Stargazing with You

5. Columbia University

Chapter 5

Columbia University

Junior Year

I was on the floor of my dorm room, surrounded by a veritable pit of notebooks and textbooks—Physics, Organic Chemistry, French Literature, Immunology, Buddhism, and MCAT prep. The last was giving me the biggest aneurysm of all the subjects. The MCAT was about to drive me to the end of my already fraying rope.

I would be applying to medical school this summer, in just a few months. The deadline to get my MCAT score where I needed it to be in order to be competitive was a few weeks away. And that goal seemed insurmountable.

I had taken the test once already, back in the fall, and my score at that time was truly abysmal. I had my suspicions about why I had done so poorly, of course. I didn't have a PhD in clinical psychology like Javi’s older sister, but I had taken a psychology class before. I was no expert, but I think it might have had something to do with the Earth-shattering, horrible new experience my brain decided to provide me with the night before my exam—a full-blown, heaving, crying fit of a panic attack.

I had always dealt with some test anxiety. But never had my anxiety reared its head in such a physical, demanding, and all-consuming way as it had in that moment. The experience left me crumpled on the floor in the fetal position. I woke up for my exam the next morning, still on the floor, achy all over from sleeping on the uncomfortable surface, and I barely made it to my testing center in time. After the exam, I slept for two days straight, feeling like I had been chewed on at the edges by some invisible beast, leaving open wounds that only I could see.

Javi had been in Houston that weekend, visiting his sister Valeria in the hospital after the birth of her baby. He had wanted me to come too but knew I had the test scheduled. Obviously, I didn’t blame him for being with his family for such a beautiful occasion, but I knew somehow that if Javi had been there to witness my attack, it wouldn’t have hit me quite so hard. He might have even been able to prevent it from happening in the first place. He always pulled me out of my anxiety before tests, always knew exactly what to say or do. But he wasn’t there to get me a milkshake or sit on the roof of Butler and talk my worries away.

And even though Javi was the person with whom I shared everything; I didn’t have the heart to tell him about it when he came back from Texas. He was glowing with all his best uncle pride as he showed me pictures of the chubby-cheeked little princess with her full head of hair, ready for bows.

So when he asked me how the test went, I muttered a lame “oh, it went fine, I think” and moved on. I couldn’t tell him about the panic attack, because I could barely voice it aloud myself.

I tried not to think about that day at all, if I could help it. I feared that acknowledging that that day existed might lower my brain’s tolerance for stress to some point where it could happen again. I constantly sensed the possibility of another attack, lingering in the periphery like a predator lurking in the shadows, waiting to claim me again as its prey.

Javi didn’t need to bear that weight too. He had enough going on, with his own classes and his invention, that took every moment of his time and energy when he wasn’t in class or with me.

When Javi walked into my room on this sunny Sunday afternoon in March, I was sprawled across my soft rug, discarded coffee cups and snack packages strewn around me, in the middle of another one of my crisis moments. My hands covered my eyes to block out the room's harsh fluorescent lighting and avoid the headache starting to form after staring at lines of tiny text for hours. Javi stepped over me and simply said, "Hey, Doc.”

My roommates must have let him in—they didn’t really question his presence in our four person suite anymore. Luckily, they, like everyone who knew Javi, couldn’t resist him, never complained about his frequent presence in our shared living space.

I peered between my fingers, watching him plop heavily down onto my bed, burying his head immediately into my pink pillow. I rose up onto my elbows, narrowing my eyes at his form with concern.

“Everything alright there, Jav?” I asked, though his posture was already answering my question for me, loudly.

He muttered something unintelligible into my pillow that sounded vaguely like, “ ama hofuffy .”

That couldn’t be right.

“Come again?” I asked, a bit of amusement creeping into my voice. I crawled across the floor toward my bed and poked him in the side. He immediately rolled away from the contact as if I electrocuted him—note to self: Javi is ticklish . Just when you think you know everything about someone, they can surprise you.

With his face now out of my pillow, I could hear him clearly when he said, “I’m a nobody.”

I frowned at his declaration, immediately hating hearing those words come from his mouth. Javier Valenzuela was not a nobody, not to anyone who met him. His professors adored him, other students worshipped him.

Columbia students normally hated people as brilliant as Javi—people who sailed through so easily without spending ungodly hours in the Butt. But once someone met Javi, they couldn’t help but love him. Even if you envied him from afar, those feelings of resentment seemed to dissolve in his presence.

