String Theory

by Ashlyn Kane

  Ari relaxed a little. “That must have been difficult,” he tried. Surely there had to be more to the story to support her reaction to telling it?

  “Yeah. I went off to school in September stupid and hurt and angry at Maman and Baba, like it was their fault it didn’t work out, and of course frosh week was just one long party and I went a little off the rails….”

  So there was more to the story. Only now Ari didn’t know if he liked where it was going. “Understandable.”

  Finally Afra laughed. “Ari, just… bless you for not being willing to jump to conclusions.”

  He felt himself flush. “Not enough to go on.”

  “Not for you,” Afra agreed, not unkindly. But she seemed to have gathered strength somehow, because she finally cut to the chase. “When I didn’t come home right away the next summer, I said it was because I was busy moving into student housing and getting ready to start my new job. Which was true—I did move, and I did have a part-time job there for the summer. But the whole truth is that I needed to stay there. I couldn’t come home right away. Because a week after exams, I….”

  He waited.

  “I had a baby.”

  His mouth dropped open. “You….”

  “I got pregnant frosh week like a stupid after-school special,” she confirmed. He expected her to sound bitter or tearful, but she actually seemed calm. Maybe a little rueful. “I wasn’t showing yet by winter break, but by reading week I knew I needed to figure out what I was doing instead of coming home, because my obstetrician wasn’t about to approve a nonessential C-section for a nineteen-year-old, and I could not come home nine months pregnant. Maman and Baba would never let me leave the house again, and there was no way they’d give me any option about keeping the baby. Actions have consequences, family first, blah blah blah.”

  “So you gave it up,” Ari filled in.

  “It was an easy decision,” she assured him, finally dry-eyed. “It was the right call. I’d do it again.”

  “Afra.” He wondered if she’d let him hug her.

  “But I also knew I couldn’t…. Open wasn’t an option, because how could I be a part of the baby’s life when it wasn’t even supposed to exist? And now I can’t go looking, I can’t ask.” And she would spend the rest of her life wondering about the only natural child she would have.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that… are going through that. The past few years must have been really hard.”

  She shrugged. “Yes. Not being able to get pregnant hadn’t occurred to me.” She gave a wobbly smile. “But that is all in the past, and there is nothing left to be done but to move forward, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And to make sure you’re making decisions just for you. You’re not a dumb eighteen-year-old. You’re thirty-two, with your own bank account, and you know you’ve got me and Ben in your corner.”

  Ari was in his last year of high school when she first brought Ben home, and he had spent all of his twenties knowing that Afra and Ben were his safety net, always. He’d run to them after the messy end to his first serious relationship. “I know. Likewise.”

  Afra smiled. “Now, finish your sushi, because you and I are going to go for a walk. I could use some sunshine, even if it is cold as balls. And you probably could too. Noella says you’ve been sending stuff regularly, which means you’ve probably spent most of your time locked up with your piano.”

  “Maybe.”

  After they finished their food and tidied the coffee table, Afra stepped into her sensible flats and Ari his favorite slip-ons, and they put on their coats and headed out the door.

  “I need to buy something at the pharmacy.” Afra turned them to the right. Having no opinion to the contrary, Ari followed her.

  As they went, they avoided the topic of their parents and focused instead on fun things. Afra talked about Ben’s new origami hobby—“He says it’s useful when talking with kids and getting them to open up, but he’s actually kind of terrible at it.”—and how weird it was that Theo was back at school and not underfoot anymore.

  At the pharmacy, Afra picked up Band-Aids and a bag of Starburst—Theo’s favorite—and stuffed her purchases into her sensible bag. “He’s stressing about finals already,” she said, shaking her head. “I guess he missed his target mark on one of his midterms.”

  They were meandering toward a park when a familiar blond head caught Ari’s eye. Jax was walking slowly down the path, a backpack over one shoulder and a chubby toddler waddling before him.

  Ari must have given something away, because Afra said, “What—” and then followed his gaze. “Oh my God. Ari, tell me you’re going to put a ring on it.”

