Chapter 35
When I open my eyes, it’s dark and I can see yellowish light coming through the half-open door of my room. I’m covered with a blanket. I hear a low murmur of Sam and Eduardo talking, but I can’t make out what they are saying. Either they don’t want to wake me up or they are talking about something they don’t want me to hear.
I pull away the blanket and sit up. I feel a bit cold; must be the exhaustion. I wrap the blanket around me and walk to the living room.
“—sn’t the smartest thing you’ve done. You know that, don’t you?” Eduardo is standing next to the kitchen island, propping his arms on the wooden surface, looking at Sam. Sam is sitting on a barstool, leaning his elbows on the counter, his fingers in his hair, frozen in the middle of a combing motion.
He’s nodding.
Then Eduardo sees me. “Jane! Did you have a good sleep?”
“Yes, Eduardo, I did. Thank you. Who covered me?” I ask, as I remove the blanket and fold it, then place it on the sofa.
“Sam. Of course,” Eduardo says, giving Sam a sideways look.
Sam turns to me and smiles, his face changing from worried to happy in one instant. And that makes me happy too.
I smile back.
“My wife, Lucretia, made us a lovely dinner,” Eduardo says, and only then do I see a small woman standing in the kitchen. She’s got thick black hair, bright black eyes, and broad hips. She must be over forty, I think, but her smooth skin makes her look a lot younger. I walk over to her and reach out my hand. “I’m Jane, nice to meet you.”
She smiles, looking at Eduardo and then back at me as she shakes my hand. “Lo siento, mi Inglés es muy malo.”
“Ah, that’s fine. My Spanish is worse.” I smile back to her.
She picks up four plates stacked on the kitchen island and brings them to the table. I take the kitchen utensils from the counter and bring them to table as well, placing the knives and forks next to the plates.
For a moment, I look around, wondering where should I sit, then, the next moment, my skin tingles as I feel Sam’s hand touch my back. He’s right behind me, and he’s very, very close. I swallow and turn around.
He’s not looking at my eyes but my lips, and my heartbeat speeds up in a second. His jaw muscles tighten and he takes a quick breath through his nose. He licks his lips, closing his eyes for a short moment. He slowly exhales and a gentle smile appears on his face again. He looks at me and asks, “Wanna sit next to me?”
My eyes are wide open and I can’t answer. My knees are shaking, my heart is in my throat and I feel like I’m going to faint. His lips curl into a mischievous smile, and I think it’s obvious to him what I’m feeling.
He moves to my right and pulls out a chair for me. After a moment, I sit, happy my knees didn’t let me down. I look at the table, confused.
“You’re okay?” he asks.
“Y—Yeah.”
What am I supposed to tell him: You turn me on every time you’re near me? Every time you touch me by accident? Every time you look at me?
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to calm myself down, trying to slow my heartbeat to normal and regain my usual facial coloring.
“Let me show you my white beauty now,” Eduardo says and goes into the small room behind the kitchen. Sam takes the wineglasses and a cork screw dangling from a small hook on the wall and walks back to the table.
“This one is my favorite!” Eduardo continues, pulling the cork of the wine bottle as Lucretia places a steaming pan on the table. He pours a little bit of wine into Sam’s glass and then waits for his reaction.
Sam brings the glass close to his face, smells it, and then takes a sip. After a few moments, he swallows.
“Excellent, Eduardo.” He smiles and holds the glass up for a refill.
“That’s what I want to hear!” Eduardo says in Spanish, his tone musical, as if he’s singing a piece from one of the Spanish operas.
He then pours wine for me and himself.
“You’re not having any wine, Lucretia?” asks Sam in excellent Spanish.
“Not now. Not a good time,” she responds in broken English.
Eduardo sits down and then raises his glass to the middle of the table. “Welcome to my humble home, Jane, Sam. It is great to see you.” Eduardo looks at Sam with his last sentence and nods very slightly.
I look at Sam, then back at Eduardo. It seems to me that these two have been through thick and thin together. Their conversation flows as if they see each other every day, although it’s been years, as far as I recall from Sam.
