6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Echo
" I 'm sorry, Echo." Lani had tears in her eyes, but I knew she could do that on command.
It took her a week to come to my place to apologize. It wasn't the first time, and it was probably not the last time that she would do so. But I always forgave her. I owed Lani a lot. As a kid lost on the Drake estate with no one but Aunt Fern, who literally hated me, Lani had been my friend. As we grew older, she remained my friend—but maybe not the best version of it.
"Why on earth would you want me to be with that guy?" I was still baffled. Apparently, Jer was not divorced or separated; he was just an adulterous jerk. Worse than him was Tommy, who had suggested Lani hook me up with him.
"He's fat," Lani muttered.
"That's not what bothers me. What bothered me was that he's married." I couldn't believe this girl sometimes. "How people look isn't important, Lani. But he's much older, and he was wearing his wedding ring."
She moaned. "Can we let this go? The Spaldings are having a barbecue tomorrow. Why don't you come?"
"No, thank you. I'm done with your parties, double dates, and barbecues." I wasn't going to ruin a perfectly good Saturday to make Lani feel less guilty for trying to use me. I had plans. I was going to spend my day listening to The Code Breaker , an excellent book about gene editing, offering insights into CRISPR technology, while I hiked the Chickasaw Bluff Trail at the Meeman-Shelby Forest State Park. It was a perfect eight miles of challenging terrain with great views of the Mississippi River.
"You sure?" Lani asked. "My MIL puts on a real good spread."
Lani's MIL, Barb Spalding, was the perfect Memphis Society Mama. She doted on her loser younger son and kept up appearances in front of society. How did she feel about her future DIL's half-black friend? Not great.
"I'm going hiking," I told her, and she shrugged. It wasn't her thing, but she knew it was mine.
My love for hiking started with a need to get away. The Drake estate was vast, and I used to go on long walks alone, talking to myself. Yeah, it was really healthy! At least I didn't have imaginary friends.
As I grew older, I began to hike. All my vacations, which I tried to take at least once a year, were connected to hiking in some way. Last Fall, I went to Sedona and fell in love with the beauty of its nature—the red rocks, the mysticism of the twisted trees, and the quaint old town.
While at home, I took advantage of having a national park literally at my doorstep, giving me plenty of opportunities for hikes. Of all the trails, I loved the Chickasaw Bluff Trail the most. I was excited as I set off on a mild spring morning, the gravel crunching under my boots.
The air was cool, with a hint of dew that hadn’t yet burned off.
The forest canopy was lush, verdant, and bursting with life, offering mottled shade that danced across the trail. A mockingbird chirped high in the branches as I adjusted my backpack and pushed my earbuds into place, ready to delve back into the fascinating world of The Code Breaker .
The soothing cadence of Walter Isaacson’s voice filled my ears, detailing the marvels of CRISPR gene editing. I could listen to this for hours, soaking in the intricacies of science and discovery. I rounded a bend in the path, admiring the fresh foliage on the trees and the ferns unfurling like delicate scrolls along the forest floor.
The early flowers of spring dotted the landscape—wood sorrel, violets, and trillium—all blurring together as I found my rhythm and let my mind wander. The trail ahead dipped into a gentle decline, and as I navigated a root sticking out, I glanced up just in time to see a familiar figure coming toward me, headphones on and head bobbing to a beat I couldn't hear.
Remi Drake.
Ha, ha, universe! Cut it out, will ya?
He wore a moisture-wicking black T-shirt like me, and unlike me, his was molded to his broad shoulders. His grey hiking shorts revealed strong, tanned calves. Yes, I was so far gone. I was looking at his tanned calves . I was in loose cargo shorts because they had a whole lot of pockets, which I found handy.
He wore trail running shoes like me, and unlike me, who wore a straw hat, he had a Grizzlies cap backward. He had a light daypack slung over one shoulder.
I groaned inwardly when his gaze flicked up, and he stopped abruptly, recognition lighting up his dark eyes. “Echo?”
It took a moment for me to pry out my earbuds and respond, “It's a teeny-tiny world, isn't it?"
He removed his earbuds and stashed them in his pocket. "No, kidding. You hike?"
"Whenever I can. It's good therapy."
He grinned. "Yeah, I needed to clear my head. Figured the trail was as good a place as any.”
"Welcome to my therapist," I joked.
He fell into step beside me, and we walked in silence for a while, the crunch of gravel and the chirping of birds filling the air between us. Eventually, I glanced over at him.
"I thought you'd be at the Spalding barbecue."
"Marina will be there, and I'm just not ready to deal with the drama."
"How did the breakup talk go; both with her and Alex?"
"You sure I broke up with both of them?" he mused playfully.
"Hey, no judgment from me if you didn't."
But I'll think you're a doormat and a weakling—and then maybe I'll stop crushing so hard on you. Universe, if you're listening, this one time, I'd really like for you to take my side. Okay?
"Alex tendered his resignation. He was ashamed and embarrassed. I told him I wouldn't accept it, and he'd just have to work harder and better."
