I’m gone for her.
Kokami.
20
ISABELLA
Morning sunlight streams through the diner's expansive windows, casting golden streaks across the worn, checkered floor. Diego and Papà sit side by side in the booth, studying the laminated menu.
Diego leans back slightly. His arm stretched casually along the top of the booth while Papà peers over his glasses, tapping the edge of his finger on the list of desserts we could eat after breakfast. I’m across from them, nursing a cup of coffee I barely remember ordering. My stomach twists with guilt.
Diego had shown up in his truck.
His grin is as confident as ever, insisting we grab breakfast before setting off on another day of adventure. Leaving my father behind for the third day in a row felt wrong, especially after I was busy at work.
Diego didn’t bat an eyelash and invited my father to join us. The best of both worlds, he said. As I sit here, catching Diego’s fleeting glances when Papà isn’t looking, I feel the heat crawl up my neck.
Flashes of last night. The depraved things he did to me on his bike at the quarry flood my mind. He raises a knowing eyebrow, those dark eyes glittering with desire and a taunting smirk that never seems to disappear.
I blush furiously and glance down at my coffee, hoping the heat in my cheeks isn’t as noticeable as it feels. My father sets the menu down, his fingers grazing the table’s edge as he studies me and Diego.
I’m positive he sees exactly what’s happened between us. He is going to caution us or scold us, and something horrific will happen at any moment to break up this chummy morning.
“Diego, what’s your take on Fritz Haber?”
His warm and thoughtful tone douses my worries. I exhale in relief. Glancing at the men, I watch Diego shift uncomfortably in the booth, removing his arm to hunch over the table.
The question throws me off for a second. Haber, the father of modern fertilizers, whose work also led to chemical weapons. A polarizing figure if there ever was one.
“It’s complicated, Dr. Rossi. His contributions to agriculture are undeniable. The Haber-Bosch process changed the world, feeding billions. But the flip side…”
He trails off, his dark gaze flickering to me with a seriousness that shakes his head.
“It’s hard to reconcile. Brilliant, but ethically questionable.”
My father looks serious at first, a hand at his chin, rubbing it loud enough for his whiskers to scrape against his thumb.
“Good answer. Chemistry is full of dualities, isn’t it? The power to create and destroy, often with the same innovation. Alfred Nobel invented dynamite and its catastrophic uses, and his countermeasure of establishing the Nobel Prize is a prime example of that.”
The waiter arrives with our food.
Papà’s plate with a golden omelet stuffed with herbs and goat cheese, a side of toast, and a small fruit cup. Diego opts for a towering stack of pancakes, glistening with syrup, accompanied by crispy bacon, and my own, simpler breakfast of avocado toast.
Diego reaches for the syrup when Papà peppers him with more questions, jumping from Haber to Marie Curie, then onto Rosalind Franklin and her overlooked contributions to the discovery of DNA.
They go back and forth, debating the contributions and controversies of each brilliant contributing mind, allowing me time to watch their interaction.
It’s apparent they are both passionate about the field, but Diego speaks with the same sort of love for the industry as I have. It’s surprised me, even though he’s shown and said he’s all in with chemistry. It’s such a dichotomy between the adventurous and playful street biker I’ve run around with over the last few days.
His pivot from the rough and rowdy world of competitive motorsports to the quiet and distinguished world of chemistry labs somewhat mirrors my dualities, something he surprisingly understood about me faster than my closest friends.
“Cara, tell Diego why Linus Pauling’s work on chemical bonds was so transformative, won’t you?”
He points his fork at me like a laser pen on a lecture wall. I sit up straighter, swallow my bite of toast, and take a drink before answering. Suddenly, I feel as if I’m the student being called out of school.
Diego takes notice and chuckles.
Three generations of learners crammed into the last booth in a busy diner to discuss the greats as if it were a normal conversation.
