Chapter 14
JANE
PLAYLIST: POISON it is hard not to be drawn to it. But I am also a scientist. And science, research, has rules. Rules she doesn’t know about—and even if she did, she’d most likely be the first to ignore them.
Half an hour later, I am sitting in a mess of pages, and I get presented the final one.
“Listen, I know you already plan to tell me all the things that don’t work in that plan, all the hurdles, all the rules, I can see it in your eyes, but please, hear me out.”
“I hear you out the entire time,” I say with a smirk.
“Fair point,” she says. “This here is where it all comes together.” She points to the page in her hand. She wrote very fast on it, and I can see the difference in how she filled out the form. Apparently, she felt comfortable enough to give me another piece of the real her.
The handwriting is exactly what I expected. Messy. Some words are cursive, others straight; the m’s and n’s are differently written within a single word; some capital letters are artistic, others straight. It shows her. The one who does not know who she really is.
“—which means, we could get it approved, couldn’t we? It would be a simple, minor change—”
“It wouldn’t,” I say. “It would require entirely new evaluation by all involved parties. While I agree with you on many points and would very much support evaluating everything you just proposed, we can’t do so in this study.
I could tell you about all the things you’d disapprove of anyway, like the rules of research, so please just take it as it is. ”
She sighs heavily.
“I didn’t say no,” I say. “Not just in this run.”
“Meh,” she says and wraps up her papers.
“How did this happen?” I ask. “Did you take anything?”
“I didn’t,” she says defensively. “Couldn’t sleep.”
A part of me wants to ask her why. A part that already suspects why. But in doing so, I’d violate my own rules. And it cannot happen again.
“Let me show you something that will keep you occupied,” I say instead, and tilt my head towards the computer screen.
“I’m reviewing the applicants from Coleman, you will probably find it as interesting as I do.”
“So many,” she says as she stares at the screen.
“Yes, I was suprised too.”
“How are we even allowed to do this under the 45 CFR part 46 regulations?” she asks, and I only shake my head.
“You know, one day, I want to study your mind,” I say. “That memory of yours is truly impressive.”
“I don’t believe you want to do that,” she says without looking at me, but scanning over the screen.
“And why wouldn’t I?”
“Because the only thing you will find is a brain that has been trained to memorize everything to protect me from fatal consequences.”
Another piece of her.
And because she gave it to me, I leave the conversation exactly where it was to give her a positive experience of maintaining boundaries.
“I have free rein in picking the applicants,” I say. “It doesn’t matter what they’re in for.”
“Hm,” she says. “It’d be interesting to categorize them, especially in the prevalence of neuropsychiatric disorders. I’d say we have a high likelihood of some scoring high on the psychopathy spectrum, while others only have anger issues. Can we get fMRI’s beforehand?”
I look at her, and a smile appears on my face. She was the right choice, she confirms it again and again.
“We can,” I say. “It’s a very expensive and laborious process that would require us to travel to Florida.”
“I’m so in,” she says, elated. “I wanna see their scans.”
It’s rare to meet a person whose eyes light up when presented with the proposal for brain scans. And maybe that’s the one thing that makes me overlook the fact that she has been dishonest and hides her real self.
Excitement like this can’t be faked.
“October 29th,” I say. “Plan for three nights, all expenses are covered, don’t expect anything nice.”
“I don’t need nice,” she says.
“Not?” I ask because this wasn’t the typical answer for a girl who has a penthouse in Tribeca. “So what is it you need?”
“Brainscans,” she says and laughs. “I like simple.”
“So how come you and the blonde ended up together?” I ask before I can control myself.
Her body tenses, and she draws back.
“Why?” she asks with narrow eyes.
“Because you two are very different, I am just curious,” I say to de-escalate the tension.
“El is very different once you look behind everything she had to become because of her father,” she says. “Something I very much relate to.”
Another piece of her. And the picture fills, as I understand who the “He” was she referenced in the bathroom. A father.
“My mother sends Louise her wishes,” I say as she gets up to leave. With a quick glance at my watch, I realize it’s already 11:30 am, and she has lectures.
“She also asked if we’d be available for brunch on Sunday. She was delighted by your little theater.”
“Tell her I can’t because Louise is leaving for the World Congress on Pediatrics and Neonatology in Tokyo. There will be a special panel for neurosurgery in Peds.”
I actually type the name of the congress in my search bar, only to find it is indeed on the upcoming weekend.
“Is there anything you don’t know?” I ask, shaking my head in impressed disbelief.
“A lot,” she says. “I’d give all the knowledge I have for the only important one.”
With that, she is gone. Leaving me with another piece of her.
And I know it had been the right thing to trigger her in the bathroom. Somehow, in between all this mess, she gave me a glimpse of her real self.
My curiosity is piqued, and maybe one day, I’ll see who she really is. Until then, I will collect the puzzle pieces.