Tier Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Cindy Gunderson

  Bonus Chapter

  Chapter 12 - Nick

  Afterword

  Like what you just read? By all means, share it with your friends, family, and the checker at Walgreens, but would you also do me a favor? Leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads is super important for new books…and they also give me the warm fuzzies!

  I’m positive you’ll want to know what happens next, so read on!! Can’t wait to hear what you think!

  -Cindy G

  www.fb.me/cindygwrites

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  Part 2

  Tier 2

  Contents

  Foreword

  44. Eric

  45. Eric

  46. Eric

  47. Kate

  48. Kate

  49. Nick

  50. Nick

  51. Eric

  52. Kate

  53. Nick

  54. Eric

  55. Kate

  56. Nick

  57. Nick

  58. Kate

  59. Nick

  60. Kate

  61. Nick

  62. Eric

  63. Nick

  64. Kate

  65. Kate

  66. Nick

  67. Nick

  68. Eric

  69. Kate

  70. Kate

  71. Eric

  72. Kate

  73. Nick

  74. Kate

  75. Kate

  76. Eric

  77. Nick

  78. Kate

  79. Eric

  80. Nick

  81. Kate

  82. Kate

  83. Nick

  84. Eric

  85. Kate

  86. Nick

  87. Eric

  88. Nick

  89. Eric

  90. Kate

  91. Kate

  92. Nick

  93. Kate

  Bonus Chapter

  Afterword

  Foreword

  “The disadvantaged have structural interests that run counter to the status quo, which, once they are assumed, will lead to social change. Thus, they are viewed as agents of change rather than objects one should feel sympathy for.”

  —Alan Sears, A Guide to Theoretical Thinking

  44 Eric

  “Hey Dad, check this out!” Tal calls from across the room. I quickly lay the freshly rinsed zucchini in the bottom of the fridge drawer, then walk over to him.

  “What is it?” I ask, leaning over the back of the sofa, trying to determine what he’s working on.

  “I finished the problem!” he says excitedly, looking down at his tablet. “I think it’s right. Is it right?” he asks, suddenly unsure. I swiftly scan his work, primarily making sure his steps are correct. The numbers are too large for me to calculate in my head, but I assume they’re solid. They have been every other time I’ve checked.

  “The formulas look right to me,” I congratulate, giving him a fist bump. “Great job. How long did that take you?”

  “About...25 minutes,” he says, glancing down at the timer in the corner of his display.

  “Not bad.” I ruffle his hair. “I mean, I would have definitely done it in ten or less, but I guess that’s a decent time for a kid.”

  Tal grins and rolls his eyes. “Dad,” he complains, then hesitates, looking away.

  “What is it, bud?”

  “Nothing,” he retorts, shaking off his previous thought.

  “I’d really love to hear it,” I gently prod, moving around the couch to face him. I know he must be concerned about something important or he wouldn’t have let it slip to the surface. He’s been like a closed book these last few months.

  “It’s just—do you think I’ll ever make it to Tier 1?” he looks up, eyes blue and pleading. So hopeful that a little part of me dies inside. My shoulders slump slightly and I drop onto the thin cushion next to him. In his mind, he’s too old to be hugged, but I pull him close anyway, stalling while I contemplate my next words.

  “Tal, you are abnormally smart. I am sure you’ve noticed that your capacity far exceeds that of your peers.”

  His head moves slightly against my shoulder, encouraging me to go on.

  “I’m not saying that to compare or make you feel like you are somehow better, it’s just a fact. So, no need for that smug smile,” I say, poking his ribs. Tal laughs and playfully shoves me back. He settles his head against my chest, and I rest my hand on his head, his hair soft and boyish.

  “It’s just...it’s not that simple.”

  “How?” he asks quietly, his hopeful energy visibly deflating.

  “We’ve talked about this before, but maybe you were too young to understand.”

  Tal sits up and his eyes sear into mine, his attention unwavering. My mouth goes dry and I clench my fists to hide my trembling fingers. How am I in charge of this growing human? I don’t even have a semblance of mastery over my own life yet.

  “People in Tier 1, they aren’t like us. And before you take that in a way that it wasn’t meant, let me explain,” I say hurriedly. “In a lot of ways, they are like us. We both have plenty of markers that qualify us for Tier 1 and, more importantly, we don’t have the worst markers that would disqualify us. But, we’ve also been through some things that have left us a bit...well, a bit scarred.”

  Tal’s eyes don’t leave mine for a second. Has he even blinked? I wave my hand in front of his face, causing his eyes to flutter.

  “Good, just making sure you didn’t pass out while I was talking.”

  “Dad, I’m listening. Seriously?”

  “Ok, sorry,” I smile. Sweat has begun to form along my chest, and there aren’t any other obvious distractions I can shift my attention to. Tal stares at me expectantly.

