Chapter 1
Liam
I rummaged around in my bag for my bottle of ibuprofen. I had a splitting headache, but I couldn’t go home yet. There were two hours left in my workday, but I anticipated that I would have to stay longer. The Smithsonian Institute didn’t wait around for their employees to feel better before working on groundbreaking restoration and research. I would have to suffer through this one.
After dropping the little red tablets into my mouth, I washed them down with some sparkling water, careful not to get anything on my workbench. At the moment, I was trying to clean an oil painting that looked like it had been sitting in a mud puddle for the last century, as bad as it looked. Apparently, it was supposed to be valuable, so I had to be the one to decide if the person who discovered it was right, or if they were after a cash grab. Unfortunately, a lot of my job involved telling crooks that their finds were worthless or counterfeit. Not only did it piss the “art collector” off, but also it annoyed the higher ups to no end. They wanted me to have good news for them, something to put one of our museums or collections on the map.
Carefully, I began to apply the emulsion cleanser to the canvas, gently sweeping over the debris with a rocking motion. I dabbed away at the dirt, slowly revealing a little color. The dark browns and yellows gave way to greens and blues. A calm washed over me as I worked, despite the fact that I had a strict deadline and it took a lot of time to get a painting restoration right. If I rushed it and it looked like crap, my supervisor would not be happy. However, she would not be happy if I took too long, either. Jane was hard to please.
But, I knew that if I kept quiet and did as I was told, I would be able to keep my job. I didn’t need to rise the ranks at the Institute—I just wanted to have steady employment, doing something I enjoyed. And, sitting in solitude while I worked on my restorations was something I enjoyed doing. I consulted with others from time to time, but the bulk of my day was spent alone.
For the most part, I enjoyed this solitude. I didn’t have a lot of confidence in social situations. I hated having to present in meetings, because I was shy and quiet and the other people from the museums were loud and authoritative. If I were in one of the positions where I had to constantly collaborate with others, I would certainly end up with all of the shitty jobs. I had a hard time standing up for myself. That’s why it was easier just to do the work that came into my workshop and keep to myself.
There were times when it got lonely, sure. I didn’t have a lot going on in my social life either. Humans are social beings and I wasn’t immune to this, even though I was highly introverted. But, introversion didn’t necessarily mean that I was adverse to people in general. Rather, I felt more comfortable in one-on-one situations with someone I knew well, as opposed to being in a large group of strangers and acquaintances.
I had a few friends, but we all worked so much that it was hard to get together. So, I communicated mostly through email and text messages when I had something relevant to say. One of my female friends was moved to Quantico, but I hadn’t made the trip to visit yet. Another of my male friends was working as an aide to a congressman, so he hardly got any time off. The third was now working for an American business in China, so if we heard from him, it was always at strange hours for us. Basically, I was alone.
I still had a good relationship with my parents, though they lived halfway across the country. When I had time off, I liked to visit them on their ranch and ride the horses they owned. Unfortunately, I didn’t see them enough.
My love life was even more laughable. I had never been in a real relationship before. I had gone on dates, much to the persistence of others, but never found anyone who interested me. Part of that was because of the medication I was on. It completely squashed any libido I had, thank goodness. The other reason I wasn’t keen to enter a relationship was because I was scared. I was in control of my body, and I didn’t want to feel like I couldn’t stop myself from giving into biological urges. That, and I was afraid that a bad relationship would ruin me. I already had zero confidence and self-esteem. Break-ups tended to make those problems even worse. I reasoned that if I never dated any guys to begin with, I could never get my heart broken.
I guess you could say that I was married to my job. It was a cliché, but I was sticking to it. It saved me the hassle of wondering why I couldn’t be like normal guys and have casual hookups or long-lasting relationships.
Jane stuck her head into my office and stared at me. After a few moments of pretending that I didn’t hear her breathing, I turned around.
“Hi, Jane,” I said meekly. “I just started with the emulsion cleanser,” I said, gesturing toward the painting. I was nearly a quarter of the way done with this step and the dirty canvas in front of me was finally starting to look like an oil painting. I continued rolling my cloth over it, taking of a thin layer of scum with each stroke.
“Oh, I figured you’d be done by now,” she said gruffly.
I closed my eyes for a moment and adjusted my glasses. She knew my plan of attack for this piece. Nevertheless, I remained calm and polite when I wanted to be rude and sarcastic.
“No, this one is going to take a while,” I said. “Once I get the dust and dirt removed, I’m going to have to go back over it with the varnish cleanser. Then, we should have a pretty good idea of what we’re dealing with. It’s going to be another couple of hours, at least.”
