The large gate to the church parking lot is open, so whatever information Pearl found online seems to be right. A single’s activity is supposed to start here in five minutes, though the parking lot is nearly empty. Only one car, a blue Honda, is parked under a street light next to the building’s doors.
I shiver and blow a snowflake off my eyelash.
The bare tree I’m standing under, combined with the darkness of the evening, gives me an appropriate hiding place, out of view from the church. The minutes tick by and other pedestrians walk by me on the sidewalk. They don’t pay attention, but I feel subconscious anyway. Eventually, others show up and go into the church. Some of them drive. Some walk.
I stay in my secluded spot.
In the weeks since my trip to Moab, I’ve talked to Pearl every few days. I’ve enjoyed it for the most part, and the conversations have been safe. Until yesterday when she brought up my love life.
Not wanting to talk about Tara, I resorted to complaining. With my position, it’s impossible to meet a girl I could consider dating, marrying, and raising a family with.
It was the wrong approach. Instead of understanding and moving on, Pearl took my complaint as a challenge.
“You have to start going to the places where those women are,” she told me. “I’ll help you do that.”
Her help is the last thing I need.
Next thing I know, she calls me this afternoon with the address of this church, just up the street from where I work. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I promised to come here this evening.
Here I am.
It seemed simple at the time. I’d come, go in, and tell Pearl it was awful. But now I’m standing outside, hiding in the darkness, freezing in the cold, and watching a bunch of happy, strange people. Who are they? Are they doing anything meaningful with their lives? Are they worth associating with? Why am I here?
I know one thing. I don’t want to go into that building.
According to Pearl, these are the people who are getting married and having babies. The people whose lives mean more than just a name on a paper.
I picture myself walking into the church—I haven’t been in one since Mom’s funeral.
This is insane.
I walk up the sidewalk, past the church and away from campus. The wind blows against my face, and the wind blows flakes under my hood to sting my cheeks. After two blocks, I turn around and walk back to my hiding place. It’s ten after the hour now. The activity has surely started.
I hide under my tree again in time to watch as an old car turns into the parking lot. A girl with straight blonde hair and a slender figure steps out of the car. She’s pretty.
I imagine myself walking across the street. I walk into the building, find the activity, and I see that girl sitting by herself on the back row. I sit down, and we start talking.
Which is about as likely as a meteor shower. I don’t belong with these people. I’m not going to wander in and meet an attractive girl. If I go in now, no one will notice me, and those that do will keep talking to their friends. Anything they say about me will be about my scruffy beard and ill-kept clothes. All the cute girls are in groups flirting with men who are thinner, more attractive, and better-groomed.
I’m not the person they’re looking for.
Promise or no promise, it’s time to go. I don’t know what I’ll tell Pearl, but I’m not going in there.
I try to hold on to anger, but as I start back down the street, I feel despair more than anything else. Will I ever fulfill my promise to Mom? Am I stuck with girls like Tara from now on?
This is Andrea’s fault. I shouldn’t be here, standing alone in the cold. I should be home, with her.
“Karl!”
I freeze at the sound of Tara’s voice. How did she find me here?
She jogs down the sidewalk toward me. That’s when I remember that she lives somewhere around here, but I’m not sure where. Hopefully her apartment is far enough away that she’s just seeing me now.
She’s dressed provocatively, as per norm, very different from the girls I’ve been watching. Tonight she’s wearing spandex tights and a short skirt; her coat is unbuttoned enough to show cleavage. I let my eyes hang there—it feels better than looking at the church. She throws out her arms and steps into a tight embrace. I like feeling her against me.
“Hey stranger,” she whispers in my ear.
I let the cold and confusion of the evening dissipate in the warmth of Tara’s body against mine. All those hoity-toity kids across the street can think what they want; Tara likes me.
“What are you doing here?” She steps away. I like looking at her.
“Just walking. I was turning around when I saw you.”
She doesn’t think twice about my story, even though we both know that I never go walking.
“Good, because I’m headed down to campus now. Will you accompany me?”
She takes my hand, and we start to campus.
“What’s at campus tonight?” I ask.
“I’m going to a study party for a big exam tomorrow.”
“You’re pretty dressed up for a study party.”
She giggles. “There are some cute boys in my class.”
My face gets warm. Who are the guys in her class?
Tara smiles as she watches my reaction, and I feel my face warm again. Tonight, of all nights, I’d like Tara to accept me as I am and not who I’m supposed to be. I don’t want her to go flirt with other guys. I want her to stay with me.
“How are your runs coming?” I ask. I’ve been helping her set up experiments all week.
“Finished just before I left my apartment,” she says coyly. But, her voice gets a little squeaky, like it does when she’s excited. We both know that these are the runs that should generate publication-ready results.
“And?”
“You got it!” she says, and I can’t keep a silly grin off my face. Anytime work creates something good, it’s worth smiling about. Tara stops walking, puts her arms around my neck, and kisses me.
“Congratulations sir,” she whispers.
And she kisses me again.