I look at the plate before I take a first forkful. It’s a meal I’ve never tried before, but it looks like minced meat with a white-yellow sauce baked on the top. I taste it without knowing what to expect.
It’s minced meat all right, but there are also many strong spices that burn my tongue. It’s not exactly my kind of food, but it fits this place perfectly, and I find I’m enjoying it.
I refocus my attention on Sam and Eduardo’s conversation. Eduardo is translating some bits for Lucretia.
“. . . not much to do in winter in the field, but there’s always the preparation for the next season. I mean, if a client cleans out my cellar one year, it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to do the same next year. It’s a long selling cycle. And if you want to sell, you need to produce top quality,” he says confidently and then takes a sip of his wine.
Sam raises his eyebrows and nods slowly. “I’m impressed. It’s a real business endeavor. It seems you now have an official job.”
Eduardo glances at me quickly, as if I was not supposed to hear that, but I’m not sure which part. It all sounded very normal.
“Yes, well, we all have official jobs, don’t we, Sam?” he responds, but I have a feeling it was meant for me to hear.
“Of course we do,” says Sam. He looks down to his plate and takes a bite.
“So, Jane, tell me about your job. What do you do?”
I look at Sam thinking, nothing anymore, but I still answer, “I’m a scientist.”
“Wow!” says Eduardo. He looks at me, then Sam, then me again.
“I work in a basic research institute,” I explain further.
“Basic research? What does that mean exactly?” Eduardo asks.
“Well, it’s biological research on basic life processes . . .” I don’t really feel like talking about it, but all three look at me with expectant looks on their faces. “I work on bacterial cells,” I explain, and then pause, waiting for Eduardo to translate my words for Lucretia.
“Bacteria? Isn’t that dangerous?” she asks in Spanish.
“Oh, no, the strains I work with are all safe. Um . . . I mean, even if some of them are pathogenic—cause diseases—they are all modified to make sure that they can’t grow outside of the lab.” I look down at my plate for a second. “And I work—worked—on the metabolic and structural processes that happen in bacteria during growth. Multiplication and so on.”
I want to stop my explanation here, but Eduardo insists. “Can you describe to me one of your discoveries?”
I look up in the air, thinking. I don’t want to tell them about Crazy Gro. But I also don’t want to explain about my blocker findings. I decide to explain something a bit simpler, a result I got a few months ago, the one I talked about at the Boston conference.
“Well,” I start, “some bacteria can make specific structures called endospores. Basically, if the bacteria are alive and happy, they multiply and grow—but if they sense any kind of unfavorable condition, some strains have the ability to sort of hide. They build a unique wall around their genetic material, which protects them from the hostile environment.”
“That’s interesting. But a bit nasty if you’re talking about dangerous bacteria, isn’t it?” Eduardo prods.
“Yes, indeed!” I am now hooked. “So, I studied processes of the endospore’s cortex wall structure, specifically how to interfere with the building of this wall so it’s not so impenetrable.”
“Wow! Did you manage?” Eduardo raises his eyebrows.
“Yes, she did,” Sam answers before I do.
“I had no idea you were interested in scientific research, Sammy,” Eduardo says teasingly.
Sam closes his eyes, breaking our gaze, and turns to Eduardo. “Sammy? Really? You haven’t called me that since I was in my twenties.”
“Well, then it’s clear why I’m doing it now. Isn’t it, Sammy?” he says, arching one of his eyebrows while nodding excessively.
Sam rolls his eyes.
I look at Eduardo, then at Sam, then at Eduardo again. To me, it’s not clear at all, but before I manage to query either of them, Eduardo stands up and asks, “So, who wants dessert?”
“Oh!” I raise my hand. “Me! Always.”
Lucretia starts to stand, but Eduardo puts his hands on her shoulders. “No, no. Just relax, honey, I’ll take care of it,” he says in Spanish and leaves for the kitchen.
I turn to Lucretia and say, “This was very nice, Lucretia. I would love to get your recipe.”
“Thank you, Jane. Of course, I only have in Spanish. I hope okay for you?”
I smile and glance at Sam. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find someone to translate it for me.”