She frowned. “Well, try to make it as quick as you can. We have more items coming in later today and I want to make sure we have enough space for storage.”
“I’ll do what I can,” I replied, though I knew that she was being unreasonable in her request.
Jane left without another word.
I sighed and put my glasses on the workbench. She was the cause of my headaches, for the most part. Even though I told her that I would be working on the painting for another couple of hours, I knew that she would be back in thirty minutes or less, staring at me from the doorway. It annoyed me to no end.
As I continued to restore the painting, I could make out a nice, outdoor scene. About half of the things I worked on were of this nature. The other large chunk was made up of portraits of long-dead people. Then, there was the occasional abstract piece thrown in there. I liked the nature scenes, though. They always seemed to transport me from my dungeon of a workplace into somewhere brighter.
I had a minor in Art History, so as I cleaned, I tried to figure out when the painting might have been done, and by whom. I would have to consult a few books before I had a real guess, though. There were colleagues around who could verify authenticity in a quick glance. In the end, I’d probably just hand it over for their inspection.
Though I wasn’t really close to anyone I worked with, I had to admit that my colleagues were pretty cool. I enjoyed listening to their public talks, especially the archaeologists. I studied Anthropology in school, so it was exciting to hear about how they traveled to exotic lands to dig up ancient artifacts. I imagined they must have felt like Indiana Jones when traveling the globe. I wished I could do those things, but I figured it required a boldness and bravery that I just didn’t possess.
My parents did their best to get me out into the world, but at a certain point, they accepted who I was. While they might have liked to see me play sports like the other boys did, they were fine when I wanted to stay home and read my books. Really, they only wanted me to be happy, and they knew that it was a hard life for a shy and bookish boy.
I endured as much bullying as any nerdy boy did, and managed to come out the other side, relatively unscathed. There was probably some deeper psychological scarring, but overall, I was fine. I did my best to keep the past in the past.
Like clockwork, Jane poked her head in, just as I was removing the yellowing varnish. I was excited about how well the colors were coming through, and she had to spoil my mood. It was typical for Jane to turn a good mood into a bad mood. I felt my anger rising, but I took deep breaths to cool down. I always thought of myself as a calm person, but this woman was bringing out a side of me that I didn’t like.
I continued to focus on my work, dabbing off old varnish, little by little. I heard her exhale dramatically from the doorway.
“Hello?” I said, as though I didn’t know that she was hovering over me, preparing to micro-manage me.
“I hope you’re removing varnish now,” she grumbled.
“I am,” I replied. “It’s looking pretty good, so it shouldn’t need much more than this.”
“Good. Listen, you’re going to have to stay late tonight. The shipment is coming in soon, and we’re using the room next to this one to house it. When the delivery guys get everything settled, we’re going to open the wall between your office and the next one so there’s enough room. Prepare to have people coming in and out of your office throughout the next few days.”
I sighed. Not only would I have to worry about Jane’s frequent appearances to my office, but a bunch of people cluttering my space. I didn’t mind the occasional colleague, but I didn’t want a bunch of random people potentially touching my things. On occasion, people from completely different departments wandered in to see some of the more exciting items. If someone from Accounting touched one of my paintings and ruined my restoration, I would not be pleased. However, I didn’t think I had the balls to tell anyone off for getting in my way. Instead, I’d just have to stay late and clean up whatever was messed with while I was biting my tongue.
My phone started buzzing in my bag. I went to turn it off when Jane gave me a disapproving look.
“No personal calls at work,” she scolded. “Turn it off.”
I nodded and clicked the button on the side, silencing the cell phone. It was only an alarm so I could take my medication at the same time every day. I didn’t want to invite a wave of questions about it, so I sat back down at my workbench and made a mental note to take my pills once she was gone.
Jane began to wander around my small space, peering over my shoulder.
“That looks like it could be a Monet,” she mused.
I cringed. I was quite certain it wasn’t. I had no idea how she managed to become my supervisor when I knew so much more about these works. Perhaps it was really about who you knew and not what you knew. I had multiple degrees and I was still stripping varnish off of priceless artifacts and gluing ancient pottery back together. I enjoyed my work, but it was astounding how incompetent higher ups were.
“So, are you going to be done by the time the new stuff comes in?” she asked impatiently. “There might not be enough room for your projects,” she said, pointing at my painting and a few other pieces of pottery that were drying. “You’re going to have to find another place for those.”
“Yes, I will be done,” I said, digging my fingernails into my palms. I needed to be careful or my fist was about to go through the canvas. Of course, I would never do such a thing. But, I would internalize my frustration and rage until my brain exploded inside my skull. “How big is this new shipment anyway? What is it?”
