“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Will began, seeming genuinely apologetic.
EJ waved away his words, impatiently. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you took two years off my life, max.”
Will shifted uncomfortably, and EJ released a soft sigh. Be nice, she chided herself. You made a deal.
She spoke again, injecting some warmth into her tone. “Ready for a goddamned cosmological event?” she asked cheerily.
Will gave a puzzled nod. Then EJ’s phone buzzed with a text. “Tessa’s running a little late. She’ll be here in a few.”
“Cool.” He patted his jeans. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”
EJ gave the ghost of a smile before looking at the night sky. “I think conditions are optimal for gazing tonight: perfect darkness, perfect clarity. We should have quite the show.”
“So I’ve heard.” He nodded and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “I’ve never seen a meteor shower before . . . or, now that I’ve thought about it, really looked at the sky for any sustained period of time. Growing up in Manhattan, you get used to not looking up.”
EJ groaned internally, prepared to be lectured on pizza or bagels or dim sum until Tessa finally turned up. “Native New Yorker, then?”
“Born and bred. Though I’m not one that thinks it’s the center of the world. I prefer London. It’s like New York but with a bit more history and charm.”
EJ nodded. She could handle basic small talk, “I’m from the DC area, and I love it there—but I’d move to Edinburgh in a heartbeat.” She rhythmically tapped her chest for emphasis. Will didn’t have a chance to respond as EJ spotted Tessa over his shoulder.
Before long, they secured a spot on the roof of the Physics Building. They unfurled Tessa’s unzipped sleeping bag on the ground to block the cold from the cement. EJ sat down at one end; unzipped her duffel bag; and unpacked her thermos, flask, and binoculars.
“Tessa, cocoa now or later?”
“Ooh, now, please,” she replied, rubbing her hands together.
EJ called across to Will: “Tessa and I can share the thermos. You can drink from the cup—I can even spike it a little,” she added, waving the flask.
“I’m feeling chilly and a bit adventurous, so yes,” Will said.
“So, Will,” Tessa began as EJ poured. “Let me ask you a question I bet no one has yet: What’s your major?”
He laughed. “Art history.” Both ladies raised their eyebrows in surprise. “Really,” he insisted.
“Why art history?” EJ asked. She was expecting drama or finance. Then again, she’d met rich girls who studied art history so they could one day “manage their husband’s collections.” Will seemed like one of those husbands.
He ran his fingers through his hair. Apparently, he’d been growing it out. It was almost to his shoulders now. EJ thought it was a better look than the Patrick Bateman Special Will had been sporting at the Fall Formal.
“I love art; it’s that simple,” he responded, giving a slight nudge to his glasses. Those were new, too. Between his new hair and his glasses, you could see how someone might mistake Will for a nice, normal guy.
“My mother gave that to me,” he continued. “She used to take us to the Met, the Frick, and the Whitney so often that just going to the museums feels like going home.”
Tessa nodded. “You’re lucky to have so much easy access to that kind of thing. My hometown is an hour from Princeton and a little more than that to the city, so we don’t have our own museums. I have been to the Museum of Natural History on a field trip, though. It was great . . . until we got kicked out. Someone from our class tried to light the fire in the cavemen exhibit.” She sighed dramatically. Will and EJ laughed.
EJ remembered her own early exposure to art. “Even though I was in the burbs like you, T, we could at least metro down to the Smithsonian museums and the National Mall.”
Passing the carefully prepared cup, EJ added: “It also helped that they’re free. In the summers we would go almost every week. Each of us got to pick a museum: Maya, my older sister, liked the art museums, especially the modern stuff like at the Hirshhorn or the National Gallery’s East Building. I loved Natural History and Air and Space. Mom loves history and modern architecture, so she chose the African American History Museum almost every time. Dad was the X factor. He was the one who took us to the Anacostia museum, or the National Zoo. Once he even surprised us with a trip to the Great Blacks in Wax Museum, in Baltimore—he thought it required a visit. The rule was, you couldn’t complain during someone else’s turn or yours would get skipped. Together we got pretty well rounded.”
