Chapter 18 "You Were In That Car Too?"
Twenty-three years ago, she never would have imagined that he could become such a titan.
Sitting at her intern desk, Chloe opened a new tab and typed Nathan Archer into the search engine.
The Wikipedia entry was staggering. It listed an overwhelming number of honours and titles: one of America’s youngest tenured biomedical scientists, Lasker Award recipient, National Science Breakthrough laureate, and lead researcher on a dozen highly classified pharmaceutical patents. The list of drugs he had developed was a long string of complex chemical names she couldn’t even begin to pronounce, but they sounded incredibly expensive.
Scrolling further down the page, she found high-definition photos of him shaking hands with prominent politicians and billionaire investors.
Chloe’s eyes widened. She marvelled at her own teenage judgment. I really knew how to pick them.
Too bad this outstanding, brilliant husband was entirely lost to her.
Back when they were together, they had been so desperately poor! If they had wanted to eat out, they had to plan it a month in advance. Now he was dining with senators, and she was making fifteen hundred dollars a month.
Frustration bubbled up in her chest, so heavy and bitter she actually tapped her forehead lightly against the edge of her desk.
Joshua noticed her reaction and leaned over from his cubicle. "What’s wrong with you?"
"Nothing," Chloe muttered, her gaze dark.
Joshua caught sight of her monitor. "Oh, Professor Archer. The guy is practically a god."
"You know him?" Chloe asked, surprised.
"Of course I do. My best friend’s grandmother is taking one of the experimental drugs developed by his team. I hear it’s working miracles. She’s had Alzheimer’s for years, but she can actually hold a conversation now." Joshua shrugged. "My friend’s whole family worships him."
"Yeah. He really is impressive," Chloe murmured.
In fact, it made her want to cry.
He was doing so well. Everything had worked out perfectly for him. If only she were still his wife, she would be standing right beside him on that stage, wearing a custom designer gown instead of an intern’s lanyard.
But he was someone else’s husband now. And someone else’s father.
The thought made her instantly, violently irritable.
When the lunch hour hit, Chloe stayed at her desk to keep studying the video editing software. The rest of the department invited her out, but she waved them off, saying she wanted to finish the tutorial.
"Hey, if you're staying, let’s order delivery together," Joshua suggested. "This app gives five dollars off for orders over thirty."
"Huh?" Chloe blinked.
Joshua handed her his phone. "Scroll through. See what you want."
Chloe took it carefully. The bright, colourful screen was packed with high-res photos of food from dozens of restaurants. "How do I order this?"
"Huh?" Joshua looked at her like she had two heads. "Have you seriously never ordered food delivery before?"
"Of course I have!" Chloe said defensively. "I call the pizza place on the landline and tell them my address!"
Joshua stared at her for three seconds, then burst out laughing. "Okay, boomer. Just tell me what you want, I’ll order it."
Chloe pointed to a mushroom chicken rice bowl and a bottle of yogurt.
Joshua quickly tapped the screen and used his thumbprint to authorize the payment. "Alright, total is forty-nine dollars. Your share is twenty-five. Just transfer it to me later."
"Transfer it?" Chloe repeated blankly. Was that the new way young people paid off debts?
She wasn't entirely sure how it worked, but she refused to look stupid again. She rummaged through her purse, but she didn’t have any cash small enough. Looking around her desk, she found a piece of bright red printer paper.
Carefully, she folded the paper into a makeshift envelope, slipped three crisp ten-dollar bills inside, and sealed it.
He paid twenty-five for me, she thought proudly. Giving him thirty makes me look generous. I’m adapting perfectly.
Feeling incredibly clever, she walked over to Joshua’s desk and proudly handed him the bulging red envelope.
Joshua took it, staring at the thick red paper pouch in complete and utter bewilderment.
An hour later, Chloe was in a great mood, eating her lunch and watching a tutorial video, when she saw a tall, middle-aged man walk through the glass doors of the department.
He looked kindhearted but deeply exhausted, carrying an insulated lunch bag. He walked stiffly, looking around the modern office with obvious discomfort. But his face... his face was incredibly familiar.
Chloe’s eyes widened. She dropped her fork and hurried over.
"Hey! It’s you!" she gasped. "What are you doing here?"
The man turned, looked at her, and his eyes widened in recognition. He glanced down at her intern badge and offered a hesitant, warm smile. "It’s you. You work here?"
"Yes, I just started today," Chloe replied. "What about you? Are you here to..."