  Ari spluttered. “Afra,” he hissed. But he was frankly relieved. He thought it might be difficult for her to be around children.

  She laughed loudly enough to draw attention.

  Jax lit up when he saw Ari—how had Ari ever thought Jax wasn’t emotionally invested?—and waved.

  “I need to see this close up,” Afra said, and they made their way to Jax and Alice together.

  Jax made the introductions. “Alice”—Afra jerked and looked at Ari—“meet my friends, Ari and Afra.” He pointed to them and prompted Alice into a wave.

  Alice gave a clumsy flap of her hand and said, “Hi.”

  “Hello, Alice,” Ari said seriously.

  “Hi.” She smiled, showing off her chubby cheeks.

  “Hi,” Afra said. “Lovely to meet you, Alice. Good to see you again, Jax.”

  The smile he gave her was genuine and sweet. “You too. How have you been? Keeping Ari in his place, I hope.”

  “Oh, always. Today’s job was to get him out of the house. He’s been composing too hard.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Jax grinned.

  Afra gave Ari a look. “Oh, I’m sure you do.”

  Ari elbowed her gently and said, “She dragged me out for a walk.”

  “Well, my gain,” Jax said. “Alice and I got bored at home—I’m on babysitting duty—so we decided to see what thrills central London had.”

  Alice squirmed, and Jax put her back down. “We’ll have to follow her,” he said apologetically, but Afra waved him off.

  “Is your sister busy again today?” Ari asked.

  Jax hummed. “Yeah, some growing pains involved with a new job and moving to a new neighborhood, so I got conscripted for another afternoon of niece-minding.” His expression turned hopelessly fond. “Not that I mind.”

  “No, I bet not. She’s pretty adorable.”

  “You’re just saying that because she looks just like me.”

  Afra smiled. “She does. Looks like she could be yours.”

  Jax laughed. “Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head as he stepped to follow Alice a few feet down the sidewalk. “I’m probably giving off all the dad vibes right now.” He cast Ari a mischievous grin. “What do you think, Ari, DILF or Weird Dad vibes?”

  Ari glanced at Afra, then at Jax, and said, “I plead the Fifth.”

  “He’s fishing for compliments anyway,” Afra advised.

  Jax acknowledged the hit with a grin and allowed Alice to lead him to the playground, where she patted the slide in an obvious sign. Jax scooped her up and helped her “climb” the ladder to the top.

  Afra clapped Ari on the shoulder. “You are completely fucked, bro.”

  Ari nodded. “I think you may be right.”

  They watched Jax with Alice for a few moments, during which Ari was uncomfortably aware that they had just picked the scab off a deep wound from Afra’s past and now they were getting awfully close to it with the salt. “Do you want to head back?”

  But when he turned to look at her, she didn’t seem upset. She was smiling gently. “I do have to go, actually, but I’m fine. Weirdly fine. I think….” A shrug, a wry twist of her lips. “I think it’s easier now that I have a final answer, in a way. I’m not going to get pregnant. No more IVF, no more fertility treatments, no more waiting and wond
ering. We’ve already started the courses for foster to adopt.”

  “If you’re sure,” he said doubtfully.

  She ran a hand down his arm, squeezed his wrist. “I’m sure.” Then she jerked her head over her shoulder at Jax. “Say goodbye from me, will you?”

  He promised, and she set off with her purse full of sugar, leaving Ari to pine helplessly over Jax’s adorable uncle act. Though he felt a little strange watching from afar—maybe he was coming across as a creeper? A quick glance around proved that no one was paying him any attention, but he stepped up to Jax’s side anyway, drawn inexorably into his orbit. “Afra had to run.”

  When Alice shrieked with glee as she slid down into Jax’s arms, Ari understood the sentiment.

  Jax lifted Alice onto his hip and nuzzled a kiss to her cheek. “Guess it’s just the three of us for this date, eh, Alice? You okay with Ari being the third wheel?”

  “Ba!” Alice agreed.

  “You’re right, he is handsome. We’ll allow it.”

  “Thank you, Alice,” Ari said.