"Who told you that?” I muttered in a warning tone, clear that I had strong opinions on this person and plans to ensure their imminent demise.

“I did,” he responded with a groan of frustration. “Because it’s true.”

I blinked in surprise. Well, there goes my grand plans for destroying the naysayer who bad-mouthed my best friend.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

He sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at me on the floor where I sat in front of his shoes. “My invention. The Artemis. It’s right there, on the precipice of being something great. But I’m reaching the end of my and my mentor’s abilities here. We need an expert to make sure we are fine-tuning it correctly before it’s too late to go back.”

“Okay?” I asked, still not quite sure how this led to Javi calling himself a nobody .

“And we’re in the God damn greatest city on Earth,” he exclaimed, and I smiled before I could help it. I loved how much he loved my city, and I loved the faintest hint of a southern drawl that always popped out when he cursed. Javi didn’t have a strong accent, by any means, but you could hear the slightest twang in his deep voice when he got excited or cursed or got drunk. Sometimes I brought him extra drinks at parties just so I could talk to cowboy Javi for a little while (not that he had any idea that’s what I called it).

“We are,” I agreed.

“So of course ,” he continued, standing abruptly from my bed. He started to pace the tiny space in my room, weaving through my books and trash. “The exact person I need to make this device truly, decidedly great ? Lives here, in the city. His name is Henrik Carlyle. He is the utmost expert on electroencephalography. He has a Nobel fuckin’ prize for his work.”

The name rang some vague bell in the back of my mind—where had I heard that name before? Had I watched his Nobel acceptance? Had my professors mentioned him during the neurology unit? The thought was itching my brain in some weird, inaccessible place.

“Great?” I asked, hesitantly.

“Not great,” he replied brusquely.

“Not great,” I echoed. “Why not great?”

“Because he won’t give me the time of day,” he finally said. “And that’s putting it kindly. His assistant’s secretary’s intern won’t give me the time of day. He is locked behind a brick wall of academic bureaucracy so thick not even my professors at the engineering school can get to him. I can’t find a contact who knows him to save my life.”

He stopped pacing to flop back onto my bed, screaming into my pink pillow for good measure, as if his frustration was not yet clear.

As he wallowed in self-pity, I thought again to that name. Henrik Carlyle. Henrik Carlyle. By no means, a common name. It would stick with you, clearly, once you had heard it.

“And where in town did you say he works?” I asked, my mouth pursing as I mulled over where I could have heard that name.

He rose from the pillow to say, “The Med School. He’s an MD, PhD here. The same damn institution, and nobody can get me an in .”

The realization sunk into my brain like the plop of a stone into the bottom of a river.

Oh. Dr. Carlyle.

His picture came into my mind more clearly than I would have thought—a short, somewhat portly, bespectacled, balding man with a vague trace of an eastern European accent. An accent that I had heard, multiple times: in my parents sitting room at cocktail parties, at reunions for my father’s medical school class, chatting with my father at my mom’s charity functions.

My mom’s charity functions, I thought. I could almost see the light bulb flickering on above my head.

I opened my mouth to speak excitedly to Javi, and then stopped again abruptly, my mouth closing with a snap of my teeth. I swallowed hard, conflicted. I knew I could do it. I knew that I was Javi’s in. Even more so, I knew that Javi had no idea that I was his in, even if he suspected that my father might know him.

And if he did suspect my father could put him in contact with Dr. Carlyle, I doubt he would ever ask me to do anything about it. He would never ask me to call in a favor with my father. He knew how much it would kill me to do it, to ask him for anything that he could then hold over me for the next ten years. And he would. I was certain of it .

But it was worth it, I thought, if it meant that Javi would get his invention into the world. That’s what mattered.

I looked over at Javi’s form, inspecting him. He was by no means a large person, at 5’11 and average build. But he looked very large and out of place on my pink and gold frilly comforter. I inspected his clothes—he wore faded blue jeans and a black henley, with a few red stains on the sleeves, likely from chemicals in his lab. Javi had told me multiple times before that he didn’t own a suit. And even a suit wouldn’t do, in this circumstance. I nodded, resolving finally that I knew what to do.

I stood, patting him impatiently on the shoulder.

“Come on. Get up.” I kicked my bed post to make it shake a little. He glared up at me, gravely offended.

“Can’t you just let me die here from self-pity?” he groaned.

