Tier Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Cindy Gunderson

  Opening the files, I start from the top of the Tier 2 potential candidates. Female, twelve years old, impressive scans, looks like she has done some reversal therapy due to lack of parental involvement. She has been in a stable home for the last four years and has no behavioral or mental health issues. I run her numbers and it looks like she qualifies. Since she is so young, we will need to bring her in for an assessment before putting her through to initial testing. I make a note on her file and then sort her into the youth potentials. Within the hour, I find three more youth meeting the cut-off. This is insane. I have never seen so many qualifiers in one batch.

  As I progress through the list, it suddenly clicks that this list is organized by age. Once I passed the eighteen year olds an hour ago, there haven’t been any other obviously viable options. Though I don’t expect to find more at this point, I am inspired by the Tier 2 youth and am excited to meet with a few of these candidates in the coming months. Maybe it truly will be possible to move away from a tier system eventually. If we become successful enough at healing and transitioning...it isn’t out of the realm of possibility.

  As the scrolling and typing becomes habitual, my brain begins to wander. Being removed from my earlier conversation with Shari, I no longer feel angry, but I am still confused. Why and when would Nick have talked with her? And, why did that knowledge set me off? Shouldn’t I be sharing these things with Shari anyway? If I’m honest with myself, I haven’t felt as close with her since I paired with Nick, but that’s probably to be expected. We have been working on our own relationship and he has been so supportive. I guess I haven’t felt like I have been lacking. Maybe this is my fault? He was probably trying to keep her in the loop and I went off like a crazy person. I resign myself to an embarrassing apology upon arriving home. Glancing at the display, I am shocked to see that my time is already up. After finishing up the current record, I collect my things and head out.

  As I walk, I realize my sensor is still set on ‘do not disturb’. Changing the setting, two new messages immediately pop up. One is from Shari.

  ‘The girls love it here. I just tried to remove Beth from a swing and she literally held onto it with a death grip. Are you okay with me leaving them here for you to pick up at the end of your shift? I will assume yes (considering you were planning to do that initially) unless I hear otherwise. Plus...I don’t think I could take Beth home if I tried.’

  Grateful that I checked, I change my trajectory to head to the nursery, smiling as I imagine stubborn Beth in the swing. She isn’t as outspoken as Leah, but when she makes up her mind about something, it is incredibly difficult to sway her.

  After a short jaunt, I find myself passing through the greenery to the nature playground. Even from this distance, I can see that Beth is still in the swing. Getting closer, I find Leah sitting in the grass with dirt around her mouth, actively engaged in pulling apart a leaf. They are both filthy, but look absolutely thrilled about it. I call their names and their heads whip around excitedly. Even this simple connection makes my milk start to let down, and I groan. I don’t think I remembered to put in cotton pads.

  Scooping them up, I latch them on whether they are hungry or not. Luckily, they both seem more than happy to help me out. The nursery leader laughs.

  “I’ve been there before,” she says. “Is this your first time leaving them?”

  “Not my first time ever, but definitely the longest. I expressed before I left, but I should have taken my portable pump with me.”

  “Live and learn,” she says grinning. “The girls were a pleasure to have. I hope you’ll bring them back again soon. You know you can drop them off regardless of your assignment? We are here to assist new moms whenever they need a break,”

  “I know. I think I was just nervous about how they would take to being on their own. Apparently I shouldn’t have been.”

  “There’s something about nature,” she says. “It draws in even the most reluctant child.”

  “I can see that. Thank you so much,” I say sincerely. Looking around, I notice other children crawling through hollow logs, pulling on tree branches and watching them snap back into place, picking up bugs, chewing on sticks. Not one of them is upset or crying. They look completely enthralled. I will definitely be bringing the girls back more often.

  After I give them some mashed vegetables for dinner and scrub them clean in the bath, the girls fall into an exhausted slumber. No begging to be held, no stealing each other’s blankets. Just silence and heavy breathing. I should probably take them to the nursery every day.

  The sound of the door opening announces Nick’s arrival home, and I am reminded of my need to call Shari. I gently close the door to the girls’ room and walk into the hall. He unexpectedly comes up behind me, spinning me around and embracing me tightly.

  “I am so sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says. I wrap my arms around his back, concerned.

  “About what?” I ask, my voice muffled by his shirt.

  “That I was meeting with Shari and the Director each month,” he says, pulling back to look at me. Tears shimmer in the corner of his eyes.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, thoroughly confused.

  “Shari told me that you were incredibly upset that I had mentioned your dreams to her. I should have told you about our meetings months ago, I just didn’t want you to worry about it. Our first one was before the girls were born and I knew how overwhelmed you were—”

  “Wait,” I say, stepping back and attempting to remain calm, “let’s get dinner and then you can tell me everything.” I lead him into the kitchen and carefully remove the lid from the simmering pot. “I only had time to make risotto tonight. Sorry it’s not very exciting.”

  He laughs. “I am starving and that smells amazing.”

