Infected

Yeah, thanks Dad, Perry thought. Thanks a bunch. You’re the best. But as much as he hated the man, Perry couldn’t deny that his father had made him who he was. Jacob Dawsey had set out to make his son tough, and he had succeeded. Perry’s toughness helped him excel on the football field, which earned him a scholars.h.i.+p and a college degree. As

crazy as Jacob Dawsey was, he’d also instilled a die-hard work ethic that Perry very much considered a key part of his personality. He liked working hard. He liked being the one people relied on to get the job done.

And rash or no rash, Perry was at work and doing his job. But being at work and being effective were two different things. He just couldn’t concentrate. He continuously pursued the same avenues, the same possible solutions over and over again in his mind. His brain felt fuzzy, as if it couldn’t grip the task at hand.

"Perry, can I speak to you for a moment?"

He turned to see Sandy standing just inside his cube. She didn’t look happy.

"Sure," he said.

"I just got a call from Samir at Pullman. Their network has been dropping out for three days now."

"I’m working on it. I thought I had it fixed yesterday. I’m sorry it’s taking so long."

"I know you’re working on it, but I’m not sure you’re paying attention. According to Samir, you had him reboot the network routers yesterday. Twice. And even though it didn’t work either time, you had him do it again this morning."

Perry’s brain searched for an answer, but found none.

"They’re losing money, Perry." Sandy sounded more than a little angry. "I don’t mind if my people can’t solve a problem, but I don’t want you bulls.h.i.+tting your way through something if you don’t know how to solve it."

Perry felt his own anger rise. He was working as hard as he could, dammit! He was the best one in the department. Maybe there were problems that just couldn’t be solved.

"So can you tell me what’s wrong with their system?" Sandy asked. Perry noticed for the first time that her eyes grew very wide and her nostrils flared when she

"I don’t know," Perry said.

Her eyes widened further and her hands went to her hips. Perry felt another stab of anger at her haughty posture.

"How the h.e.l.l can you not know?" Sandy said. "You’ve been on this for three days. You haven’t known for three days and you haven’t asked for help?"

"I said I’m working on it!" Even to himself his voice sounded strange — full of anger and impatience. Sandy’s eyes flashed with trepidation as she looked down. Her gaze returned to his face, the petulant look gone, replaced by a questioning, slightly fearful expression. Perry looked down himself to see what she’d stared at. His hands were balled into fists, squeezed so tight the knuckles glowed white against his reddish skin. He realized his whole body was coiled with aggressive tension, the same posture he used to have before the snap of the ball — or before a fight. The office suddenly seemed very quiet. He pictured how frightening the scene must be to her; his big angry body hovering predatorily over her smallish, weak frame. He must have looked like a rabid bear about to pounce on a wounded fawn.

He willed his hands to open. His face flushed with embarra.s.sment and shame. He’d made Sandy afraid of him, made her afraid that he’d lash out and hit her (just like the last job, his conscience teased, just like the last boss).

"I’m sorry," Perry said quietly. The fear left Sandy’s eyes, replaced by concern, but despite the change, she backed another step out of the cube.

"You seem to be under some stress lately," Sandy said quietly. "Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and relax."

Perry blanched at the thought of leaving work early. "I’m okay. Really, I can fix the problem in Pullman."

"I don’t care about that," Sandy said. "I’ll get someone else to fix it. Go home. Now." She turned and walked away.

Perry stared at the ground, feeling like a failure, feeling he’d betrayed her loyalty. He’d been moments away from hitting the one person who’d given him a chance, who’d let him straighten out his life. She’d done everything for him by giving him that chance. This was how he thanked her. In unison, the seven itches flared all over his body, adding to his frustration. Like a huge child, he packed his duct-tape-patched briefcase and sluffed into his coat.

His IM alert dinged:

StickyFingazWhitey: Hey man, you okay? Can I help?

Perry stared at the message for a second. He didn’t deserve help, he didn’t deserve sympathy. Without sitting down, he typed in a reply:

Bleedmaize_n_blue: Don’t worry about me. I’m tiptop.

StickyFingazWhitey: Like h.e.l.l you are. Just be cool, go home, I’ll patch this up for you.

Bleedmaize_n_blue: No, stay out of it.

StickyFingazWhitey: Fine, I promise I won’t say a word to Sandy. Of course, I lie a lot. I also "promise" I won’t fix Pullman for you.

StickyFingazWhitey: Go watch your Pope p.o.r.n™, I’ve got this. No bout-a-doubt-it.

Bill had his back. Somehow that made Perry feel even worse. Even if he insisted Bill leave it alone, his friend would just do the work anyway.

He walked out of the office, feeling the eyes of everyone on his back. Red-faced and frustrated, Perry walked to his car and headed home.