But even as I said “Silvina,” it felt like overstep. That I wasn’t meant to say the name aloud. Not yet. The name lingered in the space between us. Did I think Allie would be immune because she was young and unimportant? Had I never heard of collateral damage?

“Priority?” Allie asked. We had deliverables for a million-dollar contract with a client in just a week.

I hesitated.

“High-priority.” I did not elaborate, even though Allie didn’t gossip or overshare.

“That’ll mean overtime,” Allie said.

“That’s fine.”

“And it might jeopardize—”

“I don’t care.” Then reconsidered my tone. I never raised my voice to Allie. Except when I did. “I mean, you can have overtime, and also delegate to someone in the intern pool. I’ll get Alex to authorize.”

Allie nodded slowly, and I could see she was uncomfortable.

“What account?” Usually, that’s what I led with. The anchor.

Forget it, I wanted to say. It can wait. But I couldn’t. “Low-priority” might mean a week to know more. I didn’t think I could wait that long. Somehow felt I needed intel, context, as soon as possible. For threat assessment. At least, that’s how I rationalized it.

“Potential new client. I can’t talk about it yet.”

Allie nodded. “Got it.” But did she?

I didn’t yet see that giving Allie this task might sacrifice her to something. An idea, a cause, she never signed up for.

Or did I? Wasn’t that why I gave her the task? To put the act at one remove from me?

Imagine you analyze security protocols for a living. You help minimize breaches. You actually think you might be good at it. But something comes at you from an unexpected direction. It takes you a while to understand what this thing is, what it means, how it could change everything.

In the gap, you’re lost.

[10]

I was a wrestler in high school, a weight lifter in college, a semi-pro bodybuilder for a handful of years after that. Wrestling saved my life, in a way, even though it was just three of us folded into the men’s team. All the away trips. All the bus rides in the dark. Traveling far from that farm. The number of times I had to stay late for practice that reduced the hours in my room at home. The way we bonded. Even if I don’t even know where they live now.

I became a wrestler because I loved a certain kind of aggression born, in part, of joy. My body was made for the task: the training and the matches both. Competition was the only thing that put my body to the test, kept it in the state it was meant to be in, and back then if sports could be perpetual, always 24/7, I would have loved that.