I shook my head, saying firmly, “Sure can’t. Let’s go. We’re going to midtown.”

“Midtown?” he asked, confused. “What’s in midtown?”

“No time,” I said, gathering my wristlet and my phone from my nightstand. “I’ll explain when we get there.”

Javi followed me out of the dorms and down to the subway, peppering me with questions about our destination that I ignored. I called my mom as soon as we made it out onto the street.

“Hi, Sweetie,” my mom’s tender voice answered. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Hey, Mom,” I said. “I know you’re busy this week, so I won’t keep you too long. Any chance you have two extra tickets for Saturday? For Javi and me?”

“ Oh,” my mom gushed. “Wouldn’t that be lovely. You haven’t been to one of my events in years, not since you started school. I would love that. I’m sure I can squeeze you in.”

“Awesome,” I said. “Do you think you could also call Pam and see if she could see us in like, thirty minutes? We both need something for the event.”

My mom made another emphatic cooing noise, telling me how pleased she was with the idea. “Oh, if only I could meet you two! I have the final meeting with the florist, though. What a shame. But of course, I can get you in. I can’t wait to see what you pick out!”

I smiled, a little feebly, though I knew she couldn’t see it. Javi, however, was meticulously scrutinizing my face for some evidence of what I was talking about.

“Thanks, Mom,” I replied. “Love you. See you Saturday.”

Javi raised an eyebrow, expecting an explanation that I didn’t give. I didn’t think he would agree to it if I told him where we were going.

Half an hour later, we stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor of Saks Fifth Avenue into a room that smelled like Chanel No. 5. A familiar woman in a tailored, pink pant suit approached us as soon as we walked in. She smiled at us warmly, but I could feel Javi next to me recoiling at her approach. I peered over at him, watching his shoulders visibly begin to hunch and his strides grow shorter as if he was going to stop and turn back. He looked like he expected her to ask him to leave. I firmly linked my arm in his and led him forward.

“Miss Diana, how lovely to see you,” the woman greeted me, with all the familiarity of someone who had watched me change about a hundred times. She leaned forward and kissed both my cheeks. “It has been so long.”

I shrugged, a little awkwardly, but joked, “Only so many dresses a girl needs to sit in a dusty library. That’s all I seem to do these days.”

She laughed at my joke like I was uproariously funny—I knew I wasn’t. And though Javi also laughed at my jokes usually, when he wasn’t petrified as he was now, he shot me a concerned look like he was worried about this woman’s sanity when he heard that unnerving laugh.

I cleared my throat, which brought the laughter to an abrupt halt. “Pam, this is Javier Valenzuela, my best friend at Columbia. Javi, this is Pamela Jorgensen.”

Javi offered his hand politely, but the small flicker of panic in his eyes made it look like he thought Pam might bite it like a rabid chihuahua. With her tiny frame, sandy blonde hair, and high-pitched, almost yapping laugh, it seemed like an apt comparison. I bit my lip to stifle laughter at his expression.

Pam took his hand and shook it vigorously. “So nice to meet you, Javier. I understand you’ll be attending Mrs. Richards’s charity gala this weekend as Miss Diana’s date?”

Javi’s eyes went wide, then flitted to me and back to Pam several times.

“I am?” he asked.

“He is,” I confirmed, squeezing Javi’s arm where it was linked in mine, trying to be reassuring.

“May I interest you both in a glass of champagne before we get started?” Pam asked, grabbing two glasses of golden liquid from the nearby desk that she handed to us. I took the glass from her and nudged Javi forward to take his when he didn’t immediately accept it. He looked at the glass with all the confidence of someone who had only been of legal drinking age for a few months and was still worried about people calling him out for his fake ID. I had turned twenty-one more recently, but I had been drinking champagne in the Fifth Avenue Club since I was probably fifteen or sixteen. It was my consolation prize for sitting in this room since I could remember, watching my mom shop for hours and hours on end.

I took a sip of the champagne, and the action apparently encouraged Javi enough to venture a sip of his own. I swore I heard the softest moan escape him at the taste. I felt the oddest little flutter in my gut at the sound but swallowed another large gulp of champagne to douse the sensation.

“Mr. Valenzuela, if you’ll follow me,” Pam requested, and she pulled his arm from mine to link it through her own. He looked back at me, still visibly terrified, as the tiny woman whisked him away. I gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

After a few minutes, Pam returned to me and took my empty glass. “Mr. Valenzuela is getting his measurements with our tailor now. Miss Diana, your mom gave me a short list of designers to choose from. If you’ll come with me this way—I have some selections in your size that I think you’ll find to your liking.”

