Stuck with You

PRAISEFORTheLoveHypothesis
“Contemporaryromance’sunicorn:theelusivemarriageofdeeplybrainyanddelightfullyescapist….TheLoveHypothesishaswildcommercialappeal,butthequietersecretisthatthereisaspecificaudience,madeupofalltheOlivesintheworld,whohavedeeply,ardentlywaitedforthisexactbook.”
—NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthorChristinaLauren
“Funny,sexy,andsmart.AliHazelwooddidaterrificjobwithTheLoveHypothesis.”
—NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthorMarianaZapata
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—ElizabethEverett,authorofALady’sFormulaforLove
“Smart,wittydialogueandadiversecastoflikablesecondarycharacters….Arealistic,amusingnovelthatreaderswon’tbeabletoputdown.”
—LibraryJournal(starredreview)
“Withwhip-smartandendearingcharacters,snappyprose,andaquirkytakeonafavoritetrope,Hazelwoodconvincinglynavigatesthefraughtshoalsofacademia….Thissmart,sexycontemporaryshoulddelightawideswathofromancelovers.”
—PublishersWeeklyTitlesbyAliHazelwood
TheLoveHypothesis
LOATHETOLOVEYOU
UnderOneRoof
StuckwithYou
BelowZeroStuckwithYou
AliHazelwood
JOVE
NEWYORKAJOVEBOOK
PublishedbyBerkley
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penguinrandomhouse.com
Copyright?2022byAliHazelwood
ExcerptfromLoveontheBraincopyright?2021byAliHazelwood
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EbookISBN:9780593437827
Joveaudioedition:March2022
Joveebookedition:June2022
Coverillustrationbylilithsaur
AdaptedforebookbyCoraWigen
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
pid_prh_6.0_140138093_c0_r0Contents
Cover
PraiseforTheLoveHypothesis
TitlesbyAliHazelwood
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Epilogue
ExcerptfromLoveontheBrain
AbouttheAuthorForMarie,myfaveElizabethSwannChapter1
Present
Myworldcomestoanendat10:43onaFridaynight,whentheelevatorlurchestoastopbetweentheeighthandseventhfloorofthebuildingthathousestheengineeringfirmwhereIwork.Theceilinglightsflicker.Thengooffcompletely.Then,afterastretchthatlastsaboutfivesecondsbutfeelslikeseveraldecades,comebackwiththeslightlyyellowertingeoftheemergencybulb
Crap.
Funfact:Thisisactuallythesecondtimemyworldcametoanendtonight.Thefirstwaslessthanaminuteago.WhentheelevatorI’mridingstoppedonthethirteenthfloor,andErikNowak,thelastpersonIeverwantedtosee,appearedinallhisblond,massive,Viking-likeglory.Hestudiedmeforwhatfeltliketoolong,tookastepinside,andthenstudiedmesomemorewhileIavidlyinspectedthetipsofmyshoes.
Re-crap.
It’saslightlycomplicatedsituation.IworkinNewYorkCity,andmycompany,GreenFrame,rentsasmallofficeontheeighteenthfloorofaManhattanbuilding.Verysmall.Ithastobeverysmall,becausewe’reababyfirm,stillestablishingourselvesinaprettycutthroatmarket,andwedon’talwaysmakeatonofmoney.Iguessthat’swhathappenswhenyouvaluethingslikesustainability,environmentalprotection,economicviabilityandefficiency,renewabilityratherthandepletion,minimizationofexposuretopotentialhazardssuchastoxicmaterials,and…well,Iwon’tboreyouwiththeWikipediaentryongreenengineering.Sufficeittosay,myboss,Gianna(whocoincidentallyistheonlyotherengineerworkingfull-timeatthefirm),foundedGreenFramewiththeaimofcreatinggreatstructuresthatactuallymakesensewithintheirenvironment,andisdelightfully,crunchilyhard-coreaboutit.Unfortunately,thatdoesn’talwayspayverywell.Orwell.
Oratall.
So,yeah.LikeIsaid,aslightlycomplicatedsituation,especiallywhencomparedwithmoretraditionalengineeringcompaniesthatdon’tfocusasmuchonconservationandpollutioncontrol.LikeProBld.ThegiantfirmwhereErikNowakworks.Theonethattakesupthewholethirteenthfloor.Andthetwelfth.Maybetheeleventh,too?Ilosttrack.
Sowhentheelevatorbegantoslowdownaroundthefourteenthfloor,Ifeltasurgeofapprehension,whichInaivelydiscardedasmereparanoia.Youhavenothingtoworryabout,Sadie,Itoldmyself.ProBldhastonsofoffices.They’realwaysexpanding.Orchestrating“mergers”andeatingupsmallerfirms.LiketheBlob.Theyaretrulythecorrosivealienamoeboidalentityofthebusiness,whichtranslatestohundredsofpeopleworkingforthem,whichinturnmeansthatanyoneoutofthosehundredsofpeoplecouldbecallingtheelevator.Anyone.There’snowayit’sErikNowak.
Yeah.No.
ItwasErikNowak,allright.Withhismassive,colossalpresence.ErikNowak,whospenttheentiretyofourfive-floorridestaringatmewiththoseruthless,icyblueeyesofhis.ErikNowak,who’scurrentlylookingupattheemergencylightwithaslightfrown.
“Thepower’sout,”hesays,anobviousstatement,withthatstupidlydeepvoiceofhis.Ithasn’tchangedonewhitsincethelasttimewetalked.NorsincethatstringofmessagesheleftonmyphonebeforeIblockedhisnumber.TheonesthatIneverbotheredansweringbutalsocouldn’tquitebringmyselftodelete.TheonesIcouldnotstopmyselffromlisteningto,overandover.
Andover.
It’sstillastupidvoice.Stupidandinsidious,richandpreciseandclippedandlow,withacousticpropertiesallitsown.“ImovedherefromDenmarkwhenIwasfourteen,”hetoldmeatdinnerwhenIaskedhimabouthisaccent,slight,hardtodetect,butdefinitelythere.“Myyoungerbrothersgotridofit,butInevermanaged.”Hisfacewasassternasusual,butIcouldseehismouthsoften,aslightuptickonthecornerthatfeltlikeasmile.“Asyoucanimagine,therewaslotsofteasinggrowingup.”
Afterthenightwespenttogether,afterallthathappenedbetweenus,IfeltasifIcouldn’tgetthewayhepronouncedwordsoutofmyhead.FordaysIconstantlysquirmed,turningaroundbecauseIthoughtI’dheardhimsomewhereinmyproximity.Thoughtthatmaybehewasnearby,eventhoughIwasjoggingatthepark,aloneintheoffice,inlineatthegrocerystore.Itjuststucktome,coatedtheshellofmyearsandtheinsideofmy—
“Sadie?”Erik’sinfamousvoicecutsthroughmythoughts.Ithasthattone,theoneofsomeonewho’srepeatinghimself,andmaybenotjustforthefirsttime.“Doesit?”
“Does…what?”Iglanceup,findinghimnexttothecontrolpanel.Inthestarkshadowsoftheemergencylighthe’sstillso…God.Lookingathishandsomefaceisamistake.Heisamistake.“I’msorry,I…Whatdidyousay?”
“Doesyourphonework?”heasksagain,patient.Kind.
Whyishesokind?Hewasneversupposedtobekind.Afterwhathappenedbetweenus,Idecidedtotorturemyselfbyaskingaroundabouthim,andthewordkindnevercameup.Notonce.OneofNewYork’stopengineers,peoplewouldoftensay.Knownforbeingasgoodathisjobasheissurly.No-nonsense,aloof,standoffish.Thoughhewasneveranyofthesethingswithme.Untilhewas,ofcourse.
“Um.”Ifishmyphoneoutofthebackpocketofmyblacktailoredpantsandpressthehomebutton.“Noservice.ButthisisaFaradaycage,”Ithinkoutloud,“andtheelevatorshaftissteel.NoRFsignalisgoingtobeabletomakealoopand…”InoticethewayErikisstaringatmeandabruptlyshutup.Right.He’sanengineer,too.Healreadyknowsallofthis.Iclearmythroat.“Nosignal,no.”
Eriknods.“Wi-Fishouldwork,butitdoesn’t.Somaybethisis—”
“—abuilding-widepoweroutage?”
“Maybeeventhewholeblock.”
Shit.
Shit,shit,shit.Shit.
Erikseemstobereadingmymind,becausehestudiesmeforamomentandsaysreassuringly,“Itmightbeforthebest.Someoneisboundtochecktheelevatorsiftheyknowthatthepower’sgone.”Hepausesbeforeadding,“Althoughitmighttakeawhile.”Painfullyhonest.Asusual.
“Howlong?”
Heshrugs.“Afewhours?”
Afewwhat?Afewhours?Inanelevatorthatissmallerthanmyalready-minusculebathroom?WithErikNowak,thebroodiestofScandinavianmountains?ErikNowak,themanwhoI…
No.Noway.
“Theremustbesomethingwecando,”Isay,tryingtosoundcollected.IswearI’mnotpanicking.Nomorethanalot.
“NothingthatIcanthinkof.”
“But…whatdowedonow,then?”Iask,hatinghowwhinymyvoiceis.
Erikletshismessengerbagdroptothefloorwithathump.Heleansagainstthewalloppositemine,whichshouldtheoreticallygivemesomeroomtobreathe,eventhoughforsomephysics-defyingreasonhestillfeelstooclose.Iwatchhimslidehisphoneinthefrontpocketofhisjeansandcrosshisarmsonhischest.Hiseyesarecold,unreadable,butthereisafaintgleaminthemthathasashiverrunningdownmyspine.
“Now,”hesays,gazelockedwithmine,“wewait.”
It’s10:45onaFridaynight.Andforthethirdtimeinlessthantenminutes,myworldcrashestoanend.Chapter2
Threeweeksago
Thereareworsethingsintheworld.
Thereare,withoutasingledoubt,giantheapsofworsethingsintheworld.Wetsocks.PMS.TheStarWarsprequels.Oatmealraisincookiesthatmasqueradeaschocolatechip,slowWi-Fi,climatechangeandincomeinequality,dandruff,traffic,thefinaleofGameofThrones,tarantulas,food-scentedsoap,peoplewhohatesoccer,daylightsavingtime(whenitmovesonehourahead,notbehind),toxicmasculinity,theunjustlyshortlifespanofguineapigs—allofthese,justtonameasmallhandful,aretrulyterrible,dreadful,horrificthings.Becausesuchisthewayoftheuniverse:it’sfullofbad,sad,upsetting,unfair,enragingcircumstances,andIshouldknowbetterthantopoutlikeaten-year-oldwho’shalfaninchtooshortfortherollercoasterwhenFayetellsmefrombehindthecounterofhersmallcoffeeshop:
“Sorry,honey,we’realloutofcroissants.”
Tobeclear:Idon’tevenwantacroissant.WhichIknowsoundsweird(everybodyshouldalwayswantacroissant;it’salawofphysics,liketheFermiparadoxorEinstein’sfieldequation),butthetruthis,Iwouldgladlydowithoutthisspecificcroissant—ifthiswerearegularTuesdaymorning.
Unfortunately,todayispitchday.WhichmeansthatI’mmeetingwithpotentialfutureGreenFrameclients.Italktothem,tellthemthehundredsoflittlethingsIcandotohelpthemmanagelarge-scalesustainablebuildingprojects,andhopethey’lldecidetohireus.It’swhatI’vebeendoingforabouteightmonths,eversinceIfinishedmyPh.D.:Itrytobringinnewclients;Itrytokeeptheoneswealreadyhave;ItrytoeaseGianna’sworkload,sinceshejusthadherfirstbaby—who,incidentally,isthreebabies.Apparently,tripletsdohappen.Andthey’readorable,buttheyalsowakeoneanotherupinthemiddleofthenightinanever-endingspiralofsleeplessnessandexhaustion.Whowouldhavethought?Butbacktotheclients:GreenFramehasbeenventuringdangerouslyclosetonot-quite-in-the-blackterritory,andtoday’spitchmeetingiscriticaltokeeptheredatbay.
Enterthecroissants.AndthatotherlittleproblemIhappentohave:Iamalittlesuperstitious.Justatad.Justalittlestitious.Ihavedevelopedacomplexsystemofritualsandapotropaicgesturesthatneedtobeperformedtoensurethatmypitchmeetingswillgoasplanned.Ihavemoreyearsofscienceeducationthananyoneeverneeded,andshouldprobablyknowbetterthantobelievethatthecolorofmysocksisinanywaypredictiveofmyprofessionalsuccess.ButdoI?
Nope.
Backincollege,itwasexactlythreebraidsinmyhairforeverysinglesoccergame(plustwocoatsofL’Oréalmascaraifwewereplayingaway)andIhadtolistento“DancingQueen”and“MyImmortal”beforeeachandeveryfinal—strictlyinthatorder.ThankGodImanagedtograduateontime,becausetheemotionalwhiplashwasstartingtogrindatme.
NotthatthisissueofmineissomethingIliketoadmitwidely.MostlyjusttoMaraandHannah,mysupposedbestfriends.WemetduringthefirstyearofourPh.D.’sandhavebeenlumberingtogetherthroughthetribulationsofSTEMacademiaeversince.Forthemostpart,havingtheminmylifehasbeenmyonetruejoy,buttherehavebeenless-than-outstandingaspectsofit.Forinstance,thefactthatduringthefouryearswelivedtogethertheyoscillatedbetweenstaginganti-superstitioninterventionsandprankingmebyinvitingstrayblackcatsintoourapartmentoneveryFridaythe13th.(Weevenendedupadoptingoneforafewmonths,JimBob,tillwenoticedthatthekittyintheMissingflyersallovertheneighborhoodsuspiciouslyresembledhim;JimBobwas,infact,Mrs.Fluffpuff,andwereturnedherquietly,inthemiddleofthenight.She’sbeendearlymissedeversince.)Anyway,yes:Ihavehorrible,amazing,superstition-unsupportiveBFFs.Butwedon’tlivetogetheranymore.Wedon’tevenliveinthesamecity:MaraisinD.C.attheEPA,andHannahhasbeenworkingforNASAandcommutingbetweenTexasandNorway.Icanthrowsaltovermyshoulderandfranticallylookaroundforwoodtoknockontomyheart’scontent.
Why,whyamIlikethis?Ihavenoclue.Let’sjustblamemyaggressivelyItalianmother.
ButbacktothisTuesdaymorning:thecruxofmyproblem,yousee,isthatbackinthewinter,beforemymostsuccessfulclientpitchtodate,Igotabitpeckish.SoIpoppedintoFaye’shole-in-the-wallcoffeeshop,andinsteadofjustaskingfortheusual—punishinglyblackcoffee:nosugar,nocream,justthebitteroblivionofdarkness—Itackedacroissantontomyorder.Itwasjustasgoodasthecoffee(i.e.,simultaneouslystaleandundercooked;tastehoveringbetweenstarchandsalmonella)and,tomyeternaldismay,waspromptlyfollowedbymebaggingthemostlucrativecontractGreenFramehadseeninitsyounghistory.
Giannawasoverthemoon.AndsowasI,untilmyhalf-Italianbrainstartedformingamillionlittleconnectionsbetweenthecroissantfromhellandmybigprofessionalwin.Youknowwherethisisgoing:yes,InowdesperatelyfeelthatImusteatoneofFaye’scroissantsbeforeeverysinglepitchmeeting,otherwisetheunthinkablewillhappen.Andno,Ihavenoideahowtoreacttoherkindbutdefinitive,“Sorry,honey,we’realloutofcroissants.”
DidIsaythatthereareworsethingsintheworld?Ilied.Thisisadisaster.Mycareerisover.Arethosesirensinthedistance?
“Isee.”Ibiteintomylowerlip,orderittoun-poutitself,andforcemyselftosmile.Afterall,it’snotFaye’sfaultifmymomdrilledintomybabyneuronsthatwalkingunderthestairsisasurefirewaytoalifetimeofdespair.Igototherapyforthat.OrIwill.Atsomepoint.“Areyou,um,makingmore?”
Shelooksatthedisplaycase.“I’vegotmuffinsleft.Blueberry.Lemonglaze.”
Oh.Thatactuallysoundsgood.But.“Nocroissants,though?”
“AndIcanmakeyouabagel.Cinnamon?Blueberry?Plain?”
“Isthatanoonthecroissants?”
Fayecocksherheadwithapleasedexpression.“Youreallylikemycroissants,don’tyou?”
DoI?“They’reso,um.”Iclutchthestrapofmyfake-leathermessengerbag.“Unique.”
“Well,unfortunatelyIjustgavethelastonetoErikoverthere.”Fayepointstoherleft,towardtheveryendofthecounter,butIbarelyglanceatErik-over-there—tallman,broadshoulders,wearssuit,boring—toobusycursingmyowntiming.IshouldnothavespenttwentyminutesticklingthemajesticbeautyofOzzy’slittleguineapigtush.Iamnowrightfullypayingformymistakes,andFayeisgivingmeanassessingstare.“I’lltoastyouabagel.You’retooskinnytoskipbreakfast.Eatmoreandyoumightgrowalittletaller,too.”
IdoubtI’llmanagetofinallypushpastfivefeetattheripeoldageoftwenty-seven,butwho’stosay.“Justtorecap,”Isay,inonelastpleading,whinyattemptatsalvagingmyprofessionalfuture,“you’renotmakingmorecroissantstoday?”
Faye’seyesnarrow.“Honey,youmightlikemycroissantsalittletoomuch—”
“Here.”
Thevoice—notFaye’s—isdeepandpitchedlow,comingfromsomewhereabovemyhead.ButIbarelypayitanyattentionbecauseI’mtoobusystaringatthecroissantthathasmiraculouslyappearedinfrontofmyeyes.It’sstillwhole,setontopofanapkin,afewstrayflakesofdoughslowlycrumblingoffitstop.I’vehadFaye’scroissantsbefore,andIknowthatwhattheylackintastetheymakeupforinsize.Theyarevery,verylarge.
Evenwhendeliveredbyavery,verylargehand.
Iblinkatitforseveralseconds,wonderingifthisisasuperstition-inducedmirage.ThenIslowlyturnaroundtolookatthemanwhodepositedthecroissantonthecounter.
He’salreadygone.Halfoutofthedoor,andallIgetisabriefimpressionofbroadshouldersandlighthair.
“What—?”IblinkatFaye,pointingattheman.“What…?”
“IguessErikdecidedyoushouldhavethelastcroissant.”
“Why?”
Sheshrugs.“Wouldn’tlookagiftcroissantinthemouthifIwereyou.”
Giftcroissant.
Ishrugmyselfoutofmystupor,tossafive-dollarbillinthetipjar,andrunoutofthecafé.“Hey!”Icall.Themanisabouttwentystepsaheadofme.Well,twentystepswithmytinylegs.Mightbelessthanfivewithhisown.“Hey,couldyouwaita…?”
Hedoesn’tstop,soIclutchmycroissantandhurryafterhim.IchannelmybestFormerSoccerScholarshipKidselfanddodgealadywalkingherdog,thenherdog,thentwoteenagersmakingoutonthesidewalk.Icatchuprightaroundthecorner,whenIcometoahaltinfrontofhim.
“Hey.”Igrinup.Andupandupandup.He’stallerthanIcalculated.AndI’mmorewindedthanI’dlike.Ineedtoworkoutmore.“Thankyousomuch!Youreallydidn’thaveto…”Ifallsilent.Fornorealreasonotherthanbecauseofhowstrikinghelooks.Heisjustso…
Scandinavian,maybe.Viking-like.Norse.LikehisancestorsfrolickedbelowtheauroraborealisontheirwaytofundingIkea.Heisasbigasayeti,withclearblueeyesandshort,pale-blondhair,andIwouldbetmygiftcroissantthathisnamecontainsoneofthosecoolNordicletters.Theaandtheesmushedtogether;thatweirdoslashedthroughthemiddle;thebigbthat’sactuallytwos’sstackedontopofeachother.SomethingthatrequiresalotofHTMLknowledgetobetyped.
Ittakesmebysurprise,that’sall,andforamomentI’mnotsurewhattosayandjuststareup.Thestrongjaw.Thedeep-seteyes.Thewaytheangularpartsofhisfacecometogetherintosomethingvery,veryhandsome.
ThenIrealizethathe’sstaringback,andinstantlybecomeself-conscious.Iknowexactlywhathe’sseeing:thebluebutton-downItuckedintomychinos;thebangsIreallyneedtotrim;thebrown,shoulder-lengthhairIalsoneedtotrim;andthen,ofcourse,thecroissant.
Thecroissant!“Thankyousomuch!”Ismile.“Ididn’tmeantostealyourfood.”
Noreply.
“Icouldpayyouback.”
Stillnoreply.JustthatNorthGermanic,severestare.
“OrIcouldbuyyouamuffin.Orabagel.Ireallydidn’tmeantointerferewithyourbreakfast.”
Numberofreplies:zero.Intensityofstare:manymillions.DoesheevenunderstandwhatI’m—Oh.
Ooooh
“ThankYou,”Isay,very,veryslowly,likewhenmymom’ssideofthefamily,theonethatneverimmigratedtotheU.S.,attemptstospeakItalianwithme.“For”—Iliftthecroissantinfrontofmyface—“this.Thank”—IpointattheViking—“you.Youarevery”—Itiltmyheadandscrunchmynosehappily—“nice.”Hestaresevenlonger,pensive.Idon’tthinkhegotit.“Youdon’tunderstand,doyou?”Imurmurtomyselfdejectedly.“Well,thankyouagain.Youreallydidmeasolidthere.”Iliftthecroissantonelasttime,likeI’mtoastinghim.ThenIturnaroundandbegintowalkaway.
“You’rewelcome.Althoughyou’llfindthatthecroissantleavesmuchtobedesired.”
Iwhirlbacktohim.BlondietheVikingislookingatmewithanindecipherableexpression.“D-didyoujustspeak?”
“Idid.”
“InEnglish?”
“Ibelieveso,yes.”
Ifeelmysoulcrawloutsidemybodytoastralprojectitselfintotheburningflamesofhelloutofpure,sheerembarrassment.“You…youweren’tsayinganything.Before.”
Heshrugs.Hiseyesarecalmandserious.ThespanofhisshoulderscouldeasilymoonlightasaplateauinEurasia.“Youdidn’taskaquestion.”HisgrammarisbetterthanmineandIamwitheringinside.
“Ithought…Itseemed…I…”Iclosemyeyes,rememberingthewayImimickedthewordniceforhim.IthinkIwanttodie.Iwantthistobeover.Yes,mytimehascome.“Iamverygrateful.”
“Youprobablywon’tbe,onceyoutrythecroissant.”
“No,I…”Iwince.“Iknowit’snotgood.”
“Youdo?”Hecrosseshisarmsonhischestandgivesmeacuriouslook.He’swearingasuit,like99percentofthemenwhoworkonthisblock.ExceptthathelooksunlikeanyothermanI’veeverseen.HelookslikeacorporateversionofThor.LikePlatinumRagnarok.Iwishhe’dsmileatme,insteadofjustobservingme.I’dfeellessintimidated.“Couldhavefooledme.”
“I—Thethingis,Idon’treallywanttoeatit.Ijustneeditfora…forathing.”
Hiseyebrowlifts.“Athing?”
“It’salongstory.”Iscratchmynose.“Kindofembarrassing,actually.”
“Isee.”Hepresseshislipstogetherandnodsthoughtfully.“MoreorlessembarrassingthanyouassumingIdon’tspeakEnglish?”
TheswiftandviolentdeathIwastalkingaboutearlier?Ineeditnow.“Iamso,sosorryaboutthat.Ireallydidn’t—”
“Watchout.”
Ilookaroundtoseewhathemeansrightassomeguyalmostrunsmeoverwithhisskateboard.It’saclosecall:betweenthepreciouscroissantIclearlyfeelambivalentaboutandmybag,Inearlylosemybalance,andthat’swhereCorporateThorintervenes.HemoveswayquickerthananyonehissizeshouldbeabletoandslidesbetweenmeandSkateboardGuy,straighteningmewithahandaroundmybiceps.
Iglanceupathim,nearlyoutofbreath.He’sastoweringasaGreenlandicmountainrange,pressingmeabitagainstthewindowofthecornerbarbershop,andIthinkhe’ssavedmylife.Myprofessionallife,ofcourse.Andnowalsomylifelife.
Ohshit.“Whatevenisthismorning?”Imuttertonoone.
“Youokay?”
“Yeah.Imean,I’mclearlyonadownwardspiralofstruggleandmortification,but…”
Hekeepshiseyesandtheanglesofhishandsome,aggressive,unusualfaceonme.Hisexpressionisgrave,unsmiling,butforafractionofasecondathoughtrunsthroughmyhead.
He’samused.Hefindsmefunny.
It’safleetingimpression.Itlingersabriefmomentanddissolvestheinstantheletsgoofmybiceps.ButIdon’tthinkIimaginedit.I’malmostsureIdidn’t,becauseofwhathappensnext.
