeting unintentionally.
"What am I doing? I don't need another complication in my life right now." A foamy, newly filled beer mug suddenly became the forced center of his attention.
It was then that Nick approached, his timing almost uncanny.
"Regis," he said, drawing him aside from the crowd, "a word?"
His tone was firm, yet there was a hint of concern in his eyes. "I've noticed you and Jenna seem to be getting quite close, awfully quickly. Remember, she's an intern. You are a supervisor and we have to maintain a certain decorum."
Regis nodded, the reminder a sobering splash of reality. "Thanks, Nick. I'll keep it in mind," he replied, though his gaze searched out Jenna's for a moment before he turned to rejoin the others.
Regis arrived home from the office party, the laughter and chatter of his colleagues still echoing in his ears. As he hung up his coat and loosened his tie, he heard soft voices coming from the living room. He paused, recognizing the voices as Sarah's and Ellie's.
Quietly, he moved closer, not wanting to interrupt. He could see them through the slightly ajar door, sitting on the couch, their heads close together. Ellie was holding Sarah's hand, her small face serious.
"Mom, are you okay?" Ellie asked, her voice filled with concern. "You look really tired."
Sarah gave her a weary smile. "I'm okay, Ellie. Just a little tired, that's all."
"But you're always tired," Ellie said, her brow furrowing. "And you're always out of breath. And you can't taste the cookies we baked. It's not normal."
Sarah sighed, her eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and affection. "I know, Ellie. It's because of something called Long COVID. It's a condition that some people get after they've had the COVID-19 virus. It means that even though I'm not sick anymore, I still have some symptoms."
Ellie looked at her, confusion clear on her face. "But why? Why can't the doctors make it go away?"
Sarah squeezed Ellie's hand. "They're trying, sweetie. But it's a new disease, and they're still learning about it. But I promise you, I'm doing everything I can to get better."
Regis felt a lump in his throat as he listened. He had known about Sarah's struggles, of course, but hearing her explain it to Ellie brought home the reality of her situation. He felt a surge of admiration for Sarah, for her strength and resilience in the face of adversity.
He stepped back, deciding to give them a few more moments of privacy. He would join them soon so they could each fill the others in on their individual adventures of the day, but for now, he stood back, and quickly composed a version of events that he felt would cause the least anxiety in everyone's lives, his included.
The house was quiet that weekend. Sarah's children were away with their father, leaving her and Regis alone. Sarah was having a particularly hard day, her long COVID symptoms flaring up. "I just can't seem to shake this fatigue, and my chest feels like it's in a vice," she confided to Regis, who was there helping her out, but his mind was elsewhere.
"Mhmm," he replied, obviously thinking about something else, "Have you tried those supplements I found for you? All the reviews said they were life changing."
Her look could have frozen lava. Her mouth opened momentarily and then closed again, reply unspoken.
His phone buzzed, shattering the silence. The caller ID flashed 'Jenna'. A small smile crept onto his face.
"Jenna! Don't tell me you are ruining a perfectly good day off by calling your boss. What's going on?" His tone was a bit too enthusiastic for a work call on a weekend.
Jenna explained the issue—a minor discrepancy in their project's budget report. It was something that could have easily waited until Monday. But to Regis, it was a welcome distraction.
Sarah, who had been quietly observing, raised one eyebrow. His change in mood had not gone unnoticed. "Regis, it's our weekend. With Max and Ellie gone, this is supposed to be our time. Work calls should be for emergencies only," she said, her tone sharper than she intended.
Regis turned to Sarah, surprise and irritation evident in equal measure. He made sure the call was disconnected before replying.
"I don't see why you're making a big deal out of this. It's just a quick call," he said, his earlier cheerfulness replaced by annoyance.
Sarah opened her mouth to respond, but Regis cut her off. "And let's not forget," he continued, "how many men at your work are constantly trying to get your attention. You never seem to mind that."
His words hung in the air, threatening the peaceful Saturday afternoon they had been enjoying just moments ago.
Sarah looked at him, her eyes reflecting hurt. "Regis, that's different and you know it," she said, her voice steady but not backing down. "Those are professional interactions, and I'm dealing with enough already. My head's been pounding all day, and now this. Why are you being so defensive?
Sarah's words seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, her frustration palpable. Regis, sensing the tension, let out a sigh. "Look, Sarah... I'm sorry if I upset you," he said, his voice trying to sound convincing. "It wasn't my intention to make light of your feelings or your symptoms."
He paused, glancing away briefly before adding, "But you know how work is. Sometimes these things just can't wait."
"Are you saying that whatever that call was about is more important than our 'together time'?"
He was caught. Unwilling as he was to surrender the point, he had to admit she was right. It hadn't been that important.
Admitting it to himself and admitting it to her were two very different things, though. If he gave her this win, it would make the next argument that much harder.
"Look, let's just forget about it," he reached an arm around her shoulders and smiled. "I don't want to waste any more of our together time."
She shrugged and mumbled something as she rubbed one temple but didn't exactly lean into the one armed hug. "We weren't really doing anything yet anyway. Are you hungry? Can we go out? I don't feel like making anything today."
"Sure, babe. What about that little Chinese buffet you like?"
The rest of the day passed in forgettable trivialities that weren't the least bit refreshing. By the time the sky darkened and the TV turned off they were both ready for the promise of a reset that sleep offered.
