A Slice of Inside Job To-Go

Finding Orrin [Part 3]

After some time, the search turned a little less serious, and now Brett and Reagan were playing with the customizable model, laughing at the physical impossibilities they were asking Alpha-Beta to try.

"Now, make him shorter than a water bottle," Brett suggested, and the image collapsed itself to 30 centimeters of height, but 1 meter of width. They both laughed, "He looks like a fat elf."

"Ok, now, give him a weirdly long nose," requested Reagan, laughing at "Orrinochio."

"Oh my gosh, this dude is so ugly," Brett laughed, placing his hands over his belly. He was hurting a little.

"Hey! Don't make fun of ugly people! We have feelings!"

They kept laughing for a while until they regained seriousness in their project and focused once again on creating a copy of Reagan's flashy memory of Orrin.

"I think this looks fairly like him." Both Reagan and Brett twisted their heads, looking at the weird physique child. He felt slightly familiar, "now, execute grown-up mode."

The screen showed a decent-looking blond man with perfectly aligned teeth and a more favorable haircut.

"My systems do not identify any perfect matches with anyone in DC, boss."

"What about outside the State?"

AB took a moment to process the request as a 'loading' logo showed in the middle of the screen.

"No perfect coincidences. Only similarities with.. 300.000 people," he said, showing tiny pictures of 20% of the total people he had found. Brett swallowed nervously, placing a hand on his friend's right shoulder.

"Maybe he moved to another country?" he looked for an alternative, but Reagan was too disappointed to consider that an option.

================

"I'm sorry we couldn't find Orrin." Brett apologized as he walked out of the building next to Reagan, who was still looking for a solution in her mind.

"People don't just disappear out of thin air, Brett. He existed, I remember him. If the records of a middle school don't show him, it's because someone didn't want me to find him."

Brett looked down, playing with his feet and fidgeting with his fingers again. Reagan hadn't noticed the anxiety signals until now.

"What's wrong?" she asked, to which he jumped and hid his hands behind his body.

"Nothing!"

She remained silent, staring at the sky as the sun began to hide, creating a wonderful spectacle of red and orange light.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. I know you've been giving your biggest effort to keep the team working. They listen to you. You shouldn't worry about that," she bumped her elbow into Brett's ribs, causing him some tickling and laughter.

"It's more of family drama."

"Oh."

They stayed quiet again, looking at the sunset. Reagan assumed he did not want to talk about his issues. Until she heard him sobbing.

"God, Brett.." she whispered, completely disoriented by the sudden explosion of emotion. The man bent his body and hugged the skinny scientist, hiding his face on her neck as he cried his face out. Reagan hugged him back, feeling her skin getting wet due to the incessant crying, "Hey, come on, let's get somewhere more private.." she whispered again, caressing the soft, auburn hair on his head.

She grabbed Brett's hand and walked him to her car. He walked behind her, staring at the asphalt and avoiding eye contact with anyone that could see him. This was embarrassing.

Reagan opened the backseat door for him and told him to slide his body so she could also enter the automobile. Brett was now quiet, using his nails to raise the cuticle on his fingers until some blood came out.

"Brett, stop. Please, talk to me. You know you can talk to me, right?" she asked as she held both Brett's hands, watching him silently tear up again.

"I was a mistake, Reagan. I finally found out why I could never satisfy my father, why I could never gain his approval," he cried, liberating one of his hands to clean his face, but once his eyes were covered by his palms, he just cried louder.

Reagan couldn't help but grabbed Brett's body, forcing him into a hug. She placed his head on her chest and continued with the calm caresses, shushing delicately as a mother would do to ease her baby.

"I was just a product of my stupid mother's fling. My father is not my father," he squealed, embracing Reagan with all his strength. He needed that hug, "I was played idiot for over thirty years, sleeping in a treehouse, my number blocked from all the possible contacts, insults that assault my mind every night..."

Eventually, Reagan began crying too. The always happy, peppy man was devastated in her arms. She could hear his heart breaking as he spitted out every word. She could not say words that would comfort him, so she chose to remain silent and let him unbosom as much as he needed.