Can't Beat the Chemistry

by Kat Colmer

  ‘Luke, the thing is …’

  Here it comes. My fingers head for my teeth. I pick up a pen and start twirling to stop myself biting at my skin.

  ‘… we only have a few weeks until your chem final, so I think we should start revising the whole semester’s work instead of focusing on your current unit.’

  My pen stops spinning because, seriously? We’re ignoring this? It’s not that I want the burn—man, I so don’t want the burn—but after everything I said Saturday night she’s not going to give me a straight answer?

  Then it hits me; she has given me an answer. Her silence is my answer, even though she’s holding on to the illusion, pretending like nothing’s changed.

  When everything has.

  Everything.

  I suck in air, the study booth suddenly way too stuffy. ‘That’s uh—’ I clear my throat, start again. ‘Good plan. That’s a good plan.’

  The next fifty minutes drag slower than an educational policy lecture. The air is heavy with the weight of everything we haven’t said. But MJ pushes through, alternating between quizzing me and giving me study technique pointers. Somehow I manage to make the right noises whenever she asks a question, but no way will I remember anything we’ve gone over today.

  As my heart is bleeding out under the study booth table.

  MJ

  Flight of Your Life

  Since my parents and I arrive everywhere chronically early, we get to the airport, check in and make our way to the boarding gate well before we need to be there.

  There was no convincing my mother they didn’t need to accompany me to the science competition. I’d like to think it’s pride behind my parents’ insistence they come. With Dad that’s likely the case. But I suspect Mum wants to be there to impart words of Meike Olsen-Wang wisdom up until the last minute before the event. Because, heaven forbid, I make any crucial decisions all by myself.

  Dad’s face breaks into a warm smile when he sees Jason come our way. ‘You two ready to blow them away?’

  I nod, even though I don’t feel all that ready. Other than the couple of meet-ups with Jason to finalise details of our presentation, I’ve barely glanced at the science competition submission in the past two weeks. I’d like to claim it’s Sandy’s fault, that I’ve been on edge about our falling out over Luke, but the fact of it is I’ve been fighting a growing apathy where thoughts of the competition or my competition partner are concerned.

  I tilt my head and take a look at Jason. The word ‘boyfriend’ hasn’t surfaced yet, but both our meet-ups have ended with his mouth on mine, his hands on my skin. Him eager, me … accepting. Okay, if I’m honest it was nice, enjoyable even. Then there was talk of him taking me to that planetary exhibition next week. So there’s every indication that our science partnership is heading into relationship territory. Which, I’ve decided, is exactly what I want.

  Is it? Is it really? Luke’s hurt-filled eyes that Monday two weeks ago flood my mind. I can’t exactly remember what I said at the end of the tutoring session, but the words just friends and better this way made a clichéd appearance, filling our remaining three meetings with tight smiles and a frustrating distance.

  As much as I already miss him, I’m thankful the tutoring sessions are over.

  I grab my bag strap tighter and force air into lungs that haven’t taken a decent breath in two weeks. This is how it has to be. This is who I have to be.

  ‘Of course we’ll blow them away,’ Jason says. ‘We’re a great team, Mr Wang.’ He slips an arm around my lower back and gives my hip a squeeze.

  My breath hitches and my eyes dart to my mother, but if the smile on my mother’s lips is anything to go by I don’t need to worry about future PDAs with Jason McNeil.

  I should be more excited. I mean, Mum’s as good as given me the green light here. This is a big deal. Jason and the comp, it’s all falling into place. So why am I not more excited?

  Because your edges are blurring.

  I quash the thought like I’ve done every other time it’s reared its stupid, unproductive head over the past two weeks.

  My mother adjusts my shirt collar and smooths non-existent wrinkles from my coat. ‘Have you memorised your presentation?’

  ‘I have palm cards.’

  I inch back so she’s forced to drop her hands.

  The way her lips thin I know some of that Meike Olsen-Wang wisdom is about to come my way. ‘Yes, I know palm cards are permitted, but your ability to memorise your presentation is a reflection of how thoroughly you’ve researched your topic. It can only serve to impress the judges.’