She watched Will sip the cocoa. His eyes widened. “This is fantastic! What’s in here?”
EJ smiled to herself. It was a small thing, but she was quite proud of it. “My three favorite brands of hot chocolate mix, plus a pinch of cayenne, and a secret ingredient. The goal is to get a creamy taste, but with just adding water so the cocoa stays hot. I got this down to a science back when I was in Girl Scouts.”
“EJ introduced me to her hot chocolate during our first long hike together,” Tessa added while adjusting her high-powered camera, “but cruelly she won’t give me the recipe.”
“Then what would I give you at Christmas?”
“A Christmas card with the recipe?” Tessa suggested.
They laughed; EJ felt herself relaxing. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
Slowly, more science students joined them on the roof. EJ and Tessa waved at their classmates as they passed. At first, Will was embarrassingly uncomfortable, jumping at every camera flash, but once he realized that no one was photographing him, he seemed to calm down. He even took a couple of selfies on his own. EJ and Tessa briefly surrendered the sleeping bag so they could be safely out of frame.
A little after midnight, Tessa got them on the subject of their favorite artists. First, she recalled how a high school project on Ansel Adams had led to her taking up nature photography. Then EJ chimed in, describing her revelatory experience at the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. Will was in the middle of an impassioned argument for the relevance of the English Romantics when voices called to Tessa from across the roof.
“Benny! Sara!” She waved, then turned back to EJ and Will. “I’ll be right back. Two shakes, ’kay?” Both watched her go, longingly. It was hard to find something to say without her. They stared off into the distance. After a few moments, Will cleared his throat, then broke the increasingly awkward silence.
“So what’s your major, EJ?” he asked.
“Civil Engineering,” EJ replied, taking another swig of cocoa. She held the thermos up in offering.
Will shook his head. “I’m still working on my first mug.” He took another sip. “So is that like, bridges and tunnels?”
“Yes, among other things: roads, canals, levees.” She set the thermos to the side and sat in a butterfly position, pressing the soles of her feet together and sitting up straight. “We basically create the built environment.” She rolled her neck slowly: right, then left.
Will continued drinking his cocoa again, thoughtfully. “Civil engineering,” he repeated. “That’s surprising.”
EJ froze. Would he follow up with something racist, sexist, or both? Why did people think that they were complimenting you by saying stuff like “I didn’t think women / black people were smart enough to do science, but you’re the exception”? It frustrated her to no end. She waited for him to complete his thought, so she knew exactly what she was dealing with. After no words came, she picked the scab.
“Surprising how?” EJ ventured, willing her tone to be neutral.
Will gave a sort of half shrug. “It sounds kind of . . . I don’t want to say boring, but not creative. And you strike me as creative.”
EJ gave Will a long look across the sleeping bag before responding. He was drinking the last of his cocoa and rocked from side to side. He seemed to think this conversation was going well.
“Al
l engineering is creative problem-solving,” she began. “Sometimes that problem is ‘How do we build that bridge?’ Other times that problem is ‘Can we make that bridge beautiful?’ Just because a career isn’t artistic doesn’t mean it lacks in creativity.”
“I get that,” Will said, setting down his mug. “So why engineering?”
“It’s simple,” she began. “I like it. I’m good at it. And engineers don’t starve.” This was her “cocktail-party dum-dum” response. The one EJ gave when she was over explaining her field or her place in it. She gave a little laugh as punctuation. Now, hopefully, they could talk about something else, anything else.
“Are you doing anything for Halloween this weekend?” she asked. “Even though we don’t have fraternities at Longbourn, things can get pretty crazy. Last year the Matisse House—”
“No frats? That’s interesting,” he interrupted absently. Will ran a hand through his hair and hummed. “But going back to engineering, I still—you don’t seem very passionate about it.”
EJ turned toward him, brow creased. “How on earth would you know what I’m passionate about?” she asked crisply.
