Deleted Scene: Theo Quits
A favorite deleted scene from DUSK from an early version of the book, as read aloud on Instagram & TikTok
[Context: Theo has just returned home from London with Anna on the impromptu trip and is now exposed to the global events unfolding behind the scenes that haven’t hit the public eye yet.]
Two minutes later I’m back upstairs in the cube farm collecting my things. I shove some random markers in my bag, plus my gum, cough drops, and travel bottle of Jameson I stash for urgent, Don-induced moments. I lift up the team picture from the left side of my desk from our holiday party two years ago. Faith stands on the far right side of the picture wearing a navy blue dress that accentuates her waist. Her smile is broad and her dimples are visible from the shadows created by the lights overhead. I rub my thumb over the picture frame before placing it in the bag, then I hear Jason’s unmistakably arrogant voice.
He makes his way toward his corner office, pointing and chuckling at each person as he walks by. “Brenda, good to see you. Don, how’s it going? Andrei, looking sharp today. Yūki, great meeting the other day. Thanks for bringing those guys up to speed so quickly. Hey, look who’s back!”
I smile at him the way I did in my third grade yearbook picture: immensely displeased that I had to dress up that day, and even more displeased about the photographer telling me to tilt my head to the side and flash my pearly whites that I vehemently objected and rebelled entirely, scowling like a punk.
Screw you, I think, but say, “Good to see you, Jason.”
“You’ve been sick all week?”
“Yep,” I say, closing my mouth so no words can inexplicably escape.
“Yeah,” he says, eying me. “You look like crap. Are you feeling better?”
“A bit,” I say.
“Right,” he says, turning toward his office. “Well, welcome back.”
“Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat. “By the way, I wanted to let you know, I quit.”
The gentle tapping on keyboards ceases, the chatter quiets, and Don pokes his head up over the cubicle wall, looking at me. For a fraction of a second I doubt my decision, but reassure myself quickly. My normal job pales in comparison to the opportunity I have with SETI. This must be what Dad felt like, constantly searching for some meaningful way to spend his time. A way to make a difference. And I know where that landed him. Still, he died doing something he loved, not harboring resentment about his mundane existence.
Jason spins on his heel, tweaks an eyebrow, and glares at me.
“Yeah,” I say, a grin spreading across my face like it did the day I turned eighteen and knew I could legally buy a lottery ticket, even though I also knew the chances of winning were less than the chances of me getting hit by lightning. I wanted the freedom. Times hadn’t changed. And I still had it. Point for me, I think.
“That’s right,” I add. “We’re facing bigger problems in the world. It’s time for me to be a part of the solution.”
“What are you talking about?” Jason asks. “Are you going to become an environmentalist? It’s not like we’re drilling for oil and burning fossil fuels here. This is an energy-conscious construction company.”
“No,” I say, regarding him as though he’s just taught me something immeasurably important. “I’m going to work on aliens.”
Jason’s mouth parts and he looks as though he might burst out laughing. Then, his brow furrows. Don begins mumbling something about the report.
“Okay, security will escort you out,” Jason says, his voice spiked with anger, then he turns and presses toward his office.
I turn and hold one foot in the air for a split second, considering whether I should warn them about the water, and then decide, nah. I clutch my belongings in a plastic grocery bag and head toward the edge of my cube, glancing over my shoulder for one last look.
“What are you doing?” Brenda asks, flitting around the corner of my cube like someone gave her a massive wedgie, and I’m sure she’s more excited to look upset than she is actually upset about my departure. She stands so close to me I can smell her deodorant.
“Leaving,” I say. “I quit.”
“What? Why?” She puts her hand on my arm.
“It’s time to move on.”
“But you can’t leave,” she says, placing her other hand over her chest.
“Of course I can,” I say, mocking her shock.
“What will we do without you?” she asks.
“What’s going on?” I hear. Andrei stands up and watches us, then flicks his hand rapidly at Faith in the next cube over. I hear her headphones drop on her desk and she stands up, looking over at me.
Brenda lifts her hand and points it toward my head. “He just quit,” she says, her voice hoarse and barely audible.
Faith’s eyebrows scrunch together, exposing two deep lines between her eyes. She hustles over to join Brenda by my side, glancing at Jason’s profile standing at his desk in his office.
Don turns and glowers at me. “I can’t believe you!” he shouts, pointing at me.
“What?”
“You’re going to bail on me like this on the day we have a serious report due to the Board of Directors.”
“What?” I repeat, my tone inflected.
“Now Jason’s going to be in a terrible mood all day. When he finds out I don’t have that report ready, he’s going to fire me! It’s for the acquisition!” Don says, jamming his thumb into his chest.
“I have every right to decide whether or not I want to stay in this job,” I say. “It has absolutely nothing to do with you.” That’s a lie, but for the purposes of this conversation, it’s mostly true.
“What am I going to do now?” he asks. “I have bills to pay! I can’t get fired.”
“I hope you’ve been saving for a rainy day,” I reply. “The cat five hurricane is coming.”
Brenda makes a tsk sound and puts her hands on her hips.
“Alright, everyone calm down. What just happened?” Faith asks, leaning an arm on my cube.
“I decided it was time to move on. And Don thinks your boyfriend — oh, sorry, fiancé — is going to fire him. Maybe you can have a persuasive discussion with him to convince him otherwise,” I say.
“He didn’t fire you?” she asks.
“Nope,” I say, grinning at my foresight, and packing the remaining items from my desk into my bag. “He sure didn’t. Why? Did you want him to?”
She puts her hand behind her head, looks away, and sighs.
“Anyway, I’ll be leaving now,” I say. “A pleasure, working with all of you over the years. I appreciate the good times we had. Andrei, I hope you make it to that next level. Brenda, I wish you the best in your new role. Don, I hope you’ll find your footing again soon and a new job that’s even better than this one, and Faith, I hope you… have a wonderful…” I swallow, unsure what to say, and unwilling to let this be our final moment. I pause, searching for words, then lick my lips and bite my upper lip, nodding my head gently. “When things go awry, call me.”
“When things go awry?” she asks in a sarcastic tone, blinking rapidly.
“You’ll know what I mean when the time is right. Call me. I’ll be waiting.”
Her face looks like she’s smelled something foul, so I decide to try and salvage the moment by sending her a message the moment I walk out the door, hoping it might clarify but knowing in my heart of hearts it’s probably creating more confusion: “Trust me on this — bottled water only.”