Page 44 of Love in the Lab
“We can still be friends. Partner up on our projects at the lab.” Even as I say it, I know it’s impossible.
His eyes darken. “I'm not interested in being friends. I … can’t. It’s all or nothing for me. Either take this risk with me, or we go back to being semi-cordial colleagues. Your choice.”
Why is he making this so hard? I swallow a sob, willing myself to stay stoic, at least until I’m alone. “I'm sorry,” I say again, voice cracking despite my effort.
Jonathan's shoulders tighten. “I have fieldwork to do. I guess I’ll see you around the lab. Goodbye, Molly.”
As I watch him walk away, a quiet whimper breaks through my facade, and tears start dripping down my cheeks. My legs are suddenly weak; I drop onto the bench when I’m not sure they’ll continue to hold me upright.
If this morning is about correcting the mistake I made when I kissed Jonathan, why did I feel so at ease in his arms last night, and why do I feel so heartbroken now?
Chapter seventeen
Jonathan
Iplug in the GPS coordinates for the glider I’m picking up today and steer thePulseout toward the Gulf. It was only a month ago that I was following this same path through the Rigolets into Lake Borgne and then through the Chandeleur Sound with Molly onboard with me. The day she first opened up to me. The day I realized how strong my feelings for her were becoming. The day we almost kissed.
I imagined then what it would be like to kiss her for real, and last night I learned reality is better than my imagination.
Kissing Molly was a perfect moment. We have so few of those in life, don’t we? Moments where we’re intensely present, deliciously engaged, and thoroughly happy. When Molly kissed me, though, that’s where I was. I should have known it would be fleeting.
I should have seen this coming. I knew she was a flight risk. But she kissed me last night, and I thought all my problems were over, that I finally won her trust, and now we could be together.
Naive? Maybe. I prefer the term “optimistic.” I’m not feeling so hopeful now, though, more … confused. And hurt.
Alone on a boat in a vast expanse of water is either the best place to be in my state of mind, or the worst. The best because it’s gorgeous out here, and there’s really no bad time to be out on the water. The worst because it leaves a lot of time for thinking, reflecting, and obsessing.
For some reason, though, it’s my parents more so than Molly who are on my mind. As much as I threw the “distraction” excuse at Molly this morning, haven’t the pranks, fieldwork, and my focus on Molly over the last couple of months been a distraction for me? An excuse not to reflect too much on my dad’s upcoming wedding and my unresolved feelings around my parents’ divorce.
I still haven’t come to terms with either. Last time I talked to her, Tamara suggested seeing a therapist to help me work through it. It’s a good idea. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it years ago. Probably because I’ve been living and working far from Ohio since my high school graduation and haven’t had any real reason to grapple with my childhood issues until now.
As I pilot thePulseback to shore, I resolve to make an appointment. Nearing the marina, my phone starts going crazy with notifications. I glance at the screen, telling myself it’s not because I’m hoping Molly called or texted while I was out at sea today.
Mostly the notifications are from social media apps. I dock the boat, turning off the engine before I look more closely.
Interestingly, I have an email from Dr. Perron with the subject line “Opportunity.” I’m intrigued. The email itself gives a phone number, with Dr. Perron asking me to give him a call.
I pocket my phone and finish gathering the equipment and performing final inspections of thePulsebefore putting her back in storage. We store the gliders here, too, so I need to hose down and dry off the one I brought in today.
When I finally return to my truck in the parking garage adjacent to the dock, I call Dr. Perron.
He picks up right away. “Derek Perron.”
I clear my throat. “Hi, Dr. Perron, it’s Jonathan Stanch. You asked me to give you a call?”
“Jonathan! Hello. Can I call you Jonathan?” He pushes forward without waiting for my answer. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you because I was impressed with how you comported yourself at the lab the other morning.”
“Thank you, sir.” I didn’t “comport” myself in any particular way as far as I’m aware. I was just trying to keep Molly out of trouble and make sure Dr. Gantt’s lab looked good.
His voice slips into a confidential tone. “There’s an … opportunity that’s come up in another lab that I want to discuss with you.”
“Okay. What kind of opportunity?” I love working on Dr. Gantt’s team, but with my feelings for Molly and her rejection this morning, I can’t help but think a change might be a good idea. It doesn’t hurt to hear more.
“Can you meet me tomorrow for dinner? There’s a place on Conti Street. I’ll send you the details.”
I hesitate. Conti Street is known for its nightlife and bars, especially on Saturday nights. It doesn’t have quite as wild areputation as Bourbon Street, but it’s not a likely choice for a business meeting. “What time?”
“Around six thirty, if you’re available.”