Will gallingly shifted toward her on the sleeping bag. “It’s just . . . you and Zara talked Shakespeare for quite a bit at that diner. You seemed really passionate about theater. I thought you had to be an actor or a playwright. Something like that.”
She swallowed hard. She’d been doing her best to forget Will from that night. She considered her options and ruled out loudly telling him off in favor of icy passive aggressiveness.
“Oh? I didn’t think you were paying attention. You seemed thoroughly absorbed by your milkshake.” There was enough ice in her tone to skate on.
“I’m observant by nature,” he said, becoming the living incarnation of dramatic irony. “It comes in handy.”
EJ rubbed the back of her neck and adopted a slightly bored tone. “Observation is good, but I hope tonight has shown that asking questions like a normal person is a better—less creepy—way to learn things about people.” She smiled at him perfunctorily and turned away. This seemed like a good time to do a little passive-aggressive stretching. In her former life as a wannabe ballerina, nothing had said go away like going through your whole stretching routine without making eye contact.
Will uttered a surprised “Creepy?”
“Creepy,” EJ insisted. She sat up straight, then leaned into the pike position, reaching forward and grabbing the soles of her feet. After feeling the kinks in her spine release, she sat up again and began her shoulder stretches. “What else would you call sullenly pretending to ignore a conversation two feet away, only to pipe up, weeks later, with random tidbits you picked up like some discount Sherlock Holmes? Weird? Off putting?” She didn’t look at Will but could feel him watching her.
“Effective, mostly,” he offered jokingly.
EJ faced him again. “Many a stalker is effective, but also creepy. But I’m sure you know that much better than I. Being a famous person and all.” She ceased stretching and set the thermos between them.
“Here, have some more cocoa,” she quietly ordered. Then EJ pulled out her phone and began checking her email, effectively ending the conversation.
Will
Will sipped his refill slowly, relishing the warmth. He hadn’t thought to bring gloves, and his hands were freezing. His leather jacket wasn’t the best idea for tonight, but at least it kept the wind out. His scarf was warm, too. Discreetly, he stole a glance at EJ. He didn’t understand her. It seemed like they were finally having a conversation about something real, and then she went and called him creepy. Evidently engineering students could be as shallow as everyone else, too. His eyes bounced around the roof, scanning for Tessa. Maybe if she came back, right now, he could turn the night around.
He’d been really enjoying himself up until about ten minutes ago. Tessa and EJ seemed genuinely interested when he was talking about his major. EJ even asked some intelligent questions. Her tastes were a bit pedestrian—Impressionists, Van Gogh, and the like—but at least she understood that art could be fascinating, that it was worth talking about. (Unlike Carrie, who knew only the auction values of the paintings she bought and talked about them like stocks.) The point was, he was having fun. He was getting to be an ordinary student on an extraordinary night. And then things went off the rails.
Still better than being home with the masks, Will thought.
He looked over to EJ again. She’d put down her phone and was now taking a few nips straight from her flask.
Perhaps that will put her in a better mood, he thought. Will glanced at his watch. The meteor shower was half an hour away. He sighed and looked up at the sky. At least it was a pretty night, as promised: white diamonds scattered widely on a black blanket. But there was nothing revelatory about this night sky. It was certainly better than New York and Vancouver but nothing to write home about.
Someone on the roof interrupted his thoughts with a cry: “Did anyone bring red Saran Wrap?”
“Right here!” EJ called. Will watched her dig into her bottomless duffel.
“Wait, who said that?” responded the voice, searching the roof with a flashlight.
“Look left, toward the front.” She waved the package over her head. The light shone on EJ’s face. “Aughh,” she cried, covering her eyes.
“Oops! Sorry.” The light went out, and soon a slim South Asian face appeared above them. “Eej, is that you? You’re a lifesaver!”
“Yup.” EJ smiled. “Here you go, Arun,” she said, proffering the roll. “Do you need a garbage bag, too?”