“I’m not exactly sure yet,” she said nervously, uncharacteristic behavior for Jane. “I just know that whatever it is, it’s a big deal.”
Now I was curious. Jane only seemed to get excited when a piece was sure to bring in lots of money and prestige. If she was nervous about something, it must be huge. As annoyed as I was that I would have to stay late and deal with her nonsense, I was eager to see this new shipment before everyone else. Maybe if it were particularly fascinating, I’d even get to work alone on it.
I turned back to my painting and tried to tune out the sound of Jane’s babbling. I assumed she was trying to tell me the proper way to remove varnish, but it sounded like complete nonsense, so I ignored her. I had been working in my field long enough to know what I was doing. I kept cleaning, admiring the artist’s use of fine details in their brush strokes. When I was finished, I set it on the protective cloth and stood back, admiring the painting. Whether or not it was crafted by one of the painters in the canon, it was a nice piece of art. Even if it were counterfeit, it was still worked on by someone with a skilled eye and a careful hand.
I looked at the clock. I should have left thirty minutes ago. I could hear a commotion from the adjacent room and took a seat on my stool, eager to see what I would be working on. As I heard the click clacking of Jane’s shoes coming down the hallway, I hastily prepared a protective cover for the painting so I could get it safely out of the way before it was inadvertently ruined. Once wrapped in plastic, I zipped it into a leather case, then tucked it into a wide cabinet.
“Done?” she asked.
“Just finished,” I replied.
“Good. You should go home. We don’t need you for anything else today.”
I opened my mouth to protest. I imagine that I looked like a pouting child. “I thought you said you needed my help on the new, big shipment,” I said, trying to keep my voice level.
“I guess it’s going to be brought in early tomorrow morning,” she sighed. “Apparently, some of the pieces are too heavy for the crew available tonight, so it’s being brought in at six, before there’s too much commotion here. You’ll be expected to be here when it does.”
I took my glasses off and rubbed my eyes. Once I factored in my commute home, dinner, a shower, breakfast, and a commute back to work, I was looking at about five hours of sleep. I was the kind of person who needed seven or eight to feel remotely functional. It wasn’t even morning yet and I was already in a bad mood.
“At this rate, I might as well get some more work done and just sleep in the break room,” I joked, chuckling halfheartedly.
“We don’t let people stay here after normal business hours without supervision,” she said coldly. “There’s too much risk involved when we’re dealing with such valuable objects.”
“I know,” I groaned. “I wasn’t being serious.”
“Oh,” she said flatly. “Well, make sure you’re here by six at the very latest. I probably won’t be in until eight, but I need you to make sure the movers don’t destroy the shipment. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I replied, scooping up my bag. It didn’t come as a surprise to me that Jane was not arriving until her normal starting time. Knowing her, she’d probably show up late and blame me for making traffic so bad.
“Get some rest,” she said. “It sounds like tomorrow is going to be a big day.”
I bit my lip as I marched out of my workspace. I even tasted a little blood as I kept myself from having a gigantic meltdown. As much as I wanted to whip around and slap that lady in the face, I also wanted to keep my job. I’d go home and soak in the bath while I ate whatever was left in my refrigerator. Perhaps I’d even have a little wine as I wished I had the courage to stand up for myself.
As I walked to my car, I popped my medication into my mouth and swallowed it dry, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. Then, I flipped through my social media accounts, looking at what acquaintances were doing with their exciting lives. After a few minutes, I put my phone away. It just made me feel sad when I saw how much fun other people were having. I couldn’t even remember the last time I took a day off.
I wasn’t the kind of person to do spectacular things. I was meant to stick to my schedule. My day consisted of work, a quick workout, dinner, a few hours of reading or television, then bed. Perhaps once a month I went to a work outing or saw an old friend. Other than that, I was alone and bored out of my mind. That was my life, and it was going to be my life for the foreseeable future.
“See you tomorrow,” a security guard said to me as I pulled out of the parking lot.
“I might be back before you are,” I said wearily. “Have a good night.”
I made my way back to my apartment, hardly paying attention to my driving. I had made this trip countless times in the last few years that I could make the drive with my eyes closed. It was just another piece of monotony that made up my life.
At the very least, I could look forward to two uninterrupted hours of work. I might have to give orders to big, burly men, but at least I wouldn’t have to deal with Jane until she sauntered through my doorway. I was nervous about being in charge, but at least I didn’t have to be micromanaged to death. It would be a small victory in an otherwise stressful day.
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