  Our vegetable share this week included mushrooms and spinach. I don’t have any cheese to add, but butter will hopefully suffice. I watch him inhale gratefully as I spoon it into his bowl. While it cools, I pull out some sliced turnips for us to snack on.

  “Okay, start at the beginning,” I say, crunching into one and leaning on the counter.

  He looks unsure of himself. “You remember our initial pairing was suggested because of our TSG numbers?” he asks.

  “Wow, that’s way at the beginning,” I quip, and he laughs.

  “Yes, sorry,” he says, relief evident on his face. “After we paired, I didn’t really hear much from anyone. I initially wondered if we needed to report back, but when we got pregnant right away and we were doing well, I assumed they weren’t really worried about us. The Director reached out to me about a month before the girls were born and wanted to meet. Shari and another woman, Grace, were both there. I’ve been meeting with them every month or so since then. They ask about how we are both coping, but they are also very interested in my research. We talk about both.”

  I process this. It makes sense that they would want to know about our progress. We knew that there may be more monitoring upon entering into this pairing, and I assume it’s the same for other pairs in the program. I honestly hadn’t really thought about it. And I do wish that Nick had mentioned it earlier.

  “How did this never come up?” I ask. “When do you even have time to meet with them?”

  “It’s usually during training,” he says.

  “So when I ask you about how training went, it never occurred to you to say something?” I say less gently, my feelings hurt.

  “I guess, since I hadn’t told you initially, I felt like it would be hurtful for you to find out later, which it obviously is. And, I don’t know why I thought it wouldn’t come up eventually. I didn’t make the right call, and I am so sorry.”

  I don’t say anything, his eyes pleading with me to accept his apology. This resonates with me deeply and I have a moment of realization. Do I make him feel the same way I felt on our walk the other day? Is he as unsure as I am in moments like this?

  “Kate, what can I do?” he asks in desperation.

 
“Did you tell them the content of my dream?” I ask.

  “Why would I?” he says, looking down. I sigh silently in relief, realizing I have probably hurt him by asking.

  “Nick, I wish you would have told me. It really isn’t a big deal. It’s frustrating that none of you thought to include me. I realize that I have been going through a lot, but it can be helpful to feel needed and useful. I would love to come to the next one, if that’s okay?”

  He nods gratefully. “I think that’s a great idea. You may not be able to stay for the classified research portion, but I will definitely bring it up.”

  “Thanks,” I say. The food has cooled and we eat in silence for a few moments. The butter definitely sufficed, bringing out the earthiness of the mushrooms.

  “I’m really sorry, Kate,” Nick says between bites. I reach across the table and squeeze his hand.

  53 Nick

  Guilt. I feel incredible guilt. I wasn’t completely honest with Kate this week and it’s eating at me. Never mind the fact that I am literally living with her every day because of false information that she’s been given. Though that wasn’t my choice, I feel like an accessory, and it’s more difficult to live with than I initially anticipated. Every time I see grief pass across her face, I remember that I was a part of causing that.

  I sit on one of three chairs in a hallway of the Tier 1 administration building. This being an off-time, the typical buzz of a normal workday is absent. My nail cuticles are unruly and I busy myself, gently pushing them back, as I wait.

  Back to Kate. There was never anything I could do about it. I was crushed when she chose not to go through with our initial pairing, but realized almost immediately that it had nothing to do with me. She was in an impossible situation. Well, impossible for her. She wasn’t prepared to make the sacrifices necessary, so Berg removed that responsibility from her. Knowing that piece allowed me to move forward after her reversal. She cared for me before and could do so again. I also knew that she cared deeply, even then, about making an impact. She is making it now, whether she fully understands her sacrifices or not. If I had refused, she would have lost Eric anyway, and for what? I needed to be here to justify that action. Right?

  This last thought falls a little flat and nausea flutters through my stomach. The truth gnaws at me, and I can’t escape the fact that I am rationalizing. I could have done more. I could have at least tried to find another solution, or advocated for her family to be kept together. I was the only one with a say that would have mattered, but I was too hurt and upset to consider it, and then? Then it was too late. But was it really? Is it now? If I said something today, couldn’t we reinstate those memories and repair everything?

  I know, even as I think it, that this would be impossible. Doable? Potentially, but it would never be approved. And...impossible in other ways. For me, this time.

  “She lost her oldest child,” I hear in my head, my own consciousness playing devil’s advocate. “And don’t you think that Eric felt what you are feeling? Is it easy for him to live without her?” I shove those last thoughts away, my sensibilities warring with each other. The soft sound of footsteps pulls me out of my internal debate, and I sit nervously at attention.

  “Nick, sorry to make you wait,” the Director apologizes as he draws closer.

  “No, thank you for meeting with me last-minute,” I say, relaxing slightly. “I really appreciate it.” He motions for me to follow him and we each take a seat, this time in his office, which feels slightly more inviting than our typical concrete meeting room. The Director is dressed casually and it feels out of context, almost humanizing him.

  “What can I help you with?” he asks.