—--
Two days later, Monday morning, the tension in Mr. Thompson's office was palpable, a thick cloud of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Regis stood defiantly, his hands clenched at his sides, as Mr. Thompson regarded him with a mixture of concern and disappointment.
"Regis," Mr. Thompson began, his voice steady but laced with frustration, "I've noticed you've been... off, lately. Distracted, unproductive, and frankly, quite irritable with your team."
Regis's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and indignation. "Irritable? I've been under a lot of pressure," he countered, his voice rising slightly. "The deadlines, the expectations—I'm only human, Mr. Thompson."
"I understand that," Mr. Thompson replied, leaning back in his chair. "But it's more than just the deadlines. You've been distant, snapping at colleagues over trivial matters, missing meetings. It's not like you, Regis. It's affecting the team's morale, and it's affecting our output."
Regis, his face a mask of defiance and exasperation, tried to underscore the challenges his team was facing. "Not without success, I might add."
Mr. Thompson, always the image of composed leadership, listened intently, his expression a studied blend of concern and stern resolve. "Is your personal life interfering at all, do you think?"
The question hung in the air and Mr. Thompson leaned forward, his hands folded on the desk. "Regis," he said, his voice carrying a weight of finality, "I think you need to take some time off. Go home, come back next week."
Regis blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "A week off?" he echoed, the idea foreign and unsettling.
"Yes," Mr. Thompson affirmed, "a week. Use the time to get your affairs in order, to find some balance. Your work is invaluable to us, but not at the cost of your well-being."
Regis snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him despite the gravity of the situation. "You don't care about my well-being," he accused, his voice laced with cynicism. "All you're trying to do is set up an excuse for when we miss the deadline. Then you can conveniently blame it on my absence."
Mr. Thompson's composure cracked, a rare flash of undisguised anger crossing his features. "That's enough, Regis!" he thundered, slamming his palm against the desk. "I've defended you to the board more times than I can count. This isn't about scapegoating; it's about the fact that you're not producing at the level this company needs, and it's affecting everyone around you!"
The office seemed to shrink with the intensity of Mr. Thompson's outburst. Regis stood, taken aback by the raw emotion in his boss's voice.
He hadn't meant to blurt out an open accusation like that, but it felt true. "Am I being paranoid?"
It always seemed to be more about results and keeping clients happy. Never mind what else people had going on in their lives. He lowered his head and tried to calm himself before more got said that couldn't be taken back.
As Regis stormed out of Mr. Thompson's office, his mind a whirlwind of anger and confusion, he nearly collided with Jenna, his intern. She stepped back, her eyes wide with concern.
"Regis, are you okay?" Jenna's voice was soft, tentative. It was clear she had overheard the tail end of the argument.
Regis paused, his breaths coming in short, ragged pulls. "I'm fine, Jenna," he lied, attempting to muster a reassuring smile that faltered as quickly as it appeared.
Jenna wasn't convinced. "It doesn't seem like it," she pressed, her brow furrowed. "If there's anything I can do to help—"
He stopped, turning to face her. The walls he had built, the defenses he had fortified, all seemed to crumble at the sincerity in Jenna's eyes. "I'm... I don't know," he admitted, the words escaping him before he could reel them back in.
Jenna stepped closer, her presence a calm in the storm. "Talk to me," she urged gently. "Whatever it is, maybe I can help."
In that moment, Regis realized how much he needed an ally. "Maybe... maybe you can," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Did he dare find an ally in Jenna, like a lifeline thrown to him in a storm tossed sea?
What was he thinking? Regis's mind echoed with Nick's words from their conversation at the bar.
"Be careful," Nick had said, his voice serious over the din of clinking glasses and minor chords. "Remember, she's an intern. You are a supervisor and we have to maintain a certain decorum."
Now, as Jenna's eyes met his, filled with concern and an offer of help, Regis felt the weight of those words. He was vulnerable, teetering on the edge of a precipice where personal and professional lines blurred. The temptation to lean on Jenna, to accept the solace she offered, was strong.
He was at a crossroads, with the possibility of deepening his emotional connection to Jenna on one path and the fragile state of his home life on the other. He knew that allowing Jenna in could complicate things further, yet the thought of someone understanding, someone to share the burden, was undeniably tempting.
He hesitated, caught between the desire for support and the fear of its repercussions. Could he risk the stability of his home life and professional decorum for this?
Regis took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Thank you, Jenna," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "I appreciate your concern, but I need to handle this within the appropriate channels."
Jenna nodded, understanding yet still worried. "If you change your mind, I'm here," she offered before continuing down the hallway to whatever task she had been on before.
Regis watched Jenna disappear around the corner, her offer of help still lingering in the air. He stood alone in the hallway, the silence around him a stark contrast to the turmoil within.
"Why was nothing ever simple?" he thought.
With a heavy heart, he made his way back to his office, the place where countless hours had been spent in pursuit of engineering marvels. As he entered, his gaze fell upon the photo that sat on his desk—a candid shot of Sarah and the kids, laughing in a moment of silly fun.
Regis's fingers traced the edges of the photo frame, the captured laughter of his family echoing a distant memory.
He placed the photo into his bag, the weight of it heavy with significance. It was more than just a picture; it was a symbol of a time when happiness had seemed effortless. "How did that get away from us?"
They needed a vacation.