I scrambled up an incline, and he easily followed me. It was evident we were both comfortable hiking a challenging terrain.
"Alex has integrity."
"Marina was a different story. She's low on integrity," he sighed. "She was livid. Said it was just one indiscretion, and how could I throw all eight months of our love away because of that?"
"Eight months isn't all that much time; or maybe for you , it is?"
He grinned. "For me? What does that mean?"
"You know what I mean," I replied sheepishly.
"You think I'm a man whore?"
"I'd never slut shame you."
He burst out laughing. "You know, Poop…sorry, Echo, underneath that whole nerdiness, you have a sense of humor."
It was a compliment, and yet, between the almost Poopy Pants and the nerdiness backhanded slap, it didn't feel like one.
"I'm sorry about the nickname that I almost used," he apologized.
That was not a nickname. It was a humiliating putdown. The fact that he couldn't see that meant he was just as big of a jackass as Tommy.
We walked on, the trail winding deeper into the forest, away from the river.
"I really am sorry, Echo," he tried again.
I couldn't say: I forgive you because I didn't. And I couldn't say, that's alright because it wasn't. So, the only course of action left in front of me was to change the topic. "How often do you come here?"
I thought he'd argue the point of his apology, but he let it go. "Once a month at least. You?"
"Same, sometimes more. Depends upon how it's going."
"Speaking of how things are going, my father said you're all but ready to cure cancer."
"I highly doubt he'd say that because we're nowhere close to curing it, but we're getting better at managing it. I am, right now, working with Martin on some promising gene therapy research for cervical cancer. It’s exciting, but it’s also a lot of pressure.”
Remi raised an eyebrow. “Pressure?”
I nodded. “If we succeed, this could be groundbreaking for treatment. But if we fail,” I inhaled the fresh forest air, “which we probably will, it's going to be hard.”
"How often do you fail?"
I smiled wanly. "In my line of work? All the time. Out of maybe ten thousand attempts, one comes close to succeeding. Everything is an experiment. You keep learning and changing the parameters and variables as you go."
He gave a sympathetic nod, his voice dropping to a gentler tone. “Uncle Austin said something similar about learning and growing when I told him I was going to open a nightclub. Everyone else said another one and warned me that I'd fail. He said, you keep trying new things until you run out of money and/or energy—and even then, you don't fail; you take what you learned and work on something new.”
We reached a small clearing overlooking the bluff, where the river meandered far below. The trees framed the view like a picturesque painting. I stretched my hamstrings by pulling my ankle up to my ass.
"I like your Uncle Austin. I met him a couple of times at y'all's place. He told me a story about him and BB King."
Remi took a seat on a fallen log. "He has a keen eye for music and hospitality."
I sat next to him on the log, resting my chin on the palm of my hands. "I went to your midtown restaurant a couple of months ago."
He grinned broadly. "You went to Remi's?"
I had. How could I not? It was with a few colleagues from the lab. We were celebrating a colleague who had published a peer-reviewed paper.
"What did you think?" he asked excitedly.
"I really liked it. Very down to earth and still classy. The food was amazing."
"Thanks. Have you been to De La Mer?"
That was his seafood restaurant in Germantown, which was a bit too high-end for my budget. I was not keen on throwing two hundred plus dollars on a prix fixe French meal.
"Not yet."
"You should go," he suggested. "You know what, I'll take you."
"Why would you do that?" Shut up, woman, just say yes. Remi Drake wants to take you out for dinner! Hell has finally frozen over.
"To say thank you for holding my hand right after I saw my girlfriend have sex with my friend. Fuck, I can't believe she did that." He ran a hand over his face. "I can't believe he did."
I couldn't help it. I put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry it hurts you."
"It's just so ugly. I'm no virgin," he paused when I scoffed, "I like sex, Echo, and I have a lot of it with a variety of partners. But what I don't do is lie. If I tell a woman we're exclusive, then we are. If we're not, I have no problem saying that. Marina wanted the exclusivity, demanded it, and I gave it—I wanted to. So, in some ways, this feels like a deeper betrayal, as if she expected my loyalty without ever intending to offer the same in return."
We returned to the trail, which now looped back to our parking spot.
"Thank you for a wonderful hike." Remi held my car door open as I got in. He was the epitome of Southern gentlemanly etiquette. I wondered how he was during sex. Not a gentleman, I reckoned.
"Ditto," I replied.
That night, when I lay in bed still euphoric about what a wonderful day it had been, my phone beeped.
Remi: I really liked our talk today. Dinner tomorrow at De La Mer?
My heart started to bang against my ribs very loudly. I replied with shaky fingers: If you're sure .
Remi: I wouldn't ask if I was not. I promise the best table in the restaurant and a meal on the house.
I felt my heart soar. This was a date, right?
Me: I'd love that.
Remi: Uber. That way, you can have a couple of glasses of wine.
A tiny part of me had hoped that he'd pick me up like a date would—but the sensible part of me who looked at my reflection in a mirror without flinching knew it was a pipe dream. It seemed unfair, though, that Remi finally noticed and was immediately friend-zoning me.