Page 12 of Deep In Love
“I’ll bring it back later,” she yells.
I’m hot on her heels when a head of wild, spindly gray hair pops out of an office and stops me in my tracks.
“I thought I heard you. Do you have a minute?” Dan asks, his head tilting as I stand in the hallway, torn between chasing after my little criminal and engaging in conversation with my PhD advisor.
Unfortunately, the unexpected chat with Dan outweighs seeing Charlie’s triumphant smirk.
“Sure.”
I slide into his office, an untidy space cluttered with binders, old books, and half-broken machines he’s convinced he can piece together into one semi-working machine. Last month, he patched together a fluorometer for cell counting, but its efficacy is questionable, and you have to caress the side of the machine and whisper sweet nothings for it to function.
It’s temperamental but thrives on praise.
Kind of like Charlie, now that I think about it.
The thought pulls a small chuckle as I fall into the sunken armchair in the corner of the office.
“Do you have plans for the break?” he asks, shuffling through a stack of papers on his massive oak desk.
“Just catching up on lesson plans for the laboratory course and completing the extractions on the sediment samples taken from the hydrothermal vent systems.”
“Quite right. It’s going to have to wait.” He extends a piece of paper, but it hangs in the air between us.
Dan’s always been eccentric, as is his wife, Cheryl, and I admire that trait about him. It was one reason I chose to complete my PhD with him. He’s laid back in his mentorship, allowing me the space to build my own schedule, and respects work-life boundaries, which I’ve worked hard to establish, otherwise it would take over my life.
The good outweighs the odd, so at times—like now—I look past his unconventional behavior.
With extreme trepidation, I take the proffered paper and scan the words at the top. The first sentence registers, and I reel backin shock. Air lodges in my throat as I read the rest of the printed email. My interest piques with a particular name—one that lights firecrackers in my chest.
“Is this real?”
Dan nods, brimming with excitement. “Do you want to go?”
“Is that a serious question?”
He laughs, but I elaborate, just to ensure there’s zero confusion. “Of course I want to go.”
“Great,” he cheers, handing me a stack of papers and the lab credit card. “Book everything you need. Cheryl is going to meet with Charlie, and if she chooses to go after we discuss details, we can add her to the bookings.”
“It’s on her bucket list. She’s going to say yes.” I tap the logo on the top of the paper—a gray research vessel with the portholes shaped like starfish. It’s the same logo drawn on the scientific bucket list Charlie has tacked on the wall beside her desk. “But it should be a surprise.”
He nods in agreement. “I’ll remind Cheryl to keep quiet until their meeting on Wednesday. She can be a blabbermouth when she’s excited.”
The papers are heavy in my hands as I leave his office and pack up my things at my desk. I’ll have to hide from Charlie before her meeting, or else I may become the blabbermouth.
I’ll watch her rustle through the papers on her desk, then I’ll cave and tell her a secret she didn’t even know I was hiding.
My resolve is weak around her, which is why the lab is always unlocked for her to steal the pipette whenever she needs.
“I need you to water Fergus while I’m gone,” I say, tapping my fingers against the cold beer bottle as laid-back music plays in the background of Bongos.
“I visit you for a month after youassured meyour schedule was lighter thanks to the summer break, and a week in, you’re asking me to water your finicky fern while you’re on a boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?”
“Fergus is not finicky,” I chide, defending my baby. He’s particular, and he has every right. He’s had a difficult life, and I brought him back from the brink of death after I bought him for fifty cents at the hardware store.
Now Fergus is living his best plant life by the window in my apartment.
“Oliver, I—” I begin to apologize, but he cuts me off.