We stand under the light of the street lamp kissing in a way that Pearl would never call “proper.” I let myself forget all about why I came out here in the first place and instead disappear into the warmth of Tara’s body.
She pulls back, and we are both breathing fast. “Will you come back to my apartment with me?” she asks. “I can skip my study party.”
Snowflakes fall onto her face and melt. Her body presses against me, pushing away the loneliness. This is what I want right now. I want to be with her. I don’t want her to go flirt with her study group.
But it isn’t really what I want. I let my arms fall and step away. If I do sleep with Tara someday, it won’t be because of jealousy or loneliness.
“I don’t want you to fail your exam tomorrow,” I say, even though I don’t care about her exam at all. I feel confused and rejected, even though I’m the one who said no.
We’re on campus before either of us speak again. I walk her to the building where her study group is and stop.
“It’s in the Cytochrome C Oxidase complex,” Tara says. “The signal is pretty strong.”
“That’s a Nature paper.”
“You’ll help me write it, right?”
She kisses me again. I kiss her softly and push her away. She’s late for her study group by now, if there is such a thing.
After she’s out of sight, I walk slowly back to the office. I’ve spent so much time working on Tara’s project, that all of mine are falling behind. I have a few hours I can spend on them before going home for the evening. Or maybe I can outline the Nature paper.
✽✽✽
The next morning Tara is waiting for me when I get into the office. She’s there the next morning, and the next, and the next. We work all day, taking occasional breaks for food, making out, or hurrying through her homework. I even take a shower now and th
en, though Tara rarely says anything about it anymore.
Writing a paper is no easy task, but we are motivated. And Tara is a good writer. I’m glad she’s letting me be a part of this paper. This is much bigger than any of my research. After this gets published, I can probably convince a committee to let me graduate, and that keeps me motivated. We spend time agonizing over each paragraph, scrutinizing every sentence until it’s just the way we want it. This paper will give us an amaranthine existence in this program, a reputation that will live on for decades. Generations of future students will come here and read this paper, talk about it, and marvel that it was written right here in this office by me and Tara. No one will remember me as the student whose advisor got murdered. No one will feel sorry for me anymore.
We spend every waking moment for the next week on the paper. That means, unfortunately, I don’t have time to contact Pearl. She tries to follow-up with me about my trip to the church, but I ignore her. The timing works out great, anyway. I don’t know what to tell her, but once the paper is out, I’ll talk to her again, and she’ll have forgotten about that wild errand.
✽✽✽
Finally, at the end of nearly two weeks, I sit at my desk with Tara on my lap. My heart pounds as I stare over her bare shoulder at my computer screen. Midnight passed a long time ago, but I’m alert as ever as Tara moves her mouse to hover over the Submit button.
“Do it,” I whisper.
She smiles at me, and I let myself get distracted by what I see under her loose-fitting sweater.
“I’m about to submit a paper to Nature,” she says, and she waits until I force my eyes up to look into hers. We are both tired. And giddy. This is huge.
“Not just any old Nature paper,” I say as she kisses my ear, “but real ground-breaking research!”
“I’m just happy to be seen with you.”
I laugh. “Who sees you with me? We’re alone in this office all the time.”
“I see me with you, and that is all I need.” She points at the submission screen. Indeed, she’s right next to me on the author list: Tara Howell, Karl Stapp, Hienrich Melzer. Thousands of people will see her next to me.
Click.
The submission form is replaced with a spinning wheel. After two minutes, the page loads with the proofs of the manuscript.
“We did it!”
Tara keeps her arms around me as we stand. “Hooray!” she says, and she kisses me hard. I taste a little alcohol on her breath. When did she sneak away for a drink?
I kiss her for a few minutes, and then for a few minutes more. Finally, I pull back and smile jubilantly. The grandeur of the moment competes with the utter exhaustion I feel, but it comes out on top.
“What time is it?”
“I think we just passed 3:00 AM,” Tara giggles. “I guess we need to sleep together in the office, or you’ll have to walk me home.”
“I’ll take you home, and then I’ll come back and sleep here.”
Tomorrow morning, I really need to get back to my work. Maybe I’ll call Pearl. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll sleep all day. Maybe I’ll even draft up a graduation proposal for Khanh.
Tara and I bundle up and venture out into the dark, cold streets of Oakland. We laugh about dumb things as we walk. I’m glad all the lights are out when we pass the church on Ditheridge. By the time we get to Tara’s apartment, the cold has seeped through my coat and my teeth are chattering. I need to buy a better coat—one that fits around my belly.
“You look cold,” Tara pushes the door open and flips the lights on inside her apartment. The warm air rushes out the door, and it feels nice.
“Why don’t you come in and have a cup of coffee?”
“Okay.” I step into her apartment. “Though if you have hot chocolate, I’d prefer that this late in the night.” I’ve told myself I wouldn’t come in here, but it’s cold outside, and I’ll only stay a few minutes.
Tara closes the door behind me and bolts it with two bolts.