  She patted Jax’s cheek.

  Alice wanted to try the swing next. Jax produced a bleach wipe from the diaper bag. “Would you mind?” he asked, handing it to Ari. “New-old habits.”

  Ari dutifully sanitized the plastic over the chains and the swing, but he was still thinking about the word date… and the fact that they had never actually been on one. “Speaking of dates….”

  Jax wrangled Alice into the baby swing, making silly faces at her all the while. When he looked up at Ari, he was still cross-eyed with his tongue sticking out. He uncrossed them and raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

  Oh, so he was going to make Ari work for it. “It occurs to me that I have been remiss in taking you out and showing you off.”

  “I do thrive in the spotlight.” Jax gave Alice a little push, and she waved her hands in delight. “What are you proposing?”

  That was the question. “Dinner would be traditional,” he said. “But that seems like it might not be possible with your work schedule.”

  Jax smiled. “Well, I do have a day off coming up. Someone rented the bar Monday night for a private party.”

  Perfect. “So may I take you to dinner on Monday?”

  Jax grinned. “It’s a date.”

  “Date!” Alice shouted.

  Ari smiled. He was excited too.

  ALICE WAS clearly a spy sent to Jax under the guise of cuteness to gather information about his life for Jax’s meddling sister. She spilled the beans about the date almost as soon as they walked into the house.

  “Date!” she yelled and ran headlong into her mother’s legs.

  Sam lifted her into the air, kissed her face, and asked, “You’re a bit young for that, aren’t you, sweetie?”

  “Date!”

  “I think she just likes the way it sounds,” Jax said as he unloaded the diaper bag from his shoulder.

  “I see.” Sam looked at Jax, then back to Alice. “And where did you hear about dates?” The tone of her voice suggested the question was for Jax, but Alice was obviously in a helpful mood.

  “Ari.”

  Sam stilled, but then a wicked grin took over her face. “Oh, Ari, eh? Jacob Hall, did you use my baby to woo your new man?”

  “Not intentionally.”

  Sam laughed. “You are shameless. Fortunately for you, I’m all too happy to let you use my kid to get in there. Now tell me everything while I make you dinner.” She placed Alice in a playpen and returned to her cutting board. George stood at the stove, stirring sauce.

  “I might be shameless, but it wasn’t actually a deliberate ploy. I ran into Ari at the park, and we had some fun together. Alice took a bit of a shine to him, which is understandable.”

  “Hm, he is kind of shiny,” Sam agreed.

  Jax chuckled.

  “But,” George said, “when do we get to meet him?”

  “Don’t push. You sound meddlesome.” She tossed a carrot top at him, and he yelped and dodged.

  “Like you weren’t lamenting it last night,” George defended.

  Jax rubbed the back of his head and said, “Soon I hope.” It wasn’t like Jax wanted to keep Ari away from his family—well, his sister’s family, at least. Ari and George would get on like a house on fire, sitting back and watching the Hall Sibling Show like it was the most bingeable streaming entertainment available. And Sam would love him. She hadn’t always been fond of his dates and crushes and tended to fuss every time he fell for someone new, but Ari was serious and earnest, and most importantly, he was serious and earnest about Jax.

  Sam grinned. “Excellent. How about dinner some weekend?”

  “Make it lunch and you have yourself a deal. Bartender.”

  Her mouth twitched like she wanted to say something but bit it back.

  He clapped his hands together. “Now, what can I do to make food happen, because I am hungry, and I have to be at work in an hour and a half. Why did no one tell me that watching a toddler was so much work?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  NOW THAT Operation Finish the Goddamn PhD so Everyone Would Shut Up About It was underway, Jax remembered how much schoolwork was simply boring. First, Jax contacted MIT and declared his intention to return.

  The bursar and registrar offices were all too happy to send him forms to fill out and tabulate tuition fees. The only snag being the answer to the question, Who is your advisor?

