Chapter Sixteen #2
Lewis’s words are such an accurate description of what I’m feeling it’s as if he has plucked them right out of the downward spiral of my thoughts.
Unless you’re lucky and your research interests overlap with the lab you’re hired in, securing your own funding is the only way to ensure you can work on your own questions, and not somebody else’s.
My current postdoc advisor has been pretty laissez-faire and left me to work on my own projects, when in previous labs, my boss’s research came first. In the first years out of grad school I still had so much to learn, so I was fine balancing my work around someone else’s but now, looking for open postdoc positions on predefined projects feels like a step back.
I might have to leave all of my questions unanswered and that’s the part that pains me most. That the thoughts scribbled on Post-its and in my Notes app will remain just that: letters on paper, characters on a screen.
Ideas turning into dead ends.
Who’s going to tackle all those questions, if not me? Who is going to care enough? And how many times will I have to uproot my life until I finally get to take them out of the drawer again?
“It’s funny, you know,” I continue wistfully. “Years ago, when I was in undergrad, and our professors would introduce themselves, they’d name all these universities at which they had worked. All these cities. Doing science and traveling around the world? It seemed like the perfect life.”
Lewis hums in agreement.
“But now? When I think about my last five years, I get exhausted,” I admit.
“I hate the thought of doing all the packing and meeting new people in a new city again, knowing that I won’t stay there.
I’d hoped I’d be able to settle down somewhere.
Not the ‘having a family’ kind of settling down, but you know. ”
“The ‘plant perennials on your balcony and paint your living-room wall green’ kind of settling down?” he asks, and I stare at him, puzzled. “Like your sister?”
“Right. Yes. Well.” I swallow thickly, some new emotion lodged in my throat because he listened and remembers.
He listens and remembers and notices a lot, actually, and that’s starting to matter more to me than what he did four years ago.
“Maybe not green. But there’s this fancy outdoor pool around the corner of my apartment that has a waitlist of a year, and I never signed up for it because I didn’t know how long I’d stay around.
I go to the community indoor pool, which is fine, but you know…
It’s nowhere near as nice and farther away.
Doesn’t have a sauna. I know it’s silly but… ”
He nods, like he understands. He doesn’t tell me that I will be able to settle down somewhere and I’m glad for it.
He knows that we sometimes have to chase our questions around the world, hop from lab to lab, funding to funding.
Instead, he flags down a waitress, who has a pierced septum and streak of blue hair, and orders a hot cocoa.
She nods curtly. “Do you want marshmallows?”
Lewis tilts his head to me. “She does.”
As the waitress turns away, I realize that the cyclone of feelings the grant rejection triggered has calmed down into a more moderate storm.
Still blowing strong, but the hurt, dejection, and anger are much more manageable, all thanks to Lewis.
I don’t know how he guessed it, but having him listen to me while feeding me sugar is everything I need right now.
“Wanting stability is not silly,” Lewis tells me when we’re alone again.
“What about you?” I ask him. “How do you handle all of this?”
“I’m not sure it’s the same for me. I haven’t moved as much as you have. But yeah.” Now it’s his turn to glance away, and he fumbles with his crumpled-up paper bag. “Some job security would be nice. And, you know, the clock is ticking for me in Germany.”
I nod. Germany has the wild system of only allowing fixed-term contracts for a limited period of time, and if you don’t land anything permanent by the end of that, you’re out of German academia for good. It’s the reason I never thought about moving back.
A line carves itself into his forehead. “I’m not in as much of a hurry because I have more than a year left on my current contract but, you know, there’s a small part of me that also wants to rub it into my father’s face.
To have proof once and for all that I excel at something he had no hand in.
That I’m good at what I love. I know my logic is totally flawed, because you’ve seen for yourself how little my father thinks of academia.
Nothing I do will ever be good enough for him.
But instead of accepting that, I keep hoping that the next milestone will be the one that finally convinces him.
” His eyes find mine as his mouth cuts into a smile. “So, now who’s being silly?”
The waitress comes back and sets a mug on the counter in front of us. “Thanks,” Lewis says and slides it over to me. Rainbow-colored marshmallows bob in the dark liquid, and I take a sip, savoring the rich and creamy taste.
“I was thinking…” Lewis pivots on his chair, knees knocking into mine, until he stops himself with his foot hooked onto the metal bar of my chair.
The cotton of his chinos rubs against my leg, the part that’s covered by the fabric of my dress and a sliver of bare skin below my knee.
Warmth spills through me. “I’m going to drive out to my friend’s cabin upstate tomorrow.
The one I mentioned at Vivienne and Jacob’s party. You could come?”
I lower the mug onto the countertop. “I… What?”
“What do you think about getting away from here for a little bit? Get out of the city, get some distance to reset.”
“You want to spend the weekend with me?”
“Yeah.” He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s the best idea, because this—we—are already such a mess. But I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
I don’t need to consider his suggestion to know it isn’t the best idea.
This morning, I was counting down the hours to time away from this man, so I could talk some sense into myself.
After mauling him with that kiss, it might be too late for that now, but if one thing’s obvious, it is that I shouldn’t spend more time with him.
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell him, forcing cheer into my voice.
“That’s not part of your fake-boyfriend-ly duties.
And also not something you owe me, to make up for four years ago.
” Something crosses his face then, almost imperceptibly, but he narrows his eyes and tightens his mouth.
“I know it probably doesn’t look that way right now, but I’ll be okay.
You can enjoy your weekend upstate alone, like you’d planned to. ”
“That’s the thing, though,” he says, reaching down.
With a flick of his wrist, I’m turned around on my stool, legs bracketed by his, his arm on the cushion of my seat.
The heel of his hand presses into the underside of my thigh, and I burn with the awareness of how close he is to where I’m aching for him.
He leans in until our faces are separated by what’s not even a hand width of distance. His voice is all but a rumble in his throat when he continues, “It turns out, I like spending time with you.”
My pulse speeds up, and when I swallow thickly, his eyes flit down, like he can’t help himself. If I didn’t know better—if Lewis hadn’t rejected me earlier—I’d say he’s flirting with me.
“And I know I’d rather have you hike in the forest with me than being all miserable here.” He tilts his head. “So, what do you say?”
If I was smarter, I’d probably think about my answer for longer.
I’d remember how his rejection earlier made it clear that we want different things.
But even if he had kissed me back, looking for any sort of relationship with a colleague is a bad idea, let alone the one who betrayed my trust colossally.
But in Karo’s absence, I need a friend. And with how expertly Lewis holds my hands through the ups and downs of my anxiety, I think, if nothing else, he can be that.
A friend.
“I’ll come with you,” I finally say, my heart beating in my throat. I’m not sure if I believe myself, when I add, “It can’t hurt.”