  ‘Your mum’s right,’ Jason says. ‘We’ll have some time on the plane. We should try to memorise our presentation.’ His hand is no longer squeezing my hip, just resting lightly on the small of my back, but I feel like I’m being pressed between the two of them, squeezed until I can’t breathe, until I don’t exist anymore.

  I gulp down the wave of claustrophobia and slide out from Jason’s hold, pretending I need to check the lock on my carry-on. ‘Sure. We should do that.’ Is this how it’s going to be? Jason siding with Mum? The two of them pushing me to—

  No. Stop. Stop.

  ‘Good.’ Appeased, Mum gives me a smile. ‘Why don’t you start right now? Your father can prompt you while Jason and I buy everyone some coffee.’ Her words might be phrased like a question, but Mum’s straight back as she leads Jason towards the airport coffee shop is a don’t-bother-arguing explanation mark.

  I don’t argue. I seethe on the inside but on the outside I do what she says. I always do what she says.

  My hand reaches into the side pocket of my messenger bag where I’ve packed my palm cards, but when I look up at Dad my grip falters. The way his eyes are quietly searching mine, like he’s trying to put together a puzzle he’s been struggling with for way too long … I can’t hold his gaze.

  ‘Leave the cards, MJ.’ He takes my elbow and guides me to the nearest empty chair of which there are still plenty since our flight isn’t due out for another three hours. We sit facing the window where a carrier taxies into view.

  ‘I need to ask you something,’ Dad says. ‘This science competition, why are you doing it?’

  The question is so unexpected, I bang my wrist on my arm rest when I swivel to face him. ‘What do you mean? You know why I’m doing it. To help secure a place in a top medical program.’ Isn’t that why I’ve been doing anything these past two years? If anyone knows it, it’s Dad. The fact that he’s asked the question … it’s insulting.

  He leans closer and puts a hand over the wrist I’ve been absentmindedly rubbing. ‘Let me rephrase that. Do you want to do this science competition?’

  I’m momentarily stunned because … where is he going with this? Wherever it is, it can’t be good. ‘Of course.’ But my answer comes with a flicker of hesitation. One my father picks up on. At least that’s what I think the strange downward tug of his lips means.

  ‘You know, all this time I told myself I was doing the right thing, letting her push you, I mean.’ His gaze lifts across the lounge to where Mum and Jason are waiting for their coffee order. ‘Because I thought you wanted this, and regardless of what others think, her methods get results but …’ He rests both elbows on his knees and rakes long fingers through his hair. I catch a glimpse of the first salt in the pepper. ‘But I’ve been wrong, haven’t I, MJ?’ Eyes a little sad, he looks over at me. ‘It isn’t just Theo who wanted out of the medical degree dream, is it?’

  My first reaction is denial. I wrap my arms around my middle to stop the sudden trembling working its way through my core. But it won’t subside. The chance to tell Dad the truth, it’s … I …

  ‘I want to study genetics.’ I don’t look at him. I keep my eyes on a splash of mid-morning sunlight gleaming on the nose of the plane while my heart is free-falling inside my ribcage.

 
In my peripheral vision his chest rises with a slow breath. ‘She won’t be happy. She’ll argue you’re capable of more.’

  ‘I want to help people like you.’ Oh god. I’ve done it. I’ve said it.

  His breath catches, and I force myself to look at him. ‘I found the letter, Dad. I know about Grandpa Wang’s diagnosis. You should have told us. We have a right to know.’ Because if Dad has the defunct gene, there’s a fifty per cent chance Theo and I have it too. But as frightening as that prospect is, what really scares me is the idea of watching Huntington’s rob my brilliant, gentle father of both his body and his intellect.

  Dad runs a shaky hand through his hair. It’s the stress of the conversation that’s responsible for the tremble, nothing else.

  Now it’s his gaze that locks on the carrier. ‘Yes.’ The word is stilted, like it’s an effort for him to string the letters together. ‘You do have a right to know. But we decided to spare you until you finished high school.’

