Imperfect Chemistry

by Mary Frame

A few days pass in a blur of nothing. My mom calls a few times and so does Sam, but I don’t have the energy to call them back. I don’t eat much. I sleep a lot and by the end of the week, I’m sick of myself and my own overwhelming sadness. It’s like nothing I’ve felt before. Everything that was so bright a few days ago now seems dull and lifeless and covered in a gray film.

  Finally, I go to see Duncan at the clinic. I don’t know who else to talk to, but for the first time in my life, I have the overwhelming urge to solicit assistance from someone else. I give him an abbreviated version of what I’ve been going through. I leave out the names of the people involved and anything involving me naked.

  “Are you sure this girl is at fault here?” He’s talking about Freya.

  “Who else could it be?” I ask. “Logic dictates the simplest explanation is most often the correct one. I told her, his parents found out, it’s the shortest line from A to B.”

  He steeples his fingers in front of his mouth and considers for a moment before saying, “Why don’t you talk to her again, and this time assume she’s being honest. Has she ever given you reason to believe she would lie?”

  I think it over. “No, but I know she has withheld information from her friends before.”

  “That’s not the same,” he says. “This guy, he also unfairly assumed you had revealed his secret.”

  “But I did!”

  “But you should never assume anything. Not if you want to maintain healthy relationships. We hear things about other people and we believe them, or we think we understand the motivation behind the behavior, but you will never really know unless you ask. If you don’t know the whole story, you will make a mistake that you will regret. Ask the question. Always ask the question, never assume.”

  I nod slowly. “You’re right,” I say. “Thank you.”

  I get up to leave and I’m halfway to the door when he stops me.

  “You’ll be here and ready to work on Monday, right?”

  I nod. “Yes. Thank you, Duncan.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, we still have to get this thing going. But I’m sure you will.”

  I leave the clinic and head towards Freya’s apartment, hoping she’s home. It’s ironic that this whole time, I’ve been trying to get my grant on track, and now that’s done, it doesn’t mean nearly as much to me as Jensen.

  Freya answers the door in a dirty shirt and faded sweats, rumpled and frazzled.

  “Are you okay?” I ask immediately. I’ve never seen her not put together and perfectly coiffed.

  “Thank god you’re here!” she exclaims, pulling me inside and shutting the door.

  “Listen, Freya,” I say. “I came over to apologize—”

  “Shut up,” she interrupts me. “Don’t ever apologize to me for being emotional. I’m just glad you’re really human, and not a cyborg like I’ve always thought. Now listen, I know I didn’t tell anyone about Jensen. But someone did and I’ve been trying to find out who it was.”

  I stare at her in shock. “You’ve been trying to find out who told Jensen’s parents about him?” I can’t believe it. While I’ve been moping and crying, Freya’s been proactively doing something. Why didn’t I think of this?

  “Yes, I figured, you know, if we find out who really did it, we can bring proof to Jensen and then he’ll see and he’ll forgive you and you’ll be all hearts and roses and shit again. I haven’t had a ton of success, but I have found—”

  I throw my arms around her in a tight hug, and she stands there as still as a wooden post for a second before gently patting me on the back.

  “Okay, Lucy.” She pats me again. “Okay, you can let go now. It’s starting to get weird.”

  I pull back. “Thank you,” I say.

  “No problem. So anyway, I found Chloe.”

  “Chloe? Jensen’s ex-girlfriend Chloe?”

  “Yes. The Chloe,” she tells me with a wide grin. “And she’s going to help us.”

  “Help us with what?”

  She smacks me gently on the shoulder. “Help you get Jensen back, dummy.”

  I shake my head slowly. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  I’ve been calling and texting Jensen numerous times over the last few days, but he never responded. Not that I expected him to, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying.

  “Oh ye of little faith,” she says. “She should be here in about an hour. Come on.” She walks into the living room and I follow. “Hang out while I’m getting ready. Use this.” She hands me her MacBook.

  “Use this for what?”

  “I don’t know, you’re the genius. Follow some leads or something. Make some notes. Pretend you’re a detective or some shit. Who else could have ratted Jensen out?”

  I open the computer and start it up.

  While she’s showering I make a list of suspects. I include everyone I can think of who knows about Jensen’s extracurricular activity, including myself and Freya, Chloe, Liam, Candice, and Anita.

  Liam is out of the country and has been for weeks so I eliminate him as a potential suspect for the time being since I have no way to contact him, but maybe Chloe will have some insight when she gets here. That leaves Candice and Anita.

  I don’t know much about Candice – for example, something like her last name would be useful – but I do know a bit more about Anita, like I know she owns an art gallery and probably has electronic records stored somewhere.

  “I have an idea,” I say when Freya emerges from the bathroom. She’s changed into jeans and a black long sleeve t-shirt. Her hair is still wet.

  She sits on the couch next to me. “Oh yeah?”

  “It’s a long shot. And it involves breaking and entering.” I shrug. “Perhaps violating a few privacy laws.”

  “Of course it does.”

  She doesn’t seem terribly concerned.

  There’s a knock at the door and Freya stands to answer it. “She’s early,” she says, heading for the door.

  I stay on the couch and listen.

  “Hi, I’m Chloe, we talked on the phone?” I hear. She sounds a little nervous.

  “Come in, Lucy’s already here.”

  Chloe walks in and I can’t help but check out the woman who broke Jensen’s heart. She’s watching me, too, and I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.

  She’s very petite, shorter and smaller than I am. Her wide blue eyes give her an air of innocence and frailty.

  She sits on the couch next to me, where Freya was sitting only moments ago.

  “Freya told me a little about you.”

  “Jensen told me a little about you,” I respond.

  “He did?” She seems surprised. “Was any of it good?”

  “A surprising amount.”

  We engage in a brief staring contest. “Do you love him?” she asks suddenly.

  “Yes,” I answer without hesitation and I’m almost as surprised by my response as she is.

  “No shit,” Freya says. Apparently I’ve surprised her, too.

  “Good.” Chloe nods. “He needs someone who can appreciate him in all the ways I couldn’t. Despite what you might think, I care about him a lot. Hurting him and breaking up with him, the way that it came about…it was the most shameful thing I’ve ever done and I will do anything to see him happy.” She says the words with such conviction, I have to believe her.

  I nod slowly.

  “Well that’s good,” Freya says, clapping her hands together. “Even though this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.” She sits on the arm of the couch next to Chloe. “And I’m glad you’re serious,” she says to her. “Because apparently we’re going to break some laws tonight. Now, who wants pizza?”

  She orders the food and we go over my ideas and decide to break into the art gallery tonight. On nights when they don’t have a showing, they close at eight.

  “I’m sure they have a security system. How do we bypass that?” Chloe asks while we’re eating. She was surprising
ly excited once I outlined the plan.

  “They do,” I say. “I’ve been inside the gallery. Do you have any magnets on your fridge?” I ask Freya.

  “Yes,” she answers.

  I nod. “Bring a few. We’ll pick up the other supplies on the way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After all, the ultimate goal of research is not objectivity, but truth.

  –Helene Deutsch