Chapter 43
Ella
Sunday
“Alright… these will eventually dry up! No worries,” I say out loud to myself as I lay out my clothes on the edge of the bathtub.
An accident with my very improperly closed water bottle happened inside my backpack sometime between yesterday and this morning. I only noticed it a few minutes ago while looking for a specific shirt to wear today, the first day of the Conference, the “Open to the Public Day”.
I remembered that, since I hadn’t been able to fit everything in my cabin bag, I had stuffed a few items of clothing into the backpack that had gone under my seat on the plane.
The Research Institute always insists on planning and covering the costs of its annual speakers’ flights. I couldn’t complain about that. It had been a flight of just over an hour. But a part of me wouldn’t have minded at all if I had taken the three-hour train ride instead.
Luckily, I had taken my computer and notebook out of my backpack last night and the only things that were soaked inside it were the clothes and a chocolate bar that was still closed. Thank God.
On the list of accidents that happened to me due to distraction, this was categorized as a good one.
“The bathtub really is huge,” I say, to myself, again.
I usually think out loud, but I tend to do it more when I’m nervous.
Studies show that talking to your body can change health faster than supplements. Your body listens. Your nervous system treats your speech as sound waves from someone else.
Psychologists note that our first experiences with self-talk are mostly vocal. Children chatter to themselves as they play. And those little monologues are actually key to their development. But, as we grow older, this outward self-talk tends to become internalized.
And why? Maybe it’s habit, drilled in by socialization. Maybe it’s efficiency, a way of conserving energy. Whatever the reason, researchers are finding out that self-talk helps us manage stress, it can make cortisol fall. Speaking out loud to ourselves helps us regulate our emotions.
“Everything will be fine,” I say. My nervous system really needs regulating.
I’m currently in the same city as Miles.
When I woke up today, I wondered if yesterday had been a dream. But his number on my cell phone reminded me it wasn’t.
I thought I didn’t need an apology from him anymore. So many years have gone by. It’s all forgiven, laundry left in the rain. Is that how this expression goes? However, hearing his words somehow felt like healing something in me. A forgotten, wounded old piece of my heart.
Being with him yesterday felt like being seventeen all over again. I longed to feel nostalgic and laugh about it all. I had missed him so much more than once my mind allowed my heart to.
“No time to spin in thoughts and, literally, spin around the hotel room!” I call myself to attention and go back to the bathroom.
I put on a little more blush and fix my dress, a simple white one that falls just below my knees.
I cinch a brown and gold belt around my waist. Digging through my messy accessory bag, I choose four more rings to add to my hands and brush my hair for the thousandth time.
I’ve been part of the audience of the Neuroscience Annual Conference, which takes place in a different city every year, for the past three years.
But this is the first year that I’ll actually be part of it, the first year that my name is written on the program under “Feature Speakers”.
My family was so proud when I told one of my aunts — who told another aunt, who told a cousin, who told my grandmother…
and that’s how news travel in families. They all wanted to catch trains, planes, and cars to come see me.
But I’m sure they’re tuning in to the Neuroscience Annual Conference’s website, where they can watch it online and take a thousand pictures of the screen whenever I, my name, or my study show up.
And… Bill. I have barely spoken to him since I landed.
But he was also so proud of me, he took me out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate on the weekend after my boss told me about this.
Good wine and great desserts later, he told me he couldn’t come with me this time either.
He said he would love to, but work was tight and he had important projects to finish, and I totally understood that.
There was no resentment as Bill explained himself. He has his things and I have mine, and we function around our relationship as a couple and our individual lives.
I look at my phone to check if he has sent me any “good luck” text. There’s my dad, my mom, all my siblings and cousins and also my friends… but no Bill.
I scan all the messages but don’t reply to any of them. I’ll talk to everyone after and let them know how it went. I open Bill’s contact and write: Heading to the Conference Hall!!! Overwhelming! I’ll call you after. Have a good day!
And I hit send.
I look at the screen for a few more seconds and wonder if Miles is about to text me. But the truth is, we were together just a few hours ago, and he already wished me good luck in person.
I smile, remembering our goodbyes last night, my mind replaying the image of him walking away through the dark of the night in the city of lights.
Funny how we’re not in the countryside this time.
And we’re grown up this time.
And it still feels the same to be around him.
And nine years have gone by.
And… I’m engaged this time.
I grab my brown boots, my favorite blue fluffy gloves, and my winter coat.
I don’t really have time to let my heart stir up feelings that trigger questions in my busy mind. I open the door to the hallway of the hotel. A shiver of nervousness runs through my entire body.
Today is happening. I’m about to start walking toward the Neuroscience Annual Conference Hall in New York, where — around 11:00 in the morning — I’ll go up on stage and speak.
My hands are shaking, and I inhale deeply, then exhale before taking a step out of the room.
And right now, I wish someone were here to walk with me.
I’m getting up on stage after the first “coffees and free cake miniatures break” ends.