  ‘Finished high school?’ My voice spikes with frustration. ‘How does keeping this from us until we finish school spare us?’ But wait—Theo has already finished school. ‘Does Theo know?’

  Dad’s answer is a silent nod. The betrayal—both my father’s and Theo’s—wraps rubber bands around my chest until it hurts to breathe. ‘I don’t believe this.’

  He turns to me, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, a strained smile pulling on his lips. ‘I know your life has been all about the pursuit and mastery of knowledge, Mackenzie, but trust me, sometimes ignorance is better.’

  Ignorance is better? For the past eighteen years I’ve been pushed to learn, to seek, to know. And now he tells me some things are better off not known? It doesn’t compute. I’ve been in limbo for the past six months. Worrying about him. Worrying about Theo and me. Dammit, I have a right to know.

  ‘What were your results, Dad?’ I grip my bag strap and hold my breath.

  At first I don’t think he’ll answer, but then … ‘I have a reduced penetrance allele.’

  Air leaves my lungs in a painful whoosh. He doesn’t need to explain. I’ve done enough research to know this means he may not develop the disease. As for Theo and me, there’s a fifty per cent chance we’ve inherited the HD gene with either reduced or full penetrance. In a way it’s the worst outcome; he’s back to not knowing. He can only wait and see.

  Dad takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. ‘I’ll understand if you don’t want to be tested. At least not yet. If it weren’t for you and Theo, I’m not sure I would have wanted to know.’

  If an answer is there for the knowing why would anyone choose to stay ignorant? Why would anyone deliberately—Wait … ‘Has Theo been tested?’

  Dad shakes his head.

  ‘But he will be, right?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? But that’s—’

  ‘His choice.’ He leans in and locks on my disbelieving gaze with his serious one. ‘He doesn’t want to live a life overshadowed by this disease; doesn’t want it dictating his future. And we will respect his decision. Just like we will respect yours.’

  My decision. As if there even is a decision. Of course I’ll be tested. It’d be irresponsible not to be. I mean, if I ever want to have children I’ll need to know. And if I test positive for any form of the gene, then any relationship that looks like it might become serious, I’ll need to explain that at best I’m a genetic uncertainty and at worst a walking time bomb.

  My gaze lifts to find Mum and Jason on their way back. A cup of coffee in each hand, they’re engrossed in conversation, totally oblivious to the seriousness of the one Dad and I are having.

  ‘And Mum? How is she coping?’ Because from where I’m sitting she looks too composed, too unaffected.

  ‘Don’t let her collected exterior fool you,’ Dad says like he’s heard my uncharitable thought. ‘She’s devastated. For me. For us, all of us. She copes by hiding her emotions until she’s alone and thinks no-one can hear her cry. But if the unthinkable happens …’ He lifts his clasped hands and touches his lips to his wedding band before turning to look at me. ‘She’ll be there. Don’t doubt that, MJ. Your mother loves each of us so much.’

  My face heats. How does he know? How does he know I have been doubting her? Because what’s stopping a woman who values intellect above all else walking out on a man who might soon lose the very brains that attracted her to him in the first place?

  A laugh draws my eyes from Dad’s strangely calm expression over to Jason and Mum. They’re getting on like bacteria in an agar dish. How will he react when I tell him about the genetic train wreck that might be heading my way? Will he stick around? Or will he decide the risk isn’t worth it?

  Something bumps my shoulder from behind. I turn to find a woman wrestling a backpack from her shoulder.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ She repeats the apology with a smile while wiping what looks like chocolate from her child’s face. The little girl can’t be more than five. She’s holding a small purple pony in one hand and looking at me with eyes so very much like Rosie’s.

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ I say around the sudden lump in my throat. My eyes seek out the flight information screen above the woman’s shoulder. Quarter to nine. Another three hours until Rosie and Luke’s concert. Is he in his garage getting in some last minute practice? Is Rosie with him or is she parked on the couch using Patrick for inspiration?

