Chapter One
Seth
Monday
I lean against the cushioned backrest of the restaurant booth, finally able to relax after having to be “on” all day.I gave a talk during the morning conference session, then spent the afternoon fielding questions from competitors who develop similar drugs.It took a lot of energy to ride that razor edge between being a scientist, excited to talk about my research, and being a tight-lipped corporate cog devoted to my company’s bottom line—the edge I’m not really sure I will ever be comfortable riding.
But the day is over at last, and between my adrenaline plummeting and the light buzz from the one drink I’ve had on a very empty stomach, I’m almost ready for a nap.
The restaurant is packed, the hum of conversation lulling me further to sleep.Our waiter is young and eager, but a bit out of his depth with how busy the place is tonight, so we've been waiting awhile for our food.There are eleven of us, squeezed into a booth that seats eight.Javi says they do this every year—on the first day of the Annual Pharmaceutical Chemistry Conference, all the alums of our joint PhD advisor’s research group get together at the hotel restaurant, have dinner and usually close the place down.It’s been four years since I graduated, but it’s my first time attending this conference.My employer doesn’t send its newbies to share sensitive findings in front of competition, but I guess I’m no longer one.
I sit at the edge of the booth, next to me Edie, Belinda, and Javier—my three favorite people from grad school.Javi and I started our PhDs at the same time, the girls joined us the year after.They were the best friends I’ve ever had.
From how they laugh and tease each other, I suspect they’ve all stayed in touch.Except me.
I wish I could’ve.I really do.
Edie waves her arms around, almost smacking me in the face.She’s in the middle of an anecdote involving a jar of peanut butter, her toddler nieces, and the family dog.Javi smiles as he listens, his eyes on the beer bottle that he absentmindedly rolls between his palms.I have the impression he’s heard the peanut-butter story more than once, but he would never say so and risk hurting Edie’s feelings.We all love Edie’s epic tales, as embellished as they usually are.
Belinda—Billie—is squished between Edie and Javi.She no longer wears glasses, and her dark wavy hair, which used to be pulled back in a mercilessly tight bun, is now down and styled, with reddish highlights and soft waves.She looks every bit the professional woman, even if her raised shoulders and hands hidden beneath the table reveal she’s still not comfortable taking up space.
Billie chuckles at something Edie has said, and reaches for her drink.I don’t know why I notice the movement, why I follow her left hand with my eyes.
I watch Billie’s fingers curl around the tall slim glass of her mojito, which is half full, with crushed mint stuck to the walls.She picks up the glass and brings the straw to her lips—
She’s not wearing a ring.
...
She’s not wearing that fucking ring.
...
What the hell?
...
My breath is stuck.My mind is stuck.
Everything falls out of focus—Edie with the windmill arms; Javi with the rolling bottle—everything except Billie, her painted lips pursed around the straw, her left hand clutching the glass, bare.
Unadorned.
Ringless.
Naked.
An eternity passes before I draw breath again.Then blood rushes to my head and I’m awake again, wanting to run, to jump, to fight.Wanting to scream.
Because Billie hadnevertaken that damn wedding ring off.Not once in all the time I knew her.
Maybe it’s nothing.Maybe the wedding band clashes with her outfit or something.I almost laugh because “clashing with her outfit” would’ve never been something the Billie I used to know cared about.But this new Billie, with her hair and makeup done?Her, I’m not sure I know.
My heart pounds with a deafening beat.
Edie’s noticed something’s off about me, because she watches me askance, one of her eyebrows raised in a silent question.I pretend not to see it.
All this because of Billie’s missing ring.
