Chapter 13
Monday 7:20 p.m.
I push open the small glass door of the convenience store and rush in, escaping from the cold. The store seems extra bright, contrasting the darkness outside. I rub my hands for a moment, then pick a red basket from the stacked pile next to the entrance.
It’s a small store, but sufficient for basic needs. My choice of groceries is likely not exactly what Linda would choose, but I fill my basket nevertheless, hoping it will suffice.
I’m quick through the cashier and back into the cold. I don’t have far to walk, but now that I’m loaded with several pounds of groceries, I wish I’d used my car for this. I slow down, checking the signs on the streets to make sure I’m going in the right direction.
A few minutes after, I finally find the street I’m looking for and turn left, scanning the buildings until I reach the right number. I check the intercom for Linda’s last name and press the button.
After few moments, a female voice answers. “Hello?”
“Hi, Linda. It’s me, Jane. Would you mind opening up?”
“Jane? Of—of course.”
The door sounds and I push it open.
It’s dark. The lights aren’t coming on and I don’t know where the light switch is, so I stay in one spot, holding the groceries and narrowing my eyes, trying to see into the dark. The next moment, the lights turn on and I realize I’m standing right in front of the stairs.
I start walking up, not really sure which floor she’s on, but then I see her coming down from the first floor, bending around the railing to see me.
“Jane . . . what are you doin’ here?” She’s in her dressing gown, her arms crossed at her waist. “Come, come.” She waves at me.
Her door is the first one on the left. We enter, and it feels wonderfully warm.
“I got some stuff for you,” I say, looking down to the grocery bags. “Where shall I put it?”
“Oh, Jane, thank you so much! You really shouldn’t have, you know.”
“I know. I know. Where?”
She smiles and guides me to the kitchen.
I set the bags on the kitchen counter. “Andrea told me Jeffrey has had a fever for two days already, so I thought you probably didn’t want to leave him home alone to go shopping.”
She tilts her head and smiles. “Jane, you are a darlin’, you know that? How did you know where I live?”
“I asked Kevin. Told him what I planned to do and he was kind enough to give me your address. I hope you don’t mind . . .”
“Ah, the HR guy.” She smiles. “I guess he’d do a lot more for you than just give you an address.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind, honey.” She shakes her head, smiling, then asks, “So, how much do I owe you?” She picks up a wallet from her purse hanging in the hallway.
“No, Linda. It’s nothing. This one’s on me.”
“Jane, don’t be ridiculous. I can’t let you pay for all that.”
“First of all, it’s not ‘all that,’ it’s just a few things. And second, how is Jeffrey doing?”
She relaxes her shoulders and tilts her head to the side, an okay-you-win smile on her face. She puts her wallet back in her purse. “The last few hours, a bit better. The medications are working, and that’s great news. He still hasn’t eaten anything, though, but I guess that’s normal for this type of fever.”
“I’m glad he’s getting better. Do you have enough medicine? Should I—”
“No. No. I have enough. It’s fine. Thank you.”
“Mom?”
Linda turns around. “Hello, baby, how’re you doin’?” She raises her arm and Jeffrey walks underneath it, hugging her around the waist.
This is probably the moment I should say something to him, but I’m so terrible with children I don’t know that I just mutter hello and smile.
“Jane works in the same place I do, sweetie. She was so kind and got us some groceries.”
I smile a response.
“Did you get any ice cream?”
“Jeff!” Linda scolds.
“I did,” I say. “I love ice cream when I have a fever.”
“Awesome!”
He’s about to look for the ice cream in the bag, but Linda stops him. “Hold on there, kiddo! If you feel like ice cream, then you first need to eat somethin’ healthy.” She peeks in the bag and says, “For example, apples.”
Jeffrey huffs. “Fine.”
“Well, enjoy your dinner. I’m glad you’re getting better, Jeff.” I turn to Linda. “I’ll see you back at the institute.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?”
Regrettably, my first thought is that I don’t want to get infected. Terrible, I know. But the second is Sam. I want to invite him to the Bruins game tonight still, and it might be too late if I stay for dinner. “No, Linda, but thanks!”
I open the door, then turn to face them one more time. “Have a good evening! And a quick recovery.”
“Thank you, Jane. This was very sweet of you.”
“Don’t mention it. Bye!”
I hear the door closing as I stomp down the stairs. As soon as I open the outside door, I’m swept by the cold winter air. Evenings in Boston get really chilly, really fast. I shiver and breathe out a cloud of air, then walk into it.
I’m turning left for the bus stop when all of a sudden a motorcycle roars to life on the other side of the street, giving me a fright. I put my palm on my chest to calm myself, then continue walking. The motorcyclist is wearing all black. He turns his head toward me and I slow my gait just a little bit. I find it slightly uncomfortable that I can’t see his face.
Why does it feel like he’s looking at me?
Then he looks forward and steers his motorcycle into the street, disappearing in the direction of the bus stop.
I breathe out. Silly me! He was probably just looking for the traffic coming his way.
I continue walking and within five minutes I’m at the bus stop, just opposite the store. There is still some space on the bench next to two other people, but it’s so cold I don’t feel like sitting down.
I take my MP3 player out of my handbag and put the earbuds in, letting the music continue where it left off the last time, the volume low.
Soon, the bus arrives, and I’m grateful to escape into the warmth again. I sit next to the window and take off my cap, checking my reflection in the glass, red hair splayed around my head as if I was hooked up to an electrical circuit.
I frown and try to smooth it down, but something catches my attention and I look through the window. On the lane parallel to the bus, I see a motorcyclist. Black helmet, black jacket, black boots.
Is that the same one I saw on Linda’s street?
He’s standing several feet away, looking at the bus.
Can’t be. He’d be long gone by now.
The bus closes the door and puts the indicator on, the yellow light reflecting off the side window I’m sitting next to.
The biker turns his head to the road and speeds off. I move my head further to the window, watching him until he’s too far for me to see.
Ah, motorcyclists! They all look the same to me.
As the bus slowly joins the traffic, I adjust myself in my seat, looking to the front, my gaze unfocused, and begin to think about the Crazy Gro project.
The speed of the growth is remarkable. I have never seen anything like it. David’s probably right: it just might be the best project I’ll ever work on. It’s amazing that they managed to keep something like that a secret. I guess those strict confidentiality agreements are good for something . . .
And I wonder if my blocker idea will work.
I think it actually might. It’s a general principle; if I know what the correct sensor protein is, the corresponding blocker should really work. I just need to design one. Again.
But still—I hate the timing! It could have come four weeks later, and all would have been perfect: my manuscript written and sent to the journal, and me ready for a new research adventure. But no! It had to come now.
I sigh.
Not much I can do about it.
Still, I can start preparing some things for my paper: writing up the “Materials and Methods” section, choosing images. . .
Images. . .
I wonder what Sam would think if he saw them.
My heartbeat accelerates immediately as soon as I think of him.
He has probably never seen anything like microscope images before. Would he find them interesting? Would he find me interesting if I show them to him?
Perhaps I could do just that. I mean, why not?
And my breathing accelerates just a notch.
I close my eyes and breathe out. Oh, Jane . . . It’s just like back in primary school when you showed your drawing to the boy you liked, thinking that would make him like you, remember that?
Well, it didn’t work. Not then, and certainly not now.
The best thing I can hope for is just sharing a few hours with him at the Bruins game. And that’s it.