Lessons in Chemistry(14)
“No,” she interrupted. “Just me. My parents were often gone for weeks at a time, and without John I had to become self-sufficient. So I did. I taught myself to cook and do small house repairs.”
“And school?”
“I already told you— I went to the library.”
“That’s it?”
She turned toward him. “That’s it.”
They lay together like felled trees. From several blocks away, a church bell tolled.
“When I was a kid,” Calvin said quietly, “I used to tell myself every day was new. That anything could happen.”
She took his hand again. “Did it help?”
His mouth sagged as he remembered what the bishop at the boys home had revealed to him about his father. “I guess I’m just saying we shouldn’t let ourselves get stuck in the past.”
She nodded, imagining a newly orphaned boy trying to convince himself of a brighter future. That had to be a special brand of bravery, for a child to endure the worst, and despite every law in the universe and all evidence to the contrary, decide the next day might be better.
“Every day is new,” Calvin repeated as if he were still that child. But the memory of what he’d learned about his father still proved too much for him and he stopped. “Look, I’m tired. Let’s call it a day.”
“We should get some sleep,” she said, not yawning.
“We can talk about this another time,” he said, depressed.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she lied.
Chapter 6
The Hastings Cafeteria
There’s nothing more irritating than witnessing someone else’s unfair share of happiness, and to some of their colleagues at Hastings Research Institute, Elizabeth and Calvin had an unfair share. He, because he was brilliant; she, because she was beautiful. When they became a couple, their unfair shares automatically doubled, making it really unfair.
The worst part, according to these people, was that they hadn’t earned their shares—they’d simply been born that way, meaning their unfair share of happiness arose, not from hard work, but from genetic luck. And the fact that the duo decided to combine their unearned gifts into one loving and probably highly sexual relationship, which the rest of them had to witness at lunch every day, just made it that much worse.
* * *
—
“Here they come,” said a geologist from the seventh floor. “Batman and Robin.”
“I heard they’re shacking up together—did you know that?” asked his lab mate.
“Everyone knows that.”
“I didn’t know that,” a third named Eddie said grimly.
The three geologists watched as Elizabeth and Calvin chose an empty table in the middle of the cafeteria, the clash of trays and silverware rat-a-tat-tat-ing around them like gunfire. As the stink of cafeteria stroganoff threatened to asphyxiate the rest of the room, Calvin and Elizabeth placed a set of open Tupperware containers on the table. Chicken parmesan. Au gratin potatoes. Some sort of salad.
“Oh, I see,” said one of the geologists. “So the food here isn’t good enough for them.”
“My cat eats better than this,” the other geologist said, shoving his tray away.
“Hi, fellas!” chirped Miss Frask, a too-cheerful, wide-bottomed secretary from Personnel. Frask set down her tray, then cleared her throat as she waited for Eddie, a geology lab tech, to pull out her chair. Frask had been dating Eddie for three months, and while she would have liked to report it was all going very well, it wasn’t. Eddie was immature with boorish tendencies. He chewed with his mouth open, guffawed at jokes that weren’t funny, said things like “va-va-va-voom.” Still, Eddie had one important thing going for him: he was single. “Well, thank you, Eddie,” she said as he leaned over and yanked her chair out for her. “So sweet!”
“Proceed at your own risk,” one of the geologists warned, tipping his head in Calvin and Elizabeth’s general direction.
“Why?” she said. “What are we looking at?” She spun in her chair to follow their gaze. “Jeez Louise,” she said, spying the happy couple. “Again?”
The four of them watched in silence as Elizabeth pulled out a notebook and passed it to Calvin. Calvin studied the page, then made some comment. Elizabeth shook her head, then pointed at something specific. Calvin nodded and, cocking his head to the side, slowly started to chew his lips.
“He is so unattractive,” Frask said in disgust. But because she was in Personnel and Personnel never comments on an employee’s physical appearance, she added, “And by that I only mean that blue is not his color.”
One of the geologists took a bite of stroganoff, then set down his fork in resignation. “Hear the latest? Evans was nominated for the Nobel again.”
The whole table issued a collective sigh.
“Well, that’s meaningless,” one of the geologists said. “Anyone can be nominated.”
“Oh really? Have you ever been nominated?”
They continued to watch, transfixed, as a few minutes later Elizabeth reached down and pulled out a package wrapped in wax paper.
“What do you think that is?” one of the geologists asked.