  “What I’m trying to say is that our brains have been dramatically affected by the—the events that have...occurred in the last couple of years,” I stammer, stumbling through the inadequate words I am able to conjure.

  “Dad, you can say it,” Tal says, his tone indignant. “Mom died. We both know what happened and it’s okay to talk about it.”

  A defeated sigh escapes my lips. “I know. And I am a terrible example of all of the things your mentor has taught you to do. I try, Tal, but— ”

  “It’s okay, Dad,” he interrupts apologetically. “I didn’t even know her.”

  I imagine her then, the familiar image flashing in my mind’s eye. Kate, on hands and knees, her hair pulled into a loose bun through her sunhat, turning to smile at me while she plants seeds in the garden. Her gaze meeting mine, a playful smile on her lips, her kind eyes full of excitement. She loved making things grow. Creating things out of nothing.

  “That’s why it’s so hard!” I blurt out and Tal flinches. “I have thought about it a lot and I think the reason I hate talking about Mom is that I have this—this whole thing. This whole big thing that you don’t have. I have a full, beautiful, strong, nuanced person in my brain and all you have is a name. How do I convey that? Do it justice? And, on top of that, I somehow feel like I’m flaunting my closeness! Something that you’ll never have—” I pause mid sentence, my face flushed. “Does that make any sense?”

  “It does,” Tal says, pondering. “But, I would rather know what you know. Even if it makes me sad that I didn’t get to have those experiences with her first-hand.”

  My head cocks to the side involuntarily, my eyebrows furrowing. Even the air seems to stand still as I assess my son, really taking him in. His chin is set stubbornly, arms crossed against his chest. Something catches my eye, and I glance down to see his mismatched socks. An affectionate smile curls the corners of my mouth and I have to work to hold it back. I haven’t been fair to him. I’ve kept him from having a mother in more ways than one.

  “You’re right,” I exhale slowly. “As hard as it is for me, I promise I will do a better job of talking about Kate. Starting now.”

  “Now?”

  “Right now. What do you want to know?”
/>
  Tal fiddles with his stylus and doesn’t speak for a few minutes. I wait purposefully, letting the silence fully settle on both of us.

  “Did she love me?” he mumbles finally, his voice cracking.

  I place my fingers gently under his chin and turn his face to mine, relieved. This. This I can talk about.

  “Oh, she loved you,” I say, my heart swelling. “She loved you so much that I thought she might not need me anymore. I was a second thought after you were born!”

  Tal laughs and shrugs my hand away. “Dad, c’mon.”

  “I am being honest!” I insist. He looks down, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular, and his arms relax to his sides. Intently, he looks up.

  “Will you tell me about when I was born? But this time, tell me what Mom did, not what you did.”

  Breathe, I remind myself internally. Here we go.

  45 Eric

  I reach into the muslin bag slung across my shoulders, pulling out a handful of knobbly tubers, each approximately two inches long. Sunchokes. We grow them all year round, but try to stagger the plantings so that our supply is always replenished, while minimizing waste.

  It’s magnificent here in the morning. The only sounds breaking the calm, dawn air are bird songs and the soft rustle of leaves, displaced by the starlings flitting between branches. Their vibrations seem to carry farther at this time of day, somehow more full and lively. Sunlight has barely begun pouring over the horizon and the warm light bathes everything in orange hues. The trees seem hazy in the morning mist, the ground fresh and cool on my skin as I create a series of planting holes with my trowel.

  Having been one of the coordinating growers here since Kate died, I know these fields almost better than my own home. Out here, my mind often wanders to life before she passed—to who I was then. That day became a veritable milestone in my service. Before it, I worked exclusively in the lab on hybridization. After, I couldn’t stomach the thought of going back. I needed a change. Working early allows me to be home with Tal after conditioning, and the physical labor keeps my mind from wandering. Well, most of the time. I rarely have a day when something doesn’t remind me of her.

  I gently press the pieces of root into the craters I have prepared and cover them with the displaced soil. Then, moving on to the next section, I begin the entire process over again. My eyes glance toward my sensor regularly, reminding me to pick up the pace. Movement near the fence catches my attention and I squint to get a closer look. A head is bobbing toward me.

  Kip waves as he gets closer. He has on a wide brimmed hat and, if it weren’t for his tell-tale saunter, I wouldn’t be able to recognize him under the deep shadow it creates.

  “Hey, Eric,” he drawls.

  “Kip, how are you?” I ask.

  He nods and points to my bag. “You have the rest of the sunchokes in there or are there more back at the storage facility?”

  “Yep, this is all of them. I plan to get them in today and then work on planting the greens,” I answer, moving my hips to the side to stretch my lower back. Kip is technically more experienced than I am, but he is arguably more concerned with getting the job done than doing it well. Nice enough guy. He lets me do things my way and I try my best to afford him the same courtesy.

