My jaw tightens. “Will your research be done by our wedding?”
“It has to be. I want to take the findings on our honeymoon so I can review the notes and maybe add to them with anything extra I find there. It would just be gravy for this paper, but I’m not complaining. It’s not every day you get to test your theories in the Galapagos, right?”
“Okay, how about a compromise?” I suggest. “I know we’re just having a low-key gathering with our immediate families after we marry, and that we’re not dressing up or having a real wedding cake or anything like that…”
“Complete waste of money,” Phillip interrupts me. “Total commercialization by the wedding industry to get paid for something that shouldn’t empty anybody’s wallet.”
“Right. And I agree with you on all of that. However, I think it could be fun if we had a wedding dance. You know, to introduce us as husband and wife, and it would be fun to learn a dance together. Class is only once a week, on Tuesdays, and you don’t teach that night. June says the instructor will teach the basics to everyone and then fine-tune each couple’s dance to fit them.”
Silence for a minute. Then—
“Sure. I’ll take the class with you.”
I throw my arms around him, and he chuckles.
“Now that that’s settled, let’s get ready for tonight,” he says, pulling back from me. “I need to make sure Dr. Lucas backs me on this paper submission.”
“I miss having time alone together,” I say suddenly. “It’s been a while.”
“It has,” he agrees, sounding like he’s already distracted. “I think I may meditate before I shower, get myself in the right mood for tonight. Do you mind getting everything ready?”
“Don’t you want to talk?”
He kisses my cheek, but he’s already turning on his iPod. “I’m trying to unwind from a long day of research, Lei. So if you don’t mind waiting to chat until I’m finished here, it won’t be too long.”
* * *
I stand awkwardly at Phillip’s side, feeling like I don’t belong as he holds up a glass of champagne and solemnly toasts to his colleague’s recent publication. The small circle of five professors, plus their spouses, all raise their champagne glasses in unison, each one just as gravely as Phillip.
Phillip and I met in front of a microscope junior year of high school in AP Biology lab. We were the only two juniors in the class. Phillip was granted approval because he’s brilliant, and I was granted approval because my parents are both brilliant biologists.
Having barely made it through Honors Biology the semester before, I was in a panic, not having a clue what I was looking for on the slide and certain I was going to let down my parents. Phillip slid over from his spot one desk over and offered to give me a hand in figuring out the specimen.
I accepted his offer gratefully, and he walked me home afterward.
When I introduced him to my parents, I could practically see the lightbulb switch on over my father’s head. It turned out that my dad and Phillip’s dad were former colleagues and had published a scientific paper together. My father enthusiastically hired Phillip to tutor me in biology. Phillip asked me out two weeks later. I was still reeling from my attempt to socialize at the football game and afterparty the month before, and Phillip’s serious nature and focus on scholastics appealed to my scared, wounded soul.
He was safe.
I said yes to the date, and that was it. We were a couple.
I can still remember the look of pride on Dad’s face the day I told him Phillip and I had started dating. He beamed and said he couldn’t have hand-picked a better young man to be my partner—in life and in school. His approval of my decision to date Phillip is the most proud of me I ever remember him being.
The toast for Dr. Lucas comes to a close, and Phillip puts his arm around me. “As you all know, Leleila has been going through a rough patch.”
Dr. Lucas frowns. “Psychology professors don’t know anything. It’s a soft science, Leleila. Don’t let them bring you down. I’m sure you’ll pass next time.”
“We’ve all been there,” Dr. Gray says to me, her brown eyes shining with pity.
“You didn’t pass your dissertation the first time?” I ask her.
“Oh, I did,” she says. “But the hard sciences are black and white. That’s what’s wrong with the field of social sciences. No clear answers.”
Backhanded compliments as usual, but I keep my chin up as I nod.
“The good news?” Phillip says. “I have the perfect solution to our problem.”
“How did you come up with a fix so fast?” I ask him, my guard immediately up.