It’s a one-bedroom apartment, with a large front room and a door to the bedroom in the back. Tara has a small table and desk in the front room, with a small area for cooking. All-in-all, the room is a nicer version of her office. The colors are mostly blacks and golds, with some splashes of bright pink to accent.
My body relaxes in the warm air, and my eyelids start to droop. “Your place looks really nice. Where do you find time to design your apartment?”
“Are you saying your apartment looks like your office?”
“Worse,” I say as I wander around the room to study the strange artwork she has on the walls.
She shakes her head. “I don’t even want to know about it. It’s a wonder that men survive without a woman around.”
She motions for me to sit, and having completed my tour of the room, I sit at the small black table near the kitchen area. Tara takes my coat and goes back into her bedroom. The warmth of the apartment is really getting to me. My eyes glaze over. I’m in the middle of a yawn when Tara comes back into the room.
She, too, has taken off her coat, and her sweater. She’s wearing a tight-fitting navy tank top, and a pair of short denim shorts. The navy looks great against her white skin; the yawn doesn’t come, and I sit up straighter. I feel more alert.
Warning bells go off in my tired mind.
Tara works in the kitchen for a few minutes. I like the sound of her bare feet as they pad around the floor. Something seems right about this somehow, despite the nagging feeling that I should leave. Was this how Andrea felt that night with Vince? I shudder at the thought. I should go soon.
Once the chocolate is hot, Tara puts a large helping of pink and yellow marshmallows on top and joins me at the table. “I love the flavor of the colored marshmallows,” she giggles.
The warm liquid sooths my cold throat. Biology makes sure that I don’t feel tired, not while I’m looking at Tara in the low light of the apartment. Words like commitment and promises float through my mind, and some other thoughts as well. I keep shoving thoughts of Andrea out of my head, but she keeps coming back.
As I near the bottom of my cup, the rational side of my brain takes momentary control. I set my mug down. “I better go. Thanks for everything.”
Tara frowns and stands up, too. “Leaving already?” She moves in for a kiss.
The rational side of my mind surrenders, and I put my arms around her and kiss her, my resolve dissolving as fast as the marshmallows did.
“You really want to leave?” Tara asks, pressing herself up next to me.
No.
“Yes.”
“Why?” she asks. “Don’t you like me?”
She kisses me again. Slowly. I want to stay. Is this what Andrea felt? That she didn’t want to feel lonely anymore? That it couldn’t hurt for just one night?
What would Mom say if she could see me now?
“Do you love me, Tara?”
The question startles her. “What do you mean?”
“If I graduated and got a job, would you still want to be with me?”
“You don’t need to graduate yet!” She snuggles up to kiss my neck. I didn’t expect her to answer my question, but I’m annoyed at her answer. I hold on to the annoyance and pull back.
“Let’s say I wanted to. And then what about us?”
Tara stops smiling. “Karl. You’re taking this all too seriously. Relax. We just submitted a Nature paper. Don’t go all serious, talking about love and the future. Can I get you a drink or something? I have some hard liquors. Or a beer.”
I shake my head. “Love is an important thing to me. I think I want to go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Karl. Stay here. Move in with me. You have another two years until the program makes you graduate. That’s time to write another paper together, don’t you think?” She reaches up to kiss me, but I put my hands on her shoulders and stop her.
“I want to be with someone I love, and, well, I’ve never known why you like me.”
For some reason,
my statement strikes Tara as funny. “You’re talking like you’ve never slept with anyone before.” She laughs. “This isn’t the time to talk about stuff like this. You’re ruining the moment!”
“I haven’t.”
“You haven’t what?”
“Slept with anyone before.”
“What are you waiting for? Love?” She stops laughing. Her voice is challenging now, like a professor talking down to an insolent student.
“Yes, love.”
“Come on Karl, be real. You’re overweight, you never shower, and you work too much. You’ll never find anyone who loves you—you’ve met plenty of professors just like you to know that by now. You’re going to spend the rest of your life alone in an office, and that’s how your life is going to be. Alone.”
She’s right. I’ve had all the same thoughts in the few months that we’ve been together. Mom asked me to never let my career get in the way of a family and marriage. I promised her I wouldn’t. But that’s exactly what I’ve done.
Tara smiles and kisses my neck again. “So, stop being so serious and take advantage of what you have,” she whispers. “We’re good for each other. Tonight.”
Is she right? The fantasies start in my brain—after being with me a couple years, Tara will consider marriage. In thirty years we’ll think back to this moment and laugh at how we thought it was only temporary.
I shake my head. I’m not so dumb that I think things will work.
I hate the thought of leaving and being lonely again. Is being with someone who doesn’t love you worth avoiding loneliness?
“Come on, Karl.” Tara puts her hands under my shirt and slides them up.
My hands respond, but I stop them and push them down.
“No.” I step away. “No.”
“If you leave now”—her voice has an edge now—“we’re done. You know that, right?”
“Oh, because the paper is in now, and so you don’t need me anymore?”
Tara’s eyes narrow. “You know I have a term paper due next week.”
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