“Ithink,”hesays,hisvoicemoredeliciousthanFaye’scroissantscouldeverhopetobe,“thatI’dliketohearthatlong,embarrassingstoryofyours.”Chapter3
Present
I’malmostpositivethattheelevatorisshrinking.
Nothingdramatic,really.ButIestimatethateveryminutewespendinhere,thecargetsacoupleofmillimeterssmaller.I’vetuckedmyselfintoacorner,armsaroundmylegsandforeheadonmyknees.LastIglancedup,Erikwasintheoppositecorner,lookingfairlyrelaxed.Mile-longlegsstretchedoutinfrontofhim,sequoia-widebicepscrossedonhischest.
And,ofcourse,thewallsareloomingoverme.Pushinguscloserandclosertogether.Ishiverandcursepoweroutages.Thewalls.Erik.
Myself.
“Areyoucold?”heasks.
Iliftmyhead.I’mwearingmyusualworkoutfitofchinosandaniceblouse.Solid,neutralcolors.Professionalenoughtobetakenseriously;modestenoughtoconvincethedudesImeetthroughworkthatmypresenceatanygivenmeetingistoassesstheefficacyofthebiofiltrationsystemdesignandnottoprovidethemwith“somethingcutetolookat.”Beingawomaninengineeringcanbetonsandtonsoffun.
Erik,though…Eriklooksabitdifferent.He’swearingjeansandadark,softsweaterthatstretchesaroundhischest,anditseemsunusual,giventhatinthepastI’veonlyeverseenhiminasuit.Thenagain,I’veonlyeverseenEriktwicebefore,technicallyonthesameday.
(Thatis,ifonedoesn’tcountthetimesinthepastmonththatIglimpsedhimaroundthebuildingandpromptlyturnedawaytochangedirection.WhichIverymuchdon’t.)
Still,Icannothelpbutwonderifthereasonhelooksuncharacteristicallyinformalisthatearliertodayhewasworkingon-site.Supervising.Consulting.MaybehewascalledintogiverecommendationsontheMiltonproject,and…Yeah.Notgoingthere.
Istraightenandsquaremyshoulders.MyresentmentforErikNowak,thefeelingI’vebeencradlinginmypocketlikealittlemouseforthepastthreeweeks,theoneI’vebeenfeedingbileandscraps,stirsawake.Andhonestly,itfeelsnice.Familiar.ItremindsmethatErikdoesn’treallycarewhetherI’mcold.Ibethehasulteriormotivesforasking.Maybehewantstosellmyorgans.Orhe’splanningonestablishingapeecorneronmyrottingcorpse.
“I’mfine,”Isay.
“Yousure?Icangiveyoumysweater.”
Ibrieflypicturehimtakingitoffandhandingittome.I’veseenhimdoitbeforeinfleshandblood,whichmeansthatIwouldn’tevenneedtogetcreative.Irememberwellthewayhegrabbedthecollarandpulleditupoverhishead,hismusclesflexingandcontracting,thesuddenexpanseofpaleflesh.
He’dholdtheshirtouttome,andit’dstillbewarm.Maybeevensmelllikehisskin,orlikehissheets.
Wow.Wow,wow,wow.Whatwasthat?I’vebeeninthiselevatorforapproximatelynineminutesandmybrainisalreadydevelopingSwisscheese–styleholes.Holdingonstrong,SadieGranthamCongratsonyouremotionalfortitude.Waytobehornyforatrulyhorribleperson.
“Noneed,”Isay,shakingmyheadalittletooeagerly.“Areyousureweshouldjustwait?”Iask.“Just—donothingandwait?”
Henodscalmly,clearlybroadcastingthatit’snothardforhimtobeagoodsportaboutthissituation,thattheideaofbeingstuckwithmedoesn’tbotherhimonebit,andthat,unlikesomeofus,he’snottemptedtoburyhisfaceinhishandsandcry.Show-off.
“Whatifwescream?”Iask.
“Scream?”
“Yes—whatifwescream?Thisisagiantbuilding.Someoneisboundtohearus,right?”
“AtelevenonaFridaynight?”Hisreplyismuchkinderthanmyidioticquestiondeserves.“Whiletheelevatorisstuckbetweenfloors?Thiselevator?”
Ilookawaybecausehe’sright.Frustratinglyright.Thiscursedelevatorwe’reonisinthedeepestpartofthebuilding,nexttoahallwaynoonewouldwalkbyatnight.Atruetragedy,overshadowedonlybythefactthatitalsohasthenarrowestcarI’veeverseen.Guestsandclientsrarelyuseit,whichiswhyithastheadvantageofbeingquicker—andthedisadvantageofbeingsmall.
Asin:minuscule.Iknewitwastiny,butthere’snothinglikerealizingthatthismightbetheplacewhereIdietoregisterhowtiny.IfIstretchmyarms,I’llbumpintoErik.IfIstretchmylegs,I’llbumpintoErik.IfIthrasharoundonthefloorlikeIsodesperatelywantto,I’llalsobumpintoErik.Whataquandary.
“Areyouokay?”heaskssoftly.Hiseyeslooksoft,too.AballofsomethingIcannotquitedefineknotsinmychest.
“Yeah.”
“Here.”Herummagesinhisbagforamoment.Thenholdssomethingouttome.“Havesomewater.”
Idon’tknowwhyIaccepthis2019NYCAmateurSoccerLeaguewaterbottle.Idon’tknowwhymyfingersbrushagainsthisforthebriefestofmoments.AndIdon’tknowwhy,asIdrinksmallsips,hestudiesmewithsomethingthatresemblesconcern.
He’snotreallyconcerned,becauseErikNowakisjustnotthatkindofguy.Thekindofguyheactuallyis?Abackstabber.Aliar.AsentienthumanMcMansionwhovaluesonlyhisownprofessionalsuccess.AnF.C.Copenhagensupporter—which,itpleasesmetosay,isamediocresoccerteamatbest.Yes,IsaidwhatIsaid.
“Better?”
“Itoldyou,I’mfine.I’mtotallygreat.”
“Youlookpale.”Hisheadtilts,asiftoobservemebetter.“Areyouclaustrophobic?”
“No.Idon’tthinkso.”AmI,though?Itwouldexplainalot.Thewallsclosingin.Thisgreasy,barfyfeelinginmystomach.ThewayI’dlovetoclawatthisplacebecauseit’ssosmallandEriktakesupsomuchroominsidemyheadandIcansmellhissoapandIjustwanttoforgeteverythingabouthimandmaybeIthoughtIhadbutnowhe’shereandit’sallcomingbackandI—
“Sadie.”Erikislookingatmelikeheknowsexactlywhatkindofspiraliscurrentlyunfoldinginmybrain.“Takeadeepbreath.”
“Iknow.Iam.Takingdeepbreaths,thatis.”OrmaybeIwasn’t.Becausenow,withsomeairinmylungs,mybrainisgettingatadquieter.
“Isityourfirsttime?”
Iblinkathim.“Breathing?”
Hesmilesfaintly.Likehedoesn’tmindthatwe’regoingtodieinhere.“Beingstuckinanelevator.”
“Oh.Yes.”Ithinkaboutitforamoment.“Wait,isitnotyours?”
“Third.”
“Third?”
Henods.
“Areyou…cursed,orsomething?”
“Iseeyoursuperstitionsaregoingstrong,”hesays,clearlyteasing,andtheideathathethinksheknowsme,thefactthataftereverythingthathappenedhe’dfeelallowedtojokewithme…
Istiffen.
Andjudgingbyhisexpression,Eriknotices.“Sadie—”
“I’mfine,”Iinterrupthim.“Ipromise.Butcouldwepleasejustbequiet?Foralittlebit?”Ihatehowweakmyvoicesounds.
Isetdownthewaterbottleandhidemyfacebackinmyknees.Ilistentohissharpexhale,tothetense,uncomfortablesilencethatfallsbetweenus,andtrynottothinkaboutthelasttimeIwaswithhim.
WhenIneverwantedtostoptalking,notevenforasecond.Chapter4
Threeweeksago
Ihavemypitchmeetinginonehour,alittlemountainofgigabytesoffilestoreview,andI’mprettysurethatmyinternsarecurrentlyeighteenfloorsabove,tryingtodecidewhetherIabandonedthemtojoinacultorhavebeenabductedbyanurbanSasquatch.ButIcannothelpstaringatCorporateThor’smouthashetellsme,matter-of-factly:
“Moneylaunderingfront.”
“Noway!”
Heshrugs.Wearesittingrightnexttoeachotheronabenchinapocketparkthat,asitturnsout,isjustbehindmybuilding.Thesunisshining,thebirdsarechirping,I’vespottedatleastthreebutterflies,andyetIremainvaguelyintimidatedbyhissize.Andhischeekbones.“It’stheonlypossibleexplanation.”
Ibitemylip,tryingtothinkitthrough.“Couldn’tFayejustbe,youknow…areallybadbaker?”
“Shecertainlyis.Hercoffeeisalsoquestionable.”
“Itisveryreminiscentofbrakefluid,”Iconcede.
“Ialwaysthoughtofplasmacoolant.Pointis,shewasheretenyearsago,whenIstartedworkinginthatbuilding,andshe’llbeherelongafteryouandIaregone.Despitethat.”HepointsatthecroissantI’mstillclutching.Honestly,Ishouldjustbitethebulletandchokeitdown.Myhandsweatisnotgoingtomakeitanytastier.“Thereisnovalidentrepreneurialreasonforhertostillbeinbusiness.”
Inodthoughtfully.Hemighthaveapoint.“Asidefrommoneylaunderingoperationsandtiestoorganizedcrime?”
“Precisely.”Okay,hisgrammarmightbeperfect,butI’mstartingtopickupavagueforeignaccent.Iwanttoaskamillionandtenquestionsaboutit—awishindirectcompetitionwithmydesiretonotcomeacrossasaweirdo.Aloftygoal,asIam,infact,aweirdo.
“Iseeyourtheory.But.Hearmeout.”Iblowmybangsoutofmyeyes.Erik’sexpressiondoesn’tmoveananometer,butIknowhe’slistening.Thereissomethingabouthim,likehisattentionissomethingphysicallytangible,likehe’sgoodatseeingandhearingandknowing.“So,rememberhowItalkedaboutmy…problem?”
“Themagical-thinkingone?Whereyoubelievethatyourprofessionalsuccessrelatestotheitemsyouateforbreakfast?”
IcannotbelieveIadmittedtoit.God,healreadyknowsI’maweirdo.Though,tohiscredit,heseemstobetakingitinstride.“Okay,listen,IknowitsoundslikeI’mfoolishlyclutchingtheatavisticremnantsofancienttimes.”
“Sounds?”Hiseyebrowlifts.
Imightbeflushing.“Iliketothinkofitas…moreofawaytobindmyselfandcelebratethetraditionsofmyprevioussuccesses,youknow?Andlessasestablishinganempiricalcausalconnectionbetweenthecolorofmyunderwearandfutureevents.”
“Isee.”Thecornerofhismouthtwitchesupward.Justbarely,though—stillnotasmile.Maybehe’snotcapable.Maybehehasadebilitatingmedicalcondition.Smilopathy:nowwithitsveryownICD-10code.“So,what’stheluckycolor?”
“What?”
“Ofunderwear.”
“Oh.Um…lavender.”
Heseemsbrieflystumped.“Purple?”
“Kindof,yeah.”Iforgotthatmostmencan’tnamemorethanfivecolors.“Alittlelighter.Betweenpurpleandpink.Pastel-like.”
Henodsslowly,likehe’stryingtopictureit.“Cute,”hesays,andhistoneisassimpleandstraightforwardasit’sbeeninthelastfewminutes.Thereisabsolutelynocreepylasciviousness,asthoughhe’scomplimentingaflowerorapuppy.Myheartskipsabeatnonetheless.
Wouldhe…?Ifhesawmewearingmy…wouldhestillthinkthat…?
OhmyGod.Whatiswrongwithme?Thispoormanjustgavemehiscroissant
“Anyway,”Ihastentoadd,“maybethere’realotofpeoplebuyinggoodluckcroissants,becauseI’mnotaloneinmy…magicalthinking—nicewaytoputit,bytheway.Forexample,myfriendHannahworksatNASA,andshesaysthattheengineerstherehavehadwholecomplexroutinesinvolvingPlanterspeanutsandmissionlaunchesforthepast,like,fiftyyears.AndI’manengineer.Basically,I’mprofessionallyrequiredto—”
“You’reanengineer?”Hiseyeswideninsurprise.
Myheartsinkswithdisappointment.OhGod.He’soneofthose.Ican’tbelievehe’soneofthose.
Iscowlandstandfromthebench,lookingdownathimwithafrown.“FYI,intheU.S.,fifteenpercentoftheengineeringworkforceismadeupofwomen.Andthatnumberhasbeensteadilyincreasing,sothereisnoneedtobesoshockedthat—”
“I’mnot.”
Myfrowndeepens.“Yousurelookedlike—”
“I’manengineermyself,anditseemedlikeacoincidenceofsorts.”Hismouthtwitchesagain.“Ithoughtyourmagicalthinkingmightbetickled.”
“Oh.”Mycheeksburn.“Oh.”Wow.AmItheAsshole,Reddit?Why,youkindofare,Sadie.“Sorry,Ididn’tmeantoimply—”
“Wheredidyoustudy?”heasks,unruffled,pullingatmywristtillIsitagain.IendupalittleclosertohimthanIwasbefore,butit’sfine.It’sokay.Siri,howmanytimescanIutterlyhumiliatemyselfinthespanofthirtyminutes?Infinite,yousay?Thankyou,that’swhatIfigured.
“Um,Caltech.IfinishedmyPh.D.lastyear.You?”
“NYU.Gotmymaster’s…ten,elevenyearsago?”
Westareateachother,mecalculatinghisage,him…Idon’tknow.Maybehe’scalculating,too.Hemustbesixorsevenyearsolderthanme.Notthatit’sinanywayrelevant.We’rejustchatting.We’regoingourseparatewaysintwelveseconds.
“Wheredoyouwork?”heasks.
“GreenFrame.You?”
“ProBld.”
Iscrunchmynose,instantlyrecognizingthename—fromboththeplaquesinthelobbyofmyofficebuildingandtheNewYorkengineeringgrapevine.Therearelotsoffirmsinthisarea,andheworksatmyleastfavorite.Thebigjellyfishthatkeepsexpandingbyeatingthesmallerjellyfish.Notthatthey’reterrible—they’refine.Butthey’reoldschoolanddon’tfocusonsustainabilitynearlyasmuchaswedo.Buttheydohaveasolidrep,andsomeofourpotentialclientsevenchoosethemoverusbecauseofthat.Which:bleh.
“DidyoujustmakearepulsedfacewhenImentionedmycompany?”
“No.No!Imean,yeah.Alittle.ButIdidn’tmeanitinanoffensiveway.Theyjustdon’tseemtoadoptawhole-systemsapproachtoproblem-solvingwhendealingwithenvironmentalchallenges…”Hiseyesshine.Isheteasingme?DoesCorporateThortease?“Imean,Iamnowovertwentyminuteslateforwork.Realistically,I’llprobablybefiredandendupbeggingyouguysforajob.”
Henods,lipspressedtogether.“Good.Ihaveaninwiththepartners.”
“Isthatso?”
“I’msurethey’dlovetohaveyouonboard.Todevelopawhole-systemsapproachtoproblem-solvingwhendealingwithenvironmentalchallenges.”Istickoutmytongue,whichheignores.“WhatnameshouldIgivewhenIrecommendyou?”
“Oh.SadieGrantham.”Iholdoutmynon-croissanthand.Helooksatitforalongmoment,andIamsuddenly,inexplicably,tsunaminglyafraid.OhmyGod.Whatifhewon’ttakeit?
Yeah,Sadie?Awise,mean,pragmaticvoicewhispersinmyear.Whatifastrangerwon’ttakeyourhand?Howwillyoudealwiththezero-point-zeroimpactit’llhaveonyourlife?Butthevoiceismoot,becausehedoestakeit,andmyheartgallopsathownicehisskinfeels,solidandalittlerough.Hishandswallowsmyfingers,warmingmyfleshandthecheap,cuteringsIputonthismorning.
“Nicetomeetyou,Dr.Grantham.”Mybreathhitches.Myheartmelts.I’vehadmyPh.D.forlessthanayear,soIstillrelishbeingcalleddoctor.Especiallybecausenooneeverdoes.“ErikNowak.”
Well.NooneeverdoesexceptforErikNowak.
ErikNowak.“CanIaskyousomethingkindofinappropriate?”
Heshakeshishead,slowly,gravely.“Unfortunately,Iamnotwearingpurpleunderwear.”
Ilaugh.“No,it’s…whenyouwriteyourlastname,aretherecool,fancylettersinit?”Iblurtthequestionoutandinstantlyregretit.I’mnotevensurewhatI’masking.I’lljustrollwithit,Iguess?
“Ithasann.Andaw.Aretheyconsideredfancy?”
Notreally.Prettyboring.“Sure.”
Henods.“Whataboutthek?It’smyfavoriteletter.”
“Er,yeah.That’sfancy,too.”Stillboring.
“Butsurelynotthea?”
“Uh,well,Iguesstheais…”
Hismouthistwitching.Again.He’steasingme.Again.Ihatehim.
“Damnyou,”Isaywithoutheat.
He’salmostsmiling.“Noumlauts.Nodiacritics.NoM?ller.OrKi?rskou.OrAdelsk?ld.ThoughIdidgotoschoolwiththem.”Inod,vaguelydisappointed.Tillheasks:“Disappointed?”andthenIcan’thelphidingbehindmycroissantandlaughing.WhenI’mdonehe’sdefinitelysmiling,andhesays,“Youshouldreallyeatthat.Oryou’llloseyourclientandNASA’snextrocketwillexplode.”
“Right,yes.”Itearapieceaway.Holditouttohim.“Wouldyoulikeabite?Idon’tmindsharing.”
“Really?Youdon’tmindsharingmyownfamouslydisgustingcroissantwithme?”
“WhatcanIsay?”Igrin.“I’mageneroussoul.”
Heshakeshishead.Andthenadds,asthoughitjustoccurredtohim,“IknowareallygoodFrenchbistro.”
Myentirebodyperksup.“Oh?”
“Theyhaveabakery,too.”
Mybodyperksupandtingles.“Yeah?”
“Theymakeexcellentcroissants.Igothereoften.”
Thesunisstillshining,thebirdsarestillchirping,I’venowspottedfivebutterflies,and…thenoiseinthebackgroundslowlyrecedes.IlookatErik,studythewaytheshadefromthetreesfallsacrosshisface,studyhimascloselyashe’sstudyingme.
Inmylife,I’vebeenaskedoutfordrinksbyenoughrandomacquaintancesthatIthinkmaybe,justmaybe,Imightknowwhathe’stryingtogetat.Andinmylife,I’vewantedtosaynotodrinkswitheverysingleoneofthoserandomacquaintances,whichiswhyIhavelearnedtopreventthequestionfromevenbeingasked.Iamgoodatbroadcastingdisinterestandunavailability.Very,verygood.
Andyet,hereIam.
OnaNewYorkbench.
Clutchingacroissant.
Holdingmybreathand…hoping?
Askme,Ithinkathim.BecauseIwanttotrythatFrenchbistrothatyouknow.Withyou.Andtalkmoreaboutmoneylaunderingandawhole-systemsapproachtoenvironmentalengineeringandpurpleunderwearthatisactuallylavender.
Askme,ErikNowak.Askme,askme,askme.Askme.
Therearecarsinthedistance,andpeoplelaughing,andemailspilingupinmyinbox,eighteenfloorsaboveus.ButmyeyesholdErik’sforalong,stretched-outmoment,andwhenhesmilesatme,Inoticethathiseyesarejustasblueasthesky.Chapter5
Present
Accordingtotheplaqueabovethefloor-selectionconsole(which,bytheway,doesnotincludeanemergencybutton;Iammentallycomposingastronglywordedemailthatwilllikelynevergetsent),theelevatorhasa1,400-poundcapacity.Theinside,I’destimate,isaboutfifteensquarefeet,fourteenofwhichareinconvenientlytakenupbyErik.(Asusual:thankyou,Erik.)Astainlesssteelhandrailisinstalledintheinnermostside,andthewallsareactuallyquitepretty,whitebakedenamelorsomesimilarmaterialthatmaybedatesthecarabit,buthey,it’sbetterthanmirrors.Ihatemirrorsinelevators,andI’dhatethemthemostinthiselevator.They’dmakeavoidingglimpsesofErikaboutthreetimesharderthanitalreadyis.
Ontheceiling,betweenthetwoenergy-efficient(Ihope?)recessedlightsthatarecurrentlyoff,Inoticedonelargemetalpane.Andthat’swhatI’vebeenstaringatforthepastminuteorso.Iamnoelevatorexpert,butI’malmostpositivethat’stheemergencyexit
Frommyfive-feetvantagepoint,Erikissomewherebetweensix-threeandsix-six.Basedonthat,Iapproximatethatthecarisaboutsevenfeettall.Toohighformetoreachonmyown,andtoooffsetfromthewallformetousethehandrailasaclimbingpoint.But.But,IamsurethatErikcouldeasilyliftmeup.Imean,he’sdoneitbefore.Onseveraloccasions,inthespanofthetwenty-fourhourswespenttogether.Likewhenwegothungryhalfwaythroughthenight:hepickedmeuplikeIwasafour-poundkitten,depositedmeonhiskitchencounterwhileIgaspedinaweathisbeautiful,overfullfridge,andthenproceededtoinspectanextensiveseriesofChineseleftoversbeforesharingthemwithme.Nottomentionthatothertime,whenwewereinhisshowerandheputonehandundermyasstopushmeagainstthewalland…
Thepointis:hecouldhelpmereachthepanel.Icoulddislodgeit,climboutofthecar,andifwe’recloseenoughtotheupperfloor,Imightbeabletoprythedoorsopenandhoistmyselfout.Atthatpoint,Iwouldbefree.FreetogohomeandfeedOzzy,who’snodoubtcurrentlywhistlinghislittleheartoutlikehealwaysdoeswhenhehasn’teateninmorethantwohours.He’dlookatmelikeI’mahorriblerodentmother,butthenhe’dbegrudginglyacceptmycarrotstickandsnuggleinmylap.Andofcourse,whenmyphonehasreception,I’dcallforhelpsothatsomeonecancometakecareofErik.ButIwouldn’tstickaroundtoseehimout,becauseI’vealreadyhadplentyof—
“No.”
IstartleandlookatErik.Heisstillinthecorneroppositemine,givingmeaflatstare.“No,what?”
“It’snotgoingtohappen.”
“Youdon’tevenknowwhat—”
“You’renotgoingtoclimboutoftheemergencyexit.”
Inearlyrecoil,becausedespitemymagical-thinkingtendenciesIamawarethatmindreadingisnotreallyathingthatexists.Thenagain,IamalsoawarethatthisisnotthefirsttimeErikseemstoknowexactlywhat’sgoingoninmyhead.Hewasprettygoodatitduringourdinnertogether.Andthenlater,ofcourse.Inbed.
Butinthishouse(i.e.,mybrain)wedonotacknowledgethat.
“Well,”Isay,“you’rewaybiggerandwayheavier.Soyoucan’tdoit.”Plus,I’mnotsureItrusthimnottoleavemehere.I’vetrustedhimbeforeandheavilyregrettedit.
“Neithercanyou,becauseI’mnotgoingtoletyou.”
Ifrown.“Imightbeabletoreachtheexitbymyself.Inwhichcaseyoutechnicallydon’thavetoletme.”
“Ifthathappens,I’mgoingtophysicallypreventyoufromdoingit.”
Ihatehim.Somuch.“Listen,whatifwe’restuckinherefordays?Whatifmeclimbingoutisouronlychance?”
“Thereisnothingtosuggestthattheelevatorwon’tstartupagainthesecondthepoweroutageisresolved.We’vebeeninhereforaboutthirtyminutes,whichisnothing,consideringthattherepaircrewisprobablyworkingonthegridtofixablock-wideoutage.Nottomentionhowincrediblydangerouswhatyouareproposingwouldbe.”
He’sright.I’mbeingimpatientandirrational.Whichflustersme.“I—onlyforme.”
Hisfaceturnsintostone.“Onlyforyou?”
“You’dbesafeinhere.You’djustneedtowaitformetocallhelp,and—”
“YouthinkIwouldbeokaywithyouputtingyourselfindanger?”Atbaseline,Erikisnotexactlyawarm,convivialguy,butIhadnoideahecouldsoundlikethis.Deceptivelycalm,butfuriously,icilylivid.Heleansforwardasiftobetterglareatme,andhishandreachesuptoclosearoundthehandrail,knucklesstretchedwhite.Ihaveabriefvisionofhimsnappingitintwo.
Hisanger,ofcourse,givesmeangerFOMOandmakesmejustasangry.SoIleanforward,too.“Idon’tseewhynot.”
