Page 121 of Flirtasaurus
“Calliope, I know it was you in the security footage with Mr. Anderson.”
Oh, holy shit.
“You do?”
“Of course I do.”
Silence. Terror. Confusion.
“Did you… know it was me that day?”
“Of course, I did. Nothing gets past me. Also, all it would take is a quick consult with security records to determine whose badge swiped into the exhibit hall that night.”
“Right.”
Then why didn’t she fire me on the spot?
“Then… why didn’t you fire me on the spot?”
“Listen to what I’m about to say very closely, Calliope. I hate what happened to Mr. Anderson. It may be comforting for you to know that I am speaking to some astronomers that I know about an opportunity that could be right for him moving forward.”
“Really? That’s amazing! Ohmygosh, you have no idea how happy that makes me—”
“But,” she continues, “the sad reality is that the science world can be a beast to women. With or without my help, Mr. Anderson will have many more opportunities throughout his life and career simply because of his gender. You? If we’re not very careful, you may not.” She pauses and looks me directly in the eye. “I wasn’t willing to see your promise get snuffed out simply because of one night of stupid decisions.”
This woman is blowing my damn mind right now.
“Thank you, Dr. Knowles.” What else can I say to her? “Just… thank you.”
“Alright,” she says in a completely different tone as she launches to her feet. “Are we good then?”
“You’re asking me? I feel like I should be asking you that, shouldn’t I?”
“Perhaps, you should. Yes.”
“So. Are we… good?”
“We are. I look forward to seeing you at the gala tomorrow, Calliope. We’ve all worked very hard. We deserve to celebrate.”
After my meeting with Dr. Knowles, I’m in a total daze.
I feel relieved. Grateful. Thrilled. Guilty.
I head right down to the cafeteria for what has become my daily dunch with Otto and Mabel. They’ve both been really kind to me this week. Who am I kidding, they’re always kind. I don’t know if Mabel filled Otto in on the drama or what, but neither of them has asked me about Ralph. Well, not since that first day after Ralph was fired when Otto asked if my boyfriend would be joining us, at which point I bit his head off, then wept into my carton of chicken fingers.
They’ve become good friends.
And good company.
I’m lucky to have them.
The three of us sit at a table together now, Mabel and Otto chatting away, while I stare off into the distance.
My phone buzzes in my backpack. I react the same way I have every time that’s happened over the past eleven days. I spazz. I reach for the phone like it’s my lifeline, hoping,praying—and we all know that I’m not a prayer girl—that it’s him.
It’s not.
I’m not surprised. But it doesn’t stop it from hurting.