As I take my seat for the round-table discussion and wait for the other colleagues to do the same, my eyes fall on the crowd of spectators returning from the coffee break to their seats.
Suddenly, there’s a very familiar figure on the left side of the audience, my left side, which actually means on the right side of the audience. Yes, on the right side. What am I doing? I’m wandering through my thoughts. I need to focus.
I look at the moderator sitting in the armchair next to me and smile at her as she begins: “Welcome back, everyone. Let’s continue with the first part of the program, a round-table discussion where these experts gather to present and discuss...”
But I’m not really listening to her words for a few seconds.
My eyes go back to the audience.
I can’t believe Miles is here.
The words mix in the air, outside the conference room, at the lounge area. After the end of these big events it always takes some time for the hotel to be free of people. Too many brains wanting to debate too many fresh questions.
Some are already recognizable faces, colleagues from other occasions. But I look around trying to find the familiar face I’ve known the longest.
I walk through the aisle of people, but he’s nowhere to be found. And even though a small part of me is calling for my hand to open my purse and dial Miles’s number, the bigger part of me reasons with myself to postpone it.
Doctor Levi approaches me to thank me for being here, and I can’t even explain to her how many hours I’ve spent studying her words, how closely I’ve followed her work.
We get carried away in a conversation I can hardly believe I’m having with such a brilliant mind.
Doctor Levi has played a major role in research on the vagus nerve — a crucial component of the parasympathetic nervous system — and we’re both deeply interested in its role in mental health, inflammation, and the brain–gut connection.
Isn’t it interesting that you can activate the vagus nerve to help reduce stress and improve overall health without relying on medication?
After a while, I start saying my goodbyes to the last people who I carry conversations with.
The girl in the coatroom smiles at me as she offers me my coat, I take it, and leave through the hotel’s revolving door, not knowing what I’ll be doing for the rest of the evening.
I just feel proud of myself. There’s a relief in how today unfolded, a happiness in being here, even a touch of euphoria.
I grab my phone, and now my whole self agrees to call Miles.
I don’t know where he went, I don’t know if he’s busy, I don’t know how his life is, really. And yet, here I am, with my phone pressed against my ear, still calling his number in hope.
“Hey!” He answers on the third ring, his familiar voice warm and smooth.
I can instantly sense his smile in it. And I decide it, right then and there: That’s what I’ll be doing for the rest of the evening.
Enjoying the coincidence of crossing paths with this dear old friend. Sharing this happiness with him.
We agreed to meet at a Christmas Market around 9 p.m., as Miles had a deadline to meet for an unfinished job.
It gave me some time to update everyone on how today went.
I called my dad right away, and my sister after him, who was at our mom’s house and put my call on speaker for the whole family to hear.
Then, I called Miss Amara. It was late for her, but she picked up.
I had asked nurse Raquel to show her the live-stream of the conference, and Miss Amara did watch it.
Her words were slow, but she repetitively said she was proud of me.
I told her I found Miles in New York and that we both terribly miss her.
She sounded relieved and emotional when she said: “That makes me so happy.”
Bill was my fourth call, but it rang and rang and no one answered on the other end. He’s probably having a busy day too. I try not to think too much about it and text my girls Philia and Cara a simple: Loving New York city! Today went great! Can’t wait to tell you girls.
Their replies distract me until I hear Miles’s voice.
“Smiling at your phone?” he teases me. And I could tell him that it’s just my best friends’ group chat, but that it actually could be my fiancé, indeed. But I don’t know why, I don’t. I don’t tell him. I don’t even react. I freeze, thinking how to say it to him.
“I’m just messing with you,” he adds carelessly. “Are you hungry?”
“I… am…” I say absentmindedly, still caught up in my thoughts.
“You do seem to need food,” he states. “I finished earlier, all ready to send to the director tomorrow!” He’s cheerful. “C’mon, I can’t wait to show you the giant Christmas sandwiches they sell here!”
I can’t help but smile in reaction to his upbeat mood.
He points at a stall inside the market. “Let’s go, you’ll love it.”
I hadn’t had this much fun in a while.
We ate giant melting ham and cheese sandwiches.
We drank delicious hot chocolate with cookie straws (super creative and super messy).
Santa Claus talked to us, and we were invited to play a game where you had to use baskets to catch sticks falling from the stall’s ceiling, everything happening way too fast. We were terrible at it, neither of us won a prize.
The night is falling, though the center of New York isn’t really a place to see it getting dark.
We walk away from the Christmas market avenue. Our next stop is a food truck to get crêpes, the perfect dessert for the day.
“Thank you!” I say to my warm crêpe, holding it with the tips of my fingers peeking out from my blue fingerless gloves, and a million napkins. “This has been so much fun.”
“This was such a crazy coincidence!” he says, as if only now realizing what had happened.
Is it possible that we are as comfortable and at ease with each other as we were nine years ago?
“So crazy!” he emphasizes.
I laugh.
We laugh.
Laughter. A mending of closeness.