“Really,Sadie?Youdon’t?Youdon’tfuckingseewhyIwouldn’tbeokaylettingyou,outofallpeople—”Helooksawayabruptly,jawtense,amuscletickinginhischeek.Hishair,Inotice,isshorterthanwhenItouchedit.AndIthinkhemighthavelostabitofweight.AndIcannot,Itrulycannotbearhowhandsomeheis.“Wouldyoureallyratherdosomethingthatidioticandrecklessthanbeinherewithmeforafewmoreminutes?”heasks,turningbacktome,voiceicyandcalmagain.
Ofcoursenot,Ialmostblurtout.I’mnotsomehorrormovienot-quite-finalgirlwhofollowsthedeaththiswaysignonlytobeflabbergastedwhenanaxmurdererchopsoffherleg.I’musuallyaresponsible,levelheadedperson—usuallybeingthekeyword,becauserightnowI’mkindoftemptedtorunintotheloving,ax-wieldingbosomofaserialkiller.RationallyIknowthatErikisright:wewon’tbestuckinhereforlong,andsomeoneisboundtocomegetus.ButthenIrememberhowbetrayedanddisappointedIfeltinthedaysafterhedidwhathedid.IremembercryingonthephonewithMara.CryingonthephonewithHannah.CryingonthephonewithMaraandHannah.
Beingherewithhimseemsjustasrecklessasanythingelse,honestly.WhichishowIfindmyselfshruggingandsaying,“Kindof,yeah.”
IexpectEriktogetangryagain.TotellmethatI’mbeingfoolish.Tomakeoneofthosedryjokesofhisthatmademelaugheverytime.Insteadhetakesmebysurprise:Helooksawayguiltily.Thenhepresseshisindexandforefingerinhiseyes,likehe’ssuddenly,overwhelminglyexhausted,andmurmursquietly,“Fuck,Sadie.I’msorry.”Chapter6
Threeweeksago
Ihaveagrandtotalofzerosuperstitiousritualscenteredarounddating.
AndIpromiseI’mnotsayingthistobrag.ThereisasimplereasonIhaven’tconvincedmyselfthatIneedtochugdownaCapriSunordosevenjumpingjacksbeforegoingoutwithsomeone,whichis:Idonotdate.Ever.Iusedto,ofcourse.Onceuponatime.WithOscar,theLoveofMyLife.
LikeHannahoftenpointsout,it’salittlemisleadingformetorefertotheguywhometanotherwomanatadatasciencecorporatebondingretreatandtwoweekslatercalledmeintearstotellmethathewasfallingforherasthe“LoveofMyLife.”AndIswear,Idogettheirony.ButOscarandIgowayback.Hegavememyfirstkiss(withtongue)whenweweresophomoresinhighschool.Hewasmydatetotheseniorprom,thefirstnonfamilypersonIwentonvacationwith,theonewhoseshoulderIbawledonwhenhegotacceptedtohisdreamschoolintheMidwest,exactlysevenstatesawayfromme.
Weactuallymadeitworkprettywellduringfouryearsoflongdistanceforcollege.Andwedidgettospendsummerstogether,exceptwhenIwasoninternships,whichwas…well,yes,everysummerbutjunioryear,andIhadthatcodingbootcampatUCSBthen,so…yup,everysummer.Somaybetherewerenosummerstogether,butIdidendupwithakillerCV,andthatwasnice.Better,even.
Whenwegraduatedcollege,OscarwasofferedajobinPortland,andIwasgoingtofollowhimandfindsomethingthere,butIgotintoCaltech’sPh.D.program,whichwastoogoodanopportunitytopassup.Ireallythoughtwecoulddofivemoreyearsoflongdistance,becauseOscarwasagreatguyandso,sopatientandunderstanding—tillthebeginningofmythirdyear.TillthedayheFaceTimedme,cryingbecausehe’dmetsomeoneelseandhadnochoicebuttobreakupwithme.
Iwept.IstalkedhisnewgirlfriendonInstagram.IatemyweightinTalentigelato(saltedcarameltruffle,blackraspberryvanillaparfait,and,onaparticularlyshamefulnight,mangosherbetmeltedintoapotofMidorisour;Iamfilledwithregrets).Icutmyhairshort,towhatmyhairdresserdubbedthelongestbobinthehistoryofbobs.Icouldn’tbeartobealone,soIsleptinMara’sbedforaweek,becauseHannahtossesaroundwaytoomuchandI’mprettysureshechangedthesheetstwiceinthefiveyearswelivedtogether.ForabouttendaysIwasutterly,soul-smashinglyheartbroken.Andthen.
ThenIwasmoreorlessfine.
Seriously,consideringthatOscarandIhadbeentogetherforalmostadecade,myreactiontobeingone-sidedlybrokenupwithwasnothingshortofmiraculous.Iacedallmyclassesandmylabwork,spentthesummertouringEuropebytrainwithMaraandHannah,andacoupleofmonthslaterIfoundmyselfshockedtorealizethatIhadn’tcheckedOscar’sgirlfriend’sTwitterinweeks.Huh.
“Coulditbethatitwasn’treallove?”IfoundmyselfaskingmyfriendsoverMidorisours(sansmangosherbet;Ihadregainedmydignitybythen).
“Ithinkthattherearelotsofkindsoflove,”Hannahsaid.ShewasnestlednexttomeatourfavoriteboothatJoe’s,thegradstudentbarclosesttoourapartment.“MaybeyourswithOscarwasclosertothesiblingvarietythantoanythingresemblingapassionateaffairbetweensoulmates?Andyou’restillintouch.Youknowthatyoustillloveeachotherasfriends,soyourbrainknowsthatthere’snoneedtomournhim.”
“ButinitiallyIwasreally,reallydevastated.”
“Well,Idon’twanttoarmchair-psychologizeyou…”
“Youtotallywanttoarmchair-psychologizeme.”
Hannahsmiled,pleased.“Okay,ifyouinsist.Iwonderifmaybeyouweremoredevastatedattheideaoflosingyoursafeharbor—thepersonwhowasthereforyousinceyouwerekidsandpromisedtobethereforyouforever—thanattheideaoflosingOscarhimself.Coulditbethathewasacrutchofsorts?”
“Idon’tknow.”Ipokedatmygarnishcherry.“Ilikedbeinghisgirlfriend.Hewasso…there,youknow?AndwhenwewereapartImissedhim,butnottoomuch.Itwas…easy,Iguess.”
“Coulditbethatitwastooeasy?”Maraaskedbeforestealingmylime.
I’vebeenponderingherquestioneversince.
Buttherehasn’tbeenanyoneafterOscar.WhichmeansthathestilltechnicallyretainsthetitleofLoveofMyLife,eveniftwomonthsagoIgotaninvitetohiswedding—prettyglaringcluethatI’mnottheLoveofHis.Icouldhavegottenoutmore,Iguess,especiallyingradschool.Icouldhavetriedharder.“Whenonedoorshuts,anotheropens,”HannahandMarawouldsay.“Nowyoucandatearound.Youmissedoutonsomanyhotdudesinthepastfewyears—remembertheguywemetinTucson?Ortheonewhoalwaysasksyououtatconferences?OhmyGod,theguyinfluiddynamicswhowasclearlyinlovewithyou?Youshouldhithimup!”
Ofcourse,wheneverthetopicofmylovelifecomesup,andbecausedraggingisasacrosanctpartofthecovenantoffriendship,IneverhesitatetopointoutthateventhoughbothHannahandMarahavebeenmostlysingleeversincestartinggradschool,theybarelytakeadvantageoftheiramazingdatingopportunities.ItusuallyendswithMaradefensivelymutteringthatshe’sbusy,andHannahrebuttingthatshe’sonabreakfromhookingupwithpeople,becauseherlasttwofuckbuddieswereCanIJizzinYourHairandHumanSkullontheNightstandGirl,andtheywouldputanyoneoffsex.Itusuallyendswithuscollectivelydecidingthatnorelationshipcouldevercompetewithourjobs,guineapigs,or…Netflix,maybe?Iftheideaofstaringatblueprintsismoreappealingtomethanhittingtheclub(whateverthatevenmeans;whatevenisaclub,really?)thenmaybeIshouldjusthangoutwiththeblueprints.Notthatthingscannotchange,sinceMaraisnowembarrassingly,fantasticallyinlovewithherFormerlyAssholeRoommate.
MaybetheblueprintsandIwillcommonlaw–tietheknot.Who’stosay?
Anyhoo.Allofthistosay:Ihaven’treallydatedawholelot,whichisthesolereasonIhaven’tdevelopedweird,ritualisthabitsaroundtheprocess.Or,Ihadn’t.Tillrightnow.
BecauseIamaboutfifteenminutesintothenight,andI’mthinkingthatI’llhavetokeeptheseblackjeansfortherestofmylife.ThelightweightgreensweaterIputon?Can’tthrowitaway.Ever.Thisisnowmylucky-dateoutfit.Becausethesecondwesitdownatthebistro,whereeverythingsmellsdeliciousandournarrowwindowtablehasthecutestlittlesucculentinitscenter,Erik’sphonepings.
“Sorry.I’llmuteit.”Hedoes,butnotbeforerollinghiseyes.Whichissuchafarcryfromhisusualstoic,nonplussedvibe,Icannothelpbutburstintolaughter.“Please,donotmockmypain,”hedeadpans,takingtheseatacrossfrommine.I’mnotsurehow,butIknowthathe’sjoking.MaybeI’mdevelopingtelepathicpowers.
“Work?”Iask.
“Iwish.”Heshakeshishead,resigned.“Waymoreimportantstuff.”
Oh.Maybehewasn’tjoking.“Iseverythingokay?”
“No.”Heslideshisphoneinhispocketandleansbackinhisseat.“Mybrothertextedthatmyfootballteamjusttradedoneofourbestplayers.We’renevergoingtowinagameagain.”
Ismileintomywater.IneverreallygotintoAmericanfootball.Itseemskindofboring—abunchofovergrowndudesstandingaroundin’80sshoulderpadsandbashingtheirheadstowardchronictraumaticencephalopathy—butI’mwaytoosoccermadtojudgefansofothersports.MaybeErikusedtoplay.He’sbigenough,Iguess.“Thentheyshouldreallyinvestinluckyunderwear.”
Hegivesmealingeringlook.“Purple.”
“Lavender.”
“Right.Yes.”Heglancesaway,andIthinkthatthisisnice.I’msittingacrossfromsomeonewho’snotOscar,andI’mnotfeelingtoonervous,ortoomuchweirderthanusual.Forallthathe’sablondsteelymountainofmuscles,Erikissurprisinglyeasytobearound.
“What’syourteam?Giants?Jets?”
Heshakeshishead.“It’snotthatkindoffootball.”
Icockmyhead.“Isit,like,aminorleague?”
“No,it’sEuropeanfootball.Soccer,you’dcallit.Butwedon’tneedtotalkabout—”
Inearlydoaspittake.“Youfollowsoccer?”
“Anintervention-worthyamount,accordingtomyfamilyandfriends.Butdon’tworry,Idohaveothertopicsofconversation.Likepastries.Orthepracticalimplementationofsmartfactorytechnology.Or…that’saboutit.”
“No!No,I—”Idon’tevenknowwheretostart.“Ilovesoccer.Like,lovelove.IstayuptillridiculoushourstowatchgamesinEurope.Myparentsalwaysgetmefancyjerseysformybirthdaybecausethat’sliterallymyonlyinterest.Iwenttocollegeonasoccerscholarship.”
Hefrowns.“SodidI.”
“Noway.”Westareateachotherforalongmoment,amillionandonewordsrunningthroughtheeyecontact.Impossible.Amazing.Really?Really,forreal?“Youusedtoplay?”
“Istillplay.Tuesdaynightsandweekends,mostly.Therearelotsofamateurclubshere.”
“Iknow!OnWednesdaysIgotothisgymnearmyplace,and…Soccerwasmyfirstcareerchoice.TheengineeringPh.D.wasdefinitelymyplanB.Ireally,reallywantedtogopro.”
“But?”
“Iwasn’tquitegoodenough.”
Henods.“I’dhavelovedtogopro,too.”
“Whatstoppedyou?”
Hechuckles.Itsoundslikeahug.“Iwasn’tnearlygoodenough.”
Ilaugh.“So,what’syourteamandwhodidtheytrade?”
“F.C.Copenhagen.Andtheygotridof—”
“Don’tsayHalvorsen.”
Hecloseshiseyes.“Halvorsen.”
Iwince.“Yeah,you’renevergonnawinanothergame,notforallthepurpleunderwearintheworld.Butyouweren’tgonnawinmuchwithhim,anyway.Youneedabettercoach,honestly.Nooffense.”
“Plentyofoffense.”He’sglaring.
“Youfollowwomen’ssoccer,too?”Iask.
Henods.“ProudOLReignsupportersince2012.”
“Me,too!”Ibeam.“Soyoudon’talwayshaveterribletaste.”
“What’syourmen’steam?”Acute,charmingverticallinehasappearedbetweenhisbrows.
Irestmychinonmyhands.“Guess.I’llgiveyouthreetries.”
“Honestly,IcanacceptanyclubexceptforRealMadrid.”
Icontinuewithmychinhands,unperturbed.
“It’sRealMadrid,isn’tit?”
“Yup.”
“Outrageous.”
“You’rejustjellybecausewecanaffordtobuydecentplayers.”
“Right.”HesighsandhandsmeoneofthemenusIneverevennoticedthewaiterdroppedoff.“I’mgoingtoneedfoodforthisconversation.Andsowillyou.”
Wespendtherestofthenightarguing,andit’s…fantastic.Thebest.Isuspectthefoodisasgoodashepromised,butIdon’tpayverymuchattention,becauseErikhasincrediblyincorrectopinionsonthewayOrlandoPrideisusingAlexMorganandonthePremierLeaguetrajectoryofLiverpool,andImustdedicateallmyeffortstotalkinghimoutofthem.
Ifail.Hestandsbyhiswrongideasandsystematicallymakeshiswaythroughthebread,thenanappetizer,thenanentrée,likeamanwhoisusedtocomfortablyconsumingsevenlargemealsaday.Attheend,whenourplatesarecleanandI’mtoofulltobickerwithhimovertheoffsidesanctionsrules,webothleanbackinourchairsandaresilentforamoment.
I’msmiling.He’s…notsmiling,butclose,anditmakesmesmileevenmore.
IthinkthismighthavebeenthemostfunI’vehadinyears.Okay,false:Iknowitis.
“Howdiditgo,bytheway?”heasksquietly.
“What?”
“Yourpitch.”
“Oh.Good,Ithink.”
“ThankstoFaye’scroissant?”
Igrin.“Undoubtedly.Andmylavenderunderwear.”
Helowershiseyesandclearshisthroat.“Who’stheclient?”
“Acooperative.They’rebuildingareccenterbasedinNewJerseyandareshoppingaroundforconsultants.It’sasecondlocationforthem,sotheyboughtanoldgrocerystoretoturnintoagymofsorts.They’relookingforsomeonewho’llhelpthemdesignit.”
“You?”
“Andmyboss,yes.Thoughtwoofherkidshavebeencolicky,sofornowmostlyme.”
“Whatdidyoutellthem?”
“Italkedthemthroughmyplansforenergyindependence,greenbuildingstandards,smartwatermanagement,minimizingoff-gaschemicals…thatstuff.Theyweregoingforagreenedge,theysaid.”
“Andwhatareyourplans?”
Ihesitate.Ireallydon’twanttoboreErik,andI’vegottenfeedbackfrom…literallyeveryonethatwhenIstarttalkingaboutengineeringstuff,Igoonforwaytoolong.ButErikseemsmorethanalittleinterested,andeventhoughIblabberaboutrawmaterialsandfederallimitsandlife-cycleassessmentforovertenminutes,hisattentionneverseemstowaver.Hejustnodspensively,likehe’sfilingawaytheinformation,andaskslotsofcleverquestions.
“Soyougottheproject?”
Ishrug.“They’remeetingwithsomeoneelsetomorrow,soIdon’tknowyet.Buttheysaidwe’retheirfirstchoicesofar,soI’moptimistic.”
Erikdoesn’treply.Insteadhejuststudiesme,serious,intent,likeI’maparticularlyintriguingblueprint.Doesitmakemeuncomfortable?Idon’tknow.Itshould.I’moutwithaguy.Forthefirsttimeinamillionyears.Andhe’sstaring.Yikes,right?But…Ikindofdon’tmind.
Mostly,I’mwonderingwhetherhelikeswhathesees,whichisabitdifferent.Ifeel,sometimes,likeI’velostthehabittowonderwhetherI’mprettyinfavorofagonizingoverotherqualities.DoIlookprofessional?Smart?Organized?Someonewhoshouldbetakenseriously,whateverthehellthatmeans?Igenerallyfindtheideaofmencommentingonmyattractiveness,favorablyorotherwise,repulsive.Buttonight,rightnow…thepossibilitythatErikmightfindmebeautifuluncurlswarmlyatthebaseofmystomach.
AndthenfreezeswhenIconsiderthathemightbestaringfortheoppositereason.Couldhebestaringfortheoppositereason?Okay.Thisis—no.Ineedtostopwiththeruminating.“Whatareyouthinking?”Iask.
Hehuffsalaugh.“Justwonderingsomething.”
“What?”
Hedrumshisfingersonthetable.“Whetheryouwantajob.”
“Oh,Istillhaveone.Despitemyeffortsthismorning,Ididn’tactuallygetfired.”
“Iknow.Andthisisveryinappropriate,Iamaware.ButI’dlovetopoachyou.”
“Ah.I…”Suddenly,I’mfeelinghotandweirdlytingly.“Ilikemyjob.Itpaysokay.Andmybossisgreat.”
“I’llpayyoumore.Nameafigure.”
“I…what?”
“Andifthere’sanythingyoudon’tenjoyaboutyourcurrentjob,I’dbehappytocometoanagreementaboutyourduties.I’mveryopentonegotiating.”
“Wait—you?”
“ProBld,”heamends.
Ifrown.HetalksaboutProBldlikehehasalotofsayintheiradministrativechoices,andIwonderifhehasamanagerialposition.Itwouldexplainthesuit.Andthefactthatheclearlycametodinnerdirectlyfromwork,eventhoughwemetateight.He’swearingthesameclothesasthismorning,albeitwithouthistieandjacket,andwiththesleevesofhisbutton-downrolleduptohisforearms.Whichlookstrongandoddlymale,andI’vebeentryinghardnottoogle.I’mabouttoaskwhatexactlyhisjobdescriptionis,butIgetdistractedwhenthewaiterbringsthecheckandhandsittoErik.Whoreadilyacceptsit
Ishepaying?Iguesshe’spaying.ShouldIpolitelyinsistthatwesplit?ShouldIrudelyinsistthatwesplit?ShouldIoffertopayforbothofus?Hedidbuythecroissantthismorning.Howdoesonedineoutwithcompany?Ihavenoclue.
“Thankyou,”thewaitersaysbeforeleaving.“Alwaysnicetoseeyou,Erik.”
“Youdocomeherealot,”Itellhim.
Heshrugs,slippinghiscreditcardinsidethebook.Okay.Thepayingshiphassailed.Crap.“Withbigclients,mostly.”
“Soit’snotyourdefaultdateplace?”ThequestioncomesoutbeforeIcanturnthewordsinmyhead.WhichmeansthatIdon’trealizeitsimplicationsuntilwellafterit’slingeringbetweenus.Erikisstaring,again,andI’msuddenlyflustered.“Idon’tknowif…ifyoudon’t…Ididn’tmeantosaythatthisisadate.”
Hiseyebrowlifts.
“Imean—maybeyoujustwantedto…asfriends,and…”
Theeyebrowliftshigher.
Iclearmythroat.“I…Isthisadate?”Iask,myvoicesmall,suddenlyinsecure.
“Idon’tknow,”hesayscarefully,aftermullingitoverforasecond.
“Maybeitisn’t.I…”Ididn’twanttomakeitweird.MaybeyoujustthinkI’manicegirlandwantedsomeonetohavedinnerwithandItotallymisreadthesituationandI’mso,sosorry.It’sjust,IthinkIlikeyoualot?MorethanIcanrememberlikinganyone?It’spossiblethatIprojectedand—
Thewaitercomestopickupthecheck,whichinterruptsmyspiralingandgivesmeachancetotakeadeepbreath.It’sallgood.Somaybeitwasn’tadate.It’sfine.Itwasfun,anyway.Goodfood.Goodsoccertalk.Imadeafriend.
“CanIaskyouaquestion?”
Ilookupfromthehand-wringingcurrentlygoingoninmylap.IsitwhetherI’maneedy,dangerousstalker?“Uh,sure.”
“Idon’tknowifthisisadate,”hesays,serious,“butifitisn’t,willyougoononewithme?”
Ismilesowide,mycheeksnearlyhurt.
???
ThepistachiogelatomeltsdownmyconewhileIexplainwhyNeuerisamuchbettergoalkeeperthanhe’smadeouttobe.WewalkaroundTribecasidebysidewithouttouchingevenonce,blockafterblockafterblock,thenightairbalmyandthelightsfuzzy.Myshoesarenotnew,butIcanfeelanastyblisterslowlyformingonmyheel.Itdoesn’tmatter,becauseIdon’twanttostop.
NeitherdoesErik,Idon’tthink.EveryfewwordsIbendmynecktolookupathim,andheissohandsomeinhisshirtsleevesandslacks,sohandsomewhenheshakeshisheadatsomethingIsaid,sohandsomewhenhegestureswithhislargehandstodescribeaplay,sohandsomewhenhealmostsmilesandlittlewrinklesappearatthecornersofhiseyes,sohandsomethatsometimesIfeelit,physically,viscerally.MypulsequickensandIcannotbreatheandI’mstartingtothinkaboutunnervingthings.Thingslikeafter.IlistentohimexplainwhyNeuerisanincrediblyoverratedgoalkeeperandlaugh,genuinelylovingeveryminuteofit.
Attheicecreamplace,hedidn’torderanything.Because,hesays,“Idon’tliketoeatcoldthings.”
“Wow.Thatmightbethemostun-DanishthingIhaveeverheard.”
Itmustbeasorespot,becausehiseyesnarrow.“Remindmetoneverintroduceyoutomybrothers.”
“Why?”
“Wouldn’twantyoutoformanyalliances.”
“Ha.SoyouareanotoriouslybadDane.DoyoualsohateABBA?”
Helooksbrieflyconfused.Thenhisexpressionclears.“They’reSwedish.”
“Whatabouttulips—doyouhatetulips?”
“ThatwouldbetheNetherlands.”
“Damn.”
“Soclose,though.Wanttotryagain?Thirdtime’sthecharm.”
Iglare,lickingwhat’sleftofthestickypistachiooffmyfingers.Helooksatmymouthandthenaway,downtohisfeet.Iwanttoaskhimwhat’swrong,buttheownerofthecoffeeshoponthecornercomesouttoretrievehissidewalksignandIrealizesomething.
It’slate.
Verylate.Reallylate.End-of-the-nightlate.We’restandinginfrontofeachotheronasidewalk,overtwelvehoursaftermeetingforthefirsttimeon…anothersidewalk;Erikprobablywantstogohome.AndIprobablywanttobewithhimalittlelonger.
“Whattraindoyoutake?”Iask.
“Iactuallydrove.”
Ishakemyhead,disapproving.“WhoevendrivesinNewYork?”
“Peoplewhohavetovisitconstructionsitesalloverthetristate.I’lltakeyouhome,”heoffers,andIbeam.
“Geniuses.Kind,ride-givinggeniuses.Whereareyouparked?”
HepointssomewherebehindmeandInod,knowingIshouldturnaroundandbegintowalkbyhissideagain.Butweseemtobealittlestuckinthishereandthisnow.Standinginfrontofeachother.Rootedtotheground.
“Ihadfuntonight,”Isay.
Hedoesn’tanswer.
“Eventhoughweforgottogetcroissantsatthebistro.”
Stillnoanswer.
“AndIamseriouslytemptedtobuyyoualife-sizecardboardcutoutofNeuerand—Erik,areyoustilldoingthatthingwhereyoudon’ttalkbecauseI’mtechnicallynotaskingyouaquestion?”
Helaughssilentlyandmybreathhitcheshighinmychest.“Wheredoyoulive?”heaskssoftly.
“FarthestreachesofStatenIsland,”Ilie.
It’ssupposedtobemyrevenge,buthejustsays,“Good.”
“Good?”
“Good.”
Ifrown.“It’satollofseventeendollars,myfriend.”
Heshrugs.
“One-way,Erik.”
“It’sfine.”
“Howisitfine?”
Heshrugsagain.“Atleastit’lltakeawhiletogetthere.”
Myheartskipsabeat.Andthenanother.Andthentheyallcatchupatonce,amessofoverlappingthumps,asmall,wildanimalcagedinmychest,tryingtoescape.
IhavenoideawhatI’mdoinghere.Notaclue.ButErikisstandingrightinfrontofme,thestreetlightasoftglowbehindhishead,thewarmspringbreezeblowingsoftlybetweenus,andsomethingclickswithinme.
Yes.Okay.