  I give the little girl a smile and turn back around. A plane is taxiing towards the runway.

  ‘I promised a friend I’d play piano at his concert today.’ I have no idea why I’m telling Dad this. It’s not like anything he says will make me feel better about letting Luke and Rosie down.

  ‘The drummer?’

  I nod. The drummer. The one who turned out to be anything but deadbeat.

  Dad’s hand covers mine, fingers gently rubbing at the spot I smacked against the chair. ‘Whatever you decide, MJ, I’ll support you.’

  Does he mean getting tested or is he talking about something else? I try to catch his eye but he’s no longer looking at me. He’s getting up, gaze focused on Mum and Jason, who are almost back at the gate.

  Whatever I decide. Whatever I decide.

  ***

  ‘Here you go. Two sugars, right?’ Jason hands me the takeaway coffee cup. When I spoke to him this morning he was all but busting with nervous energy about the weekend. His excitement hasn’t waned. It wafts off him, as visible as the steam coming off my latte.

  ‘One actually,’ I say, but he’s not listening. He’s already turned to catch the tail end of whatever Mum is saying.

  ‘Jason tells me he’s thinking of Sydney University for his medical studies.’ She beams at Jason as she takes a seat next to me. Dad sits on her other side, but Jason remains standing. Probably because sitting down means he won’t have a direct view of his new BFF anymore.

  What is wrong with me? I should be glad Jason and Mum are getting along so well. It’s just them being all buddy-buddy has me on edge. The way he takes her side so readily makes me want to slap the palm cards he’s just pulled from his bag out of his hands.

  ‘It’s always had a great reputation, but talking with your mum …’ He beams back at her and for a moment my coffee starts traveling back up the wrong way. ‘I’m going to put it at the top of my list.’

  They both look at me as though it’s my turn to gush. Which is so not going to happen. All unis with medical programs in the country will have to burn to the ground before I step anywhere near Mum’s precious Sydney.

  I slowly sip at my coffee, making it clear I’m not going to contribute to this conversation, and trying not to think about what Jason’s desire to study at Sydney might mean for our future.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t think about any of it. But it’s hard not to when so much is uncertain. So I revert to the only thing that is certain:
study.

  ‘Come on,’ I say to Jason. ‘Let’s start memorising this presentation. Mum and Dad won’t mind.’

  Coffee in one hand, I fumble for my palm cards with the other as Jason leads the way to some quieter seats. But when I pull the card stack out, a larger card drops to the floor. On the front there’s some sort of picture with clocks in a desert. At first, it doesn’t look familiar but then—Luke. I shoved his birthday card back in my folder after Sandy’s meltdown a fortnight ago but never really looked closely at the front of it.

  I pick it up, open it and sure enough, there’s Luke’s birthday message. Thanks for all your help … appreciate you giving up your time … wish I could have more of it.

  Time.

  Something nags me about that word. I snap the card closed and look closely at the front. The clocks, they’re drooping. Melting.

  Something scratches at the edge of my brain.

  A good kiss for me is when time melts and I forget where I am.

  Luke’s words come barrelling from a corner of my memory.

  I find an inscription that barely registered at the bottom of the card: Salvatore Dali—The Persistence of Memory.

  Why don’t you ask Theo about the persistence of memory?

  It’s a good thing I’ve drunk half my coffee, because my hands are shaking so badly I’d have spilt most of it on the boarding gate floor if it had been full.

  … when time melts and I forget where I am. Time melted for Luke. And even after I told him about Dad and what that might mean for me, he wants more of my time. More of me.

  The knowledge grabs at my lungs and squeezes until my eyes sting and the clocks on Luke’s card aren’t just melting but start to blur.

  ‘MJ, you coming or what?’

  I have to blink a few times before my vision clears. ‘Sure. I … yes, coming.’ I force my feet to move but they’re covered in molasses, sticking to the floor with each step. When I finally sit down beside Jason he’s eyeing me with a frown. ‘Are you okay?’