Chapter 3
Saturday 8:08 a.m.
A bang. And a slide. And again.
I sit up in my bed, my eyes still sandy. I try to rub them clean. Another loud bang.
What was that?
I hear angry voices. I squint, as I look around, unable and definitely unwilling to open my eyes completely.
And another noisy thump.
Once I realize what this is, I relax my shoulders, close my eyes, and flop back onto my bed.
The new neighbor’s moving in.
I try to relax, hoping for another hour of sleep, but the next moment there is another loud sound.
I hear a voice outside. “It says ‘Fragile’! Can’t you read?”
“The stickers are upside down! Besides, they can’t all be fragile,” another man answers.
“Just do the goddamn job right!” the first person retaliates.
I turn my head and glance at the clock with one eye. Then I turn back and sigh again.
This is too early for a Saturday.
My phone beeps once.
I blindly tap on the bedside table, then grab my cell phone and check the first few words of my sister’s chat thread. I scribble something back, then put the phone away.
I won’t get any more sleep with this noise around. I sit up, push my feet into my large bunny slippers, and walk to the bathroom to wake myself up. As I walk past the door on my way back to the kitchen, I hear another loud noise from the hallway, a squeaky sound of something being slid over the surface.
I shake my head.
Poor new neighbor. She’ll find half of her china broken if they continue like this.
I take a red bowl from my kitchen cupboard and fill it with Cheerios, then put it next to the fridge while I get some milk. At the same time, the phone rings.
I grab the carton, close the fridge door, and pick up the phone.
“Good morning, Sarah,” I say, jamming the handset between my head and shoulder.
“Good morning, sweetie. How are you?”
“I’m doing fine, sis. And you?” I shake the milk carton to see how much is left, then pour it all in the bowl.
“Just perfect. Hey, it’s snowing,” Sarah says in a girlish voice.
“Really?” I pick up the bowl and walk over to the living room, moving the curtain to look outside. “Really,” I say again, more to myself, and smile.
“Yeah, but be careful if you’re going outside. It’s been raining during the night. Might be frozen.”
“Okay, thanks.” I loop around the coffee table and sit on Aunt Sue’s armchair, careful not to spill any milk from the bowl.
“So how come you’re up so early?”
“Ah! Collateral damage.” I put the handset on the coffee table and turn on the speakerphone.
“Of what?”
“Of a new neighbor moving in.”
“You have a new neighbor? Is it that small apartment next to you? That’s been empty for a while, right? Who is it?”
“Who is who?” I take a spoonful of Cheerios, slurping the milk a bit.
“Who’s moving in next to you?”
“Oh,” I say through a full mouth. “S. Swift.”
“What?”
I swallow. “Someone called S. Swift.”
“Oh, that definitely sounds like a guy.”
I roll my eyes. Here we go again . . .
“An interesting guy.”
“Sarah!”
“Don’t you Sarah me! You have been ignoring men for years. It needs to stop!”
I sigh. She always gets like this before Christmas. “Sarah, I haven’t been ignoring men. It just so happens that no one’s showed up yet.”
“No one’s showed up? Do you think someone will come knocking on your door?”
I open my mouth to answer but don’t manage in time—she continues feverishly with her quest. “You’re always shut away in that institute of yours. You’re even there on the weekends. I mean, where are you ever going to meet a guy?”
“I met a guy, Sarah. And it failed. Miserably. And the only thing I’m really good at is being shut away in that institute of mine.”
She sighs. “I know you love your science. And listen, that’s great! You’re doing something that is fun—for you—and you’re also getting paid. Great! Really. But a job is one thing. Family is something else.”
“I know. That’s why I have you guys!” I’m sort of hoping that will make her stop.
It doesn’t.
“That’s not the same and you know it.”
It’s my turn to sigh now. “Sarah, what do you want from me?”
“Keep an open door. Don’t lock yourself in that lab all the time.”
“At least there I’m worth something . . .” I say quietly.
“Jane, that’s not true! You’re worth everything. If some asshole didn’t see it—his own fault! But you need to move on. It’s been years.”
I put my bowl on the coffee table and lean my elbows on my knees, pressing my forehead into the heels of my palms.
She is so stubborn. She just doesn’t want to see it.
“Jane—”
“Sarah,” I say slowly. “I am moving on. In my science. And science is exactly where I should be. I am good at that. That is what I do best.”
“I know, sweetie, and you can continue doing science, but seriously, all your projects are—what—at best one sentence in a science study book? Isn’t it so? I mean, when are they ever going to be used for real?”
Now I’m starting to get angry. It’s one thing to talk about my nonexistent love life, but it’s another thing altogether when she pokes at my research.
“Sarah, I don’t really want to talk about it. You refuse to see my point. Every little point of data, every piece of information is one step closer to the truth.”
“What truth?”
“The truth about us! Biology, humanity, everything!”
There is a short pause when neither of us are talking.
“I’m sorry, Jane. I understand. I do. Really. But . . .”
“But what?” I say sharply.
“But I think you would be happier if you had someone to share your life with.”
I sigh inwardly. Only one way out of this conversation. “All right. Fine. I will keep the door open.”
“There’s a good girl!” she says with new enthusiasm, as if we’d just fixed a blind date for me. “Keep me in the loop and, you know, let me know if I can help in any way. Perhaps—”
“I will. I will keep you in the loop, I promise, as soon as”—I want to say a prince on a white horse appears, but I refrain—“as soon as something interesting happens. And now, I need to get going. I need to get Christmas presents for my favorite nephews.”
“They are your only nephews, and don’t bend over backward. They’ll be happy just to see you for Christmas.”
“Um, I’m sure they wouldn’t quite see it like that. And anyway, I already have something in mind, something I think they’ll like.”
“That’s sweet. Thanks, sis!” Even though I can’t see her, I know that she’s smiling.
“Sure. I’ll see you next weekend.”
“See you! Bye!”
“Bye,” I say and hang up the phone, leaving the handset standing on the coffee table. I look at the remains of the mushed Cheerios, then sigh again and walk to the kitchen to wash it up.