“Actually,”Isay,andeventhoughmycheeksareburning,eventhoughIcannotlookhimintheeye,eventhoughI’mshiftingonmytoesandcontemplatingrunningaway,thisisthebravestmomentofmylife.BraverthanmovingherewithoutMaraandHannah.BraverthanthetimeImeggedthatmidfielderfromtheUCLA.Justbrave.“Actually,ifyoudon’tmind,I’dratherskipStatenIslandandjustgotoyourplace.”
Hestudiesmeforalongmoment,andIwonderifmaybehecannotquitebelievewhatIjustsaid,ifhisbrainisalsostrugglingtocatchup,ifmaybethisfeelsasextraordinarytohimasitdoestome.Thenhenodsonce,decided.“Verywell,”hesays.
Beforewestarttowalk,Iseehisthroatbob.Chapter7
Present
Onpaper,Ishouldbepleased.
Afterweeksofsometimes-murderous,often-mopey,intenserage,IfinallytoldErikthatI’drathertakemychancesandfalldownanelevatorshaft—ReturnoftheJediEmperorPalpatinestyle—thanspendonemoreminutewithhim.Itoldhim,andfromthewayhislipspressedtogether,hereallyhatedhearingit.Nowhiseyesareclosedandhe’sleaninghisheadbackagainstthewall.Which,givenhisreservedNordicgenes,islikelytheequivalentofaregularpersongoingonhiskneesandbellowinginpain.
Good.Istareatthelineofhisjawandthecolumnofhisthroat,forbidmyselffromrememberinghowfunitwastobiteintohisscratchy,unshavenskin,andthink,alittlesavagely,Good.It’sgoodthathefeelsbadaboutwhathe’sdone,becausewhathedidwasbad.
Really,Ishouldbepleased.AndIam,exceptforthisheavy,twistedfeelingatthebottomofmystomach,whichIdon’timmediatelyrecognize,buthasmethinkingbacktosomethingMarasaidtometheeveningaftermynightatErik’s.Hannah’sendofthecallhadgonedark,presumablywhenafallingicicleseveredwhateverInternetcableconnectsNorwaytotherestoftheworld,anditwasjustthetwoofusontheline.
“Hetriedtocallme,”Isaid.“Andhetextedmeaskingifwecouldgetdinnertonight.Likenothinghappened.LikeI’mtoostupidtorealizewhathedid.”
“Thefuckingaudacity.”Marawasincensed,hercheeksredwithanger,almostasbrightasherhair.“Doyouwanttotalktohim?”
“I…”Iwipedthetearsoffwiththebackofmyhand.“No.Idon’tknow.”
“Youcouldyellathim.Riphimanewasshole.Threatenhimwithalawsuit,maybe?Iswhathedidillegal?Ifso,Liam’salawyer.He’llrepresentyouforfree.”
“Doesn’thedoweirdtaxcorporationstuff?”
“Eh.I’msurethelaw’sthelaw.”
Ilaughedwetly.“Shouldn’tyouaskhimfirst?”
“Don’tworry,heseemstobephysicallyincapableofsayingnotome.Lastweekheletmehangupwindchimesontheporch.Thequestionis,doyouwanttotalkwithErik?Orwouldyouratherforgetabouthimandpretendheneverexisted?”
“I…”Ithoughtaboutbeingwithhimthepreviousnight.Andthen,later,aboutdiscoveringwhathe’ddone.CouldIforget?CouldIpretend?“IwanttotalkwiththeErikIhaddinnerwith.Andbreakfast.BeforeIknewwhathewascapableof.”
Maranodded,sad.“Youcouldpickupnexttimehecalls.Andconfronthim.Demandanexplanation.”
“WhatifhelaughsitoffassomethingthatIshouldhaveexpected?”
“It’spossiblethathe’stryingtocallyoutoownwhathedidandapologize,”shesaid,pensive.“Butmaybethatwouldbeevenworse.Becausethenyou’dknowthatheknewexactlytheharmhewasdoingbutwentaheadwithitanyway.”
Ithinkthat’sexactlyit.Ithinkthat’swhyIhatedErik’sI’msorry,andwhyIhatethathehasn’tlookedatmeinseveralminutes.Itmakesmewonderifhe’sawarethatheruinedsomethingthatcouldhavebeengreatoutofgreed.Andifthat’sthecase,thenIdidn’timagineit:thenightwespenttogetherwasasspecialasIremember,andhestillthrewitintothegarbagechute—ANewHopePrincessLeiastyle.
“IsawDenmarkwonagainstGermany,”Isay,becauseit’spreferabletothealternative.Thesilence,andmyveryloudthoughts.
Heturnstomeandexhalesoutalaugh.“Really,Sadie?”
“Yeah.Two—no,threenightsago.”Ilookdownatmyhand,chippingatwhatlittleisleftoflastweek’snailpolish.“Two-one.SomaybeyoudidhaveapointaboutNeuer—”
“Really?”herepeats,harsherthistime.Iignorehim.
“Though,ifyouremember,whenwehadicecreamIdidconcedethathisleftfootiskindofweak.”
“Idoremember,”hesays,alittleimpatient.
God.Thesenailsofminearejustembarrassing.“Eventhen,itprobablyhadmoretodowithDenmarkplayingexceptionallywell—”
“Sadie.”
“Andifyouguyscansustainthislevelofplayforawhile,then…”
Thereissomerustlingfromhiscorneroftheelevator.IlookupjustintimetoseeEriksquatinfrontofme,kneesbrushingagainstmylegs,eyespaleandserious.Myheartsomersaults.Hedoeslookthinner.Andmaybeabitlikehehasn’tbeenhavingthebestsleepofhislifeinthepastfewweeks.Hishairgleamsgoldenintheemergencylight,andabriefmemoryresurfaces,ofpullingatitwhenhe—
“Sadie.”
What?Iwanttoscream.Whatmoredoyouwant?InsteadIjustlookbackathim,feelingliketheelevatorhasshrunkagain,thistimetothepocketbetweenmyeyesandhis.
“It’sbeenweeks,and…”Heshakeshishead.“Canwepleasetalk?”
“Wearetalking.”
“Sadie.”
“I’msayingstuff.Andyou’resayingstuff.”
“Sadie—”
“Okay,fine:youwererightaboutNeuer.Happy?”
“Notparticularly,no.”Helooksatmeinsilenceforseveralseconds.Thenhesays,calmandearnest:“I’msorry.”
It’sthewrongthing.Ifeelasurgeofangertravelupmyspine,biggereventhanwhenIlearnedabouthisbetrayal.Thereisabitter,acidflavorinmymouthwhenIleanforwardandhiss,“Ihateyou.”
Hebrieflycloseshiseyes,resigned.“Iknow.”
“Howcouldyoudothat,Erik?”
Heswallows.“Ihadnoidea.”
Ilaughonce.“Seriously?How—howdareyou?”
“Itakefullresponsibilityforwhathappened.Itwasmyfault.I…Ilikedit,Sadie.Alot.SomuchsothatIcompletelymisreadyoursignalsanddidn’trealizethatyoudidn’t.”
“Well,whatyoudidwas—”Istopabruptly.MybrainscreechestoahaltandfinallycomputesErik’swords.Likedit?Misread?Whatdoesthatevenmean?“Whatsignals?”
“Thatnight,I…”Hebitestheinsideofhischeekandseemstoturninward.“Itwasgood.Ithink…Imusthavelostcontrol.”
Ifreeze.Somethingaboutthisconversationisn’tquiteright.“Whenyousaidyouweresorryaminuteago,whatwereyoureferringto?”
Heblinkstwice.“ThethingsIdidtoyou.Inmyapartment.”
“No.No,that’snot…”Mycheeksarehotandmyhead’sspinning.“Erik,whydoyouthinkIstoppedpickingupyourcalls?”
“BecauseofthewayIhadsexwithyou.Iwasonyouallnight.Askedfortoomuch.Youdidn’tenjoyit.”Suddenly,helooksasconfusedasIfeel.Likewe’rebothinthemiddleofastorythatdoesn’tquitemakenarrativesense.“Sadie.Isn’tthatthereason?”
Hiseyesboreintomine.Ipressmypalmagainstmymouthandslowlyshakemyhead.Chapter8
Threeweeksago
Wehaven’ttouchedallnight.
Notattherestaurant.Notinthecar.NotevenintheelevatoruptohisBrooklynHeightsapartment,whichislargerthanminebutdoesn’tlookitbecauseErikisstandinginit.We’vebeenchattinglikewedidoverdinner,whichisfunandgreatandkindofhilarious,butI’mstartingtowonderwhetherwhenIfooledmyselfintobelievingthatIwasbravelyhittingonErik,heactuallythoughtthatIwasinvitingmyselfovertoplaytheFIFAvideogame.He’sgoingtosayCome,Iwanttoshowyousomething.I’llfollowhimdownthehallwayjelly-kneed,andonceI’mattheendhe’llopenthedooroftheXboxroomandI’llquietlydie.
IstandintheentrancewhileEriklocksthedoorbehindme,shiftingawkwardlyonmyfeet,contemplatingmyownmortalityandthepossibilityofmakingarunforit,whenInoticethecat.PerchedonErik’sspotlesslivingroomtable(whichappearsnottobearepositoryformailpilesandtake-outflyers;huh).It’sorange,round,andgloweringatus.
“Hithere.”Itakeafewsteps,cautiouslyholdingoutmyhand.Thecatglowersharder.“Aren’tyouanicelittlekitten?”
“Heisn’t.”Erikistakingoffhisshoesandhanginghisjacketbehindme.“Nice,thatis.”
“What’shisname?”
“Cat.”
“Cat?Like…?”
“Cat,”hesays,final.Idecidenottopresshim.
“I’mnotsurewhy,butIpeggedyouformoreofadogperson.”
“Iam.”
Iturnandgivehimapuzzledlook.“Butyouhaveacat?”
“Mybrotherdoes.”
“Whichone?”Hehasfour.Allyounger.Andit’sclearfromthewayhetalksaboutthem,oftenandwiththathalf-gruff,half-amusedtone,thatthey’rethickasthieves.Myonly-child,“HavethiscoloringbookwhileMommyandDaddywatchTheWestWing”selfburnswithenvy.
“Anders.Theyoungest.Hegraduatedcollegeandisnow…somewhere.Wales,Ibelieve.Discoveringhimself.”Erikcomestostandnexttome.HeandCatglareateachother.“WhileItemporarilywatchhiscat.”
“What’stemporarily?”
Hepresseshislipstogether.“Sofar,oneyearandsevenmonths.”Itrytokeepastraightface,Ireallydo,butIendupsmilingintomyhand,andErik’seyesnarrowatme.“Thebeginningofour…relationshipwasrough,butweareslowlystartingtocometoanagreement,”hesays,justasCatjumpsoffthetableandpausestohissatErikonhiswaytothekitchen.Eriksnapsbackwithsomethingthatsoundsveryharshandconsonant-based,thenlooksatmeagain.“Slowly.”
“Veryslowly.”
“Yeah.”
“Doyoulockyourbedroomdooratnight?”
“Religiously.”
“Good.”
Ismile,hedoesn’t,andweslipintoalullofnot-quite-comfortablesilence.IfillitbylookingaroundandpretendingthatI’mfascinatedwiththemapofCopenhagenthathangsonthewall.Erikdoesitbystandingnexttomeandasking,“Wouldyoulikesomethingtodrink?IthinkIhavebeer.And…”Apause.“Milk,probably.”
Ilaughsoftly.“Twopercent?”
“Whole.Andchocolate,”headmits,alittlebashful.Whichhasmechucklingsomemore,Erikfinallysmiling,andthen…moresilence.
We’reidlingbetweentheentranceandthelivingroom,facingeachother,himstudyingme,mestudyinghimstudyingme,andsomethingheavyknotsinmythroat.I’mnotsurewhat’sgoingon.I’mnotsurewhatIexpected,buttheentirenightwassoeasy,andthisisnot.“DidI…DidImisunderstand?”
Hedoesn’tpretendnottoknowexactlywhatImean.“Youdidn’t.”Heseems…notinsecure,butcautious.Likehe’sascientistabouttomixtwoveryvolatilesubstancestogether.Theproductmightbegreat,buthe’dbetterbeextrasure.Wearprotectiveequipment.Taketime.“Idon’twanttoassumeanything.”
Theknottightens.“Ifyouhavechangedyour—”
“That’snotit.”
Ibiteintomylip.“Iwasgoingtosay,ifyoudon’twantto—”
“It’stheopposite,Sadie,”hesaysquietly.“Theexactopposite.Ineedtotreadcarefully.”
Right,then.Okay.Imakeasplit-seconddecision,mysecondactofbraveryoftheevening:Istepclosertohim,tillourfeettouchthroughoursocks,andpushuptothetipsofmytoes.
Thefirstthingthathitsmeishowgoodhesmells.Clean,masculine,warm.All-arounddelicious.Thesecond:hiscollarboneisthefarthestIcanreach,whichwouldbekindofamusingifmyabilitytobreatheweren’tshotallofasudden.IfIwantthiskisstohappenI’llneedhiscooperation.Orrock-climbingequipment.
“Willyou…”Ilaughhelplesslyagainstthecollarofhisshirt.“Please?”
Hewon’t.Hedoesn’t.Notforthelongesttime,insteadchoosingtowraphishandaroundmyjaw,cupmyface,staredownatme.“Ithinkthisisit,”hemurmurs,thumbswipingovermycheekbone,eyespensive,likehe’sprocessingamomentouspieceofinformation.Mypulseraces.I’mdizzy.
“I…What?”
“This.”Hiseyesareonmylips.“Idon’tthinkI’mgoinganywherefromthis.”
“I’mnotsureI…”
HemovessoquicklyIcanbarelykeeptrack.Hishandsclosearoundmywaist,liftmeup,andasecondlaterI’msittingontheshelfintheentrance.Theheightdifferencebetweenusismuchlessdramaticand…
It’sthebestkissofmylife.No:it’sthebestkissintheworld.Becauseofthewayhepressesahandintomyshoulderbladetoarchmeintohim.Becauseofthescratchofhisstubbleagainstmycheeks.Becauseitstartsslow,justhismouthonmine,andstayslikethatforalongtime.EvenwhenIloopmyarmsaroundhisneck,evenwhenheleansintomeandpushesmythighsopentomakespaceforhimself,evenwhenwe’reflushagainsteachother,myheartbeatinglikeadrumagainsthischest,it’sjusthislipsandmine.Close,brushing,sharingairandwarmth.Achinglycareful.
AndthenIopenmymouth,anditbecomessomethingelseentirely.Thesoftpressofourtongues.Hisgrunt.Mymoan.It’snew,butalsoright.Thescentofhim.Thewayheholdsmyheadinhishand.Thedelicious,liquidheatspreadinginmybelly,risingupmynerveendings.Good.It’sgood,andI’mtrembling,andit’sreally,reallygood.
“If…”Istartwhenhecomesupforair,butimmediatelystopwhenheburieshisfaceinmythroat.
“Thisokay?”heasksbeforeinhalingdeeplyagainstmyskin,asthoughmyTargetbodywashissomekindofmind-addlingdrug.
My“Yeah”isfaint,breathless.Whenhebitesmycollarbone,Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisshouldersandmylegsaroundhiswaist,andthepleasureofbeingsocloseslicesthroughmelikethesharpestblade.
Heishard.Icanfeelexactlyhowhard.Hewantsmetofeelit,Ithink,becausehishandslidesdowntomyassandpullsmeintohim.Isquirm,twistingmyhipsexperimentally,andhegroansruggedlyintomymouth.“Begood,”hechides,stern,alittlerough.Hegripsmetight,holdsmestillagainsthim,andIunexpectedlyshiveratthecommandinhiswords.
Itescalatesquickly.Forme,atleast.Thereisastretchofseconds,maybeminutes,inwhichwejustkissandkissandkiss,Erikleaningevencloserandmefollowinghislead,liquidheatfloodinginsideme.AndthenIstartnoticingthem:thesoftgroans.Thesharphissashiscockrubsagainstmyinnerthigh.Thewayhisfingersdighungrilyintomyhips,thenapeofmyneck,thesmallofmyback.Healternatesbetweenclutchingmetohimselfastightashecanandavoidingtouchingmeatall,handswhite-knuckledagainsttheedgeoftheshelfasheputssomedistancebetweenus.Ithinkhemightbetryingtoslowthisdown.Pacehimself,maybe.
Ithinkhe’snotmanagingto,notverywell.
Ipullaway,andhiseyesslowlyblinkopen.They’reglassy,unfocused,anearly-blackbluefixedonmylips.Whenhetriestoleandownforanotherkiss,Istophimwithahandonhischest.“Bedroom?”Igasp,becausehelookslikehecouldjustfuckmeinhallway,andI’mafraidthatI’dgladlylethim.“Orifyouwant…hereis…fine,ifyou—”
Hecupsahandundermyassandcarriesmeallthewaydownthehallway,likeI’mnoheavierthanhiscat.Whenheflipsthelightswitchon,thebedishugeandunmade,andtheroomsmellssomuchlikehim,Ihavetobrieflyclosemyeyes.Hesetsmeonmyfeet,andI’mabouttoaskhimifthisisnecessary,ifwecouldpleasedothisinthesemi-dark,buthe’salreadyunbuttoninghisshirt,eyesfixedonme.Mymouthgoesdry.Onsecondthought,light’sfine.Probably.
Erikisamountain.Agiantdomeoffleshandmuscles—notGQ-cut,ridiculouslydefinedones,butsolid,oak-treebig,andImighthavegottenabsorbedintostaringandcatastrophicallylosttrackoftimebecause:
“Takeoffyourclothes,”hesays,no,orders,andIshiveragain.There’ssomethingabouthim.Somethingcommanding.Likehisfirstinstinctistotakecharge.“Sadie,”herepeats.“Takethemoff.”
Inod,shrugoutofmyjeansfirst,thenmysweater.I’mfranticallylookingforthecouragetocontinuewhenIhearalow,hoarse,“Notpurple.”
Ilookup.Erikstandsinfrontofme,naked,tall,andbigandlike…likeaminordeityfromsomeNorsepantheon,areservedonewholikestokeeptohimselfbutwouldstillgetacoupleofBalticSeaislandsnamedafterhim.Heisgloriouslyunself-consciousabouthisnudity.I,ontheotherhand,amapparentlytooembarrassedtotakeoffmywhitetanktoportoglanceanylowerthanhisbellybutton.
Notthatheseemstonotice.Hiseyesareglassyagain,staringatthewaymyblackpantiesstretcharoundmyhipslikehe’dlikethemburnedintohisretinas.Iamtemptedtoputmyjeansbackon.“What?”
“They’renotpurple.”
“Idon’t…Oh.Iwenthomeandchanged.And…isthisconsideredapitchmeeting?”Istillshouldhavewornsomethingnicer.Maybeamatchingbra.Problemis,iffivehoursagosomeonehadtoldmeI’dendupinErikNowak’sbedroombytheendoftheday,I’dhaveblamedafeverdreamandhandedthemsomeAdvil.“Andit’snotpurple,it’s—”
“Lavender,”hesayswiththebaretwitchofasmile,andthenIdon’thavetothinkmuchanymorebecauseoneofhisthighsslidesbetweenmineandhe’swalkingmebackwardintohisbed.Thereisadowncomforterundermyback,andaprettyintimidatingerectionIstillcannotbringmyselftolookatagainstmystomach,andhundredsofpoundsofDanishnessaboveme.Erikiseager,anddetermined,andclearlyexperienced.Hegroansintomyneck,thenmysternum,mutteringsomethingthatcouldbefuck,orperfect,ormyname.Thewayhe’sbeenthinkingaboutthisalldayduringmeetings,allfuckingday.Hishandsslideundermytopandtravelup:softkneading,moregroansandafewsoftfuck,Sadie,fuck,alightpinchonmynippleandgreedybitethroughthefabric,anditfeelsperfect,scary,exhilarating,new,filthy,right,good,wet,embarrassing,exciting,fast—allthesethings,allatonce.
Then,inthenextbreath,theyalldissolve.Exceptforone:scary
Erikhashookedhisfingersintheelasticofmypanties,takenthemoff.He’skissingdownmyhipbones,fulllipspressedintomyabdomen,andIknowexactlywhathe’splanningtodo,butIcannotstopthinkingthathe’s…
Heisreallyverybig.Andhisforearmislaidoutacrossmystomach,pinningmetothebed,andImethim—shit,Imetthisguythismorning,andeventhoughIdidbrieflygooglehimtomakesurehisrealnamewasn’tMaxMcMurderer,Idon’tknowanythingabouthimandheismuchlargerandstrongerthanIamandamIevengoodatthisandhecoulddowhateverhewantedwithmehecouldmakemeandIfeelhotIfeelcoldIcannotbreatheand—
“Stop!Stopstopstop—”
Erikstops.Instantly.AndIinstantlysquirmoutfromunderneathhim,draggingmyselftotheheadboard,legsdrawnupandarmsaroundthem.Hiseyesareonme,onceagainlightblue,onceagainseeing.Whatishegoingtodo?Whatishe—
“Hey,”hesays,pullingbackonhiskneesasiftogivemeevenmorespace.Histoneisgentle,likehe’sapproachingskittish,injuredwildlife.Agoodchunkofmypanicmelts,and…OhmyGod.Whatiswrongwithme?Wewerehavingagoodtime,hewasbeingperfectlyfine,andIhadtogoandbeafuckingweirdo.
“I’msorry.Ijust…Idon’tknowwhyI’mfreakingout.You’rejustsobig,andIbarelyever—I’mnotusedtothis.Sorry.”
“Hey,”Eriksaysagain.Hishandreachesouttotouchme.Hoversabovemyknee.Thenheseemstothinkbetterofitandpullsitback,whichmakesmewanttocry.Iruinedthis.Iruinedit.“It’sokay,Sadie.”
“No.No,it’snot.I…IthinktheproblemisthatIhaveonlyeverdonethiswithmyex,andI…”
“Isee.”Hisfaceturnsstonyinanimpersonal,scaryway.“Didhehurtyou?”
“No!No,Oscarwouldnever.Itwasgood.It’sjusthewas…different.Fromyou.”Ilaughnervously.IhopeIdon’tburstintotears.“Notthatit’sbad.Imean,everybody’sdifferent.It’sjustthat…”
Henods,andIthinkhegetsit,becausehisexpressionclearsup.Whichinturnhelpsmefeelalittlelessanxious.LikeIdon’tneedtobehuddledawayfromhimasthoughhe’sacontagiousrabidanimal.Itakeadeepbreathandscootbackcloser,towardthecenterofthebed.
“I’msorry,”Isay.
“Whyareyousorry?”Heseemsgenuinelypuzzled.
“Ijustdidn’tthinkthiswouldfeel…scary.IfiguredI’dbewaycooler.Smoother,Iguess.”
“Sadie,you…”Heexhalesandreachesformeagain.Thistimehedoesn’tstopandpushesbackmyhair,tuckingitbehindmyearlikehewantstoseemyfaceinfull.Likehewantsmetoseehim.“Youdon’thavetobeanyway.Ididn’tbringyouheresoyoucouldperformforme.”
Iswallowagainstthelumpinmythroat.“Right.YoubroughtmeherebecauseIpropositionedyou,andthen—”
“IbroughtyouherebecauseIwantedtobewithyou.I’dhavekeptonwalkingaroundthecitytilldawnifthatwaswhatyouwanted.So,here’sthedeal:wecanspendthenightfucking,andIwon’tlie,I’dgreatlyenjoythat,butwecouldalsoplayGuessWho?,oryoucouldhelpmegivemybrother’scathisfleamedication,sinceit’satwo-,maybethree-personjob.Anyoftheaboveworks.”
Ireally,reallydon’twanttotearup.InsteadIletmyselffallbackintothebed,myheadonhisonepillow.“WhatifIwantedtoplaytheFIFAvideogame?”
“Iwouldaskyoutoleave.”
“Why?”
“BecauseIdonotownanygamingconsole.”
Ilaugh,alittlewatery.“Iknewyouweretoogoodtobetrue.”
“IusedtohaveaGameBoyinthe’90s,”heoffers.“Maybemydadkeptit.”
“Partialredemption.”We’rebothsmilingnow,andmyfearofhimliquefies,likesnowinthesun.Onlytoicealloveragain,inanotherform:fearofnothavinghim.“DidIfuckthisup?”
“Fuckwhatup?”
Igesticulateinhisdirection,theninmine.Us,Iwanttosay,butitseemspremature.“This…thisthing.”
Heliesdownnexttome,facingme.Hepurposefullyleftafewinchesbetweenus,butoftheirownvolition,likevinestwiningaroundtreetrunks,mylegstravelacrossthesheetsandtanglelooselywithhis.Thistimethecontactisnotscary,onlyrightandnatural.He’sstillbiganddifferentandalittleawe-inducing,buthe’snotontopofme,andIfeelmoreincontrol.LikeIcouldstepawaywhenever.AndIknownowthathe’dletme.“MaybeIcanunfuckitup?”Iaskhopefully.
Hesighs.“Sadie,Iwanttotellyousomething,butI’mafraidyouwon’tlikeit.”
Ohno.“Whatisit?”