  So began a lengthy email chain with the registrar offices, the math department administrative director, and Jax, as they all debated how best to handle that. Did he need a new advisor? Surely since Grayling had said he was ready, Jax could defend without an advisor. He didn’t need a replacement for Grayling. They could just add one more faculty member to his committee. Did Jax have evidence that Grayling had signed off on the project? Perhaps it should be reviewed by someone else. Now that almost two years had passed; it was possible that changes in the field of statistics and mathematics had impacted the results Jax would wish to defend.

  Jax slammed his laptop shut and went outside to aggressively murder some dandelions.

  Two days later Jax opened his program and began rereading every single line of code. If he was going to defend this sucker, he needed to know it as well as when he had written it. And apparently he needed to be able to defend his decision not to change it even before his defense.

  The work was slow going.

  Jax loved math, loved the way it spoke to him, the simplicity of some numbers, the complexity of others. Math had been a way of coping with or escaping from most of the difficulties of his life. Hell, half the work he’d done during the pandemic had been done during late-night panicked sprees as he attempted to stop his brain from thinking about how the data and statistics could—did—affect him personally.

  But the project didn’t provide any comfort, not when he heard Grayling’s voice in his head as he reviewed every line, his soft tones as he calmly questioned Jax’s decisions so Jax would be forced to carefully and thoroughly reason them out, the pride in his face whenever Jax answered a question so completely Grayling couldn’t think of anything else to ask. Reading the program hurt, and Jax’s eyes burned and twitched until he was tempted to throw his laptop in the Thames.

  When it got to be too much, Jax found vegetables to massacre in the kitchen instead and made pots of soup or pasta.

  Hobbes found him grating a carrot with such force one afternoon that he snapped, “Careful. I don’t fancy eating grated you in my dinner.”

  “You should be so lucky to get a piece of me,” Jax snarled back, but he flung down the carrot anyway because he needed his hands intact if he was going to be slicing lemons in a few hours.

  Hobbes raised his hands in surrender and backed up a single step. Jax noted the dark circles under his eyes. They were working him too hard at the hospital again. “Whoa, hey. What did the carrot ever do to you?”

  “The carrot is just a metaphor.” He picked it up from the floor and to
ssed it into the Garburetor.

  There was a pause as Hobbes eased himself into a kitchen chair, watching Jax closely. “Yeah, I got that,” he said finally. “And all the other elaborate healthy meals you’ve made in the middle of the day this week—I’m assuming those were also metaphorical?”

  “Those were delicious,” Jax corrected, pulling the final carrot from the bag and peeling it with extreme prejudice. Though with Hobbes to vent to, his frustration was waning. “And they weren’t so much a metaphor as a productive distraction.” Jax had spent too much of his life thinking Hobbes might die, and when he got out of the hospital, he was weak. Jax had gotten used to cooking for him, partly because Hobbes couldn’t do it himself and partly because Jax hadn’t had anything else to distract him. Then Hobbes went back to work. And Jax wasn’t an idiot; he knew doctors ate too much takeout, but he still maintained that if Hobbes hadn’t wanted Jax to worry about his cholesterol, he shouldn’t have left his bloodwork results piled in with Jax’s sheet music.

  “All right, I’ll bite,” Hobbes said easily. “A delicious, productive distraction from what?”

  Jax put down the grater again, debating.

  Aside from Hobbes and those contacts at MIT, he hadn’t told anyone he planned to go back to school. He carried the weight of enough expectations. The decision to return to Cambridge had opened a sucking stomach wound, and Jax was walking around with both hands pressed over it to keep from bleeding out. He couldn’t let anyone look at it in case they made it worse.

  But Hobbes already knew, and he deserved to know what had prompted his roommate to turn into Neurotic Jax, with whom he’d have to live for the next six weeks while Jax obsessed over his work. It wouldn’t be fair to leave him in the dark.

  “Jax?” Hobbes prompted.

  Well, now or never. Jax cleared his throat and met his eyes. “I’ve been going over my thesis program.”

  “Ah.” Hobbes nodded, and Jax could see him get lost in his head for a moment as he ran through a replay of Jax’s actions and attitude over the past few days. “Yeah, that tracks.”