Evidently yes. “Why hexagons?”
“Patterns, mostly,” he said. “Kept running into them, especially in math. They’re the basis for quantum groups.”
“And they occur in nature?”
“Yes. William Kirby called bees ‘heaven-instructed mathematicians.’”
“But that’s wrong,” Regan said, sounding distressed. “Bees are godless.”
Aldo cupped his hand around a low laugh. “Well, Darwin conducted experiments to prove that it was instinct related to evolution.”
“Oh, good.” She sounded relieved. “Better.”
Aldo reached over, turning on the lamp beside his bed. Clearly he wasn’t going to be doing any more sleeping. “What did you do tonight? Or last night, I guess.”
“Nothing. Nothing interesting. You haven’t been to the museum lately,” she added as an afterthought.
He hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her. It was feeling less and less like an accident that he was associating the two of them in his mind.
“It’s one place I go,” he said, “but not the only one.”
“Where else?”
“Outside, if I can. That’s ideal.”
“Oh.” He heard the sound of movement on her end, like she was taking something out of the fridge. “What do you do during the day?”
“Go to class. Teach. Go to the gym.” He glanced around his sparse apartment. “Not much, really.”
“Huh.” She seemed to be thinking of questions. “Who’s your best friend?”
“I don’t know,” Aldo said. “My dad?”
“Yikes.”
He laughed. “Who’s yours?”
“I don’t know. Not you, obviously. You’re a stranger.”
“True,” he said. “Excellent point.”
“My niece is pretty cool,” she said.
“Niece?”
“Yeah, my sister’s daughter.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister.”
He heard a door closing. “Yeah,” she said, her voice rising above a whisper now. “Older. She’s a doctor.”
“Does she also go by Regan?”
“No, she’s exclusively Madeline; definitely not Maddie, our mom hates that. People only started calling me Regan because of her, actually. In high school everyone just called me ‘Little Regan’ or ‘Regan Junior,’ and then eventually it stuck.”
“Is she much older?”
“She’s four years older.”
“And she has … a baby?”
“A toddler. Her name is Carissa. I call her Cari when Madeline isn’t listening.”
“I didn’t pin you as the type to enjoy the company of children.” He certainly wasn’t that particular type himself, though the thought of Regan influencing a child’s development was charming in a way. A slightly troubling, very amusing way.
“Well, it’s…” She trailed off. “You’re going to hate this.”
“Am I? Seems unlikely.”
“Madeline’s just … she’s, you know, perfect. It’s—fuck,” Regan sighed, “this is so cliché.”
“I like clichés,” Aldo said, seeing as he occasionally was one. “Got nothing against them, anyway.”
“Well, fine, just don’t—okay, whatever,” Regan muttered, speaking mostly to herself. “The point is Madeline never did anything wrong. She went straight to Harvard Med, met her doctor husband, got married when they both got residencies here. Then, out of nowhere, she’s pregnant—and it’s her first year of residency, right? She’s been married for about five seconds and boom, she’s pregnant. My sister the surgical genius can’t operate birth control, and for the first time, like, ever, she’s freaking out.” Aldo heard Regan laughing to herself on her end. “Anyway, it was the first time I ever felt like it was Madeline and me on the same team. She was so nervous to tell our parents and … I don’t know, it was just—it was kind of fun, I guess. Seeing her mess up.” She gave a low groan. “Anyway, I’m terrible.”
“Well—” Aldo curved a hand around his mouth, laughing. “I mean yeah, kind of.”
“Oh, thanks, Rinaldo—”
“So you like your niece,” he pressed her, and she sighed.
“Yes,” she admitted, “I do. She’s a good kid. And she drives Madeline crazy, so that’s a fun bonus.”