Apause.“YouareabrilliantengineerwhoknowsthePremierLeaguestatsofthepastthreedecadesoffthetopofyourhead.Physically,youaretheuncannycombinationofeverysinglefeatureI’veeverfoundattractive—no,Iwillnotexpandonthat.AndyousavedmeonyourphoneasCorporateThor,evenafterIgaveyoumyfullname.”
“Iwasn’tsureaboutthespellingand—yousawthat?”
“Yup.”Hishandcomesuptocupmycheek.“Thisisit,Sadie.Idon’tthinkthere’sanyfuckingthisup.”
Amillionhopefulfireworksexplodeinmyhead.Myheartsqueezesinmychest,heavyandsweet.Okay.Okay.“SoIhavenotturnedyouoffsexforever?”
Hehuffsoutalaugh.“Idoubtmenotwantingtohavesexwithyouissomethingwe’lleverneedtoworryabout,Sadie.”
“EvenifI’mbadatit?”
“You’renot.”
“Ididn’tthinkso.IthoughtIwasokay.Imean,average.Butmaybe—”
“Sadie.”Withahandonmywaisthepullsmealittlecloser.Justenoughforhiseyestomeetmineandformyentireworldtonarrowtohim.“Let’stakeitslowly.We’llgetthere,”hetellsme,likeheknows,hejustknowsthatthisisthefirstnightofmany.
“Areyousure?”
“Strongsuspicion.WouldyoufeelbetterifIputmyclothesbackon?”
Ishakemyhead,andthen,onanimpulse,closethedistancebetweenus.Theotherkissesheled,whichIloved,butwiththisoneI’mincharge,andit’sexactlywhatIneed.Hedoesn’ttrytodeepenittillIdo.Doesn’tcomeclosertillIshifttowardhim.Doesn’ttrytotouchmetillItakehishandandsetitonmyhip,andeventhenit’sgentle,fingersskimmingupanddownmythigh,tracingmyribcageridgebyridge,myspineknobbyknob.
Ifeelmyselfrelax.Driftaway.Expandandcontractandforget.Becomewetandpliant,abeautiful,deliciousheatspreadingintomystomach.WhenmythighaccidentallybrushesagainstErik’serection,mybreathhitchesandhemakesanoise,deepandlowinthebackofhisthroat.
“Sorry,”herasps,arrangingmesothatI’mturnedaway.
Istophimwithahandonhisbiceps.“Ilikethis,actually.”
“Youdo?”
“Yeah.You?”
Heexhales.“Youhavenoidea,doyou?”
“Ofwhat?”
Hedoesn’telaborate.“I’mhappytodothisuntilsunrise.”
“Really?”Iletoutalaugh.“You’dbehappychannelingyourbesthighschoolselfandmakingout?”
Heshrugs.“I’mprobablygoingtocomeatsomepoint.ButIcanwarnyou.Youdon’thavetobepartofit,andthere’sabathroomacrossthehallway.”
“No!No,I’m—”dyingofembarrassment.“I’dliketo.Bepartofit,thatis.”Iclearmythroat.“Ithinkweshouldtryagain.WhatweweredoingbeforeIfreaked.”
Iseeitplayoutonhisface:asplitsecondofeagerness,thenamaskofblandskepticism.“Ithinkweshouldwaitforthat.Takeitslow.GooutafewmoretimesuntilyougetusedtothefactthatI’m…sobig,apparently.”
Iflush.“ButIwasthinking…whatifIgoontop?ThatwayIwon’tfeeltrapped?”
Erikgoesstill.Foramoment,hestopsbreathing.Thenheasks,“Areyousure?”Hispupilsaredilated.
“Ithinkso.Wouldyouliketo?”
“Thatwouldbe…”Heswallows.Hisfingersaregrippingmyhipslikehesimplycannotletgo.“Yeah.I’dlikethat.Ifthat’seventhewordforit.”
Idon’timmediatelyrealizethemisunderstanding.MaybebecauseI’mbusy,firstshiftingonthemattressandclimbingoverhiships,thenbaskinginthefactthatI’montopofhim.Idofeelmuchbetter,thisway.Okay,Ithink.Yes.Icandothis,afterall.Ilovethis,actually.IlovestraddlingErik,lookingdownathispaleskin,tracinghismuscles.Ilovehiseyesonthespotswheremynipplespushagainstmytop.Ilovethefeelingofmythighsbeingsplitwidebyhistorso,thehairsofhishappytrailagainstmyfolds.Icanhavesexwithhim,afterall.Iwanttohavesexwithhim.ImightdieifIdon’thavesexwithhim,becauserightnowIwantustobeascloseaswehumanlycan.
Butthenhishandsclosearoundmywaist,andheshiftsmeup.Andup.Andup.Untilmykneesarepressingintothemattressoneachsideofhisneck,andIrememberwhatexactlyhe’dbeenabouttodowhenwestopped.Biglightbulbenergy.OhmyGod.HethinksIwanthimto—
“Erik,I—”
Hestartswithalongswipeacrossmycore,partingmewithhistongue.Imakeanembarrassing,animalsoundthat’shalfgasp,halfwhimper,andfallforward,catchingmyselfontheheadboard.Mycoreflutters.Myentirebodyshakes,electric.
“Fuck,Sadie,”hesaysgutturallyrightbeforelickingintomeagain,thoroughandimpatientinawaythatredefinesthewordenthusiasm.Histongueplayswithmyentrance,pushingpastsqueezingmuscles.Thethumbofthehandthat’snotcagingmyasscomesuptodrawcirclesaroundmyclit.I’mtrembling.Spasming.Clenching.AllofasuddenI’magonizinglyempty.
“OhmyGod,”Iwhisperintothebackofmyhand.ThenIbiteit,becauseifIdon’t,Iwillscream.MaybeI’llscreamanyway,becausehegruntsandarcheshisthroattolickupintome,pressingmypelvisagainsthismouth,andthenoiseshemakes—thenoiseswemake—arewetandfilthyandobscene.“OhmyGod.I—”I’moutofcontrol.Mythighsarestartingtotremble.IhavenoideawhatI’mdoing,butIcannotstoprocking,rubbingmyselfagainsthismouth,hisnose,andhisface,squirmingformorecontact,morepressure,morefriction,wantingtobefull—
“You’redoingsowell,Sadie,”hemurmursintomycore,andthewordsvibrateallthewayupmyspine.Hisfingersgripmyassbruisinglytightandhe’sruthless,keepingmestill,anglingmebetter,lettingmeknowthatheknowswhatIneed—formetolethimdohisjob.Thenhestartsusinghisteethonme,andIbreakdown.
Iscream.
“Can’tbelieveyouthoughtyouwerebadatthis,”hetellsme,laughing,andIfeeleachandeverysyllabletravelthroughmelikeaknife.Iforcemyselftobreathedeep,tostayupright,tolookdownathim.Andthat’swhenhiseyesmeetmineandhestartssuckinghardonmyclit.
Icomesohard,it’snearlypainful.I’vealwaysbeenquiet,silentinbed,butthepleasureislikeadambursting,cuttingandsearingandsoviolent,mybodyhasnohopetocontainit.Isobandwhimperintothebackofmyhands,powerless,confused.AllthroughmyorgasmErikisthere,holdingmyhips,murmuringpraisesandgroansagainstmyswollenfolds,lickingatmeuntilit’sjustontheothersideoftoomuch.
Thenhiskissesbecomelighter.Gentle.Heturnstosuckontheinsideofmyleftthigh,andIwonderifit’senoughtoleaveamark.ErikNowakwashere.“I’vebeenthinkingabouteatingyououtallday,”hesaysagainstmyskin,whichisstickyanddrenchedand—Icannotbelievethisishappening.Icannotbelievethisissex.“All.Fucking.Day.”
Somehow,heseemstoknowthatI’mtoobonelesstomove.Heslidesmebackdownhisbody,andmaybeI’mimagining,butIthinkhe’sbreathingasheavilyasIam,andIthinkhishandsaretrembling.Iwanttoinvestigate,buthewrapshisarmsaroundmytorsoandholdsmetohischesttillwe’reascloseandwecanbe.Theracingbeatofhisheartreverberatesthroughmyskin,andthis,this,thismomentcouldn’tbeanymoreperfect.
Untilhekissesme.Andkissesme.Hekissesmymouthwiththesamesingle-mindednessheusedformycore,andasmyheartbeatquietsdown,asmylimbsslowlystoptwitchingwithpleasure,Ibegintosmileintohislips.
“Erik?”
“Yeah?”Hishandcurvesaroundmyass
“Whydidyoubuyit?”
“Buywhat?”
“Faye’scroissant.Ifyouknewitwassogross,whydidyoubuyit?”
Hesmilesintothelineofmyshoulder.“I’mpartofit.”
“Ofwhat?”
“Themoneylaunderingscheme.”
Igiggleandhughimtighterwhileitswellsinsideme,asurgeofhappinessandadorationandsomethinghazy,somethinghopefulandyoungthatIcannotquitedefineyet.Hiscocktwitchesagainstmyinnerthigh.Heshiftsmehighertopretenditdidn’thappenandpullsmeinforanotherlazykiss.Hmm.
Itrytowiggleandreachbetweenus,buthestopsmyhandbytwininghisfingersagainstmine.
“Doyounot—?”
“Ignoreit,”hesays,nuzzlinghisfaceagainstmythroat.Hebitesme,firm,playful,almostdistracting.Almost.
“Butyou—”
“Shhh.It’sfine,Sadie.Weshouldquitwhilewe’reahead.”
Ifrown,proppingmyselfuptolookathim.“We’renotahead.Iamahead.It’safirmonetonothing.”Probablymoreliketwelve-blending-into-onetonothing.But.
Helaughssoftly.“Believeme,itdidnotfeellikenothing—”
Hecloseshismouthsoabruptly,Icanhearhisjawclick.BecauseI’mslidingback,andhiserectionisnestledagainstme.First,thecurveofmyass.Then,rightundermycore.
Heinhales,harsh.Fingersdigintomywaist.“Sadie—”
“IthoughtyousaidIcouldbeincharge,”Iteasehim,rockingonhiscocklikeIdidonhismouth.Thelipsofmycoresurroundhisshaft,plumpandpuffy.Welookdownatthesceneatthesametime.Thesoundheletsoutisferal
“Weneedtostop,”hegruntsout,buthishandsplaysonmylowerbackandhepressesdowntogetbetterfriction.
“Why?”
“Because—”Theheadofhiscockhitsmyswollenclit,asharpstabofpleasureupmyspine.Erikarchesup,hugsmetightertohim,andcloseshiseyes.“Fuck.Oh,fuck,”heslurs.“I’mgoingtofuckyou,amInot?”Hisbreathcatches,andwe’realmostaligned.Thenwearealigned,himhardagainstmyentrance,andIbeardownbecauseIwantto,Iwanttofeelthisdelicious,immensepressurethatwillsplitmeattheseams,anditfeelsgood,sogood,floodingly,druggingly,overwhelminglygood—
“Condom,”hegaspsinmymouth.“Ifwe’re—weneedacondom.”
Istill.Shit.“I—”Itrytoscrambleoffhim,butErikholdsmerightthere.He’sstillkindofinsideme.Justthetip.“Doyou…Doyouhaveone?”
“Ithinkso.Somewhere.”
Somewhereisrightinthedrawerofhisbedsidetable,underneathabottleofallergypills,aphonecharger,andtwobooksinwhatIpresumeisDanish.HeholdsthecondomouttomeandIacceptitwithoutthinking.
Thefoilisgolden.Trojan,itsays.Andunderneath:Magnum.Whichmaybeexplainsalot.
“ShouldI…?”
Henods.We’rebothflushedandclumsyandoutofbreath,andIhavenoideahowtoputonacondom.ButIdon’twanttosay,Please,doityourself,becausemyschooldidn’treallydothebananapartofsexed,andmymomputmeonbirthcontrolonmythirddatewithOscar.Erikisstaringeagerlyatthefoilinmyhand,likeit’sagiftofmyrrhforthenewbornking,andIthinkhe’smorethanalittleintotheideaofmedoingthisforhim.
Igrin.IhaveaPh.D.inengineering:ifIcanbuildsophisticatedmachinery,Icanfigureouthowtoputonadamncondom.Andthere’ssometrialanderror,butErikdoesn’tseemtomind,spellboundbythewaymysmallfingersworkonhim.WhenI’mdone,hisbreathingisshorter.Morestilted.
“Comebackhere.”Hepullsmedowntohim.
“I—Doyouwanttobeontop,thistime?”
“No.”
“Areyousure?IthinkI’mokaywith—”
“Sadie.Iwanttofuckyou,andIneedyoutolikemefuckingyou.Soyou’reontopfornow.”
Ihavenocluewhattheparametersforthemagnumsizeare,butIdogetwhyheneedsit.I’masrelaxedandturnedonasI’veeverbeen,butitstilltakesawhiletoworkhimin,withsmallincrementsandfalsestartsandlotsofcarefulmaneuvering.Bythetimehe’sinasfarashe’llgo,I’msweating,andErikisdrenched.Hesmellsdelicious,likesaltandsoapandhisimmenseskin.SoIlicktheplaceonhisjawwherethedropshavebeencollecting.
“Canyou…?”Hearchesexperimentallyintome.Webothletoutagroan.
“Whatdoyouwant?”
“Iwanttofeelyourtits.”
“Oh.”I’dforgottenaboutmytop.Istraightentotakeitoff,whichinvolvessometwistingandgrindingthathasErikgaspingandtryingtostillmyhipsagain.They’renotmuch,Ialmostwarnhim.ButIremembersomethinghesaidearlier.UncannycombinationofeverysinglefeatureI’veeverfoundattractive.“Didyoumeanit?WhenyousaidI’myourtype,physically?”
Hispupilstracktheprogressofmyhands,blownwide.“Inoticedyou.”
“Noticedme?”Iundotheclaspofmybra.Hetwitchesinsideme.Hisjawtickswithrestraint.
“Inthebuilding.Thelobby.”Hecloseshiseyes.Thenopensthem.“Onceintheelevator.”
Itakeoffmybra,feelingstupidtohavebeenworried.He’sstaringatmybodylikeit’ssomewherebetweenholyandutterly,deliciouslypornographic.“Whatdidyounotice?”
“Sadie.”Histhroatbobs.“Alot.”
“And…”Ipushdownonmykneesandcirclemyhipstwice,workinghimalittledeeper.Afractionofaninch,butthefriction,thesenseoffullness—myeyesrollbackinmyhead.Ididn’tknowanythingcouldbesofarinsidemeandfeelsogood.Couldn’thaveimagined.“Andwhatdidyouthink?”
“Oh,fuck.”AdesperatesoundcomesoutofErik’sthroat.“This.This,andmore.”Heswallows.“Lotsofotherthings,and—Sadie,you’regoingtohavetogivemeaminutetoadjustorI’mgoingto—”EriksoundsjustasastonishedbythisasIfeel.Hiseyesarescrewedshut,andhishandsgripmesohard,andhisteethsinkintomyshoulder.“Sadie,I’maboutto—”
“Don’tworry.”Ipantmysmileagainsthisear,flutteringlikeI’mabouttogounder.“You’redoingsowell,Erik.”
Icomelikeanavalanche,andthenhedoes,andwhenIsqueezemyarmsaroundhisneck,Idon’tevermeantoletgo.
???
Inthemorning,IwatchhimshaveinfrontofthemirrorjustbecauseIcan.
HeusesarazorthatlooksliketheonesIbuyformylegs(i.e.,cheapestatthesupermarket).Ifhemindsthebleary-eyedgirlwhohadlessthantwohoursofsleepandiscurrentlysittingwrappedinatowelonhisbathroomcounter,hehidesitwell.ButI’malmostsurehedoesn’t.Mostlybecausehe’stheonewhoputmehere.
“You’resotall,”Isay,alittletired,alittlestupid,leaningbackagainstthemirror.
Hismouthtwitches.“Youaren’t.”
“Iknow.That’swhatIblametheendofmysoccercareeron.”
“Isn’tCrystalDunnprettyshort?”heasks,rinsinghisrazor.Hedrieshishandsonhispajamabottoms,whichhangdeliciouslylowonhiships.“MeghanKlingenberg,too.And—”
“Shutup,”Isaymildly,whichonlyamuseshimfurther.Hesetsdowntherazorandmovescloser,handsslippinginsidemytowelandcomingtorestagainstthesmallofmyback,warmandinstinctiveandimpossiblyfamiliar.Likeit’ssomethinghe’sbeendoingeverydayforhisentirelife.Likeit’ssomethingheplanstodoeverydayforwhat’sleftofit.
Ilovethis.Thewayhepullsmeintohim.Thewayhegrowshardbutseemstobecontentwiththisnotgoinganywhere.Thewayhisfacenuzzlesintomythroat.Ilovethis.But.
“Ijustthinkyoumightbetootall,”Isayintohisclavicle.“Iforeseeneckproblemsforbothofus.”
“Hmm.We’llprobablyneedsurgeryafewyearsdowntheline.”Hissmiletravelsthroughmyskin.“How’syourinsurance?”
“Meh.”
“Mine’sgood.Youshouldgoonitwhen…”Hetrailsoff.Picksupagainwith,“Havelunchwithmetoday.”
“Idon’tusuallyhavelunch,”Itellhim.“I’mmoreofa‘bigbreakfast,thenfortysnacksscatteredthroughouttheday’kindofperson.”
“Haveabigbreakfastandfortysnackswithme,then.”
Ilaugh.Yes.Yes.Yes.“What’stheclosestsubwaystop?”
“I’lldriveyouintowork.”
“Ineedtogohomefirst.FeedOzzy.Remindhimofmyunyieldingloveforhim.”
“I’lldriveyouhome,andthenI’lldriveyouintowork.Youcanintroducemetothehamster.”
“Guineapig.”
“Prettysurethey’rethesamething.”
Ilaughagain,exhaustedanddrowsyandoverthemoon,andIcannothelpbutwonderhowdifferentthismorningwouldbeifErikhadn’tbeentheonetobuyFaye’scroissant.
Icannothelpbutwonderifthisisthefirstdayoftherestofmylife.Chapter9
Present
“Idon’t…It’snotthat…Itisn’teven…Ifyou…”I’msputteringlikeanidiot,which…great.Fantastic.Empowering.I’marolemodelforalljiltedwomenintheworld.
Erikisstillcrouchinginfrontofme,likehe’sfullyplanningtoseethisconversationthrough.Isitup,straighteningagainstthewalloftheelevator,andtakeadeepbreath.Collectmyself.
I’mgoingtospeakmymind.I’mgoingtotellhimexactlyhowmuchofadickheadheis.I’mgoingtounleashthreeweeks’worthofshower-cryingonhim.I’mgoingtochewhimoutforruiningpistachioicecreamandorangecatsforme.I’mgoingtoannihilatehim.
Butapparently,onlyafterIaskhimthestupidestquestioninthehistoryofstupidquestions.“Didyoureallythinkthesexwasn’tgood?”
Wow,Sadie.Waytoletthepointofthisentirechatflyoveryourhead.
Hesnorts.“Iobviouslydidn’t.”
“Thenwhywouldyousaythat—”
“Sadie.”Hestudiesmeforamoment.“Areyouforreal?”
Iblush.“You’retheonewhobroughtitup.”
“Seriously?Youknowwhat—okay.Right.Well.”Histhroatworks.Helooks…notquiteupset,butdefinitelythemostupsetI’veeverseenhim.Danish-upset,maybe.“AboutthreeweeksagoI’mhavingmyusual,fairlydisgustingbreakfast,andImeetthisreallybeautiful,amazingwoman.Iblowoffmymorningmeetingsandignoremyphone—myteamisthisclosetosendingoutasearchparty—becauseallIcanthinkofishowfunitwouldbetositwithheronaparkbenchcoveredinbirdshitandtalkabout…Idon’tevenknow.Itdoesn’tevenmatter.That’showgooditiswithher.Andbecauseit’sapparentlymyluckyday,Imanagetoconvincehertocomeouttodinnerwithme,andshe’snotonlylovelyandsmartandfunny,italsofeelslikethetwoofushavemorethingsincommonthanIthoughtpossible,and…well,it’safirstforme.I’mnorelationshipexpert,butIrecognizehowrarethisis.Howutterlyoneofakind.Iwanttotakeitslowbecausetheideaofscrewingthisupterrifiesme,butsheaskstocomeover.”Heexhalesasingle,bitterlaugh
“Ishouldputonthebrakes,butIhavezeroself-controlwhenitcomestoher,soIsayyes.Wespendanighttogether,andwefuck,alot,andyes,Sadie,it’sreallyfuckingphenomenalinalife-alteringwayIneverthoughtI’dneedtoelaborateon.It’sobviousthatshedoesn’tdothisoften,there’ssomehiccups,but…yeah.Youwerethere.Youknow.”Hepresseshislipstogetherandlooksaway.“ShefallsasleepandIwatchherandthink,Thisislikenothingelse.Scary,almost.
“Butthenit’smorningandshe’sstillthere.AndwhenIsaygood-byetohersheactuallyrunsaftermeandwe’reatwork,there’speoplearound,wecan’treallykissordoanythinglikethat,butshereachesoutandtakesmyhandandsqueezesithard.AndIthinkthatmaybeIdon’tneedtobescared.It’sgoingtobeallright.She’snotgoinganywhere.”Heturnsbacktome.Hiseyesarecoldnow,darkintheyellowlights.“Andthennightcomes.Thefollowingday.Theoneafter.AndIdon’thearfromher.Neveragain.”
IstareatErikforlongmoments,absorbingeverysingleword,everylittlepause,everyunspokenmeaning.ThenIleanforward,andthroughgrittedteethIsay:
“Idespiseyou.”
“Why?”Heisicily,quietlyfurious,butI’mnotafraidofhim.Ijustwanthimtohurt.Tohurtasmuchashehurtme.
“Becauseyouarealiar.”
“AmI?”
“Oftheworstkind.”
“Right.Ofcourse.”Ourfacesareaboutaninchapart.Icansmellhisscent,andIhatehimevenmore.“AndwhatdidIlieabout?”
“Comeon,Erik.Youknowexactlywhatyoudid.”
“IthoughtIdid,butapparentlyIdon’t.Whydon’tyouspellitoutforme?”
“Sure.”Iabruptlypullaway,leaningbackagainstthewallandcrossingmyarmsonmychest.“Fine.Let’stalkabouthowyouusedmetostealclientsfromGreenFrame.”Chapter10
Twoweeks,sixdaysago
“DidIjustseeyouwithErikNowak?”
Gianna’svoicestartlesmeoutofthesemi-comatosestateI’vebeeninforthepastfiveminutes,whichmostlyinvolvesstaringattheMeganRapinoeFunkoPoponmydeskand…mooning.
Ifeeldruggedinasweet,deliciousway.Fromlackofsleep,Iassume.Andthefluffy,syrupywaffleErikboughtmeatthedinernearmyapartment.Andthehilariousstoryhetoldmewhilesippinghiscoffee,ofhowtwoweeksagohefellasleeponhiscouchandwokeuptoCatlickinghisarmpit.
Iwanttotexthim.Iwanttocallhim.Iwanttotaketheelevatorandgodownstairstosmellhim.ButI’mnotgoingto.I’mnotthatweird.Overtly,atleast.
“Gladtoseeyou’reback.”IsmileupatGianna,who’sleaningagainstmydesk.ShemusthavecomeintomyofficewhileIwasmooning.“How’sPresley?”
“Better.ButnowEvanandRileyhavesomekindofbugthatinvolvesasuperfunamountofdiarrhea.ButIsawyouinthelobbywithatallguy—washeErikNowak?”
“Oh.Um…”IthinkmaybeI’mflushing.Idon’treallyhaveareasonto—Giannaiscoolandverymuchnotthejudgmentaltype—butwhathappenedlastnightfeelsso…private.Andfledgling.Ihaven’teventoldHannahandMara(ifonedoesn’tcounttheeggplantandheartemojisIsentinresponsetotheseventyHowdiditgo?textsIfoundthismorningonmyphone).Itfeelsweirdtotalkaboutitwithmyboss.Thoughlyingaboutitwouldbeevenweirder,right?“Yes.Youknowhim?”
“ThatErikNowak?ProBld’sErikNowak?”
Icockmyhead.Arethereanyothers?“Yeah?”
“Areyouguysfriends?”
“Weonlyjustmet.”
“Soyou’renotlike,buddies.”Sheseemsrelieved.“Okay.Good.Youwerelaughingtogether,soIjustwantedtomakesure.”
“Why…Woulditbeaproblemifwewere?”
“Notquite,no.Imean,Iwouldn’tdreamoftellingyouwhoyoushouldandshouldn’thangoutwith.Butthetwoofyouseemedabit…chummy,andIjustwantedtomakesure…youknow.”Shewavesahanddismissively.“Ifyouwerefriendsandtalkedregularly,I’dwanttoremindyoutobesafeandvery,verydiscreetwhentalkingshopwithhim.Butsinceyou’rejustcasualacquaintances,then—”
“WhywouldI…”Ifrown,swivelingmychairtobetterfaceher.Thisconversationisveryodd,andI’mwonderingifIshouldchugdownanothercoffeebeforeitcontinues.“Whatdoyoumeanbysafeanddiscreet?”
