Page 70 of Caught A Vibe

“I know.”

“No, Dash.” She turns to look at me, tears in her eyes. “You’re not broken. They were wrong.”

Hearing her defend me shakes loose a bit of the anxiety I’ve been holding close to my chest. “Middle school added hormones to the mix. I was still getting in trouble, and also distracted by girls. So I spent a lot of extra time in detention with the computer teacher who set me up with game-based tutoring. I really liked the games and started showing up, even when I didn’t have to. Thus began my love affair with video games, yet another thing my father never understood. It became one more thing he could hold over my head to punish me with. Didn’t get good grades? No Xbox. Phone call from the teacher? No TV.”

“You know that was absolute crap, right?”

“I know it now, but back then? When your mother looks at you in the principal’s office and just shakes her head and walks out? I was a Problem with a capital P. Thankfully high school was somewhat better. I got paired with a guidance counselor who actually had some chops, who connected me with the special ed teachers to learn specific strategies. Through all of it, playing video games was my escape. I’d sit in my room, hyperfocused for hours, just swimming in the dopamine. I joined a coding club that claimed to be a place to build your own video games, and I was hooked. They met every Tuesday at lunch, and I found my people.”

“I can just picture you in a room full of teenagers geeking out over some new game.”

Happy memories with my friends flood my brain, and I smile. “The faculty advisor for the club was Mr. Anderson, and before you ask, yes, we teased him mercilessly aboutThe Matrix. He really saw something in me and encouraged me to apply to his college, and lo and behold I got in. My parents were so excited. They thought they were getting a computer engineer.”

I turn to look out the window, remembering how proud my dad had been when I got that acceptance letter from my first-choice school. The pride hadn’t lasted long, but it was sweet while it did.

“I worked so damn hard to make it through college, and I did it. When I was eighteen I saw a doctor through the university and pursued medication as an option. I gained a little traction. I worked with tutors for the classes I hated, and did extra credit for the ones I loved.”

“I see.” She glances at me, waiting for me to keep talking as she scans the highway.

Now I’m getting to the hard part, and I brace myself for her disdain, gripping the car door handle.

“To graduate with honors, I built this amazing game,Astraia, as my final project. My goal was to prove that a game seeking positive approval and justice could be just as entertaining as a single-shooter, ‘break all the rules’-type game. Everyone thought it was great, and it got me a job offer with RPGiga right after graduation. My parents encouraged me to take it, and I listened, wanting to make them happy. And for a hot second they were proud of me.”

I hesitate. God I was so young and such an idiot. I still can’t believe that I just walked in there completely blind. It’s been years, but these memories still have the power to shred me from the inside out. I stare out the window at the slow-moving traffic.

Penny reaches over and takes my hand in hers, squeezing her support. How do people know how to do that? Did I miss that day at school? Or is it just another innate understanding I lack? I take the comfort offered and rally my words to share just how stupid I was.

“When I started at RPGiga, I signed a bunch of intake paperwork that I didn’t really read closely. I thought it was just standard,you’re working here, we need your tax formskind of stuff. But mixed in with the forms was a contract that claimed anything I worked on while I was an employee was technically included under their intellectual property rights.”

“Oh no!” Horror dawns on Penny’s face and I know she’s put together the pieces. Her beautiful brain works just that fast.

Where was she when I was signing away my rights to my own brain at twenty-two?

“Yep, I kept working onAstraia, making the decision chains more and more complex, and then I got assigned to work on a project update.Call of Anarchy. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“Uh, yeah. Even I’ve heard ofCall of Anarchy.”

“I was instructed to integrate my beautiful scaffold into the latest and greatest shoot-’em-up clusterfuck. I balked. I said no. They showed me the contract I had signed without reading, and said I could do it or I could walk away. Either way they ownedAstraia. I tried to toe the line, tried to do a good job, but it broke me. So I walked. And they broke my baby into bits and pieces, and I haven’t been able to design anything since. Mr. Anderson was shocked. My parents were appalled. ‘Unprofessional and a disappointment’ were the words they used.”

“Oh Dash! I’m so sorry! That’s horrible. How could they not understand?”

I shrug. I have asked myself the same question a thousand times over, and still have no answers.

“Where does journalism fit in?”

“Video games are the one thing I’m good at. For years I had been running a blog reviewing games, and I needed to pay the bills and get off friends’ couches. So I pitched freelance articles and got picked up by XPTech and here we are. My dad wasn’t thrilled when I told him I was playing video games for my job, but this… This full-time job might have made him happy, but I don’t think it will make me happy. And how twisted is that? Did we just drive around the block?”

“We did. I wanted to give you time to finish your story.” She parks the car in a garage, turns it off, and shifts to face me. “I have things to say. Brace yourself. First of all, you are only responsible for your own happiness. You do not have to do anything in your life to make your parents happy anymore. In case you needed to hear that. Second, you’re incredible, you know that?”

I don’t know how to take that, so I default to defense. “What do you mean? What did I say?”

“No! No sarcasm! You legitimately amaze me. You chased one dream job and had your work stolen from you, so you found another job that let you pursue your passion, and got promoted out of that one. I have no doubt you’ll figure out your next step to getting back on a path you love.”

Her faith in me is humbling. The way her brain so succinctly finds the through line makes me feel seen. Maybe I need to let her see my fears. Maybe she’ll help me understand those too. I let my worry escape its cage and fly out of my mouth, even though it sounds ridiculous to my ears.

“Then why am I balking at this opportunity? Shouldn’t this be a good step? I mean, it’s a lot more money, more security, more benefits…”

“More joy?” she asks pointedly.

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