Page 17 of Cava with My Colleague

I didn’t expect to love it. I expected to enjoy it, the way I’ve enjoyed every city I’ve lived in or visited. But Madrid snuck up on me.

In three hours, we’ll land in Berlin. This afternoon, I’ll stand in front of three hundred people and try not to fall apart.

I pull out my phone and open my photos. I have my phone set up to scroll through my favorites album for my background, and right now, it’s showing a picture Emma took in London—the four of us at that café, laughing. It was a fun weekend, but I can see the tightness in my own eyes—already concerned about how I’m going to pull this off.

The group chat this morning was full of support.

Sara

You’ve got this. Remember—you’re doing it for the patients.

Emma

Channel your inner badass. Also, if you freeze, just picture everyone naked. Isn’t that what they say?

I smile despite my nerves. My friends believe in me.

I’m just not sure I believe in myself.

These women have always given me unconditional love. They are ride-or-die, we show up for each other, we know each other.

I never had that. My parents’ love was conditional. Conditional on me being a “good girl,” on me praying, attending church, marrying someone they approved of, and popping out babies like my sisters had.

Something I wouldn’t do. Couldn’t do. Which somehow always felt like it was my fault.

I tuck the phone back into my purse. I’ve always told my friends to channel me—what would Jade do?—in the bedroom.

Maybe now I need to channel my friends.

I put my earbuds in. I’ve been saving a new episode of my favorite podcast—a cold case from rural Georgia, two seasons in, still no arrest—for exactly this kind of moment. An hour of someone else’s misery is better than sitting with my own.

The plane climbs higher. Berlin waits.

7

Carlos

* * *

Jade is quiet. We’re in the event room, setting up for the first presentation.

If she’s mad at me for something, I have no idea what it is. Perhaps she’s just upset to be here with me at all. I, after all, thought Rebecca should send someone else.

I don’t take it personally. I don’t want to be doing this with her, either.

The room holds three hundred people, rows of chairs extending out from the raised stage at the front. Once Jade gets her laptop connected to the projector, the first slide of the presentation comes up—the familiar style and colors from the last few years of presenting. It settles my worries slightly. Jade made updates to the slides, but the core structure has stayed the same.

It’s the first presentation and we didn’t have to call in the hotel’s tech support. That feels like a good omen. And we’ve practiced distilling Jade’s science-smarts down to something everyone can understand.

A few people filter in, and I welcome them, suggesting they take a seat. A pharmaceutical rep I know comes in, and we chat for a few minutes about his company’s latest acquisition. The room starts to fill—press badges in the front rows, industry professionals in the middle, patients and families toward the back. I excuse myself to the front of the room.

Jade isn’t up there, and I check my phone. We have seven minutes until we start.

I have a few emails I can read while I wait, and at exactly four p.m., Jade climbs the steps to the stage. I shove my phone into my jacket pocket and follow her up.

That’s when I notice.

Her shoulders are too rigid. Her smile is fixed, stretched too tight across her face. When she reaches the podium, she grips it with both hands like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.