Sheopenshermouth.Thenclosesit,looksaroundtomakesurethatnoneoftheinternsarehere,andopensitagain.“AwhileagoProBldmademeanoffer.Basically,theywantedtobuyGreenFrameanditsclientportfolio,andsortofincorporateitasadivisionoftheircompany.”
“Oh.”Iblink.Erikdidn’tmentionitlastnight.Thenagain,neitherhasGianna,ever.“Ihadnoidea.”
“Well,itwasbeforeIhiredyou.Two,threeyearsago?Beforethekids.Andtobehonest,itwasn’tthefirstnorthelastofferIgot.”
“Right.IknewInnovusoffered.”
“AndJKC.Yeah.ButProBldwaskindof…insistent.”Sherollshereyes.“Thereasontheywantedusonboardisthatthey’retryingreallyhardtoexpandintheecologicallysustainablemarket,buttheyhaven’thadmuchsuccessluringinreallyqualifiedpeoplelike…well,likeyou.Sincemostofthemwouldrathergotomorespecializedfirms.Don’tgetmewrong,they’vebeenhiringsomepromisingengineers,buttheydon’thavetheexpertisetheyneedyet.Sotheymademeareallygoodoffer,Isaidno,thankyou,Iwouldratherbemyownboss,andforafewmonthsitlookedlikeeverythingwasgoingtocontinueasusual.”Shepauses.“Thenitstarted.”
Ishakemyhead,confused.“Whatstarted?”
“Abunchofshittylittlethings.TheworstofwhichwastargetingsomeofourclientstogetthemtoswitchtoProBld.Iheardthatsomeoftheirpeopleweresniffingaroundoursites,too.Notexactlyupstandingstuff.”
Istiffen.Thissounds…bad.Realbad.“Gianna,justtobeclear.”Itakeadeepbreath.“LastnightIwentoutwithErikfordinner.Sowe…Iguesswearechummy.Buthe’sgreat,andhewouldn’tdoanythinglikewhatyoumentioned.”IsayitwithmorecertaintythanIshouldprobablyfeel,giventhatIfirstmethimexactlytwenty-fourhoursago.Butit’sErik.Itrusthim.“Idon’tknowwhatthepartnersandthehigher-upsaredoingatProBld,butI’msurehe’dnevercondoneanythinglikethat.”
“Well,heisapartner.”
Iblink.“He…Excuseme?”
“Erikisoneofthepartners.”
AllofasuddenI’mfeelingcold.Andvery,verynauseous.“Heisa—Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Yousaidyouwenttodinnerwithhim.Areyoutellingmehedidn’tmentionthathe’soneofthefoundingpartners?”Shemustreadtheansweronmyface,becauseherexpressionshiftstosomethingthatlooksalotlikepity.“HestartedProBldrightoutofschoolwithtwoofhisbuddies.Andtherestishistory.”
“I’dlovetopoachyou…I’llpayyoumore.Nameafigure…I’mveryopentonegotiating.”
“Wait—you?”
“ProBld.”
“Doesheknowyou’reanengineer?”Giannaisasking.
Iclearmythroat.“Yes.ItoldhimIworkedforGreenFrame.”
“Beforeorafterheaskedyouout?”
“I…”Thatwasn’tthereason.Itwasn’t.Can’thavebeen.“Before.”
“Oh,Sadie.”Sametoneasbefore—nowwithmorepity.“Butyoudidn’ttellhimanythingspecificaboutourprojectsorstrategiesorclients,right?”
“I…”Imassagemyforehead,whichsuddenlyfeelslikeit’saboutasecondfromexploding.“Idon’tthinkso.”
“Didheaskaboutanything?”
“No,he…”
Yes.Yes,hedid.
Icanclearlyseehim,sittingacrossfrommeattherestaurant.Hisalmost-smile.Hisneat,voraciouswayofeating.
Howdiditgo,bytheway?…Yourpitch.
Who’stheclient?
Soyougottheproject?
“Sadie?Areyouokay?”
No.No.Nope.“Ithink…I’mafraidImentionedsomething.AbouttheMiltonproject.Itcameupinconversation,andI…IknewhewasanengineersoIwentintomoredetailthanIshouldhave,and…”Giannacovershereyeswithherhand,andIwantthefloortoswallowmewhole.Theaddled,blissed-outfeelingfromthismorninghasdissolved,replacedwithdreadandastrongdesiretopukemywafflealloverthefloor.“Gianna,Iknowitseemssketchy,butIdon’tthinkErikwouldeverdoanythinglikewhatyoumentioned.Wereallyhititofflastnight,and…”Myvoicediesdown,whichisjustaswell.Icannotbeartohearmyselftalkinganymore.
Hedidn’tsayhewasapartner.Whydidn’the?WhydoIfeeldizzy?
“Ihopeyou’reright,”Giannasays,evenmoreofthatunsettlingcompassioninhereyes.Shepushesawayfrommydesk,highheelsclickingintoheroffice,anddoesn’tlookback.
IfeellikeIcouldcry.AndIalsofeellikethisisastupid,nonsensicalmisunderstandingI’mgoingtolaughabout.Ihavenoideawhichoneistherightthingtodo,soItrytofocusonwork,butI’mtootired,orpreoccupied,orhorrifiedtoconcentrate.Attwop.m.Eriktextsme:Inmeetingsuntil7.CanItakeyououtafter?andIthinkaboutourdinnerlastnight,inarestaurantwhereheusuallybringsclients.AmIworktohim?
Twominuteslaterheadds,OrIcouldcookforyou.
Andthen:Beforeyouask:no,notherring.
Istareatthemessagesforalongtime,andthenIstandtotakealookatthecopymachine,whichhasbeenbeepingbecauseofitsusualpaperjam.Iballuptheoffendingsheetandthrowitintherecyclingbin,notquiteseeingwhat’sinfrontofme.
Iansweremails.Icallonearchitect.Ismileattheinternsandhavethemhelpmewithresearch.Iwaitfor…Idon’tknowwhatI’mwaitingfor.Asign.Forthisweird,apocalypticconfusiontodissipate.Comeon,Erikdidn’tgooutwithmeasacoverforsomesortof…corporateespionagebullshit,orwhatever.ThisisnotaJohnGrishambook,andwhatItoldGiannastands:myguttellsmethathewouldnever,everdoanythinglikeit.Unfortunately,I’mnotpositivemygutisn’tlyingtome.Ithinkitmightjustwanttomakeoutwiththemostattractivemanintheworldduringthehalftimeofsoccergames.
Thecopymachinebeepsthreetimes,andthenthreemore.Apparently,Ifixedabsolutelynothing.
AtfivethirtyIhearGianna’sphonering,andtenminuteslatershewalksgingerlyoutofheroffice,comingtostandinfrontofmydesk.Theinternsaregone.It’sjustherandmeintheoffice.
Myinsidesareicedover.Mystomachplummets.
“Guesswhatprojectwedidn’tget,”shesays.Hertoneissoft.Gentle.Tohercredit,notatraceofIToldYouSo.“Andguesswhatotherfirmtheydecidedtogowith.”
Iclosemyeyes.Icannotbelievethis.Idon’twanttobelievethis.
“TheMiltonpeoplesaidtheygotanotherpitchtoday.Similarsustainability.Lowercosts,though,sinceit’sabiggerfirm.TheyaskedmeifIcouldmatchtheiroffer,andItoldthemIcouldn’t.”
Myeyesstayclosed.Idon’topenthemforalong,longtime.Everythingisspinning.I’mjusttryingtostaystill.“I…Ifuckedup,”Isay,barelyawhisper.I’mcrying.OfcourseI’mcrying.I’mfuckingstupidandmyfuckingheartisbrokenandoffuckingcourseI’mfuckingcrying.
“Youcouldn’thaveknown,Sadie.”
Thecopymachinebeepsagain,sixtimesinarow.InodatGianna,watchherwalkaway,andthinkaboutbrokenthings,brokenthingsthatsometimescannotbefixed.Chapter11
Present
Irackmybrain,tryingtorememberwhetherduringourdinnerErikevermentionedtakingactingclasses.Iwanttosayno,andlet’sbehonest,itwouldseematinybitoutofcharacter.Andyet,ifIdidn’tknowwhathedid,Icouldalmostbuyit.Icouldalmostbelieve,fromthewayhe’sblinkingconfusedlyatme,thathehasnoideawhatI’mtalkingabout.
Nicetry.
“Comeon,Erik.”
Hisbrowfurrows.He’sstillcrouchinginfrontofme.“Whatclients?”
“Youcandropit.”
“Whatclients?”
“Webothknowthat—”
“What.Clients.”
Ipressmylipstogether.“Milton.”
Heshakeshishead,likethenametellshimnothing.IfIhadaknifehandyI’dprobablystabhim.Throughthemuscles,rightintohisheart.“ThereccenterinNewJersey.”
Ittakesasecond,butIcanseeaglimmerofrecognition.“Thepitch?TheoneyouwereatFaye’sfor?”
“Yup.”
“Yousignedthatclient,didn’tyou?”
Iclenchmyjaw.Hard.“Fuckyou,Erik.”
Hehuffsimpatiently.“Sadie,I’mreallylosthere,soifyoudon’tgivemealittlecontext—”
“Ialmostsignedthatclient.However,whentheygotapitchthatwasalmostidenticaltomine,theydecidedtogowithProBld.Ringabell?”
Itdoesn’t.Well,Iampositiveitmust.Buttheactingtalentismakingasuddencomeback,andErikreallydoeslooklikehe’scompletely,utterlyconfused.Hiseyesnarrow,andIcanalmostseehimtrytosiftthroughhismemories.
Isigh.“Thisis…justreallyexhausting,Erik.Giannatoldmeeverything.IknowthatProBldtriedtobuyGreenFrame.Idon’tknowifyouwentoutwithmeplanningtohurtthecompany,oryoutooktheopportunityonceyouwerepresentedwithit,butIdoknowthatyouusedwhatItoldyouatdinnertogiveapitchverysimilartomine,becausetheclient—yourclient—admittedittous.”
“Ididn’t.”
“Right.Sure.”
“Ireallydidn’t.”
“Ofcourse.”Irollmyeyes.
“No,I’mserious.Areyoutellingmethatthereasonyoustoppedtalkingtomeisthatwecoincidentallyendedupgettingoneofyourclients?”
“Twopitchesthatsimilararenotacoincidence—”
“Theymustbe.Ididn’tevenknowwehadthatclientuntilrightnow.”
“Howcouldyounotknowwhatprojectsaregoinginthefirmyouown?”
“BecauseIamnotajunioremployee.”Icantellfromhistonethathe’sstartingtogetfrustratedwithme.WhichisfinebecauseI’vebeenfrustratedwithhimforweeks.“Ihavealeadershippositionandmanagepeoplewhomanagepeoplewhomanagemorepeople.We’renotGreenFrame,Sadie.Ioverseedifferentteamsandspendmydaysinprettyfuckingboringmeetingswithpatentattorneysandsurveyorsandqualityassurancemanagers.Unlessit’sahigh-prioritydealoranextremelylucrativeproject,Imightnotevenbedebriefeduntilit’swellonitsway.Myjobismakingbig-picturedecisionsandgivingguidelinessothat—”
Hestopsandphysicallyrecoils.Onesecondhe’sleaningtowardme,thenexthisbackisstraightandhe’spinchingthebridgeofhisnosebetweenthumbandforefinger.Hestayslikethatforlongseconds,eyesclosed,andthenexplodesinalow,heartfelt:
“Fuck.”
It’smyturntobeconfused.“What?”
“Fuck.”
“What…Whyareyoudoingthat?”
Helooksatme,notoneounceofhispreviousexasperationinhisexpression.“You’reright.”
“About?”
“Itwasme.Itwasmyfaultyoudidn’tgettheclient.Butnotforthereasonyouthink.”
“What?”
“Thedayafterwe…”Herunsatiredhanddownhisface.“ThatmorningIhadameetingwithoneoftheengineeringmanagersIsupervise.Hetoldmethathewasrefiningapitchforaprojectthathadspecificallyaskedforsustainabilityfeatures.Hedidn’tgointodetailandIdidn’task,butsinceit’snotourfortehewantedtoknowifIhadanyresources.Isenthimanacademicarticle.”Histhroatbobs.“Itwastheoneyouwrote.”
I’mdizzy.I’msittingdown,butIthinkImightfallover.“Myarticle?Mypeer-reviewedarticleonframeworksforsustainableengineering?”
Henodsslowly.Helplessly.“Ialsosentyourthesisoutinacompany-wideemailandhighlyencouragedallteamleaderstoreadit.Thoughthatwasafewdayslater,afterI’dreaditmyself.”
“Mythesis?”Imusthavemisheardhim.SurelyI’minthethickofacerebrovascularevent.“Mydoctoraldissertation?”
Henods,lookingapologetic.I…Idon’tthinkI’mevenmadanymore.OrmaybeIam,butit’sdilutedinthetotal,uttershockofhearingthat…“Howdidyougetmythesis?Andmypaper?”
“ThepaperwasonGoogleScholar.Forthethesis…”Hepresseshislipstogether.“IhadalibrarianfromCaltechsendmeadownloadlink.”
“Youhadalibrariansendyouadownloadlink,”Irepeatslowly.I’minhabitingaparalleldimension.Whereatomsaremadeofchaos.“When?”
“Themorningafter.WhenIgottomyoffice.”
“Why?”
“BecauseIwantedtoreadit.”
“But…why?”
HelooksatmelikeI’mabitslow.“Becauseyouwroteit.”
MaybeIamabitslow.“Soyouweretryingto…figureoutGreenFrame’spitchbasedonmypublishedwork?”
“No.”Histonedropssomeoftheguiltandisbacktothreepartsfirm,onepartindignant.“IwantedtoreadwhatyouwrotebecauseI’minterestedinthetopic,becauseatdinneritwasveryobviousthatyou’reabetterengineerthanmostpeopleatProBld—includingmyself—andbecauseaboutfiveminutesintomyworkdayIrealizedthatifIwasn’tgoingtostopthinkingaboutyou,Imightaswellbeproductiveaboutit.AndasIread,Irealizedthatyourworkisabovegood,andsharingitwitheveryoneelseseemedlikeano-brainer.Ididn’tthinkthatIwashandingyourpitchtomyentirecompany,and…Fuck.Ijustdidn’tthink.”Herubsthebackofhishandagainsthismouth.“Itwasmyfault.Itwasn’tonpurpose,butItakefullresponsibility.I’mgoingtotalkwithmyengineeringmanagerandwiththeclientand…I’llfigurethisout.We’llfindyouawaytomakesureyougetthecredityoudeserve.”
Istareathim,stupefied.Thisis…He’snotsupposedtobesayinganyofthis.He’ssupposedto…Idon’tknow.Doubledown.Defendhisownshittyactions.Makemeloathehimevenmore.
“Forthefuture,wecanprobablyworkoutanagreement.Somethingaboutnotpursuingyourpotentialclients.Idon’tknow,butI’lltalkitthroughwithGianna.”
Excuseme?“Idoubtyourpartnerswilleveragreetothat.”
“TheywillwhenIexplainthesituationtothem,”hesays,likeit’sadecidedmatter.
“Sure,becauseyou’reoneofthem.”Myangerisback.Good.Perfect.“Anotherliefromyou,bytheway.”
Thistime,he…Isheblushing?“Ididn’tlie.”
“Youjustomitted.Niceloophole.”
“That’snotit.I…”ForthefirsttimesinceImethim,thisself-possessed,severemanseemsvaguelyembarrassed,andI…Ican’tlookaway.“Iwasn’tsurewhetheryouknew.MostpeopleImeetseemtoknowalready—yes,Iknowhowthatsounds.Andthenoverdinneryoutoldmeabouthowdifferentworkingforafirmwasfromacademiclife.Howmuchyoumissedyourfriends.IfiguredmebraggingabouthowIgraduatedandgottomakethattransitionwithmyfriendscouldwaitacoupleofdays.”
“Thatsoundsreally…”Believable,actually.Kindofthoughtful,ifinanoddlymisplacedway?“Sketchy.”
Heletsoutalaugh.LikeI’mbeingridiculous.“Sketchy.”
“Ijust—”Ithrowupmyhands.“Whyareweevendoingthis,Erik?It’sobviousthatyouhadsomeulteriormotiveforaskingmeout.Youeventriedtooffermeajob!”
“OfcourseIdid,Sadie.I’ddoitagain.Iwillrightnow.Doyouwanttocomeworkforme?Becausethatofferstandsand—”
“Stop.”Iraisemypalm,putitbetweenuslikethemostuselesswallintheworld.“Please,just…stopthis.”
“Okay.”Eriktakesalong,deepbreath.Whenhetalks,hisvoiceiscalm.“Okay.Thisiswhathappened,andinterruptmeifI’mwrong:youthought,basedonwhatyouweretoldbysomeoneyoutrusted,thatIsleptwithyoutostealaclientandgetbackatGiannafornotselling,whichmaybesoundsalittlefar-fetched,but…Igetit.It’swherethecluespointed.Isthatcorrect?”
Inod,silent.Thereisaprickly,heavypressurebehindmyeyes.
“Okay,”hecontinuespatiently.“That’syoursideofwhathappened.ButI’maskingyoutoconsidermine.WhichisthateventhoughIabsolutelyfuckedupbysendingyourworktomyteam,Ididn’tknowabouttheconsequencesofituntilaboutfiveminutesago.BecauseIcalledyou,butyouneverpickedup.AndwhenIcameupstairstotalktoyou,Giannasaidthatshewassureyoudidn’twanttoseeme.AndIliketothinkthatI’mnotthekindofassholewhowouldkeepcallingawomanwhoaskedhimnotto,soIstopped.ButIalsowasn’texactlyabletoquitthinkingaboutyou,whichhadmedesperatelylookingforthereasonyoupulledback,tothepointthatI’vebeenreplayingwhathappenedbetweenusthatnighteveryday—every…single…day—forthepastthreeweeks.”
“Erik—”
“I’mnotexaggerating.”Thiswouldbesomucheasierifhistonewereaccusatory.Butno.HehastosoundreasonableandlogicalandearnestandsincereandIwanttoscream.“Itoreaparteveryminute,everysecondofeveryinteraction,andafterslicingallofitintopieces,theonlyconclusionthatIcouldreachwasthatwhateverIdidwrongmusthavehappenedafteryouaskedmetotakeyoutomyplace,whichonlyreallyleftwhatwedidthere.”
“That’snot—”
“AndI’vebeenscared,scaredlikeneverbefore,thatI’dhurtyou.”Heliftshishand.Curvesitaroundmycheek.“ThatI’dleftyouinsome—anykindofpain.ThatIcouldn’tmakeamends.Which,letmetellyou,isnofunwhenyouknowinyourlizardbrainthatyou’reaboutfiveminutesfromfallinginlovewithsomeone.”Hecloseshiseyes.“Maybepast.Can’treallytell.”
Theymakethefloorshiftandshake,Erik’swords.Theymakeitfallhardandfastfromundermyfeet,theyfloodmybrainwithablindingflashoflight,andthey…wait.
Wait
“Thepower’sback,”Isaywithagasp,realizingthattheelevatorisworkingagain.Erikmusthavenoticed,too,buthedoesn’tlooksurprised,nordoeshemakeamovetoshiftawayfromme.Hekeepsholdingmyeyes,likehe’swaitingforananswerfromme,foranacknowledgmentofwhathe’ssaid,butIcan’t,won’tgiveittohim.Iturnawayfromthehandonmyfaceandgrabmybag,slippingoutofthecornerwhereIwedgedmyself.
“Sadie.”Whenthedoorsopenonthefirstfloor,Idartoutofthecar.Erikisrightbehindme.“Sadie,canyou—”
“Erik!”someonecallsfromtheothersideofthelobby,thevoiceechoingacrossthemarble.Thereisasmallgroupofpeoplechattingwithtwomeninmaintenanceuniforms.“Youokay?”I’malmostpositive(fromhate-researchingProBldafterourfalling-out)thathe’sanotheroneofthepartners.Alate-workingbunch,clearly.
“Yeah,”Eriksayswithoutmovingintheirdirection.
“Wereyoustuckintheelevator?”
“Inthesmallerone.”ThereisanimpatientedgetoErik’stone.Itshiftstosomethingmuchsofterwhenheturnstomeandsays,“Sadie,let’s—”
“Wasitjustthetwoofyou?”themancalls.“Actually,maintenanceistryingtomakesurethatnoonefromProBldisstillstuck.Canyoucomehereforasecond?”
Erik’s“Sure,I’llberightthere”couldcutdiamonds.
Iturntoleave,buthishandclosesaroundmybiceps,andIfeelhisgriptravelthrougheverysinglenerveendingIpossess.“Stayhere,okay?Ijustneedfiveminutestotalktoyou.CanIhavefiveminutes?Please?”HeholdsmyeyesuntilInod.
Butonceheturnshisbacktome,Idon’thesitateforevenasecond.IrubthespotwherehejusttouchedmeuntilIcan’tfeelhimanymore,andthenIslipoutintothewarmnightair.Chapter12
“Wait.Waitwaitwaitwaitwait.Waitwaitwait.Wait.”InthecenterofmyMac’smonitor,MaraholdsupbothindexfingerstocommandHannah’sandmyattention.Despitethefactthatshealreadyhadit.“Wait.Whatyou’resayingisthatallthistimewe’vebeendoingweeklysummoningcirclestogivethisguydisfiguringgenitalwartsandtoenailfungusesandthosegiantsubcutaneouspimplespeoplegetsurgicallyremovedonYouTube…buthedidnot,infact,deserveanyofit?”
Igroan.“No.Idon’tknow.Yes.Maybe?”
“Relatedquestion:howlongwereyouinthatelevator?”Hannahasks.
“I’mnotsure.Onehour?Less?Why?”
Sheshrugs.“JustwonderingifthiscouldbeStockholmsyndrome.”
Igroanagain,lettingmyselffallbackonmybed.Ozzyshufflesovertosniffme,justtomakesurethatIhaven’tturnedintoacucumbersincethelasttimehechecked.Thenhescurriesaway,disappointed.
“Okay,”Marasays,“let’sbacktrack.Iswhathetoldyoubelievable?”
“No.Idon’tknow.Yes.Maybe?”
“IsweartoGod,Sadie,ifyou—”
“Yes.”Istraightenup.“Yes,itdoesmakesense.Ididdetailmyframeworkforsustainabilityproposalsinmypublishedarticle,andIdetaileditevenmoreinmythesis—”
“Whichyoumaybeshouldhaveembargoed,”Hannahinterjects,playingwithherdarkhair.
“—whichIdefinitelyshouldhaveembargoed,soit’spossiblethatsomeonewhoreadmystuffcouldhaveusedittomimicmypitch.Ofcourse,whenitcomestoactuallydoingthework,theywon’thavetheexpertiseGiannaorIhave,butthat’saproblemforlater.IguessthatwhatEriksaidis…conceivable.”
“So,nogenitalfunguses?”Maraasks.“Imean,itseemsonlyfair,consideringthatyoudidpublishthatarticleandwritethatthesistoencouragepeopletoadoptyourapproach.”
“Right.Yeah.”Iclosemyeyes,wishingfortheseventeenthtimeinthepasttwohoursthatIcouldvanishintonothingness.MaybesincethelasttimeIchecked,aportaltoanotherdimensionhasappearedinmycloset.MaybeIcantraveltoNoconsequencesofmyownactionsland.“Ididn’treallyfigureitwouldbeusedbymydirectcompetitors.”
“Irealizethat,”shesays,withatonethatsuggestsastrongbut.“But,I’mnotpositivethatit’sErik’sfault,either.”
“Andhedidapologize,”Hannahadds.“Also,thefactthathereadyourdissertationiskindofcute.HowmanyoftheguysI’vesleptwithhavereadmystuff,doyouthink?”
“Noclue.Howmany?”
“Well,asyouknow,Ifirmlybelievethatsexandconversationdon’tmixwell,butI’destimate…asolidzero?”
“Soundsaboutright,”Marasays.“Plus,yousaidheofferedtofindawaytofixthesituation.Andthatjustdoesn’tseemlikesomethinghewoulddoifhedidn’tcareaboutyou.”
“Agreed.”Hannahnods.“Myvoteisfornogenitalpimples.”
“Same.Iamdissolvingthesummoningcircleaswespeak.”
“No,wait,nodissolving,I—”Iscrubmyeyeswiththeheelsofmyhands.“Whosesideareyouguysevenon?”
“Yours,Sadie.”
“Unlikeyou,”Hannahadds.
“I—Whatdoesthatevenmean?”