  “I wanted to discuss a few things with you in person,” I begin, unsure of how this will land. “Kate is aware that we have been meeting and she wants in.” The Director nods pensively. “I told her that we have been meeting to discuss the TSG program and my research. She didn’t understand why she hadn’t been invited and, hearing her perspective, I think she has a legitimate point.”

  “I agree. I think it would be helpful for her to feel valued and appreciated.”

  “She also, in response to the dreams she has been having, feels like it would be helpful for her to explore new service assignments,” I add.

  “Do you believe, based on your research with reversal, that this will help?”

  “No. Not permanently, I don’t, but it could buy some time. Act as a distraction.”

  “Sure, I think that sounds reasonable. What is she interested in?”

  “Specifically, she wants to walk in her mother’s shoes, so to speak. She would really like to serve with Tier 3.” The Director is very still. He doesn’t respond for a full minute. I am about to repeat my statement when he finally opens his mouth to speak.

  “That won’t be an option, unfortunately,” he replies calmly.

  “May I ask why? If it’s a concern for her safety, I think it could be in a small setting and I would be happy to accompany.”

  “It’s not that, we simply don’t have any service assignments available. I can check to be sure, but I’m fairly certain.”

  “Surely in a situation like this—”

  “They are extremely sensitive assignments, Nick,” he cuts me off. “Don’t presume to understand what you are talking about.”

  I clench my teeth. “You’re right, I apologize. I only want to support her in whatever way I can.”

  The Director moves around his desk and places his hand on my shoulder as I stand. “You are doing wonderfully. I will look through some potential options and we can discuss with Kate when we meet in a couple of weeks. Will that be satisfactory?”

  I nod. “Thank you,” I say, shaking his hand and leaving the room.

  “Nick!” he calls after me and I stop, turning back toward his office. He walks my direction. “I forgot to tell you that I have a new set of scans for you to analyze. They all have the symptoms you described, but the less discussion you have with them the better. Until you have solid results, I want to avoid starting any unnecessary rumors.”

  I nod.

  “I have categorized them by Tier,” he continues, “though I’m sure you would be able to deduce that on your own.”

  “It saves time.”

  “Keep me posted on how it goes,” he requests, smiling warmly.

  “That wasn’t terrible,” I think, beginning the walk back to the house, though it definitely didn’t go the direction I anticipated. The results were exactly opposite. I assumed that the service assignment request would be a non-issue, but—something still isn’t sitting right with me about how he responded to that. It wasn’t what he said, per se. That all seemed reasonable, but his mannerisms changed slightly. He isn’t an overly expressive person to begin with and I can’t put my finger on it. Just a gut feeling that something changed in that moment. Reminiscent of the feeling I had the other day during our report. What is he holding back? This time, was it talking about Kate’s mother that triggered it? Mentioning Tier 3? I can’t remember exactly when the energy shifted. My brain chews on this for the entirety of my journey home, annoyingly not arriving at any concrete conclusions.

  I walk in the front door to find Kate rocking Beth. She meets my eyes and puts a silent finger to her lips. I stop moving immediately and leave the door slightly open to avoid making more noise. She sways toward the bedroom, walking slowly through the door, and re-emerging a minute or so later, gently closing the door and waiting silently. I barely breathe. When she hears nothing, she turns toward me and silently celebrates.

  With a goofy grin plastered to my face, I close the door and turn to find her already next to me. I kiss her deeply and she reciprocates. All of the thoughts and insecurities I have had over the past few hours bubble to the surface, and I am desperate to make everything up to her. To prove to myself that everything is as it should be. The brief moment yesterday where I thought I had lost even a little of her esteem was enough to bring me to my knees. I
need her, and the depth of that need scares me.

  54 Eric

  Matt and I are seated on a bench at the park across the street from our house. Tal is old enough to be on his own at home when I am close by, and I needed to talk with Matt outside of Tal’s eavesdropping zone.

  Matt has been mentoring me my whole life. When I was a kid, we used to hang out regularly. He would help me with my completely unrealistic projects, memorizing facts about genetics, and even put up with my obsessive bird-watching. As we got older, those earlier interactions set the stage for us to become close friends and, besides Kate, he is the only one with whom I feel truly comfortable confiding.

  We haven’t talked much lately, mostly because I don’t have anything new to report. He’s sick of hearing about me missing Kate, so I spare him that. Today, though, I need someone. Someone who will listen and not judge.

  “Fill me in,” Matt says.

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  “I’ll help you. ‘So, I was thinking about Kate…’” he motions for me to continue, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Has it been that bad?” I ask, slightly embarrassed.

  “No,” he chuckles. “Not quite that bad.”

  “Well, this time let’s start differently,” I say, updating him on my work assignment and the ideas I have to make our plantings more effective and efficient.

  “Sounds like that is going really well for you,” he comments, and there is genuine happiness for me reflected in his face. It gives me strength to move on.

  “It is. And there’s a woman—” I start.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Matt teases, nudging me.

  “No, it’s not like that. I think she wants it to be, but I seriously can’t even talk to her without having a negative, visceral response. I have most definitely hurt her feelings already. And Tal is really struggling.”