I rearrange the items on my desk. My water bottle. The jar of pencils. Straighten my laptop. A notepad. Clear my throat. Back to the water bottle.
“I don’t think I’m going to be much help,” I say. “I’m consumed with a few of my own projects right now.”
“I understand,” he says. “But I really could use the help.”
I shift in my seat.
“Do you want me to tell you about the project?” he asks.
I look up and find his eyes fully on me. I hold that gaze for a three-count and then stand. “Can you excuse me for just one minute?”
His eyebrows pop up and his mouth opens to form a response, but before he utters a word I slip out from behind my desk, move quickly through the open door, and tromp down the hall to Gary’s office.
It has a window.
He looks up from his computer. “Isadora?”
“Why did you assign me to this project?” I shout through the window before even reaching his door.
“Because you’re an excellent researcher,” Gary says loudly. “Because Dr. Baxter asked for a favor. And because you need a little help with your interpersonal skills.”
“No. I don’t.” I come around to the doorway.
Gary nods toward the lab. “Need I remind you the only reason you haven’t been required to teach is because you’re supposed to be training them—”
I don’t have to look to know that he’s referring to the research assistants, interns, and students busying themselves with lord knows what.
“You know I work better by myself.”
“And you know that’s not the goal of this department. We work together to make each other better. No one can make you better if you’re always by yourself. And you can’t help teach them if you never speak to them. Besides, it’s not healthy. People need people, Isadora.”
I bristle. I’m sure team research is fine—for other people. But for me? People always get in the way. They always let you down. This job is the adult version of a group project in college where one person does all the work while the other participants sneak alcohol into the library. I decided a long time ago I don’t have time for any of that nonsense, and that hasn’t changed.
I’m better off alone.
I recall that one of Dr. Grace Monroe’s 31 Ways is “Spend time with friends.” At some point, I will have to confront this issue in the name of research, but only after having plenty of time to work myself up to it.
To quote Aragorn, “It is not this day.” Today I am not properly prepped. I’m not storming the Black Gate of relationships without the entire Elvish army behind me.
Gary folds his hands on his desk and looks up at me with the same kind of quiet disappointment as my mother, who never did get over the fact that her daughter wasn’t one of the popular girls. I’m sure there is much to unpack there, but as with many things, I’ve chosen not to.
“Did you even give him a chance to tell you about his book?” he asks.
“No.”
Oh, quit tilting your head at me, Gary. If Dr. Cal Baxter is the author, he should do the research himself.
I decide to say that out loud.
“If he’s the author, he should do the research himself. What is it with all these lazy professors coming to us to figure out the data they need to get published and then taking all the credit for themselves? It’s maddening. Maddening! Doesn’t it madden you?”
“He has done his own research, Isadora. The work is done. However, he’s got a full course load this semester and a deadline. He’s asking for our help organizing it, and we’re in a position to give it. That’s our job.”
“Well, I didn’t know that!”
“You didn’t ask. And I’m guessing you didn’t give him time to explain.”
“If you really believe I’m an excellent researcher, then why are you wasting my time on some fluffy psychology book?”
His expression grows stern as he folds his hands on his desk. “This is your priority, Isadora.”
I stand there for a few seconds, poised to respond, but it’s clear Gary is finished with our conversation. He’s dismissed me with his eyes.
Sometimes Gary could be a boss. Had to respect him for that, even though I really, really didn’t like it.
Then I hear movement behind me, and my heart drops again.
Dr. Cal Baxter, standing in the hallway, has heard every word I’ve said.
Chapter 5
I should get a cat.
According to Dr. Monroe’s sixth step, interacting with animals is a surefire way to be happy.
Cats are technically more work than dogs because, let’s face it, a cat does whatever a cat wants. When you call a dog, that dog will happily come to you as if you’ve been gone for a year.
When you call a cat, it will give you the brush-off, walk the other way, and knock a planter off a shelf.
I wouldn’t have time to try to train an animal, so by that logic, I should get a cat, which is going to do whatever it wants anyway. Also, because I think dogs might be too playful and energetic for someone of my disposition.
You won’t see me talking baby talk to an animal.
Still, according to Dr. Monroe, playing with pets is statistically proven to increase the body’s production of serotonin and oxytocin, two hormones associated with happiness. I make a note to research the validity of this statistic.
Sounds like something a dog person would say.
If I had a cat, I’d have something to look forward to when I got home from work, other than the sound of my noisy across-the-hall neighbors. I could sit with Cat and pour out all my embarrassing confessions, maybe even unload my frustrations, and he would respond by avoiding eye contact and going to lie on my keyboard.
I’m actually starting to think that I might be a cat.
Tonight’s Cat Confessional would be long and angry and all about Gary and his team mentality. I’d share in great detail how much I’m dreading going to work tomorrow, and how I spent the rest of the afternoon completely worthless because I couldn’t stop thinking about Dr. Cal Baxter and his stupid blue eyes.
Blue eyes and dark hair. Was that dominant or recessive? I make another mental note to research that, too, because it certainly feels like an otherworldly combination.
Not that it matters. I fully expect Dr. Baxter to request a new research assistant after my outburst. Typically, people don’t love working with people who really, really don’t want to work with them.
And judging by the look on Cal’s face when I found him standing behind me in Gary’s office, he was feeling slightly left of horrified. Or maybe he was amused?
As previously stated, I have a hard time reading people.
I open the door to my apartment as a text comes in.
Isadora, this is Cal. Hope you don’t mind Gary gave me your number. Would love to meet tomorrow and discuss the project. Sorry we got cut short today. Coffee in the quad? I’m buying.
I stare at the block of letters forming what I’m sure are words, but something isn’t computing. I want to type back: “Thought for sure I ran you off. Don’t like to be around people. Best get another assistant. Your eyes haunt my soul.” But instead, I click the phone off and set it on the table next to my door.