Theyexchangealook.Iknowwe’reonaZoomcallandit’stechnicallyimpossibleforthemtoexchangealook,buttheyareexchangingadamnlook.Icanfeelit.“Well,”Hannahsays,“here’sthedeal.Youmeetthisguy.Andyouboinkhim.Andit’sreallygoodboinking—yay.Thedayafter,youfindoutthathe’sadick,whichsendsyouonathree-weekdownwardcurlicueoftearsandTalentigelatothat’sabouttwelvetimesmoreintensethanthetimeyoubrokeupwithadudeyou’dbeendatingforyears.Butthenyoufindoutthatitwasallamisunderstanding,thatthingsmightbefixable,and…youleave?Yousaidhewantedtotalkmore,andit’sobviousthatyou’reinterestedinhearingwhathe’ssaying.Sowhydidyouleave,Sadie?”
IstareatHannah’simplacable,matter-of-fact,kindeyes,whichgoverywellwithherimplacable,matter-of-fact,kindvoice,andmutter:“IlikeditbetterwhenyouwereinLapland.”
Shegrins.“Idid,too,whichiswhyI’mtryingtogetbackthere—butletusreturntodiscussingyourterriblecommunicationskills.”
“They’renotthatbad.”
“Eh.Theykindofare,”Marasays.
IglareatMara,too.I’manequal-opportunityglarer.“Youknowwhat?Iwillacceptthatmycommunicationskillsarepoor,butIrefusetobeshamedbysomeonewho’sonthevergeofgoingringshoppingwiththedudesheoncenearlycalledthecopsonbecauseheleftaCVSreceiptinthedryer.”
“Pfft,they’renotgoingringshopping.”Hannahwavesherhanddismissively.“Ibetshe’sgoingtogetsomekindoffamilyheirloom.”
“Doesn’thehaveolderbrothers?”Iask.“Theyprobablyalreadyranoutofheirloomsfourweddingsago.”
“Ohyeah.Maybetherewillbesomeshopping.Youthinkhe’sgoingtocallusfromsomeD.C.mall’sClaire’saskinguswhichringMarawouldprefer?”
“OhmyGod,youknowwhat?LastweekIreadsomewherethatCostcosellsengagementrings—Oh,hi,Liam.”
Mara’sboyfriendentersthescreenandcomestostandrightbehindher.Inthepastfewweekshe’sbecomeasortofinformalfourthinourcalls—anoccasionalgueststar,ifyouwill,whominesforembarrassinggradschoolstoriesaboutMaraandkindlyofferstomurderourassholemalecolleagueswhenwecomplain.ConsideringthatourfirstintroductiontohimwasMaraplottingtobooby-traphisbathroom,it’ssurprisinglyfuntohavehimaround.
“Really,guys?”heasks,allfrownyanddarkandcross-armed.“Claire’s?Costco?”
HannahandIbothgasp.“Costcoisamazing.”
“Yeah,Liam.WhatdoyouhaveagainstCostco?”
Heshakeshisheadatus,pressesakissonthecrownofMara’shead,andexitstheframe.I’mafan,Imustsay.
“Okay,”Marasays,“goingbacktoyourpoorcommunicationskills.”
Irollmyeyes.
“AreyoustillangryatErik?”Hannahasks.“Becauseyouspentweeksbeingsad,andfurious,andsadlyfurious.Evenifyounowknowthatyourreasonsweren’tasvalid,Ifeellikeitwouldstillbehardtoletgoofthat.Somaybethat’stheissuehere?”
IthinkaboutErik’shandclosingaroundmyarminthelobby.Aboutthewayhekeptlookingatmewhentheelevatorrestarted:focused,intent,liketheworldcouldspintwiceasfastasnormalandhestillwouldn’thavecared,notifIwerenearby.Idon’tletmyselfrecallthewordshesaid,butamemoryresurfaces,ofuslaughingandstandinginhiskitchenandeatingChineseleftovers,andIdon’tpushitdown.Forthefirsttimeinweeks,it’snotsoakedinresentmentandbetrayal.Justtheachy,poignantsweetnessofthenightwespenttogether.OfErikturningupthethermostatwhenIsaidIwascold,thenwrappinghislarge,warmhandsaroundthesolesofmyfeet.Thatfeelingofbeingrightthere,onthebrinkofsomething.
Idon’tthinkI’mangry,notanymore.
“It’snotthat,”Isay.
“Okay.Sotheproblemisthatyoudon’tbelievehim?”
“I…No.Ido.Idon’tthinkGiannadeliberatelyliedtome,butshedidn’thaveallthefacts.”
“Whatisit,then?”
Iswallow,tryingtoprodatthereasonmystomachfeelsleaden,thereasonI’vebeenfeelingsickwithdisappointmentandfeareversincefindingoutthetruth.Andthenithitsme.TheonethingIhavebeenactivelytryingnottoverbalizehitsmejustasIsay,“Itdoesn’tmatter,anyway.”
“Whydoesn’titmatter?”
Iclosemyeyes.Yes.That’sit.That’swhy.“BecauseIruinedit.”
“Ruinedit,how?”
NowthatIcannameitforwhatitis,thehorriblefeelinggrows,acidandbitterinmythroat.“Hewon’tbeinterestedinme.HemetmeandthoughtthatIwasfunny,thathehadtonsofthingsincommonwithme,thathereallylikedme,andthenI…Iactedlikeatotallyirrational,absurd,derangedpersonandblockedhisnumberandaccusedhimoffuckingcorporateespionageandmaybehewantstosettherecordstraight,maybehehatestheideaofmethinkingthathe’sahorribleperson,butthere’snowayhewantstopickupwhereweleftoffand—aaaargh.”Iburymyfaceinmyhand.
Ifuckedup.Ijust…Ifuckedup.AndnowIhavetolivewiththeknowledgeofit.IhavetogooninaworldinwhichnomanwillevercomparetoErikNowak.Nomanwillevermakemelaugh,andmakemybodysing,andmakemysoulabsolutelyindignantwithhisoutrageousopinionsonGalatasaray—allatonce.
“Oh,honey.”Maracocksherhead.“Youdon’tknowthat.”
“Ido.It’slikely.”
“That’snotthepoint.”HannahleansclosertothescreentillallIcanseeareherbeautifulfaceanddarkeyes.“Okay,soEriknowknowsthatyouoccasionallydisplayanappallinglackofconflict-resolutioninitiative.”
Igroan.“IreallywishIhadtheemotionalfortitudetohanguponyou.”
“Butyoudon’t.WhatI’msayingis,maybeErikwilldecidethatyou’llmakeforaterriblegirlfriendwhooverreactsandismoretroublethanyou’reworth.Maybehe’lldecidethathewantstobitchaboutyouontherelationshipsubreddit.Butifyoucuthimoutlikeyoudidthreeweeksago,you’djustbemakingthisdecisionforhim.”
Iblink,confused,suddenlyrememberingwhyIwentintoengineering.Logarithmicderivativesaresomucheasierthanthisrelationshipshit.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Sadie,Iknowyoulikethisguyalot.Iknowthatifhedoesdecidethathedoesn’twantyouinhislifeit’sgoingtohurt,andthatyou’retemptedtopreemptivelypullbacktoprotectyourself.Butifyoudon’tatleastgivehimachancetochooseyou,you’lllosehimforsure.”
Inodslowly,tryingtothinkpastthehardknotinmythroat.Lettingtheidea—goforit,justgoforit,askforwhatyouwant,bebrave—slowlyseepthroughme.RememberingErik.Rememberingthebreezehangingbetweenusonaparkbench,onadesertedsidewalk.Thewaymystomachflutteredatthefeelingsitcarried.Ofpossibilities.Ofmaybe
Thisismynewhappyplace,Erikmurmuredintotheshellofmyearthesecondtimewehadsexthatnight.Andthenhepushedmysweatyhairawayfrommyforehead,andIlookedupathimandthought,Hiseyesaretheexactcoloroftheskywhenthesunshines.AndIalways,alwayslovedthesky.
“You’reright,”Isay.“You’resoright.Ishouldgotohim.”
Hannahsmiles.“Well,it’sactuallywhat,onea.m.inNewYork?Iwasthinkingmoreofaphonecalltomorrowmorning.Aroundten.”
“Yes.Ishouldgotohimrightnow.”
“That’stheexactoppositeof—”
“Igottago.Loveyou.”
Ihangupandbounceoutofbed,lookingforajacketandmyphone.IstartorderinganUber,except—shit.IknowwhereEriklives,butnothisaddress.Iruntothedoor,simultaneouslylookingformykeysandtypingtheclosestlandmarktohisapartmentthatIcanrecall.Howthehelldoyouspell—
“Sadie?”
Ilookup.Erikisstandinginmyopendoor.Erik,inallhistall,unsmiling,Corporate-Thorshipsplendor.WearingthesameclotheshehadonwhenIlefthimplusalightjacket,hishandupinmidairandclearlyabouttoknock.
“Areyougoingsomewhere?”
“No.Yes.No.I…”Itakeastepback.Another.Another.Erikstaysrightwhereheisandmycheeksburn.AmIhallucinatinghim?IshereallyhereinAstoria?Inmyapartment?Ihearaloudthunk,andmykeysareonthelinoleumfloor.Ineedanap.Ineedaseven-yearnap.
“Here.”Hebendsdowntopickupthekeys,pausesforasecondtostudymysoccerballkeychain,andholdsthemouttome.“CanIcomeinforfiveminutes?Justtotalk.Ifyoufeeluncomfortable,thehallway’sokay,too—”
“No.No,I…”Iclearmythroat.“Youcancomein.”
Abriefhesitation.Thenanodashestepsinandclosesthedoorbehindhimself.Buthedoesn’tmoveanyfartherinside,stoppingintheentranceandsimplysaying,“Thankyou.”
Iwascomingtoyou,Iopenmymouthtosay.Iwasonmywaytotellyoumany,manyconfusingthings.Butthesurpriseofseeinghimherehasfrozenmybravery,andinsteadoffloodinghimwiththeimpassionedspeechIwouldhavetypedonmyNotesappintheUber,Ijuststare.Silent.
Forfuck’ssake,whatiswrongwithme—
“Here,”hesays,holdingoutaphone.Hisphone.
Uh?“Whyareyougivingthistome?”
“BecauseIwantyoutolookthroughit.Thepasscodeis1111.”
Iglanceathisface.“1111?Areyoujoking?”
“Yeah,Iknow.Justignoreit.”
Isnort.“Youcan’taskmethat.”
Hesighs.“Fine.Youareallowedonecomment.”
“Howaboutoneoneoneonecomments—”
“That’sit.Yourcomment,youuseditup.Now—”
“Comeon,Ihavewaymoreto—”
“—willyoupleaseunlockthephone?”
Ipoutbutdoashesays.Mostlyoutofsheerbewilderment.“Done.”
Henods.“Ifyouclickonmyemailapp,you’llfindmyworkcorrespondence.Mostofthosemessagesarehighlyconfidential,soI’mgoingtoaskyounottoreadthem.ButIwantyoutosearchforyourlastname.”
“WhywouldIdothat?”
“Becauseit’sallthere.Theemails.Merequestingyourthesis.MecirculatingittoProBldlikeanasshole.Acoupleofinstancesofmegenerallydiscussingyourwriting.ThetimelineshouldconfirmwhatIalreadytoldyou.”Istareathim.Speechless.Thenhecontinues,anditgetsworse.“ThisisallIcanthinkof,butifthere’sanythingelseIcanshowyouthatwillhelpyoubelievethatGiannamisinterpretedthings,letmeknow.I’mhappytoleavemyphonehere.Takehoweverlongyouwanttogothroughit.Ifsomeonecallsortexts,ignorethem.”
It’sthecalm,earnestwayhe’slookingatmethatdoesit.Itsnapswhat’sleftofmyterrorofbeingrejected,andI’mabruptlydonewithwhateverfearfulbullshitmybrainistryingtofeedme.
Anewknowledgeuncurlsinsideme,andIinstantlyknowwhattodo.Iknowhowtodoit.Anditstartswithclutchinghisphonetight,steppingcloser,andslidingitintothepocketofhisjacket.Iletmyhandlingerinsideforasecond,feelingthewarmthfromErik’sbody.Thecleancotton.NolintorcandywrappersoremptyChapSticktubes.
Iadoreit.Iloveit.Myhandwantstoslipinsidethispocketonrainyfallafternoonsandchillyspringmornings.Myhandwantstomoveinandjustlivehere,rightnexttoErik’s.
Butfornow,there’ssomethingelseIneedtodo.Whichisholdingoutmyownphonetohim.Helooksatitskeptically,untilIsay,“Mypasscodeis1930.”
Hismouthtwitches.“YearofthefirstFIFAWorldCup?”
Ilaugh,because…yeah.Outofeveryone,hewouldknow.AndthenIfeelmyselfstartingtocry,becauseofcourse,outofeveryoneintheentireworld,hewouldknow.
“Unlockit,please,”Isaybetweensniffles.Erikiswide-eyed,alarmedbythetears,tryingtocomecloserandtopullmetohim,butIdon’tlethim.“Unlockmyphone,Erik.Please.”
Hequicklypunchesinthenumbers.“Done.Sadie,areyou—”
“Gotomycontacts.Findyours.It’s…Ichangedit.Toyouractualname.”It’shardtosustainhighandprolongedlevelsofhatredatsomeonewho’ssavedonyourphonewithacutesynickname,Idon’tadd,butthethoughthasmechuckling,wet,watery.
“Done.”Hesoundsimpatient.“CanI—”
“Okay.”Itakeadeepbreath.“Now,please,unblockyournumber.”
Apause.Then:“What?”
“Iblockedyournumber.BecauseI…”Iwipemycheekwiththebackofmyhand,butthere’remoretearscoming.“BecauseIcouldn’tbearto…Because.ButIthinkyoushouldunblockit.”Isniffleagain.Loudly.“Soifyoudecidedthatyoudon’tmindthefactthatsometimesIcanbeatotallunatic,andifyouwanttogivemeacallandgivethe…thethingweweredoinganotherchance,thenI’dbehappytopickupand—”
Ifindmyselfpulledintohisbody,huggedtightagainsthischest,andIshouldprobablyinsistonapologizingproperlyandofferanin-depthdebriefingofeverythingthathasoccurred,butIjustletmyselfsinkintohim.Smellhisfamiliarscent.Whenhesmoothsmyhairback,Iburymyfaceintohisshirtandmelt,soakinginthesilenceandtherelief.
“IthinkIjustreallysuckatone-nightstands,”Isay,muffledintothesoftfabric.
“Wedidn’thaveaone-nightstand,Sadie.”
“Okay.Imean,Idon’tknow.I’venever…”
“I’vehadenoughforboth,andthensome.”Hepullsbacktolookatme,andrepeats,“Wedidnothaveaone-nightstand.”
Idon’tmaketheconsciousdecisiontokisshim.Itjusthappens.Onesecondwe’relookingateachother,thenextwe’renot.Eriktasteslikehimselfandalate-springnightinNewYork.Heholdsmyheadinhispalm,pressesmeintohim;hegroans,bendsdowntopushmeintothewall,andlickstheinsideofmymouth.
“Sowe’regood?”heasks,comingupforair.Iwanttonod,butIforgetwhenhebendsdownforanotherkiss,justasdeepastheonethatcamebefore.Thenheremembershisquestionandrepeats,“Sadie?Arewegood?”
Iclosemyeyesandbiteintohisbottomlip.It’ssoft,andplump,andIrememberthepatientwayheworkedbetweenmylegs.Iremembercomingoverandover,thepleasuresostrongIcouldn’tcomprehendit—
“Sadie.”He’snotbreathingnormally.Hetakesastepback,likeheneedsamomenttogethimselfundercontrol.“Arewegood?Becauseifyouthinkthisisaone-nightstand,then—”
“No.I…”Ireachuptohisface.Thistime,whenIbringhismouthdowntomine,mykississlowandgentle.“No.We’regood.”
“Promise?”heasksagainstmylips.
Inod.Andthen,becauseitseemsimportant:“Ipromise.”
It’slikeflippingaswitch.Onemomenthe’slookingatmequestioningly,thenextourhandsareoneachother,meunzippinghisjeans,himunbuttoningmyblouse.Thereisaheatgrowingbetweenus,aheatthathasusworkfrenziedly,clumsyandtooeager.WhenItugdownhisjeansandbriefshiscockspringsout,strainingandleakingandsohard,ithastohurt.Iwrapmyhandaroundhim,pumpupanddownacoupleoftimes,andhegroans,asoft,gutturalsound.Thenhepullsmeaway,pinsmywristtothewall,andattacksmypants.
Hisfingersbrushundertheelasticofmyunderwear,andwhenhisknucklesgrazethedampclothofmypantiesit’sallIcandonottospreadmylegsasfarasthey’llgo.“Purple,”heraspsoutwhenmyslacksarepooledaroundmyankles.“Finally.”
“Pitchtoday.Yesterday,”Iamend,helpinghimgetridofmytop.
“Bytheway,”hesays,voicescratchy,“lasttimeyouleftyourbraatmyplace.”HetracesthelineoftheoneIhaveonbutdoesn’ttakeitoff.Instead,helowersthelacecups,tucksthemunderthecurveofmybreasts.Whenmyexposednippleshardentopoints,webothmakechoked,breathynoises.
“Y-youcankeepit.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
Histhumbmovesbackandforthacrossmynipple.“It’snotexactlyina…pristinestate.”
Ilaugh,breathless.“Why?Haveyoubeenusingit?”
Hedoesn’treply.Insteadheliftsmeupuntilmylegsarewrappedaroundhiships,pinningmeagainstthewallnexttothedooreventhoughthere’sabed,acouch,adozenpiecesoffurniturejustahandfuloffeetaway—andthenstopsabruptly.“Doyou—Areyoufeelingtrapped?Isthis—”
“No,it’sgood.Perfect.Please,just—”
Hehookshisfingersinthecrotchofmypanties,haphazardlyshovesthemtotheside,andhetriesone,twoanglesthatcan’tpossiblywork,butthenheadjustsme,hetiltsmelikeI’mnolargerthanadoll,andonthethirdtryhejust…
Slipsinside.Thepressureisenormous,stretchingandburningandfamiliarandinexorableandlovely,andallIcanthinkofishowmuchImissedthis,thesharpfeelingofsomethingtoobigthat’ssomehowmeanttofitinsideme,thewayhemutterssorry,please,more,almostthere
“Imissedyou,”hebreathesagainstmytemplewhenhe’sreachedafullseat,soundinglikehe’sundergreatstrain.“Ionlyknewyoufortwenty-fourhours,butI’venevermissedanyonesomuch.”
Imoan.Anembarrassing,mewlingsoundthatcannotpossiblycomefrommymouth.“Fortherecord.”Ifeelsofull,Icanbarelyspeak.“Ithoughtthesexwasgood.”It’sanunderstatement.It’sasmuchasIamphysicallyabletosayrightnow.
“Yeah?”Hebitesmeonthefleshbetweenmyneckandmyshoulder—nothardenoughtobreakmyskin,enoughtosuggestthathe’snotfullyincontrol.Itremindsmeofournighttogether,thewayhekeptmestillforhisthrusts,thewayhemademefeelatoncepowerfulandpowerless.“That’sgood.BecauseIcan’tthinkofanythingelse.”Hemovesinsideme.Once,twice.Oncemore,alittletooforceful,butperfect.Myforeheadleansagainsthis,andhepantsintomymouth.“Threeweeks,andIcouldonlythinkofyou.”
Itlastslessthanadozenthrusts.HismouthisbymyearashetellsmehowbeautifulIam,howhewantstofeelallofme,howhecouldfuckmeeverysecondofeveryhourofeveryday.Thespasmsbloominsideme,drivememindless,andIclingontohisshouldersasmyorgasmexplodesthroughmybody,wipingmymindclean.Erik,Imouthagainsthishair.Erik,Erik,Erik.HestaysstillwhileIrideitout,anear-silentgrowlinhisthroat,thetensioninhisarmsnearlyvibrating.Then,whenI’malmostdone,heasks,
“ShouldI—Fuck,shouldIpullout?”
“No,”Iexhale.“I’m—we’regood.Pill.”
HecomesinsidemebeforeI’mdonetalking,buryingthesoundsofhispleasureintotheskinofmythroat.
Westaylikethat,after.Heholdsmeup,likeheknowsthatIwouldwobbleonmylegsifheweretoletgoofme,andkissesmeforlongmoments.Chastepeckswhereverhecanreach,longlicksupmysweatyneck,softhickeysthathavemesquirmingandgigglinginhisarms.Inever,everwantthismomenttoend.Iwanttopaintitandframeitandhangitonthewall—thiswall—andtreasureitandmakeamillionmoreand—
“Sadie?”Erik’svoiceisevendeeperthanusual.Iamhappyandpliantandrelaxed.
“Yeah?”
“Doyoustillhaveyourhamster?”
“Guineapig.”
“Samething.Doyoustillhaveit?”
“Yeah.”Ipause.“Why?”
“Justmakingsurethatagiantratisn’ttryingtoeatmyjeans.”
Ilookdownoverhisshoulderandburstintolaughterforthefirsttimeinweeks.Epilogue
Onemonthlater
“Okay,”Isay,determined.Istarefirstatmymasterpieceandattheremnantsofmyhardwork,andthenIrepeat,louder,“Okay,I’mready!Preparetobeblownaway!”
Erikappearsattheentranceofhiskitchenaboutfivesecondslater,lookingsleepyandrelaxedandhandsomeinhisHanesT-shirtandplaidpajamapants.“Youhavedoughonyournose,”hesays,beforeleaningforwardtokissitaway.Thenhesitsacrossfromme,ontheothersideoftheisland.
“Okay.Momentoftruth.”Islideasmallporcelainplatetowardhim.Ontopthereisacroissant—thefruitofmymany,manylabors.
So.Many.Labors.
“Looksgood.”
“Thankyou.”Ibeam.“Madefromscratch.”
“Icantell.”Withasmallsmile,heglancesathowthreequartersofhiskitcheniscoatedinflour.
“Myculinarygeniusisapparentlyabitchaotic.Comeon,tryit.”
Hepicksupthecroissantinhishugehandsandtakesabite.Hechewsforone,two,three,four,fiveseconds,andIshouldprobablygivehimalittlemoretime,butIjustcan’twaittoask,“Youlikeit?Isitgood?”
Hechewssomemore.
“Amazing?Fantastic?Delicious?”
Morechewing.
“Edible?”
Thechewingstops.Eriksetsthecroissantbackonthetableandswallowsonce.Withnoticeabledifficulty.Thenwashesitalldownwithasipofcoffee.
“Well?”Iask.
“It’s…”
“Itcannotbebad.”
Silence.
“Right?”
Hetiltshishead,pensive.“Isitpossiblethatyoumixedupsaltandsugar?”
“No!I…IsitworsethatFaye’s?”Hethinksaboutit.WhichisalltheanswerIneed.“Ihateyou.”
“Thereisabitofa…vinegaryaftertaste?Didyoumaybeaddthatinsteadofwater?”
“What?”Iscowl.“Ithinkyouaretheproblem.Ithinkyoujustdon’tlikecroissants.”
Heshrugs.“Yeah,maybeit’sme.”
Catjumpsontheisland.HegingerlysidestepsourmugsandwithacuriousexpressionsniffsErik’scroissant.“Oh,buddy,no,”Erikwhispers.“Youdon’twanttodothat.”Cattakesadelicatelick.Thenheturnstometostarewithahorrified,betrayedexpression.
Erikdoesn’teventrynottolaugh.
“Ihateyou.”Iclosemyeyes,quietlyplanningmurderandmayhemandlotsoftruculentrevengescenarios.Iwilldefacehisjerseys.Iwillpoursoysauceinhischocolatemilk.Iwillhoardthedowncomforterforthenexttennights.“Ihateyou,”Irepeat.“Ihateyouso,somuch.”
“Nah.”WhenIopenmyeyes,Erik’ssmileiswarmandsoft.“Idon’tthinkyoudo,Sadie.”Don’tmiss
LoveontheBrain
comingsoonfromBerkleyJove!
“Bytheway,youcangetleprosyfromarmadillos.”
IpeelmynoseawayfromtheairplanewindowandglanceatRocío,myresearchassistant.“Really?”
“Yep.Theygotitfromhumansmillenniaago,andnowthey’regivingitbacktous.”Sheshrugs.“Revengeandcolddishesandallthat.”
Iscrutinizeherbeautifulfaceforhintsthatshe’slying.Herlargedarkeyes,heavilyrimmedwitheyeliner,areinscrutable.HerhairissoVantablack,itabsorbs99percentofvisiblelight.Hermouthisfull,curveddownwardinitstypicalpout.
Nope.Igotnothing.“Isthisforreal?”
“WouldIeverlietoyou?”
“LastweekyousworetomethatStephenKingwaswritingaWinnie-the-Poohspin-off.”AndIbelievedher.LikeIbelievedthatLadyGagaisaknownsatanist,orthatbadmintonracquetsaremadefromhumanbonesandintestines.Chaoticgothmisanthropyandcreepydeadpansarcasmareherbrand,andIshouldknowbetterthantotakeherseriously.Problemis,everyonceinawhileshe’llthrowinacrazy-soundingstorythatuponfurtherinspection(i.e.,aGooglesearch)isrevealedtobetrue.Forinstance,didyouknowthattheTexasChainsawMassacrewasinspiredbyatruestory?BeforeRocío,Ididn’t.AndIsleptsignificantlybetter.
