Lessons in Chemistry(38)

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—

“I’m afraid you’ve put us in a terrible, terrible position, Miss Zott,” scolded Dr. Donatti a week later as he pushed a termination notice across the table in her direction.

“You’re firing me?” Elizabeth said, confused.

“I’d like to get through this as civilly as possible.”

“Why am I being fired? On what grounds?”

“I think you know.”

“Enlighten me,” she said, leaning forward, her hands clasped together in a tight mass, her number-two pencil behind her left ear glinting in the light. She wasn’t sure from where her composure came, but she knew she must keep it.

He glanced at Miss Frask, who was busy taking notes.

“You’re with child,” Donatti said. “Don’t try and deny it.”

“Yes, I’m pregnant. That is correct.”

“That is correct?” he choked. “That is correct?”

“Again. Correct. I am pregnant. What does that have to do with my work?”

“Please!”

“I’m not contagious,” she said, unfolding her hands. “I do not have cholera. No one will catch having a baby from me.”

“You have a lot of nerve,” Donatti said. “You know very well women do not continue to work when pregnant. But you—you’re not only with child, you’re unwed. It’s disgraceful.”

“Pregnancy is a normal condition. It is not disgraceful. It is how every human being starts.”

“How dare you,” he said, his voice rising. “A woman telling me what pregnancy is. Who do you think you are?”

She seemed surprised by the question. “A woman,” she said.

“Miss Zott,” Miss Frask stated, “our code of conduct does not allow for this sort of thing and you know it. You need to sign this paper, and then you need to clean out your desk. We have standards.”

But Elizabeth didn’t flinch. “I’m confused,” she said. “You’re firing me on the basis of being pregnant and unwed. What about the man?”

“What man? You mean Evans?” Donatti asked.

“Any man. When a woman gets pregnant outside of marriage, does the man who made her pregnant get fired, too?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Would you have fired Calvin, for instance?”

“Of course not!”

“If not, then, technically, you have no grounds to fire me.”

Donatti looked confused. What? “Of course, I do,” he stumbled. “Of course, I do! You’re the woman! You’re the one who got knocked up!”

“That’s generally how it works. But you do realize that a pregnancy requires a man’s sperm.”

“Miss Zott, I’m warning you. Watch your language.”

“You’re saying that if an unmarried man makes an unmarried woman pregnant, there is no consequence for him. His life goes on. Business as usual.”

“This is not our fault,” Frask interrupted. “You were trying to trap Evans into marriage. It’s obvious.”

“What I know,” she said, pushing a stray hair away from her forehead, “is that Calvin and I did not want to have children. I also know that we took every precaution to ensure that outcome. This pregnancy is a failure of contraception, not morality. It’s also none of your business.”

“You’ve made it our business!” Donatti suddenly shouted. “And in case you weren’t aware, there is a surefire way not to get pregnant and it starts with an ‘A’! We have rules, Miss Zott! Rules!”

“Not on this you don’t,” Elizabeth said calmly. “I’ve read the employee manual front to back.”

“It’s an unwritten rule!”

“And thus not legally binding.”

Donatti glowered at her. “Evans would be very, very ashamed of you.”

“No,” Elizabeth said simply, her voice empty but calm. “He would not.”

The room fell silent. It was the way she kept disagreeing—without embarrassment, without melodrama—as if she would have the last say, as if she knew she’d win in the end. This is exactly the kind of attitude her coworkers had complained of. And the way she implied that hers and Calvin’s relationship was at some higher level—as if it had been crafted from nondissolvable material that survived everything, even his death. Annoying.

As Elizabeth waited for them to come to their senses, she laid her hands flat on the table. Losing a loved one has a way of revealing a too-simple truth: that time, as people often claimed but never heeded, really was precious. She had work to do; it was all she had left. And yet here she sat with self-appointed guardians of moral conduct, smug judges who lacked judgment, one of whom seemed unclear on the process of conception and one who went along because she, like so many other women, assumed that downgrading someone of her own sex would somehow lift her in the estimation of her male superiors. Worse, these illogical conversations were all taking place in a building devoted to science.

“Are we done here?” she said, rising.

Donatti blanched. That was it. Zott needed to go right now and take her bastard baby, cutting-edge research, and death-defying romantic relationship with her. As for her rich investor, they’d deal with him later.