“I was talking to someone as part of a larger study at the university, and she told me the story of how she met her current husband after a terrible relationship with her previous one. It was such a sweet story of her bravery and ability to move on from something bad and still find something good. I just thoughtthat if I could take what I was working on for an academic paper and make it something that could be more easily understood by the masses, making it something they’d find interesting, it might help other people.”
“That sounds nice. So, whereareyou with it?”
“Just the idea so far: helping people find love by maybe adding in a little of the science. There are already books out there about that, though. I haven’t figured out how to make it different enough. I know I need to focus on school, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about getting this thing written. Maybe if I do it first, I’ll be able to refocus on what I need to be doing to get my doctorate.”
“Okay. Let’s think a little more about your concept,” Harlow suggested and ate a chip. “Like, is the book targeting anyone? Could it be for a smaller group of people? Does it have to relate to your paper, or can it be more general?”
“I don’t know. What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re gay. I’m gay. The gays are still an underserved market in most ways, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You got the idea by talking to some woman, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“What if you interviewed people? Maybe queer people.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Drop the cortisol stuff for a minute and think about it. We all want to fall in love. Or, at least, most people do. Anyway, instead of focusing on the science in the beginning, focus on the stories to get you going.”
“The stories?”
“Of people falling in love. Find a bunch of people and talk to them about what that was like for them. There could still be science in that, but you’d know better than me how to do it. Just get the stories first. Then, you can work out how they’ve allmanaged to make it happen. Every relationship is different, like I said before, and every love story is, too, but maybe there are similarities that you can pull along through the book you want to write, and it somehow helps people to find their person in the future. I don’t know; just thinking out loud here.”
“Interview people? Like a study, asking them specific questions? I can do that.”
“I can help if you want,” Harlow offered.
“Youcan?”
“Yeah. I can be your research assistant so that it’s legit for your first book. You know I’m good at that stuff. I was your assistant when you were a TA on that project.”
“You were the teacher’s assistant assistant.”
Larissa laughed at their inside joke.
“Or, the assistant to the teacher’s assistant, which sounds way better.” Harlow winked. “If I help, do you think you’ll be done sooner?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because your doctorate is important to you, Larissa. I want you to get the damn thing already. To do that, you need to do this book thing first, it appears, so if I help with whatever, will it get you there faster?”
“Probably. We’ve always worked together really well.”
Harlow smiled and leaned forward, pushing Larissa’s dark-rimmed glasses back up her nose.
“Go to the eye doctor and get those things tightened, or find me that little kit thing, wherever it is, and I can do it for you.”
“It’s fine. I’ll deal with it later.”
“Your motto,” Harlow replied and turned the laptop toward her. “Okay. Where do we start?”
Larissa looked at her best friend and smiled. Yet another relationship had ended for Harlow, but it had brought her back to Larissa’s small two-bedroom home at just the right time. Shehated thinking that because it meant that her friend had lost her girlfriend, but selfishly, she was always happy when Harlow was single. They had more time together, and Harlow had a way of bringing out Larissa’s best work, as well as other things, probably, too. Always way too smart and not doing enough with that intelligence, in Larissa’s opinion, Harlow had great ideas and somehow had been gifted with the ability to put them into action, whereas Larissa’s brain always felt a little like her disorganized closet.
As Harlow began typing something and talking to her about how they could accomplish this, Larissa leaned back and ate the rest of the chips. Then, picturing Harlow’s name along with her own on that future book cover, she smiled.