  “I’ll go prep the rows for the greens then,” he says, pulling up a long piece of grass and chewing on it. My eyes narrow. I’ve never quite understood the appeal of that particular behavior.

  “That would be helpful, thanks,” I say, leaning down to replace more soil.

  “Val is here today,” he says provocatively, gauging my reaction. I resume planting, not allowing my body or facial expressions to stray from their current positions.

  “Oh?” I ask, nonchalantly, continuing to fix my gaze on the dirt below me.

  “She will be here for the next week to assess our November planting needs,” he states, drawing out the words and leaning on his shovel.

  “Perfect timing. I have some requests I was planning to send to the Committee. It will be more efficient to pass them on to her directly. Thanks for the heads up.” I glance up at him then and smile calmly.

  His face embodies disgust as he tosses the masticated grass shoot to the ground. “I don’t understand you, Eric. Val is beautiful, has great numbers, and is into you—despite the fact that you already have a kid and trauma baggage to boot.”

  I stiffen, but shift my focus to placing the next sunchoke.

  “I haven’t even paired once and you are turning down second offers. Maddening,” he finishes, waving me off like he doesn’t want to catch whatever I’ve got. Not knowing how to respond to that, I let him walk away, my blood beginning to pulse heavily through my temples.

  As he disappears over the hill, I find it difficult to breathe. A pit of dread has settled in my stomach and I want to curl up on the ground until it passes. Forcing myself to stay on my feet, I close my eyes while my heart continues to race. Breathe in for four. Hold. Out for four. I do this continually until my heart rate finally returns to normal. How much time has passed? I glance around, ashamed, despite the fact that nobody is near or would likely be able to sense what had happened even if they were.

  My mind flashes to the countless meditation sessions I have attended and, while I recognize they have helped, I have yet to get these panic attacks under control. I understand what the trigger is, but the problem lies in the fact that I can’t predict when someone will approach me about it. Re-pairing certainly wasn’t a topic I was expecting to be confronted with this morning, during my service assignment nonetheless. My nostrils flare.

  I shrug it off and return to the task at hand. Pressing my trowel back into the dirt, I allow myself to process the information about Val. She and I met last month when she arrived to restock our seeds and irrigation supplies. That visit had lasted only a few days, but we spent a fair amount of time together. I would be lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge that I enjoyed the company. Val is soft-spoken and has a kind smile. Objectively, she is beautiful, but my brain didn’t initially register this until Kip brought it to my attention. I assumed he was interested in her, and really, I wasn’t wrong. When she didn’t return the sentiment, though, he naturally backed off.

  On her last day, she asked if I would like to run our numbers and possibly get together outside of work. I was completely taken aback, and my response obviously hurt her feelings. I didn’t get a chance to explain, but the thought of doing so now...I quickly shut that down, hoping to avoid another bout of anxiety.

  Matt is constantly reminding me that I need to move on. That there are plenty of opportunities to do so. That I have a responsibility to Tal. I get it. But the idea of getting to know someone new on that level makes me want to vomit. Nausea is rising in my chest from just envisioning a potential romantic situation. Beyond that, being compliant and doing what my mentor or Berg wants me to do nearly gets the same reaction. I am more than slightly horrified at my current frame of mind and want to be a better version of myself, I just—well, I haven’t figured that part out yet.

  At least I am still a good dad. I hope. And I am serving in my assignment, so there’s that. If I go through the motions long enough, maybe some of my past idealism and flexibility will be unearthed.

  With my bag empty, I head back to the storage facility for the mesclun seeds and azomite. My empty water bottle bounces against my leg. Since most of the storage facility is underground, the portion of the building that is visible from the fields looks like a glorified shed. Sunshine glints off of the corrugated metal roof, and the concrete walls seem vastly out of place in the middle of the growing fields. I give the heavy metal door a tug and walk into the office. After using the washroom, I walk to the kitchenette to take a snack from my lunch bag, when a sound startles me. Turning, my eye catches Val climbing the last of the stairs, returning from the cellar. She notices me immediately and seems startled.

  “Eric,” she says, out of breath, “I wasn’t expecting to see you until t
his afternoon. Is there anything I can help you with?” she recovers, greeting me warmly.

  “I don’t think so, thanks. I am ready to get going on the next planting, so I came back to pick up the seeds. I figured I may as well take my break at the same time instead of having to walk back in another thirty minutes,” I explain, unzipping my lunch bag and pulling out a small container of berries.

  “Good thinking,” she replies, smiling again. This time, seeming more relaxed.

  I motion to the stairs. “I’ll be on my way, then. It’s good to have you back,” I say, trying to express gratitude without seeming flirtatious. Moving past her, I exit down the stairs. As I descend, the air grows damp and earthy, the wild scent of the soil hitting my nostrils. Groping the roughly cast stone on the wall, my fingers eventually find the switch. A thin strip of light is triggered, illuminating the path ahead of me.