“Let me take it, just in case.” As she dug in the bag, her friend noticed Will. “Hey, dude, sorry I didn’t see you there. I’m Arun.” He gave a small wave.
Surprised, he reciprocated without thinking. “Will. Hi.”
“Nice to meet you. Oh hey, I didn’t see The Wolf Diaries or whatever, but it’s always good to have an Asian guy on-screen who’s not ‘the nerdy friend.’ Thanks for that.”
Speechless, Will nodded as EJ handed over the black garbage bag. Tessa was right: people noticed him but truly didn’t care. Will felt a weight lift in that moment. Though he wasn’t anonymous, he wasn’t the focus of anyone’s attention. That could make a nice change, for a while. EJ and Arun carried on and finished up their conversation without him.
“Thanks, Eej,” Arun said, lifting the items. “See you tomorrow?”
“You know it! Every day I’m modelin’.”
Arun laughed. “I still have that shirt,” he said before making his way back across the roof.
Will thought he might try starting over with EJ. “How’d you know they’d need that?”
She responded readily; all it took was the right subject. “When there was talk about viewing from here, we thought we’d try to block the security lights. White light blows out your pupils so you can’t see as much,” she explained, pointing toward the artificial light. “They’re low enough for a tall person to reach. True Girl Scout, I thought I’d pick up some garbage bags in case people remembered the conversation, but not the items themselves.”
“Always be prepared. Right?” Will said with a laugh.
“Be prepared,” EJ corrected. “‘Always’ is the Boy Scout motto.”
Will looked back at the lights for a bit before turning to EJ with another question. “I understand the garbage bag. But why the red Saran Wrap?”
“If you wrap your flashlight in red and keep it on low, your pupils stay dilated, and you’ll be able to see more of the sky. I mean, we can’t have it completely dark up here.” She laughed. “Don’t want kids falling off the roof just to avoid light pollution.”
Will blinked in response. “That’s brilliant.”
She shrugged. “It is—but it’s not my idea. I learned that little life hack from my first stargazing trip.” A small smile crept onto her lips.
“What was that like?” Will asked, moving a little closer to her.
EJ g
azed up at the sky, dreamily. “I don’t think I really saw the stars until I was about twelve,” she began, leaning back on her hands. “We had this field trip to the Goddard space center—it’s a part of NASA about half an hour from my middle school—anyway, they helped work on the Hubble and had opened this huge exhibit for its twentieth anniversary. For the first time I could really see how amazing and complex stars are.” She shivered as a strong breeze swept across the roof.
“Would you like my scarf?” he offered.
EJ smiled at him, genuinely. “No, thank you. I think I’ve got something in here.” She reached into her bag and felt around until she retrieved an old flannel blanket. She snapped it like a sail and then pulled it around her shoulders.
“Anyway,” she said, returning to the story. “My little mind is being blown by all this when I spot a panel on the opposite side of the room explaining light pollution. Mind double blown: now I know—supertelescopes aside—why I’ve never seen what’s truly visible from Earth.” EJ tugged at her hoodie, then continued.
“This is all I can talk about for like a month. Then one Saturday my dad says, ‘There’s a new moon tonight, little Lizard. Let’s go see some stars!’ The whole family piles into the car, and we drive an hour plus to somewhere in Virginia for this park’s family stargazing night. There’s no light on the path between the parking lot and the gazing park, so we rent flashlights wrapped in red plastic.” She closed her eyes with the memory.
“When we got to the clearing . . . I don’t think I truly understood wonder as a concept before. I just looked, looked, and looked, trying to memorize the sky. It was literally awesome.” She opened her eyes again. Something about EJ sparkled when she spoke like this. Will found it intriguing.
“Honestly, I’ve never experienced anything like that,” he replied. “But the way you describe it sounds amazing.”
“Maybe it will happen tonight.” She turned away from him to face the sky. Whether it was the Baileys in her flask or the conversation, he and EJ had moved past the earlier weirdness. Perhaps it was just the feeling of experiencing a “goddamned cosmological event” together. Whatever the reason, this was nice.
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