Page 7 of Detention with Daddies

“Yes. I didn’t know he had an office here too.”

“He does. He teaches, but he also has his own small practice that he runs out of the center as well. I’m sure you’ll run into him here quite often.”

“Hopefully that’s a good thing.” Her smile says she’s not intimidated by him like most of his students are, and I find that I like that about her too. Strong-willed and smart.

It makes me believe she’ll be successful. And that’s my ultimate hope for her.

“This way. I’ll introduce you to some of the people you need to know.” The technicians, nurses, staff scientists, and lab manager all light up when they interact with her, but I notice how she glosses over what her project is.

Embarrassment doesn’t seem to jibe with her personality, but I’ve had my share of graduate and doctoral students who keep their research close to the vest, so it’s not an uncommon behavior. Still, I like to foster open communicationand eliminate anyone who might think of stealing another researcher’s work.

When we finally make it to her shared lab and her assigned lab table, Olivia absolutely lights up in awe. Her hands grip the table’s edge, and she sways a little.

“Although this is yours, you will have to share the machines and the studios where you’ll lead your subjects through various training exercises, so just be conscious of that. Keep the spaces clean. Put them back the way you found them, et cetera, et cetera.”

The usual speech, given with another small smile, has her smiling back.

“Of course…” Her pause is weighty, so I wait her out. “You sound like you already know what I’m working on.”

“I do. I’ve read your proposal. It’s part of my job.”

Her teeth pinch her bottom lip. “How many people are privy to that?”

“Not many. Me and your thesis advisor. No one else unless you feel like sharing, but this is a safe work environment. I won’t have it any other way.” My features lose their softness, and the surprise that flashes through hers has her cheeks reddening.

“That’s good to hear. And thank you for not telling me I’m wasting my time with my project.”

She takes small steps around the room to look at each piece of equipment.

“Why would I say that when I don’t believe it?” I bet she’s had a tough time getting others to take her seriously, but I agree with her goals.

When she looks back at me, she’s beaming from the inside, and it’s a bit breathtaking. I haven’t seen passion like hers in a long time, and strangely, I feel drawn to it. To her. It has me hovering even though the tour is over.

But as the silence stretches on, I regain my control.

“I’ll leave you to become acquainted with your new space. If you need something, please feel free to come to me. About anything. Anytime. Okay?” It’s not an offer I make often, but I find myself meaning it.

It’s not that I’m not accommodating to my people’s needs, but most don’t find me too warm or approachable.

Olivia doesn’t seem to have that same bias. It has me wondering about her. How perceptive she is.

I back out to the hallway and return to my office and the endless paperwork I absolutely do not want to be doing.

But as I sit, I can’t seem to get the reverent look on her face out of my mind.

OLIVIA

I’ve finally gotten all of my test subjects chosen, the paperwork filled out and filed. Next week, I get to take preliminary tests to set my baseline for this experiment. I’m so damn excited; I can barely stand it.

My plans and projections—my spreadsheets—are filled to the brim with ideas. Formulas. Different ways I can ensure this experiment will be a success. Because I know more than just my degree relies on the outcomes I’m searching for. The ones I’m testing.

People of size everywhere need this to turn out right.

But first, classes. Both energized and nervous about the first day, I have my first class in the afternoon—my chosen field in class form, Physiological Exercise I.

It’s hard not to bubble over, chattering amongst my fellow students. I keep myself quiet, pressing my lips together to stifle my excitement as I find my seat in the front row. My notebook and pen are out and at the ready.

Yeah, it’s the first day, but this is also graduate school, so I’m prepared to take notes. I take them copiously. I’ve been knownto have the most popular notebooks in my classes—at least as an undergrad—because of it.

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