I spent an hour going through the dresses Pam had set aside for me, finally settling on a satin dress with a scooping, open back in a pale-yellow color that reminded me of sunshine. While I normally gravitated toward winter tones that complemented my creamy skin and blue eyes, I pictured the dress next to Javi’s warm, summery features and thought it would complement him well. And this night was going to be all about Javi. I changed back into my normal jeans and Columbia t-shirt and ventured out to find Javi.

I looked around the room, seeing an unfamiliar figure next to the mirror in the distance. This was odd, I thought. Pamela usually held the room privately for my family when we came. They usually didn’t bring up other clients at the same time, though maybe they would not extend the same courtesy to me without either of my parents here.

But then the figure turned.

It was him. Except it wasn’t him.

I stopped in my tracks, my jaw falling slack.

He looked incredible. The black tuxedo on his form made his somewhat boxy figure, usually hidden beneath baggy, stained t-shirts, suddenly seem like the epitome of the perfect male form. His shoulders looked strong and broad, and he stood with impeccable posture, as if the clothing forced him to straighten his spine and puff out his chest impressively. It was a marked contrast to his usual posture, typically hunched over a lab desk or sprawled lazily across some piece of furniture. It was amazing what clothes could do to a person when they fit well.

He caught my eye as I approached and shot me a smile. His normal smile was already radiant. But right now, it was nearly blinding. I felt like I was looking straight into the sun. And it struck me suddenly that, while Javi was already charming, he had only ever reached a fraction of his potential. With the right clothes, he could be truly heartbreaking .

When I was a foot away from him, there was a sudden tightness beneath my sternum. My breath caught short.

I froze as he leaned forward. Pam had clearly spritzed him with some kind of cologne, because his usual scent was mixed with something else that I didn’t recognize but smelled incredible. It made my mouth water .

I could feel his warm breath against my cheek as he whispered, “Di, this is really fun and all, but have you seen these price tags? I can’t afford this stuff?—”

“It’s my treat,” I insisted. I took a step back from him, feeling like my head was going fuzzy with the smell of Javi’s scent and the cologne .

He shook his head rapidly. “I couldn’t possibly accept?—”

“You can and you will,” I commanded. I crossed my arms over my chest. “My mom’s annual charity gala is this Saturday. Dr. Carlyle never misses one of my mom’s events. But you have to look the part if you’re going to be my date.”

Javi looked temporarily stunned by this information, before a slow, mischievous smile crept over his face. My heart gave another pang at the sight. And even though I had signed us up for an evening with my parents, my father in particular, I would have done it a thousand times over again if it meant I could make Javi smile like that.

Pam took our selections for alterations, promising she would have our outfits delivered to Columbia before the following weekend. As we stepped foot onto Fifth Avenue, Javi looked over at me, more than a little awe-struck.

“So...” he began, and I purposefully avoided his stare, somehow knowing what his next line of questioning would be about. “No offense, Doc, but you don’t give off personal-shopper-at-Saks vibes. Or at least you didn’t, until today.”

I sighed. If there was anyone who I wanted not to see me that way, it was Javi.

“That’s on purpose,” I explained. “I’ve been shopping for my own clothes since I left for college. I brought some staples with me but left most of my designer stuff at home.”

“But why ?” he asked with an incredulous laugh.

I gestured up to the historic department store. “Because this is not who I am. At least, not who I feel like inside. I have felt like a doll being dressed up for my entire life. Only since I started at Columbia have I begun to feel like my own person. This place is another reflection of generations of family wealth and my dad’s outrageously high-paying job. None of it has anything to do with me. None of that money is mine.”

He laughed again. “But it will be yours someday, right?”

I frowned, shrugging. “I don’t know. I imagine I’m one more mediocre MCAT score away from being stricken from the will entirely. Stay tuned.”

His jaw dropped, and he looked panicked. “Fuck, Diana I completely forgot. I was so obsessed with my own shit. You’ve got the MCAT in a couple weeks. You’re doing this all for me, and you’ve got the test coming up. I’m so sorry?—”

“Don’t worry about it.” I gave him a reassuring smile, though my stomach lurched at the thought of the test. “It’s a welcome distraction. Let’s go get you your expert.”