"Oh, I’m bringing lunch to my son."
It was George Harris. The driver of the Ford E-350. The man who had driven her straight out of 2002.
"Your son?" Chloe asked curiously. "Who is your son?"
"Michael," George replied. "Do you know him?"
"Of course I do! He’s the marketing manager. His office is right over there." Chloe pointed toward the large glass-walled corner office.
"Ah. Thank you."
George looked toward the office. He took a few steps forward, then hesitated, pulling back slightly. At over six feet tall, the burly man suddenly looked incredibly small and uncertain.
Finally, he gathered his courage, knocked lightly on the glass, and pushed the door open.
Chloe returned to her desk to finish her food. Her workstation wasn’t far from Michael’s office, giving her a clear view through the glass walls.
She watched George walk in and place the lunchbox on the desk. He opened it carefully, almost obsequiously, pulling out a container. He picked up a fork, scooped up a piece of meat, and held it out, offering it to Michael like one might coax a stubborn child.
Michael stood up abruptly and swatted his hand away.
The fork and the container went flying, crashing onto the hardwood floor. Meat, rice, and dark sauce splattered everywhere.
Through the glass, Chloe saw Michael’s expression darken into pure, violent fury.
George stood frozen beside the desk, utterly flustered. His large hands hung uselessly at his sides. In that moment, he looked completely broken.
Out in the bullpen, several people heard the crash, but everyone immediately glued their eyes to their monitors, pretending they hadn't seen a thing.
A minute later, George emerged from the office. His head was bowed, his jacket was smudged with dark grease, and he was clutching the cracked, empty lunchbox. His steps were heavy and slow.
Chloe immediately got up and followed him, catching up to him just as he pushed into the empty fire escape stairwell.
"Are you alright?" she asked softly as the heavy door swung shut behind them.
"Yes. I’m fine." George feigned a smile, but his eyes were bloodshot. "Michael always had a temper. It’s only gotten worse. If he were still a kid, I would have tanned his hide for that. Telling his own father to get lost..."
"You’ve been gone a long time," Chloe offered gently. "It’s natural that there’s a rift."
"It’s different. It’s completely different," George murmured, his voice trembling. He leaned back against the concrete wall and finally raised a large, calloused hand to cover his eyes. "Everything is gone. My wife left after I vanished. My parents died. And my son looks at me like I’m a stranger."
His chest hitched. "He used to adore me. He loved the steak I cooked. Every time I came home from a long haul, he’d wait by the door and beg me to make it for him. We were so broke back then... we could only afford beef once a month. Right before I took that last drive, I promised him I’d make it as soon as I got back."
George’s voice cracked completely. "Now he’s grown. And he doesn’t eat it anymore."
The massive, broad-shouldered man slid down the concrete wall until he was crouching on the landing, burying his face in his arms, weeping with silent, violent force.
Chloe’s throat tightened. Her eyes stung as she watched him, but she had absolutely no idea how to comfort him.
She knew exactly how he felt. Any words of consolation were utterly useless in the face of this kind of grief.
After several long minutes, George wiped his face roughly with his sleeve and let out a shaky breath. "Never mind me. How are you doing? I see you found a job. Have you found your family?"
Chloe shook her head, blinking back her own tears. "Same as everyone else. My parents passed away. My husband... moved on. He has a teenage son now."
"That’s normal. My ex-wife had two kids with another man while I was gone," George said, a bitter, hollow smile touching his lips. "What kind of nightmare are we living in?"
Chloe had no answer.
They stood in silence in the cold stairwell for a few moments, exchanged phone numbers, and quietly said goodbye.
When Chloe walked back into the bright, buzzing office, her emotions were still raw and unsettled.
"Chloe."
Michael’s sharp voice cut through the air. He was standing in the doorway of his office, his face like thunder.
Chloe hurried over. "Yes, Mr. Harris?"
Michael stepped back and gestured curtly to the floor. "Clean this up."
Chloe looked down at the ruined steak, the rice, and the dark sauce smeared across the expensive hardwood. She didn’t say a word. She walked to the breakroom, grabbed a trash can and a roll of paper towels, and returned to the office.
Crouching down, she carefully picked up the spilled food piece by piece, tossing it into the bin, before scrubbing the grease from the floor with wet wipes.
Michael sat in his chair, his arms crossed, watching her work in total silence.
She was just finishing the last spot when he finally spoke.
"You were in that van too?"