“Don’tbelieveme,then.”Sheshrugs,goingbacktohergradschooladmissionprepbook.“Gopettheleperarmadillosanddie.”
She’ssuchaweirdo.Iadoreher.
“Hey,yousureyou’regoingtobefine,awayfromAlexforthenextfewmonths?”Ifeelalittleguiltyfortakingherawayfromherboyfriend.WhenIwastwenty-two,ifsomeonehadaskedmetobeapartfromTimformonths,I’dhavewalkedintothesea.Thenagain,hindsighthasprovenbeyonddoubtthatIwasacompleteidiot,andRocíoseemsprettyenthusedfortheopportunity.SheplanstoapplytoJohnsHopkins’sneuroprograminthefall,andtheNASAlineonherCVwon’thurt.SheevenhuggedmewhenIinvitedhertocomealong—amomentofweaknessI’msureshedeeplyregrets.
“Fine?Areyoukidding?”ShelooksatmelikeI’minsane.“ThreemonthsinTexas,doyouknowhowmanytimesI’llgettoseeLaLlorona?”
“La…what?”
SherollshereyesandpopsinherAirPods.“Youreallyknownothingaboutfamedfeministghosts.”
Ibitebackasmileandturnbacktothewindow.In1905,Dr.CuriedecidedtoinvestherNobelPrizemoneyintohiringherfirstresearchassistant.Iwonderifshe,too,endedupworkingwithamildlyterrifying,Cthulhu-worshippingemogirl.IstareatthecloudsuntilI’mbored,andthenItakemyphoneoutofmypocketandconnecttothecomplimentaryin-flightWi-Fi.IglanceatRocío,makingsurethatshe’snotpayingattentiontome,andanglemyscreenaway.
I’mnotaverysecretiveperson,mostlyoutoflaziness:Irefusetotakeonthecognitivelaboroftrackingliesandomissions.Ido,however,haveonesecret.OnesinglepieceofinformationthatI’veneversharedwithanyone—notevenmysister.Don’tgetmewrong,ItrustReikewithmylife,butIalsoknowherwellenoughtopicturethescene:sheiswearingaflowysundressandflirtingwithaScottishshepherdshemetinatrattoriaontheAmalfiCoast.TheydecidetodotheshroomstheyjustpurchasedfromaBelarusianfarmer,andmid-tripsheaccidentallyblurtsouttheonethingshe’sbeenexpresslyforbiddentorepeat:hertwinsister,Bee,runsoneofthemostpopularandcontroversialaccountsonAcademicTwitter.TheScottishshepherd’scousinisaclosetedmen’srightsactivistwhosendsmeadeadpossuminthemailandratsmeouttohisinsanefriends,andIgetfired.
No,thankyou.Ilovemyjob(andpossums)toomuchforthis.
Icreated@WhatWouldMarieDoduringmyfirstsemesterofgradschool.Iwasteachinganeuroanatomyclassanddecidedtogivemystudentsananonymousmid-semestersurveytoaskforhonestfeedbackonhowtoimprovethecourse.WhatIgotwas…notthat.IwastoldthatmylectureswouldbemoreinterestingifIdeliveredthemnaked.ThatIshouldgainsomeweight,getaboobjob,stopdyingmyhair“unnaturalcolors,”getridofmypiercings.IwasevengivenaphonenumbertocallifIwas“everinthemoodforaten-inchdick.”(Yeah,right.)
Themessageswereprettyappalling,butwhatsentmesobbinginabathroomstallwasthereactionsoftheotherstudentsinmycohort—Timincluded.Theylaughedthecommentsoffasharmlesspranksanddissuadedmefromreportingthemtothedepartmentchair,tellingmethatI’dbemakingastinkaboutnothing
Theywere,ofcourse,allmen.
(Seriously:Whyaremen?)
ThatnightIfellasleepcrying.Thefollowingday,Igotup,wonderedhowmanyotherwomeninSTEMfeltasaloneasIdid,andimpulsivelydownloadedTwitterandmade@WhatWouldMarieDo.IslappedonapoorlyphotoshoppedpicofDr.Curiewearingsunglassesandaone-linebio:Makingtheperiodictablegirliersince1889(she/her).Ijustwantedtoscreamintothevoid.Ihonestlydidn’tthinkthatanyonewouldevenseemyfirstTweet.ButIwaswrong.
@WhatWouldMarieDoWhatwouldDr.Curie,firstfemaleprofessoratLaSorbonne,doifoneofherstudentsaskedhertodeliverherlecturesnaked?
@198888Shewouldshortenhishalf-life.
@annahhhhRATHIMOUTTOPIERRE!!!
@emily89Putsomepoloniuminhispantsandwatchhisdickshrivel.
@bioworm55NukehimNUKEHIM
@lucyintheseaHasthishappenedtoyou?GodI’msosorry.Onceastudentsaidsomethingaboutmyassanditwassogrossandnoonebelievedme.
Overhalfadecadelater,afterahandfulofChronicleofHigherEducationnods,aNewYorkTimesarticle,andaboutamillionfollowers,WWMDismyhappyplace.What’sbestis,Ithinkthesameistrueformanyothers.Theaccounthasevolvedintoatherapeuticcommunityofsorts,usedbywomeninSTEMtotelltheirstories,exchangeadvice,and…bitch.
Oh,webitch.Webitchalot,andit’sglorious.
@BiologySarahHey,@WhatWouldMarieDoifsheweren’tgivenauthorshiponaprojectthatwasoriginallyherideaandthatsheworkedonforoveroneyear?Allotherauthorsaremen,because*ofcourse*theyare.
“Yikes.”Iscrunchmyfaceandquote-tweetSarah.
Mariewouldslipsomeradiumintheircoffee.Also,shewouldconsiderreportingthistoherinstitution’sOfficeofResearchIntegrity,makingsuretodocumenteverystepoftheprocess?
Ihitsend,drummyfingersonthearmrest,andwait.Myanswersarenotthemainattractionoftheaccount,notintheleast.TherealreasonpeoplereachouttoWWMDis…
Yep.This.Ifeelmygrinwidenastherepliesstartcomingin.
@DrAllixxThishappenedtome,too.IwastheonlywomanandonlyPOCintheauthorlineupandmynamesuddenlydisappearedduringrevisions.DMifuwanttochat,Sarah.
@AmyBernardIamamemberoftheWomeninScienceAssociation,andwehaveadviceforsituationslikethisonourwebsite(they’resadlycommon)!
@TheGeologicianGoingthroughthesamesituationrn@BiologySarah.IdidreportittoORIandit’sstillunfoldingbutI’mhappytotalkifyouneedtovent.
@SteveHarrisonDude,breakingnews:you’relyingtoyourself.Yourcontributionsaren’tVALUABLEenoughtowarrantauthorship.Yourteamdidyouafavorlettingyoutagalongforawhilebutifyou’renotsmartenough,you’reOUT.Noteverythingisaboutbeingawoman,sometimesyou’rejustALOSER
Itisatruthuniversallyacknowledgedthatacommunityofwomentryingtomindtheirownbusinessmustbeinwantofarandomman’sopinion.
I’velonglearnedthatengagingwithbasement-dwellingSTEMlordswhocomeonlinelookingforafightisneveragoodidea—thelastthingIwantistoprovidefreeentertainmentfortheirfragileegos.Iftheywanttoblowoffsomesteam,theycanbuyagymmembershiporplaythird-person-shootervideogames.Likenormalpeople.
Imaketohide@SteveHarrison’sdelightfulcontributionbutnoticethatsomeonehasrepliedtohim.
@ShmacademicsYeah,Marie,sometimesyou’rejustaloser.Stevewouldknow.
Ichuckle.
@WhatWouldMarieDoAw,Steve.Don’tbetoohardonyourself.
@ShmacademicsHeisjustaboy,standinginfrontofagirl,askinghertodotwiceasmuchworkasheeverdidinordertoprovethatshe’sworthyofbecomingascientist.
@WhatWouldMarieDoSteve,youoldromantic.
@SteveHarrisonFuckyou.ThisridiculouspushforwomeninSTEMisruiningSTEM.Peopleshouldgetjobsbecausethey’regoodNOTBECAUSETHEYHAVEVAGINAS.ButnowpeoplefeelliketheyhavetohirewomenandtheygetjobsovermenwhoareMOREQUALIFIED.ThisistheendofSTEMANDIT’SWRONG
@WhatWouldMarieDoIcanseeyou’reupsetaboutthis,Steve.
@ShmacademicsThere,there.
Steveblocksbothofus,andIchuckleagain,drawingacuriousglancefromRocío.@ShmacademicsisanotherhugelypopularaccountonAcademicTwitter,andbyfarmyfavorite.Hemostlytweetsabouthowheshouldbewriting,makesfunofelitismandivory-toweracademics,andpointsoutbadorbiasedscience.Iwasinitiallyabitdistrustfulofhim—hisbiosays“he/him,”andweallknowhowcismenontheinternetcanbe.ButheandIendedupforminganallianceofsorts.WhentheSTEMlordstakeoffenseatthesheerideaofwomeninSTEMandstartpitchforkinginmymentions,hehelpsmeridiculethemalittle.I’mnotsurewhenwestarteddirectmessaging,whenIstoppedbeingafraidthathewassecretlyaretiredGamergaterouttodoxxme,orwhenIbeganconsideringhimafriend.Butahandfulofyearslater,hereweare,chattingabouthalfadozendifferentthingsacoupleoftimesaweek,withouthavingevenexchangedrealnames.Isitweird,knowingthatShmachadlicethreetimesinsecondgradebutnotwhichtimezonehelivesin?Abit.Butit’salsoliberating.Plus,havingopinionsonlinecanbeverydangerous.Theinternetisaseafullofcreepy,cybercriminalfish,andifMarkZuckerbergcancoverhislaptopwebcamwithapieceoftape,Ireservetherighttokeepthingspainfullyanonymous.
Theflightattendantoffersmeaglassofwaterfromatray.Ishakemyhead,smile,andDMShmac.
Marie:IthinkStevedoesn’twanttoplaywithusanymore.
Shmac:IthinkStevewasn’theldenoughasatadpole.
Marie:Lol!
Shmac:How’slife?
Marie:Good!Coolnewprojectstartingnextweek.Myticketawayfrommygrossboss
Shmac:Ihopeso.Can’tbelievedude’sstillaround.
Marie:Thepowerofconnections.Andinertia.Whataboutyou?
Shmac:Work’sinteresting.
Marie:Goodinteresting?
Shmac:Politickyinteresting.So,no.
Marie:I’mafraidtoask.How’stherest?
Shmac:Weird.
Marie:Didyourcatpoopinyourshoeagain?
Shmac:No,butIdidfindatomatoinmyboottheotherday.
Marie:Sendpicsnexttime!What’sgoingon?
Shmac:Nothing,really.
Marie:Oh,comeon!
Shmac:Howdoyouevenknowsomething’sgoingon?
Marie:Yourlackofexclamationpoints!
Shmac:!!!!!!!11!!1!!!!!
Marie:Shmac.
Shmac:FYI,I’msighingdeeply.
Marie:Ibet.Tellme!
Shmac:It’sagirl.
Marie:Ooooh!TellmeEVERYTHING!!!!!!!11!!1!!!!!
Shmac:Thereisn’tmuchtotell.
Marie:Didyoujustmeether?
Shmac:No.She’ssomeoneI’veknownforalongtime,andnowshe’sback.
Shmac:Andsheismarried.
Marie:Toyou?
Shmac:Depressingly,no.
Shmac:Sorry—we’rerestructuringthelab.Gottagobeforesomeonedestroysa5milpieceofequipment.Talklater.
Marie:Sure,butI’llwanttoknoweverythingaboutyouraffairwithamarriedwoman
Shmac:Iwish.
It’snicetoknowthatShmacisalwaysaclickaway,especiallynowthatI’mflyingintotheWardass’sfrosty,unwelcominglap.
IswitchtomyemailapptocheckifLevihasfinallyansweredtheemailIsentthreedaysago.Itwasjustacoupleoflines—Hey,longtimenosee,Ilookforwardtoworkingtogetheragain,wouldyouliketomeettodiscussBLINKthisweekend?—buthemusthavebeentoobusytoreply.Ortoofullofcontempt.Orboth.
Ugh.
Ileanbackagainsttheheadrestandclosemyeyes,wonderinghowDr.CuriewoulddealwithLeviWard.She’dprobablyhidesomeradioactiveisotopesinhispockets,grabpopcorn,andwatchnucleardecayworkitsmagic.
Yep,soundsaboutright.
Afterafewminutes,Ifallasleep.IdreamthatLeviispartarmadillo:hisskinglowsafaint,sallowgreen,andhe’sdiggingatomatooutofhisbootwithanexpensivepieceofequipment.Evenwithallofthat,theweirdestthingabouthimisthathe’sfinallybeingnicetome.
???
We’reputupinsmallfurnishedapartmentsinalodgingfacilityjustoutsidetheJohnsonSpaceCenter,onlyacoupleofminutesfromtheSullivanDiscoveryBuilding,wherewe’llbeworking.Ican’tbelievehowshortmycommuteisgoingtobe.
“Betyou’llstillmanagetobelateallthetime,”Rocíotellsme,andIglareatherwhileunlockingmydoor.It’snotmyfaultifI’vespentasizablechunkofmyformativeyearsinItaly,wheretimeisbutapolitesuggestion
TheplaceisconsiderablynicerthantheapartmentIrent—maybebecauseoftheraccoonincident,probablybecauseIbuy90percentofmyfurniturefromtheas-isbargaincorneratIkea.Ithasabalcony,adishwasher,and—hugeimprovementonmyqualityoflife—atoiletthatflushes100percentofthetimesIpushthelever.Trulyparadigmshifting.Iexcitedlyopenandcloseeverysinglecupboard(they’reallempty;I’mnotsurewhatIexpected),takepicturestosendReikeandmycoworkers,stickmyfavoriteMarieCuriemagnettothefridge(apictureofherholdingabeakerthatsays“I’mprettyrad”),hangmyhummingbirdfeederonthebalcony,andthen…
It’sstillonlytwo-thirtyp.m.Ugh.
NotthatI’moneofthosepeoplewhohateshavingfreetime.Icouldeasilyspendfivesolidhoursnapping,rewatchinganentireseasonofTheOfficewhileeatingTwizzlers,ormovingtostep2ofthecouch-to-5KplanI’mstillvery…okay,sortofcommittedto.ButIamhere!InHouston!NeartheSpaceCenter!Abouttostartthecoolestprojectofmylife!
It’sFriday,andI’mnotduetocheckinuntilMonday,butI’mbrimmingwithnervousenergy.SoItextRocíotoaskwhethershewantstocheckouttheSpaceCenterwithme(No.)ortograbdinnertogether(Ionlyeatanimalcarcasses.).
She’ssomean.Iloveher.
MyfirstimpressionofHoustonis:big.Closelyfollowedby:humid,andthenby:humidlybig.InMaryland,remnantsofsnowstillclingtotheground,buttheSpaceCenterisalreadylushandgreen,amixofopenspacesandlargebuildingsandoldNASAaircraftondisplay.Therearefamiliesvisiting,whichremindsmealittleofanamusementpark.Ican’tbelieveI’mgoingtobeseeingrocketsonmywaytoworkforthenextthreemonths.ItsurebeatsthepervcrossingguardwhoworksontheNIHcampus.
TheDiscoveryBuildingisontheoutskirtsofthecenter.It’swide,futuristic,andthree-storied,withglasswallsandacomplicated-lookingstairsystemIcan’tquitefigureout.Istepinsidethemarblehall,wonderingifmynewofficewillhaveawindow.I’mnotusedtonaturallight;thesuddenintakeofvitaminDmightkillme.
“I’mBeeK?nigswasser.”Ismileatthereceptionist.“I’mstartingworkhereonMonday,andIwaswonderingifIcouldtakealookaround?”
Hegivesmeanapologeticsmile.“Ican’tletyouinifyoudon’thaveanIDbadge.Theengineeringlabsareupstairs—high-securityareas.”
Right.Yes.Theengineeringlabs.Levi’slabs.He’sprobablyupthere,hardatwork.Engineering.Labbing.Notansweringmyemails.
“Noproblem,that’sunderstandable.I’lljust—”
“Dr.K?nigswasser?Bee?”
Iturnaround.Thereisablondyoungmanbehindme.He’snonthreateninglyhandsome,mediumheight,smilingatmelikewe’reoldfriendseventhoughhedoesn’tlookfamiliar.“…Hi?”
“Ididn’tmeantoeavesdrop,butIcaughtyourname,and…I’mGuy.GuyKowalsky?”
Thenameclicksimmediately.Ibreakintoagrin.“Guy!It’ssonicetomeetyouinperson.”WhenIwasfirstnotifiedofBLINK,Guywasmypointofcontactforlogisticsquestions,andheandIemailedbackandforthafewtimes.He’sanastronaut—anactualastronaut!—workingonBLINKwhilehe’sgrounded.Heseemedsofamiliarwiththeproject,Iinitiallyassumedhe’dbemyco-lead.
Heshakesmyhandwarmly.“Iloveyourwork!I’vereadallyourarticles—you’llbesuchanassettotheproject.”
“Likewise.Ican’twaittocollaborate.”
IfIweren’tdehydratedfromtheflight,I’dprobablytearup.Icannotbelievethatthisman,thisnice,pleasantmanwhohasgivenmemorepositiveinteractionsinoneminutethanDr.Wardassdidinoneyear,couldhavebeenmyco-lead.Imusthavepissedoffsomegod.Zeus?Eros?MustbePoseidon.Shouldn’thavepeedintheBalticSeaduringmymisspentyouth.
“Whydon’tIshowyouaround?Youcancomeinasmyguest.”Henodstothereceptionistandgesturesatmetofollowhim.
“Iwouldn’twanttotakeyouawayfrom…astronauting?”
“I’mbetweenmissions.Givingyouatourbeatsdebugginganyday.”Heshrugs,somethingboyishlycharmingabouthim.We’llgetalonggreat,Ialreadyknowit.
“HaveyoulivedinHoustonlong?”Iaskaswestepintotheelevator.
“Abouteightyears.CametoNASArightoutofgradschool.AppliedfortheAstronautCorps,didthetraining,thenamission.”Idosomemathinmyhead.Itwouldputhiminhismid-thirties,olderthanIinitiallythought.“Thepasttwoorso,IworkedonBLINK’sprecursor.Engineeringthestructureofthehelmet,figuringoutthewirelesssystem.Butwegottoapointwhereweneededaneurostimulationexpertonboard.”Hegivesmeawarmsmile.
“Icannotwaittoseewhatwecookuptogether.”IalsocannotwaittofindoutwhyLeviwasgiventheleadofthisprojectoversomeonewhohasbeenonitforfiveyears.Itjustseemsunfair.ToGuyandtome.
Theelevatordoorsopen,andhepointstoaquaint-lookingcaféinthecorner.“Thatplaceoverthere—amazingsandwiches,worstcoffeeintheworld.Youhungry?”
“No,thanks.”
“Yousure?It’sonme.Theeggsandwichesarealmostasgoodasthecoffeeisbad.”
“Idon’treallyeateggs.”
“Letmeguess,avegan?”
Inod.Itryhardtobreakthestereotypesthatplaguemypeopleandnotusetheword“vegan”inmyfirstthreemeetingswithanewacquaintance,butifthey’retheonestomentionit,allbetsareoff.
“Ishouldintroduceyoutomydaughter.Sherecentlyannouncedthatshewon’teatanimalproductsanymore.”Hesighs.“LastweekendIpouredregularmilkinhercerealfiguringshewouldn’tknowthedifference.Shetoldmethatherlegalteamwillbeintouch.”
“Howoldisshe?”
“Justturnedsix.”
Ilaugh.“Goodluckwiththat.”
Istoppedhavingmeatatseven,whenIrealizedthatthedeliciouspollonuggetsmySiciliangrandmotherservednearlyeverydayandthecutegallinegrazingaboutthefarmweremore…connectedthanIoriginallysuspected.Stunningplottwist,Iknow.Reikewasn’tnearlyasdistraught:whenIfranticallyexplainedthat“Pigshavefamilies,too.Amomandadadandsiblingsthatwillmissthem,”shejustnoddedthoughtfullyandsaid,“Whatyou’resayingis,weshouldeatthewholefamily?”Iwentfullyveganacoupleofyearslater.Meanwhile,mysisterhasmadeitherlife’sgoaltoeatenoughanimalproductsfortwo.Togetherweemitonenormalperson’scarbonfootprint.
“Theengineeringlabsaredownthishallway,”Guysays.Thespaceisaninterestingmixofglassandwood,andIcanseeinsidesomeoftherooms.“Abitcluttered,andmostpeopleareofftoday—we’reshufflingaroundequipmentandreorganizingthespace.We’vegotlotsofongoingprojects,butBLINK’severyone’sfavoritechild.Theotherastronautspopbyeveryonceinawhilejusttoaskhowmuchlongeritwillbeuntiltheirfancyswagisready.”
Igrin.“Forreal?”
“Yep.”
Makingfancyswagforastronautsismyliteraljobdescription.IcanaddittomyLinkedInprofile.NotthatanyoneusesLinkedIn.
“Theneurosciencelabs—yourlabs—willbeontheright.Thiswaythereare—”Hisphonerings.“Sorry—mindifItakeit?”
“Notatall.”Ismileathisbeaverphonecase(“Nature’sEngineer”)andlookaway.
IwonderwhetherGuywouldthinkI’mlameifIsnappedafewpicturesofthebuildingformyfriends.IdecidethatIcanlivewiththat,butwhenItakeoutmyphone,Ihearanoisefromdownthehallway.It’ssoftandchirpy,andsoundsalotlikea…
“Meow.”
IglancebackatGuy.He’sbusyexplaininghowtoputonMoanatosomeoneveryyoung,soIdecidetoinvestigate.Mostoftheroomsaredeserted,labsfulloflarge,abstruseequipmentthatlookslikeitbelongsto…well.NASA.Ihearmalevoicessomewhereinthebuilding,butnosignofthe—
“Meow.”
Iturnaround.Afewfeetaway,staringatmewithacuriousexpression,isabeautifulyoungcalico.
“Andwhomightyoube?”Islowlyholdoutmyhand.Thekittencomescloser,delicatelysniffsmyfingers,andgivesmeawelcomingheadbutt.
Ilaugh.“You’resuchasweetgirl.”Isquatdowntoscratchherunderherchin.Shenipsmyfinger,aplayfullovebite.“Aren’tyouthemostpurr-fectlittlebaby?Ifeelsofur-tunatetohavemetyou.”
Shegivesmeadisdainfullookandturnsaway.Ithinksheunderstandspuns.
“Comeon,Iwasjustkitten.”Anotheroutragedglare.Thenshejumpsonanearbycart,piledceiling-highwithboxesandheavy,precarious-lookingequipment.“Whereareyougoing?”
Isquint,tryingtofigureoutwhereshedisappeared,andthat’swhenIrealizeit.Thepieceofequipment?Theprecarious-lookingone?Itactuallyisprecarious.Andthecatpokeditjustenoughtodislodgeit.Andit’sfallingonmyhead.
Right.
About.
Now.
Ihavelessthanthreesecondstomoveaway.Whichistoobad,becausemyentirebodyissuddenlymadeofstone,unresponsivetomybrain’scommands.Istandthere,terrified,paralyzed,andclosemyeyesasajumbledchaosofthoughtstwiststhroughmyhead.Isthecatokay?AmIgoingtodie?OhGod,Iamgoingtodie.SquashedbyatungstenanvillikeWileE.Coyote.Iamatwenty-firstcenturyPierreCurie,abouttogetmyskullcrushedbyahorse-drawncart.ExceptthatIhavenochairinthephysicsdepartmentoftheUniversityofParistoleavetomylovelyspouse,Marie.ExceptthatIhavebarelydoneatenthofallthescienceImeanttodo.ExceptthatIwantedsomanythingsandIneverohmyGodanysecondnow—
Somethingslamsintomybody,shovingmeasideandintothewall.
Everythingispain.
Foracoupleofseconds.Thenthepainisover,andeverythingisnoise:metalclankingasitplungestothefloor,horrifiedscreaming,ashrill“meow”somewhereinthedistance,and,closertomyear…someoneispanting.Lessthananinchfromme.
Iopenmyeyes,gaspingforbreath,and
Green.
AllIcanseeisgreen.Notdark,likethegrassoutside;notdull,likethepistachiosIhadontheplane.Thisgreenislight,piercing,intense.Familiar,buthardtoplace,notunlike—
Eyes.I’mlookingupintothegreenesteyesI’veeverseen.EyesthatI’veseenbefore.Eyessurroundedbywavyblackhairandafacethat’sanglesandsharpedgesandfulllips,afacethat’soffensively,imperfectlyhandsome.Afaceattachedtoalarge,solidbody—abodythatispinningmetothewall,abodymadeofabroadchestandtwothighsthatcouldmoonlightasredwoods.Easily.Oneisslottedbetweenmylegsandit’sholdingmeup.Unyielding.Thismaneven