“Tell me about yourself.”

“Of course. I graduated Harvard at the top of my class. I have recommendations from numerous professors prominent in the field. I held a position with Embry-Jones for four years, and I have reference letters for numerous top members in Biochemistry from there.”

The woman in front of me holds up her hand to stop my never-ending list. I could keep going. She didn’t even let me get to the achievements on my resume.

“No, I’m sorry. I meant tell me about yourself specifically. Not your qualifications. I can see those listed right here on your CV. Tell me why you left a prestigious position on the East coast to move to the complete opposite side of the country. This certainly isn’t Massachusetts.”

I frown at the woman, my hands wringing at each other in my lap. I’m dressed in my Sunday best, putting me even more at odds with the woman in front of me. I knew that pressed slack and pearls would be necessary–I wanted to make a good impression at this final interview after all—but I’m having a hard time relaxing in the costume. I’m most certainly a t-shirt and jeans kind of woman. My sister had liked fancy clothes, never me.

“You want to know why I came to California?” I ask, my leg starting to bounce under the desk. Anxiety threatens to consume me. This isn’t a topic I want to broach.

“If you don’t mind.”

She smiles. The nameplate on her desk reads Monica Devereux, PHD. She’s apparently the last hurdle I have to jump to land this job. I know I need to impress her. I’m tempted to lie, to make up some bullshit reason about why I came to California, but then I think better of it. I shouldn’t start this new chapter with a lie. It’s disrespectful to Neptune.

“I promised my sister I would go on adventures,” I reply. “So, I packed up everything I own and moved across the country.”

“And you left your sister behind?” Okay, this was bordering on too personal. Does this woman have no sense of boundaries? I don’t even work here yet, and she’s grilling me like we’re on COPS.

“No. She’s not in Massachusetts.”

“Oh, so she lives somewhere else, then?” Her tone is almost bored, as if she doesn’t truly care about the answer.

“No.” My hands squeeze my thighs hard, my nails biting into my skin. “No, my sister died.”

Her eyes widen minutely, as if she did not expect such an answer. I can’t blame her, not really. I don’t like to bring up the still painful memory. It’s only been six months. My sister, Neptune, had struggled with addiction her whole life. I didn’t understand when we were younger, how we could be twins and still be so different, how we could look the same but be complete opposites. There was a time I hoped that Neptune would save herself, and when that didn’t work, that someone else would be able to save her, but after years and years of going back to rehab in a never-ending cycle, I stopped hoping.

Six months ago, I had gone over to her shabby apartment, the one she refused to leave no matter how often I offered to move her into my own, and we had the first real conversation we’d had in a long time.

Don’t live your life the way I have, Jupiter. Don’t piss it all away. You’ve always been so smart, so beautiful. Don’t let that be all that you are. Go on adventures. Promise me you’ll go on an adventure when I’m gone.

What are you talking about, Nep? You’re not going anywhere. My answer. I was so stupid, didn’t even notice her strange behavior. Or maybe I didn’t want to.

Promise me.

That’s all it took. I was never that strong when it came to my twin, no matter how many times she asked me for money for food only to turn around and spend it on more drugs. I promised her that I would go on an adventure, thinking that I wouldn’t have to worry, refusing to acknowledge that my sister was losing to her addiction. I left her apartment fully stocked with groceries that night, but she never touched anything in the fridge, not even the Rocky Road ice cream I’d hidden there.

I got the call the next morning, but I had already known. When your twin dies, you feel it in your soul. I’d been awake for hours, my chest breaking open with pain. Overdose, the doctor said, accidents happen. But I knew it wasn’t an accident. My sister had been telling me, and I hadn’t listened.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Jupiter,” Dr. Devereux says, contorting her face into a semblance of empathy. It’s slightly off, like she hasn’t practiced the look in a while. I can tell it’s forced, a tick in her jaw belying her discomfort. I nod my head to relieve her of the awkwardness and allow her to move on. It’s expected. The ‘sorry for your loss’ never helps anything, barely penetrating my brain most days. I’m used to it now. Besides, how do you tell people that your sister had been gone long before she died?

“I’ve looked over all your files, your research. I’ve noticed you worked on environmental chemicals at Embry-Jones. Are you aware that we focus on toxicology and vaccine production here?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dr. Devereux sits back in her chair and steeples her fingers in front of her. She studies me, her eyes lingering on the bright-red hair I had attempted to push back into a bun. No doubt my curls are already falling out, framing my face in a look of bedraggled chic. My hair is too long to manage on most days, but I can’t bring myself to cut it. Neptune always had beautiful long hair.

“I must warn you, our lab is predominantly male. We’ve had a difficult time getting women to remain in positions. You would be surprised by how many just stop coming into work. It has become very troublesome. The main consequence is that there are only three women in the entire company besides myself and none in the lab you’ll be working in. Will that be a problem?”

I frown. The fact that so few women work within the company means that they probably don’t feel respected here, or that the male employees are horrible to work with. It doesn’t deter me as much as I expect it to. I know my field, and I’m good at it. Besides, I grew up protecting my sister from bullies. If there is, indeed, a problem within Star Corp, I’ll be able to handle it.

“A little testosterone never hurt me.”

Dr. Devereux nods her head like she expects that answer and leans forward again, writing something on the paper in front of her.

“Welcome to Star Corp, Dr. Hill.” She offers me her hand, and I slip mine inside hers. I note the distinct coldness of her fingers–she must be freezing—and the loose grip, as if she doesn’t want to touch me. “If you’ll just go back down to the lobby, the security office can help with your security clearance and badge. You’ll be working in the toxicology department. I have a specific project in mind for you. One I think will suit your skills perfectly. You’ll get the file on your first day of work.”

I stand when it’s obvious I’m being dismissed.

“When will that be exactly?”

I don’t like to linger or wait around. I would rather begin working as soon as possible so that I can get my mind on other things. I’ve spent too long dwelling on my life, and the fact that I now live in San Diego and know absolutely no one. I have no one.

“Let’s say next week. It’ll take at least that long for all your clearances to go through. We keep our toxicology department on lockdown.”

“Thank you for the opportunity,” I reply on autopilot, already stepping towards the door. I need to stop at the liquor store before I go back to the apartment I’m staying in. I can’t handle the sight of so many unpacked boxes stacked up tonight.

“Jupiter,” Dr. Devereux calls, and I turn to look at her. “It’s nice to have another woman around. I look forward to working with you.”

“Thank you. I look forward to it, as well.”

I’m not. Not really. I had loved my job in Massachusetts. I had gotten to work on exactly what I wanted to, and my peers had respected me. But the moment I had made a promise to my sister, that had all been null and void. I’m not sure if this is what she had in mind, picking up everything suddenly and moving to the other side of the country, but it’s the best I can do short of attending a comic convention. Escaping into another universe would be nice. I’d kill to go on an epic journey right about now.

Alas, such things don’t happen in real life, and so, I take care of the security clearance before leaving the building. Something whispers that I’m in the right place, even if I don’t know why. I sit in my car for twenty minutes before I can bring myself to drive. I’m not a fan of San Diego traffic.

I buy the biggest bottle of Moscato I can find at the liquor store.