I shrugged. I really liked this woman—in anextremelyplatonic way, it was worth noting—and I lived for her weird stories. But the fact I was a mathematical improbability wasn't getting me where I needed to go tonight. In truth, I needed to go to a pink glass and teal velvet apartment and wrap myself around a heartbeat that I wanted more than my own. "It was great."
"What about the Marie Antoinette story? The one with the croissants. I like that one," Nick said.
"History doesn't work on him," she said.
"It doesn't," I agreed. "Sorry."
"I can do better," she said, her fingers on her temples. "Give me a second."
"Really, you don't have to," I said.
"Yeah, Erin, he's right. You don't have to do that. It would also make me very happy if you'd just sit down," Nick said from the stove. "Don't worry about this guy. He needs a couple of beers, a good meal, and some sleep. He'll shake it off in the morning."
"Is that the remedy?" I asked him. "Why hadn't I thought of that?"
"Because you're busy lurking around corners," he replied. "You're freaking the surgical techs out, you know."
"I doubt that," I replied.
"Doubt it all you want, but my circulating nurse said you were being a pain in the ass."
"I'm a lot of things, but I'm only a general pain in the ass. I keep my bullshit high-level. I'mnevera pain in the ass to nurses or techs," I said. "I learned my lesson in that arena a long time ago."
"I've got it." Erin grabbed my arm, turned my hand over and pointed at the inside of my wrist. "What is that? That blue line?"
"Are you seriously quizzing me on anatomy? Radial artery. For fuck's sake, Walsh."
"And what's that artery pumping?"
"Okay, so, thisisa quiz," I muttered. "Wow. Did not expect that from you. Arteries pump oxygenated blood."
"And what's blood composed of?"
"Well, you've got your red and white blood cells, your plasma, your platelets." I stared at her. "Why? I do not have the strength to donate blood tonight if that's where you're going with this. There isn't enough juice. Not enough cookies."
"Because I want to talk to you about hemoglobin." She made it sound like the most obvious thing in the world. "It's a structure built on four iron subunits."
"Oh my god, Erin. Are you telling him the iron story?" Nick called. "You don't have to do that. Is it really that bad? I don't think so, honey. I don't think you need to digthatdeep into the toolbox."
"I think the situation requires it." She gave a sage nod and now I knew I was in some shit. "This planet is home to loads of iron and that's a good thing because it's essential to sustaining life for humans, plants, and animals. But when I stop and think about iron though, I'm reminded of the violent death in its creation."
I curled the ends of my sleeves into my fists. "Wait, what?"
"Iron doesn't belong to us," she said. "It belongs to the heart of a dying star."
"Here we go," Nick muttered.
She tapped the blue lines running up her arm. "Once upon a very long time ago, a red giant star digested all its helium and turned it into oxygen and carbon, which eventually morphed into iron. All that iron turned the star into a supernova and then its heart burned out the last of its fuel. There was a massive explosion, the likes of which we can't even imagine because the power and brightness exceeds anything we know in this world. But that explosion—the star's death—sent iron atoms flying through space along with oxygen and carbon. Gravity got in on the game and rounded them up into the planets we know today. The core ofthisplanet is believed to be mostly molten iron. It's inside us and all around us and life wouldn't continue without it."
I ran a hand over my mouth. "Shit."
"You are made of stars. They're inside you, and even on your worst day, they don't stop shining for you. Don't ever forget that."
I bobbed my head, gulped down a whole lot of emotion that seemed disproportionate to a story about hemoglobin and supernovas."Shit."
"Yeah. Right? I mean, sometimes I think about the creation of the universe and how everything matters, but also nothing matters, and—"
"All right," Nick interrupted, dropping a hand to his wife's shoulder and pulling her to his side. "I'm calling this meeting of the sad and broody kids club to an end for the night. Y'all can wait until next week to dip into the existentialism and the nihilism, okay? Thank you." He shook his head at me. "I don't know why I bring you home with me sometimes, Stremmel, but you have the dying star story now. Everything's going to work out."
