Chapter 58 - The Page I Hadn’t Read
The document Rebecca sent carried no dramatic heading.
It was an ordinary email from years earlier.
A former manager had recovered it while responding to requests concerning another employee’s claim.
At the bottom was a message from me.
Proceed as discussed. I cannot keep revisiting every objection.
I read it once.
Then again.
Above it, several people had discussed a warehouse worker named Martin Ruiz.
He had disputed responsibility for damaged stock.
He had also asked to speak directly with me.
The thread contained a reference to supporting records.
I had not asked to see them.
I could not remember Martin’s face.
I could barely remember his name.
Rebecca sat across from me while Lena read the printed pages.
“Has his account been established?” I asked.
“Some parts are supported. Other questions remain.”
“And mine?”
She looked at the email.
“This establishes what you authorized in that exchange. We need to understand the surrounding records before drawing broader conclusions.”
I stared at my sentence.
I had written it between appointments.
Probably irritated.
Probably certain that my time was too valuable to spend on another disagreement.
“How many people asked?” I said.
Rebecca waited.
“How many people tried to reach me before deciding there was no point?”
She did not offer a number she could not know.
That afternoon, I was scheduled to help Nico assemble a model.
I arrived home with the email still occupying most of my mind.
He had spread the pieces across the table.
“Can you hold this?”
I took the frame.
He explained something about the angle.
I nodded.
Then he stopped.
“You aren’t listening.”
“I am.”
He looked at the piece in my hands.
I was holding it upside down.
For a moment, shame made me want to explain the seriousness of my day.
The investigation.
The old records.
The possibility of consequences I could not yet calculate.
Instead, I put down the frame.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
He waited.
“I need ten minutes to write something down and put my work away. Then I can help properly.”
“Ten actual minutes?”
“Yes.”
I set a timer.
At the desk, I wrote questions for Rebecca.
I wrote what I remembered.
Then I wrote what I did not.
When the timer sounded, I stopped.
Nico was still at the table.
He handed me the frame again.
“This side up.”
“Understood.”
We worked until dinner.
The email remained real.
May you like
So did the person sitting beside me.
I was finally learning that giving one my attention did not excuse withholding it from the other.
