Rocío asked for the morning off. I’m alone in the office and free to do what my heart desires: head-desk. What are my options here? I need to get a straight answer on when the equipment will be delivered, but I don’t know who to ask. Guy will direct me to Levi, Levi won’t talk to me, and . . .
I sit up as an idea starts forming in my head. Two minutes later I’m on the phone with StimCase, the company that produces the system I use. “This is Dr. Bee K?nigswasser, calling from the Sullivan Discovery Institute, NASA. I wanted to check on the status of our order—it’s a TMS system.”
“Of course.” The customer service lady’s voice is low and soothing. “Do you have an order number?”
“Um, not at hand. My, um, assistant is out. But the listed principal investigator should be either me or Dr. Levi Ward.”
“Just a moment, then. Oh, yes. Under Dr. Ward’s name. But it looks like the order was canceled.”
My stomach twists in knots. I tighten my fingers around the phone to avoid dropping it. “Could you . . .” I clear my throat. “Could you check again?”
“It was supposed to be shipped last Monday, but Dr. Ward canceled it the previous Friday.” The day Levi first saw me in Houston. The day he saved my life. The day he decided that he had no intention of working with me, ever.
“I . . . Okay.” I nod, even though she can’t possibly see me. “Thank you.” The hang-up noise is deafeningly loud, echoing through my head for long moments.
I don’t know what to do. What do I do? Shit. Shit. You know who would know what to do? Dr. Curie, of course. But also: Annie. When she was a third year, some guy stole her optic fibers, so she installed a subroutine on his computer that made lobster porn pop-up every time he typed the letter x. He almost dropped out of grad school. That night we celebrated by making watermelon sangria and reinventing the Macarena on the roof of her apartment building.
Of course, what Annie knows or doesn’t know is irrelevant. She’s not in my life anymore. She’s made her choices. For reasons that I’ll never understand. And I—
“Bee?”
I set my phone on the table, wipe my sweaty palms over my jeans, and look to the door. “Hey, Kaylee.” She’s wearing a bright pink lace dress that looks the opposite of what I’m feeling.
“Is Rocío here?”
“She’s out. Taking a test.” I swallow, my mind still reeling from the phone call. Phone calls. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No. I just wanted to ask her if . . .” She shrugs uncomfortably, flushes a little, but then quickly adds, “I was surprised you weren’t at the meeting this morning.”
I tilt my head. “What meeting?”
“The one with the astronauts.”
The knots in my stomach tighten. I don’t like where this is going. “The astronauts.”
“Yeah, the one Levi and Guy organized. For feedback. To brainstorm options for the helmets. It was really useful.”
“When . . . when was it scheduled for?”
“This morning. Eight a.m. It was set up last week, and . . .” Kaylee’s eyes widen. “You knew about it, right?”
I look away and shake my head. This is humiliating. And infuriating. And other things, too.
“Oh my God.” She sounds genuinely distraught. “I am so sorry—I have no idea how that could happen.”
I exhale a silent, bitter laugh. “I do.”
“Is there anything I can do to fix this? As project manager, I want to apologize!”
“No, I . . .” I paste a smile on my face. “It’s not your fault, Kaylee. You’ve been great.” I’m tempted to explain to her that her boss has also been great—a great pain in my ass. But I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, and I’m not sure I trust myself not to blurt out a string of insults.
I sit for a long time after she leaves, staring at the empty desks, the empty chairs, the empty white walls of my supposed office, where I am supposed to do the science that will supposedly launch my career and make a happy, fulfilled woman out of me. I sit until my hands are not shaking and my chest doesn’t feel like it’s being squeezed by a large hand anymore.
Then I stand, take a deep breath, and march straight to Levi’s office.
* * *
? ? ?
I KNOCK, BUT I don’t bother waiting for a response. I open the door, close it behind me, and start speaking as soon as I’m in, my arms folded on my chest. For reasons I cannot discern, I’m smiling.