She almost reaches for my hand but instead puts her reflexes to good use again and straightens it out for a shake. I grip it firmly in mine, lingering for longer than I should.
I could walk away right now, tell the higher-ups to wait. But this is my chance. Rooney tilts her head toward them.
“Go,” she says.
It’s time for me to pursue my promotion and for Rooney to follow her thread. I watch her go with an ache in my chest.
“Bye, Lobster Girl,” I whisper.
Chapter 30
JACK
Ifind myself standing in front of a tank full of sea jellies at the Aquarium of the Pacific with Gong Gong. “Happy New Year” event posters are still hanging around the aquarium from four weeks ago. We watch as the glowing marine animals propel themselves around one another.
“You know they’re older than dinosaurs?” Gong Gong says, his face illuminated by the neon blue glow of the translucent moon jellies. “By three times!”
“I actually didn’t,” I say, surprised. “They look like they’re in zero gravity.”
In front of me, the jellies billow like little clouds in a glass-contained sky. The peacefulness of their movements soothes me. A sharp pang shoots through the center of my chest when I realize it reminds me of being underwater with Rooney.
“Is Rooney back in New York?” Gong Gong asks, as though he had just felt my pain. It’s also possible he sees how miserable I must look.
“I think she went out there for the Lantern Festival. And to meet with the MoMA team,” I mumble. “We haven’t talked since the showcase earlier this week.”
Gong Gong clasps his hands over his belly. “That show was spectacular. Sounds like this residency is a success.”
We linger in front of the tank, mesmerized. The jellies look like translucent portobello mushrooms with their curved umbrella-like bodies. Their short tentacles are thin, practically invisible strings. The aquarium would be an incredible space for Rooney to create an installation.
“No matter what happens with your job or promotion, you should be proud of yourself,” he adds.
“The showcase went well, the mission is moving along,” I say. “Other than the art program. Everything is going according to plan.”
“I meant proud of yourself. Not your work.” Gong Gong leans closer to watch as the moon jellies fold into themselves before expanding again. “Change isn’t always the most apparent to spot in ourselves, but you’re a different man today than you were this time last year.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Look where we are. I felt a need to come here on a Sunday evening, and you agreed to take me. On a whim! We hadn’t planned it out, didn’t know what traffic was going to be like. The Jack of last year would have required a two weeks’ advance notice of any plans, period.”
“I wasn’t really like that, though. Was I?”
Gong Gong chuckles. “My boy, you were that and then some.”
When I’m quiet, he continues, “It’s an endearing trait of yours.”
I cough out a laugh. “That’s one word for it.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of. You seem more flexible. You have for a while now. Heck, you even trespassed to wrap the Hollywood Sign. You’re evolving. Maybe you just needed some art in your life. And a little red,” he says with a tilt of his head.
More mentions of Rooney, as though she doesn’t already fill every crevice of my mind. In my head, I hear her commentary on what I’m doing, what’s around us. I glance around for somethingelse to distract me. The jellies are annoyingly peaceful, given how I feel. The placard next to the tank explains how sea jellies don’t have hearts, brains, or respiratory systems. That would make life so much easier, not to have to feel or experience or think about love or emotions. For a second, I envy them.
I watch the light filtering through the tanks, twisting and turning over the concrete floors. We pass through to another area of the aquarium. Children have their hands and noses pressed up against the glass. When they run to the next tank, dirty streaks are all that’s left behind. Proof that they were here.
We stroll to the next tank, filled with sea dragons and seahorses, Gong Gong’s favorite.
“Jack, look at this one,” Gong Gong says, pointing out a leafy sea dragon, its yellow-striped body covered in long, seaweed-looking camouflage. It reminds me of Rooney hiding in plain sight in her red knitwear.
“You ready for your fun fact?” he asks. “You’re not too old for this, are you?”
