Chapter 19
Elliot
After tearing apart Mira's team, I do the same to Noah's, Team Alpha. I can't afford to waste time on mediocre ideas. They're missed opportunities.
And yet you have time to waste on an illustration.
Drawing gives me a sense of comfort I've never experienced before. It's as if I can shut out the world and the responsibilities weighing on me for an hour or two. I'm not stupid enough to believe I could keep this up long-term. It's only a means to an end.
Once I'm sprawled across my bed, I grab the phone from my nightstand. I've been avoiding Mira ever since her message accusing me of hiding behind a screen. The comment irritated me more than I've admitted to myself until now. I don't use my phone because I'm afraid to come out of hiding. I'm simply observing.
Me: I'm not hiding behind a screen because I'm afraid.
Unlike usual, Mira doesn't answer instantly. I add her streaming account to my television. If only she knew who helped produce her favorite series about the duke!
I pick a show at random to pass the time, and then one episode turns into three. Still no reply.
Me: Is Elliot going to keep you up all night?
I grimace when I reread my message and catch the double meaning. I expect an awkward comeback from her, but instead a GIF of a guy laughing his ass off appears on my screen.
Mira: No. But I was working on a new idea!
Great. That's exactly what I need her to be doing. Though maybe not at midnight when she should be sleeping...
Isn't that what you expect from your employees? You're the one who added four hours to an eight-hour workday because you were angry.
Mira: Why? Did you miss me?
My reply is immediate.
Me: No.
Mira: Damn.
Mira: Sometimes I wonder if you have a heart.
Me: I don't suffer from that affliction.
Mira: Who hurt you?
Her question is meant as a joke, but it sends a wave of bad memories surging to the surface. I grip my phone tightly. It takes me a good five minutes to recover and come up with an answer vague enough to work.
Me: Who do you think?
Mira: A terrible ex?
Me: Speaking from experience?
The question leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I've never thought about Mira with a man before, but the idea makes me want to hurl my phone across the room.
Imagining her with someone else... it's unsettling. Like the feeling right before the drop on a roller coaster.
Mira: There aren't enough words in the dictionary to describe that story.
Me: Was it really that bad?
Why do you care?
Mira: All I can say is, when one door closes, it's usually because someone slammed it in your face.
Me: I don't think that's how the saying goes.
Mira: I like putting my own spin on things.
Me: I've noticed.
Just as I've noticed far too many details about her that I shouldn't have.
Does that realization make me end our conversation? It should, but I don't.
Does it make me turn off my phone and surrender to sleep? Not in the slightest.
Instead, while Mira works on an idea, I keep her company over text like the pathetic idiot she's turned me into.
"You received a package."
Diane pushes open my office door with one arm. The other trembles beneath the weight of the box. I rise to take it from her, terrified her fragile ankle might give out and the contents might be destroyed before I can use them.
My secretary leaves the room without paying me any attention. I appreciate her more with each passing day: she performs her role perfectly and, on top of that, makes sure only people with appointments disturb me.
I set the cardboard box on my desk before opening it with a pair of scissors. A few seconds later, I pull out a smaller box.
I admire the Wacom drawing tablet pictured on top. If my grandfather saw me using a device like this, he'd scold me for abandoning the classics. My original reason for buying it was to send digital copies to Mira and thus avoid going to see her.
This model caught my eye. It has all the features graphic designers love. I open the package like a kid on Christmas morning, tearing through the cardboard to get there faster.
My heart races when I press the power button. When the screen lights up and the brand logo appears, I grin from ear to ear.
I put away the papers I was reading earlier, then reread the messages Mira sent last night.
Helping her is a means to my end.
You keep telling yourself that. Maybe eventually you'll believe it.
I run a hand over the end-of-day stubble covering my chin. After creating an email address under a pseudonym, I've just sent Mira an illustration of her latest creation. My eyes burn from all the tutorials I had to watch to master the drawing tablet. I nearly gave up halfway through and handed the task of helping Mira to someone else, but after thinking it over, I rejected that option: I'm not the kind of man who quits. There's no way I'm letting an electronic device get the better of me.
Two hours later, after another round of meetings with our overseas park directors, I check to see whether Mira has replied.
Mira: I see you've leveled up!
Mira: This is incredible, seriously!
Me: Do you like the changes I made to the original design?
I should have asked before refining her initial concept. She was considering building a new castle at Wondervale for one of our classic princesses. I liked the idea of replacing that fairly generic character with Princess Marianna, so I altered the building's style to evoke Mexican culture more strongly.
Mira: I love it! This concept might impress Elliot.
Mira: Okay, fine, let's face the truth: nothing I do will ever impress him, but it feels good to say it.
Ordinarily, I believe pushing employees beyond their limits is beneficial. Yet the way Mira talks about herself gives me pause. Is that really what she thinks? She doesn't give me time to consider it any further.
Mira: Oh my God!!!
Mira: I think you just gave me an amazing idea! Drop everything and help me!
The smile only Mira can provoke appears on my face.
Mira: What do you think of a ride that takes guests into the afterlife for Día de los Muertos?
Mira: Feel free to lie and pretend it's brilliant even if you don't believe a word of it.
Of course I find it interesting. It had never occurred to me that a castle could lead into a completely different attraction about a princess who can speak with the dead.
I spend the next thirty minutes talking with Mira because watching where her creativity takes her fascinates me. It has nothing to do with the passion that ignites like a flame in my chest. And our conversation has nothing to do with the sudden burst of energy I feel when I pull out that damned tablet that gave me trouble all afternoon.
Absolutely nothing.