My condo has a decent view of the Vegas skyline, but we’re far enough out that the air’s a lot more breathable than it is in the center of the city. We take our meals to the two Adirondack chairs I have set up out there. Kepler climbs up into a miniature hammock rigged to a plant stand; clearly, this is not his first foray onto the balcony.
Minerva is still holding herself stiffly, even when she opens the box I passed her.
“Oh!” she exclaims. “You got meorecchiette!”
“They said it was the most popular item on the menu. It’s got pesto, mushrooms, and sausage. Pretty sure you like all those things, from what I’ve seen?”
“You got me pasta,” she says, staring into the container.
“Do you not like it?” Damn, I’m pretty sure she’s ordered pasta of some kind almost any time we’ve gone out. “We can trade if you want.”
“No.” She wraps her arms protectively around the box. “I mean, yes. I love pasta. And I’ve always likedorecchiette.The name means ‘little ears.’ When I was a kid, my nonna…” She stops short. I can tell she’s recalibrating, shutting down whatever train of thought she was about to embark on. “Thank you, this looks delicious. I was surprised because some people think women should avoid certain foods.”
“People like your parents?” I ask. The way she holds it—like no one’s handed her something she actually wanted in a long time—kills me. My jaw ticks. I want to ask who made her think she should eat around her body instead of for it.
She flinches. “What did you get?”
“Mymeal is assistant-approved,” I joke. “Stuffed swordfish and a side salad. Delicious and nutritious. High in protein, low on carbs.”
“Good choice.” She digs into her pasta and emits a breathy groan. “Iff if homemade pefto.”
I chuckle at the look on her face.
Minerva immediately covers her mouth with one hand. She chews a few times, swallows, and shakes her head. “That pesto is maybe the best I’ve ever tasted.”
“No wonder the dish is so popular.” I want to ask if her nonna made pesto, too, but the subject of her family is a landmine I’m not prepared to navigate. I don’t want to upset her again like I did earlier. Better to shift to a different topic for now. “So, what was with all the papers in there? Don’t tell me you’re working on some super-intense exercise regimen for me.”
“That was a personal project, actually.”
“Yeah?” That’s surprising, if only because she hasn’t told me much about her interests and hobbies up until now. “And you’re doing it on paper?”
“I think better on paper. When I’m doing research, anyway. It makes me slow down and think.”
“And what are you working on?”
She pulls her knees in, making herself even more petite than she already is. “It’s nothing important.”
“Tell me anyway.”
I want her to talk to me. I want the version of her that forgets she’s supposed to be small.
She wrinkles her nose. “Are you sure?”
“We’re eating. I like talking to you. The only thing I have to report frommyday is my gym session with the guys. Unless you want me to tell you riveting tales about how I picked things up and put them down again, it’s all you.”
Minerva smiles, but she stays quiet for so long that I think she decided not to speak at all. At last, she says, “Okay. So, this one time in school, I prototyped a microfluidic device for real-time blood analysis.”
“Oh.” I have no idea what the fuck half of that means, but it sounds interesting. “Okay, so… what kinds of things can that kind of testing tell you?”
God, she’s beautiful like this. Not because of her face—though, yes—but because she’s not bracing for impact. She’s just… alive.
She nibbles a piece of pasta. “Well, so, blood isn’t just one thing. Let me think about how to simplify this a little. Um, so, blood carries a lot of things with it when it travels through your body. Oxygen, minerals, things like iron and plaque… and it moves quickly throughout your body, right, so a good blood test can reveal when something is wrong with, for example, your liver or your kidneys.”
“Sure,” I say, because I’m with her so far. “I have regular bloodwork done. We get a bonus for it from the team, actually. But your blood test would be better?”
“Somuch better.” Minerva launches into an explanation, talking so fast that I can barely follow. I’ve never seen her so animated, and while I really am doing my best to follow her explanation, I find myself mostly appreciating her enthusiasm.
She talks for five minutes, then ten, then twenty, while I eat and try to make sense of her explanation. I did alright in high school biology, but I tried one college-level course, dropped the class before the deadline, and never took another. I’m getting maybe 10% of this, but that 10% is fascinating.
