“Jane, for fucks sake, you need to have your focus, ask. Fuck the damn rules, it’s not that you ask me to fuck with you in the middle of the lab.”
My mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. I am at a loss for words because of her directness.
“That was a lot of fucks in one sentence,” I say, stupidly.
She looks at me like a reprimanding mother: One eyebrow drawn up, knowing look, not even saying a word, but making me spill all my secrets.
“Are you and El in a relationship?” I ask.
She laughs.
“No,” she says casually. “Not the one you mean, at least. Why?”
I recognize my body relaxing slightly.
“It just—you seem happier, and you spend a lot of time together, I just thought, maybe—just forget I asked.”
“And what if?” she asks, catching me completely off guard. “What if we were?”
“I—“ I stammer out, but nothing follows. Because the thought of it causes a heavy rock to appear in my stomach.
She leans on her hand. Suddenly, she is so close.
“You what?” she asks, her head tilted, challenging me.
My mind shuts off as she stares into my eyes like the very first day we met.
I have no words. I stare at her with a half-open mouth.
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to navigate myself out of the grave I dug myself.
“You don’t know,” she repeats in a dangerously silent tone. “You know what I think? You are lying to yourself. ” And with that, she gets up and packs her stuff.
“See you tomorrow,” she says, and is gone. Leaving me once again with thoughts. All the thoughts.
“Wait,” I call after her. And she stops.
“Why do you think I am lying to myself?”
She turns to me, a faint smile on her face as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.
“You are lying to yourself because acknowledging what you feel would change everything your world is built on.”
And with that, she is gone.
Morning comes,and I have been staring at the ceiling of my apartment all night, trying to get my mind straight about what Amelie said.
Maybe I am lying to myself. Maybe I simply do what is right. I don’t know. I don’t know anything at this point anymore. I have thought the same thought a hundred times, and I am no closer to a resolution than before.
When I get up, it is with dread. Dread, because I will spend four days in close contact with her. At least I’ll have the evenings and nights to myself.
I arrive at the airport an hour early and wait at the gate where we agreed to meet. In the meantime, I observe the crowd. Airports have always been a favorite spot of mine because there are so many people to watch and analyze, a passion I’ve carried from childhood to now.
What I dislike is flying, and the closer it gets to the departure, the sweatier and more agitated I become.
“Hi,” she says and falls onto the chair next to me. “You look tired.”
“Good morning to you, too,” I say through gritted teeth.