The following weekend, Javi and I ascended the steps of the Museum of Natural History to the gala, which this year was benefitting the ALS Association. The security guard found our names on a list, and we were ushered to a table with my parents and several of the highest-ranking doctors from the medical school. My parents greeted us—my mom with hugs, my father with handshakes. My mom looked lovely in a sparkling black one-shoulder dress. My dad wore his usual black tux, but even though he was an arguably impressive man, he didn’t look nearly as spectacular in the suit as Javi did. The thought made me smile a little. We settled in beside them for dinner.

“So, Diana,” Dr. Chaudry, Chief of Internal Medicine, asked me halfway through the salad course. “You’ll be applying for medical school this year, will you not?”

I nodded, chewing slowly on a walnut. I swallowed. “Yes, sir. Applications are due this summer.”

My father made a derisive sound in the back of his throat, and I winced. “Not if her MCAT score has anything to say about it.”

I flushed, looking down at my plate. My insides roiled with a hot whirlpool of embarrassment and shame. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Javi look from my father and then back to me. He was frowning deeply.

“Well, there’s always Columbia,” said Dr. Norwood, Chief Medical Officer of the hospital. “She could send in a blank MCAT exam and still get into Columbia.”

A chorus of deep, hearty male laughter followed this sentiment. I clenched my fork so hard I could feel it leaving an impression in my skin. I stayed completely silent for the rest of the dinner and the speeches, waiting for the seated portion of the evening to conclude so I could leave this damn table. As soon as it was polite, I leaned over to congratulate my mom on another beautifully planned event and excused myself and Javi. I rose from the table, dragging Javi with me.

The gala attendees started to wander to the open bar or the dance floor, and I searched the crowd of faces, pulling Javi along with me all the while.

“Diana?” Javi asked. I didn’t stop or turn around. “Diana, wait. Can you please stop for a second. Can we talk about?—”

“There,” I muttered to myself. “That’s him.”

I made a beeline for the man standing at the edge of the room.

I pulled Javi along, not acknowledging his protests as I did.

“Dr. Carlyle,” I said formally as we stopped before him. “I don’t know if you remember me?—”

“Diana, is it not?” he asked kindly, extending a hand to me with a smile. “Hunt’s daughter?”

I forced myself not to frown, nodding. “Yes, sir. Diana Richards. I’d love to introduce you to my friend, Javier Valenzuela. He’s top of his class at SEAS engineering school. He is developing a portable EEG device that you simply must hear about. I think, even as accomplished as you are, sir, that you will be impressed by his work.”

Dr. Carlyle turned to Javi, his eyes going wide with obvious interest. Javi was still looking at me, concern evident on his face. I gave him an encouraging smile, nodding at him as if to say, don’t worry about me. Dazzle him.

After a long moment, Javi turned away from me finally and began to speak.

An hour later, we walked down the steps of the museum, one famous EEG expert richer.

Javi stopped in front of the statue of Teddy Roosevelt on his horse, turning to me and scooping me up into a massive hug. He twirled me around and around as we laughed.

“You did it!” he cheered as he let me back down to Earth. “Diana, that was... this was... I can’t believe you did this for me. Henrik Fucking Carlyle is going to help me with my device.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not his legal middle name.” I laughed. I straightened the straps of my dress, where they had fallen catawampus with his embrace. “But I didn’t do anything. You did all the talking. I just introduced you.”

He looked at me, amazed, and then gestured to himself, to his beautiful tuxedo. “I could never have done anything like this without you, Di.”

I hoped the dark of the night covered my blush. I shrugged. “It was nothing.”

“It was everything ,” he refuted immediately.

I looked up, and his gaze on me was so intense with the force of his adoration that it made my breath hitch in my throat. For a moment, we were locked there, staring at each other in wonder. My heart beat loudly in my ears. He was so close that his scent filled my nose, and I wondered if Pam had sent him home with a bottle of that cologne. I once again appreciated just how impressive he looked in that tux. Heartbreaking had been the description that had come to mind.

He’s your friend, I admonished myself. He’s your best friend.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and stepped away from him. I averted my eyes, not wanting to get locked beneath his intense gaze once more.

“Shall we head back to school?” I asked him, my voice a tad high-pitched.

“Yeah... yeah, let’s head back,” he said, and I swore I heard the faintest hint of disappointment in his voice, beneath all that glee. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for hours.”

“To the roof, then?” I asked.

“To the stars,” he corrected with a brilliant smile.