Page 17 of Atlas
Atlas watched me with a curious expression. “Jo, how are you settling in here in Chicago? Have you found friends yet?”
“It’s a little difficult with all the traveling that I do, but I’ve signed up for some meet-up groups.”
“What kind of groups?”
“There’s a book club, a psychology group, and one for people who are single and like to hike.”
We looked at each other across the room.
“And were there any nice singles in the group?”
I smiled. “I’ll let you know when I make it to the actual hiking.”
“Do you miss home?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes, but I’ve lived in the US for so long now.”
“What made you move here?”
There was a slight narrowing of his eyes that I picked up on. Whatever had made him move brought up bad memories for him.
“Harvard opened their doors for me, and it felt like a good chance to try something new.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen, well, almost seventeen.”
“No way. You were not sixteen when you started at Harvard. What are you, a genius?”
“I wouldn’t say that. It was a matter of good schooling, and I was advanced for my age.”
“Yeah, but being sixteen at college… I can’t even imagine. It must have been a culture shock for you.” I covered my mouth. “You graduated before you could drink alcohol, didn’t you?”
“I would drink when I was home in Ireland. Not that I ever had much interest in parties and alcohol.”
“How old are you now?” I leaned forward, fascinated with the smart cookie in front of me.
“I’m close to your age.”
“Twenty-eight?”
“Mmm.”
I tilted my head and watched him closely.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look at me like you’re trying to psychoanalyze me.”
“I’m a psychologist; it’s what we do.”
He leaned back in his chair. “All right, and what are your thoughts, Doctor Freud?”
My lip tucked upward. “You sure you want to know?”
