A lift of her eyebrows suggested an inclination to disagree.
“You’re not on Obexity, are you?” Emmett said.
Dr. Saito shifted, crossing her other leg. She seemed to be formulating a response that wouldn’t get her into trouble.
“You know, I’ve always struggled to fit in,” she said finally. “I was born in Orange County, but my parents, they were Japanese immigrants. I was heavy growing up. I looked different than the other girls at school. But not like my sisters, either. You don’t see many obese Asians, even in the U.S.”
“I imagine that was difficult.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can do more than imagine.”
“I didn’t have it as bad though, probably. The expectation to be thin is so much greater for girls, women.”
“I’m not disagreeing. I’m sure you’re familiar with the writings of Susie Orbach.”
“Fat Is a Feminist Issue. I read it in college.”
“I wonder, how many books about male fatness have you read?” Saito asked. As Emmett opened his mouth to respond she added, “And I don’t mean memoirs by male comics making self-deprecating jokes about being dumb fat slobs. I mean real books. Books that aren’t just laughing at you.”
He couldn’t think of any.
“We talk about fatphobia like it only affects women, but everyone who lives on the fringes of society’s expectations knows what it feels like to be ‘other,’ to be treated as less than human. When you’re marginalized in another way, it’s even worse. You not only have to contend with the expectations of White America, but your marginalization, whether it’s gay male beauty standards or your Asian mom telling you that you look like a pig in a kimono.”
Emmett laughed. “That’s harsh.”
“Tell me about it. Is it any surprise I battled my weight into my twenties? Yo-yo diets, eating disorders. Nothing worked, of course. I always knew I wanted to help people like us, which is how I ended up studying pharmacological chemistry. That’s how I first met Dr. Smith, our CSO—he was my research adviser at Allegiant before he founded Monstera. A true visionary. When he asked if I wanted to come work for him, I jumped at the chance. What he was working on, it sounded too good to be true. I had to see for myself. Try it even, if I could.”
“And did you?”
A look of wry confidentiality flitted across Saito’s face.
“You’re not still on it, are you?” Emmett said.
“On it? EmaC-8? A barely tested experimental drug without FDA approval? That would be grossly illegal, not to mention dangerous.” She slid him a sideways grin, as good as a wink. “Either way, you understand why it’s so important for people like us to have access to a treatment like Obexity. It’s the only thing that can save us in a country like this.”
“That’s depressing.”
“Hugely. Pardon the pun. But it’s true.”
Not a single part of Emmett disagreed. “I never want to go back to how my life was before.”
“I know. But that’s only possible if Obexity is approved by the FDA. I understand you have medical concerns—maybe even ethical ones, which, believe me, I get it—but we can’t do this without you. All of you in the clinical trial.” She sat back. “Okay, I’ll get off my soapbox now.”
Emmett studied the floor, guilty and reluctant to press for more information. Dr. Saito hadn’t answered all his questions, but whatever trifling concerns he might have paled in comparison to the urgency of her mission and what people like him stood to lose should Obexity never see the light of day.
“No,” he said. “You’re right. This trial’s important. For all of us.”
She smiled. Her eyes crossed back to the boardroom. “I should probably get back.”
“Right. Of course.”
They stood.
“Thanks for talking to me,” Emmett said. “And sorry again for—”
“How did you find me, by the way?”
He hesitated.
