Love on the Brain(21)

“It was supposed to be shipped last Monday, but Dr. Ward canceled it the previous Friday.” The day Levi first saw me in Houston. The day he saved my life. The day he decided that he had no intention of working with me, ever.

“I . . . Okay.” I nod, even though she can’t possibly see me. “Thank you.” The hang-up noise is deafeningly loud, echoing through my head for long moments.

I don’t know what to do. What do I do? Shit. Shit. You know who would know what to do? Dr. Curie, of course. But also: Annie. When she was a third year, some guy stole her optic fibers, so she installed a subroutine on his computer that made lobster porn pop-up every time he typed the letter x. He almost dropped out of grad school. That night we celebrated by making watermelon sangria and reinventing the Macarena on the roof of her apartment building.

Of course, what Annie knows or doesn’t know is irrelevant. She’s not in my life anymore. She’s made her choices. For reasons that I’ll never understand. And I—

“Bee?”

I set my phone on the table, wipe my sweaty palms over my jeans, and look to the door. “Hey, Kaylee.” She’s wearing a bright pink lace dress that looks the opposite of what I’m feeling.

“Is Rocío here?”

“She’s out. Taking a test.” I swallow, my mind still reeling from the phone call. Phone calls. “Can I help you with anything?”

“No. I just wanted to ask her if . . .” She shrugs uncomfortably, flushes a little, but then quickly adds, “I was surprised you weren’t at the meeting this morning.”

I tilt my head. “What meeting?”

“The one with the astronauts.”

The knots in my stomach tighten. I don’t like where this is going. “The astronauts.”

“Yeah, the one Levi and Guy organized. For feedback. To brainstorm options for the helmets. It was really useful.”

“When . . . when was it scheduled for?”

“This morning. Eight a.m. It was set up last week, and . . .” Kaylee’s eyes widen. “You knew about it, right?”

I look away and shake my head. This is humiliating. And infuriating. And other things, too.

“Oh my God.” She sounds genuinely distraught. “I am so sorry—I have no idea how that could happen.”

I exhale a silent, bitter laugh. “I do.”

“Is there anything I can do to fix this? As project manager, I want to apologize!”

“No, I . . .” I paste a smile on my face. “It’s not your fault, Kaylee. You’ve been great.” I’m tempted to explain to her that her boss has also been great—a great pain in my ass. But I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, and I’m not sure I trust myself not to blurt out a string of insults.

I sit for a long time after she leaves, staring at the empty desks, the empty chairs, the empty white walls of my supposed office, where I am supposed to do the science that will supposedly launch my career and make a happy, fulfilled woman out of me. I sit until my hands are not shaking and my chest doesn’t feel like it’s being squeezed by a large hand anymore.

Then I stand, take a deep breath, and march straight to Levi’s office.



* * *



? ? ?

I KNOCK, BUT I don’t bother waiting for a response. I open the door, close it behind me, and start speaking as soon as I’m in, my arms folded on my chest. For reasons I cannot discern, I’m smiling.

“Why?” Levi’s gaze lifts from his computer screen to me, and his double take is small, but noticeable. He always has the same look in his eyes when he first sees me: a flash of panic. Then he collects himself and his entire face shutters. He should really work on expanding his emotional range. What does he think I’m going to do, anyway? Convert him to Scientology? Sell him Avon products? Give him full-blown typhoid? “Really, I just want to know why. I’m not even asking you to stop, I just need to know . . . why? Do I smell like cilantro? Did I steal your parking spot in grad school? Do I remind you of the kid who poured Snapple on your Game Boy when you were about to finish The Legend of Zelda?”

He blinks at me from his chair and has the audacity to look confused. I have to give it to him, he has giant balls. Likely to compensate for his micro-dick. “What are you talking about?”

My smile turns bitter. “Levi. Please.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to. But I’m really busy, so—”

“See, I’m not. I’m not busy at all. I haven’t been this unbusy since I was on summer break in middle school—but you know that already, so . . . why?”

He sits back in his chair. Even half-hidden by his desk, his presence is overwhelming. Winter-frosty. Snow-covered spruces, his eyes. “There are things I need to be doing right this moment. Can we schedule a meeting for another time?”

I laugh softly. “Sure. Should I send you an email?”

“That works.”

“I bet. Will it get the same number of answers as the other emails I sent you?”

He frowns. “Of course.”

“Zero, then.”

He frowns harder. “I’ve answered all your emails.”

“Is that so?” I don’t believe it for a second. “Then maybe it’s an email problem. If I were to check my spam folder I’d find a message from you inviting me to this morning’s meeting?”