Right. I’d been working on a new formulation that had been requested by one of the product developers. A long-lasting lipstick that the company could market as organic and sustainable, without any of the -ites or -ates that consumers told us they didn’t want / were afraid of. Which always struck me as a bit strange, considering that cosmetics was one of the most regulated industries in the entire country. “Cyclopentasiloxane is a chemical,” I reminded Catalina.
She rolled her eyes. “Barely.”
I got her annoyance. It was something she and I had discussed often. The kind of makeup we were supposed to create—it was a little like somebody bringing you the most moist, delicious cupcake you’d ever eaten and then saying, Now make me something exactly like that, only it has to be gluten-free, vegan, no sugar, and nonfat.
There was no way.
Although my goal was always to make as close an approximation as I possibly could.
“But it still counts as a synthetic substance,” I said.
She shook her head as if she disagreed with me. “Adding this to your mixture will make the lipstick go on smoother and prevent the crumbling.”
Catalina was right, but I’d have to figure out another way.
The crumbling lipstick hadn’t happened solely due to lacking a silicone element. I’d been extremely distracted that day. I’d almost smacked face-first into Craig in the break room.
I’d never seen him there before—it was a bit like being out for a hike and coming across a wild horse on the trail. Yes, that animal belonged in the outdoors; you just weren’t expecting to see such a magnificent creature on one of your daily walks. It took my breath away.
And even after I blinked slowly several times, Craig was still there, all cute and tall, and it was like my brain couldn’t compute that we were sharing the same space. That he was in the room where （when I remembered） I ate my greek yogurt.
He smiled, nodded, and then left. While I stood there feeling like I’d been hit by a delivery truck.
“Duck me,” Catalina said, looking at me. Her resolution was to not swear, and so she’d been using the substitution word my grandpa had suggested. “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Catalina put one of her hands on her hip. “You get this goofy look on your face whenever you think about that waste of space.”
I didn’t know whether to deny her true accusation or defend Craig’s honor. For some reason, Catalina didn’t like Craig and tried to find his flaws.
“He’s not a waste of space,” I protested.
She rolled her eyes. “Look at his hair. Too much gel. Like he fell in a vat of boy bands. Hair should not have the same consistency as piano wire.”
“That’s not—”
“Not to mention, he drives a truck, which is a definite red flag.”
“What? That’s not a red flag.”
Catalina shook her head. “If it’s not red, it’s at least orange. Because the size of a truck is inversely proportional to the size of his manhood.”
“Untrue.”
“Anecdotal maybe, but I have personally conducted a thorough study on the subject. It’s true. And Craig’s truck is enormous. I’m just saying.”
Now I really had to defend his honor. Not that I had any firsthand experience, but it seemed like an unfair accusation. But from the look on her face, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to bring her over to my side. She didn’t have to like Craig, but at the very least, she could be supportive. “I wish you’d get on board with me being in love with him.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m on the dock, watching you head for that giant iceberg.”
My relationship with Craig was not the Titanic. Before I could respond, there was motion at the edge of my peripheral vision.
It was one of our colleagues, Zhen, getting up from his workbench at the far end of the room. Catalina followed my line of sight and sighed happily. She had had a huge crush on him for a long time, and he was one of the few guys in the lab who was nice to both of us.
“He and I are going to have the smartest babies,” she whispered to me as he started walking toward us. I wondered if he had any idea that he was about to be totally conquered. Any time my best friend set her sights on a man, she got him.
It was an ability that we did not share.
“Wait. I thought you were dating that Steve guy.”
“Dating is a strong word. We were more dating adjacent,” she said. “Whatever it was is over. I’ve decided I’m done dating hot guys. They’re awful.”
“Me too.” I mean, I never actually dated a hot guy. I had hopes of that changing in the not-too-distant future, though.
“Zhen is good looking, but not in that you-need-to-activate-the-tracking-app-on-his-phone kind of hot. Plus, he’s smart and nice. I could use some of that in my life.”
Yes, she could. So could I.
Catalina flicked her long, dark hair over her shoulder, positioning herself into a dramatic lean against my workbench. I moved the beaker she’d given me to my left so that she didn’t accidentally knock it over while she was, as my grandpa would say, showing off her plumage. She understood all the intricacies of a mating dance, while I was helplessly inept in that particular area.
To my surprise, Zhen didn’t stop to talk to us and veered off to the left at the last second. He did manage to mutter two distinct words, “Lab coat,” in passing.
Uh-oh. Catalina and I exchanged worried glances. It was a code phrase. That meant Jerry was in a terrible mood. He generally tolerated what he considered to be our lack of discipline and respect to the lab by not wearing our lab coats. They were so annoying. Impossible to keep clean, and the sleeves were so baggy that they constantly got in my way so that I might have, on some occasions, spilled some not-so-safe materials all over the countertop.
Catalina scurried off to her workbench while I pulled the bottom drawer back out to grab my coat. All the other chemists were donning their own coats as well.
My lab coat was definitely dirty. I tried to scrub at one of the more obvious stains from a bright red pigment. I grabbed a beaker and filled it with water from my sink and dipped my fingers in it, applying it to whatever color I’d managed to permanently imprint on my lapel, but no luck.
I dumped the water out and then, reconsidering, filled it up again so that I could get a drink. I pulled a long swig and had just set the beaker down when I heard Jerry’s door open.
When I’d arrived earlier, I’d deliberately not looked toward his office, using some childhood logic that if I didn’t see him, he somehow magically wouldn’t know that I had been late. As his highly polished shoes crossed the epoxy-resin-sealed concrete floor, my heart started to beat a little faster.
I was definitely in trouble.
I stood up slowly, hoping that he might stop at some point and call me into his office. But his stride never faltered and instead he made a beeline to my workbench.
I groaned. I should have known. With me, it was always public humiliation.
He glared down at me. “Miss Ellis? You and I have a problem.”
If I’d been paranoid about everyone staring at me before, there was no question that it was happening right now. For some reason, I was the only chemist who Jerry disciplined in the middle of the lab. Everyone else he dealt with privately in his office. But me?