by Ani Keating
“Good morning, Mr. Hale.”
He extends his hand and I reach for it, knowing full well what will happen the moment we touch. Yes, there it is. The zap, the heat, the stutter in my pulse. Like last time, he doesn’t shake my hand, he holds it. It looks like he is working very hard not to look anywhere below my chin. A very simple truth finds the tiniest of cracks in this moment to seep through: I have missed him.
“I trust you found the place okay?” he asks.
Okay, joke, blink, do…something. “Yes, it’s hard to miss one hundred forty meters of low-emissivity glass.”
He chuckles but the laughter has lost that waterfall sound it had two days ago.
“Ah, Mr. Hale.” Denton has torn himself from Alicia and bounces to us. “It’s good to see you again. Thank you for hosting me. I’m sure you understand I couldn’t miss this for the world.”
“Of course. It’s not a problem, Arthur.”
Denton bobs and chuckles. “Ah, no prouder moment for a professor than to see his student outdo him. I’m not at all surprised it turned out this way. I knew all along someone would see the potential of her little supplement.”
I study Aiden’s face. I expect it to harden because someone is wasting his time but, instead, his eyes soften.
“Yes, a little miracle,” he says, and for a moment I don’t think that he and Denton are talking about the same thing.
Aiden directs us to a conference room with another view of Mount Hood. As always, he steps back to allow us first. The conference room is intimate, smaller, with frosted glass walls, wood furniture and soft suede chairs. It feels less like an office and more like Aiden’s home. I can’t decide if this is meant to make me comfortable or not.
“Would you like something to drink?” Aiden asks us.
“I’d love some tea. Whatever you have handy,” says Denton. He takes one of the plushy chairs. Good, I was waiting to see where he would sit so I could sit next to him. I take the chair to his right.
“And you, Elisa?”
“Some water, Mr. Hale, thank you.”
As he gives the glass to me, I’m distracted by his long fingers. I take the water, trying not to touch them. I’m already at the edge and we haven’t even started. Idrogeno, 1.008. Elio, 4.003. Litio, 6.94. Berillio, 9.012…
Aiden sits at the head of the table, opposite the door—of course. I wonder why. Or am I being an overobservant science geek?
“Elisa, here is a copy of the sale agreement. Here is one for you too, Arthur. Why don’t you read it and we can discuss?”
I read the agreement carefully, trying not to get lost in the legalese. HH will pay me the net sum of one million dollars, as well as any taxes on this amount, effective today. In exchange, I grant HH all intellectual property rights on the “Supplement”, which includes the formula, test results and all my methods, concepts and ideas.
Exactly as we discussed. Fair and reasonable. But my breath catches at one of the terms.
Immigration Outcome. If Inventor’s application to immigrate in the United States fails for any reason, HH will return the Supplement and all Intellectual Property Rights to the Inventor, and will not disclose such Rights to a third party or use them in competition with the Inventor. Inventor is under no obligation to return the Purchase Price of $1,000,000.00 to HH.
Bloody hell! It takes me a few moments to find my voice.
“Mr. Hale, everything looks great, but are you sure about this paragraph? If you give me back the supplement, you’d be out a million dollars and I wouldn’t be out a thing.”
“I’m quite sure. And I can’t take credit for it. It was your idea. You proposed to invest the money in my companies so I wouldn’t be out a dime. It seems fair that I extend the same thoughtfulness to you.” He looks at me with some strong emotion, except I don’t know what it is.
“Thank you,” I say because no other words will do. I can’t refuse it. The only reason I’m parting with the supplement is so that I can stay and not feel like I bought my American dream with sex rather than hard work.
“Are there any terms you would like to add?” he asks.
“Yes, but they’re minor.” I pull out my notes from my purse. I don’t really need them but I do need a paperclip, and this gives me an excuse.
“Let’s hear them,” Aiden says, smiling.
I run through my terms slowly, checking them as I go. Recognizing my dad in press releases, not using the supplement as a performance-enhancing drug, not turning it into a biological weapon. For each term, Aiden nods thoughtfully. As always, he takes no notes.
“We’d make good business partners,” he says as I check off my final term. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss?”
I take a sip of water and keep my voice even because this last one is important to me. “Only one thing: if you ever want to sell the supplement, will you let me know first in case I can afford to buy it from you? If I can’t, you would be free to sell it to someone else.” I’m not sure I’ll ever have the money, but at least I’ll have the option and I’ll follow its journey wherever it goes.
“I doubt very much I will ever part with it, Elisa, but if I do, I agree to your term.” That nameless strong emotion floods Aiden’s eyes again. I search his face for clues but he controls it immediately.
“Then, that’s all, Mr. Hale.” I smile hugely. This was much easier than I thought. I didn’t break down once and he didn’t argue. “Thank you for making this so easy.”
“I’m not known for making things easy, Elisa.”
Is he referring to our disastrous morning-after? Probably. But suddenly I don’t want to focus on the negatives anymore. What he said to me, what I said to him. They won’t help, and it’s not how I want to remember us. I want to think only about the good things he brought into my life. That way, with time—with a very, very long time—maybe I will be able to let him go. Until then, there is no reason for him to suffer in guilt.
I smile at him. “All is well that’s meant well.” I modify the expression, hoping he understands my olive branch.
He smiles without his dimple. “It’s only so far your intentions can take you. Now, there is something I’d like to discuss.”
“What is it?”
“What I do with the supplement and where you invest the money. I know you want to invest it in one of my companies. To be frank, it’s the fairest business deal anyone has offered me. However, I’d like to propose an alternative.”
He pushes a button on a triangular device on the table and a screen drops from the ceiling against the wall facing Aiden. It lights up with a massive organizational chart. It takes me a moment to realize that this is the universe of his companies. All 120 of them.
Aiden stands. He moves with fluid precision despite his unrelenting rigidity. The motion is so hypnotizing that I have to look away.
On the screen, he circles a few companies. “These are the companies that will meet the immigration standards. You’re welcome to invest in and work at any of them if you wish. But would that make you happy? Or wouldn’t you much rather work in a laboratory, inventing and testing?” He leans over the table, his eyes ablaze as if he is trying to extract my thoughts.
“Well, to be honest, science is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. But I can find a job in a lab once I have my green card, Mr. Hale. You don’t need to hire me.”
“I’d like to give you another option. Would you consider investing the money in a new company, a laboratory that you would own and run to do whatever you wish?” His voice is gentle, but his eyes bore into me with the same fiery intensity.
I sink back in my chair. My hand flies to my sternum where a new lifeblood is rushing strong and heated. Aiden just offered me my dream. Not just the American dream, but my professional dream. I have always wanted my own lab where I could work away from the influence of huge pharmaceutical c
ompanies.
“But wouldn’t it take more than a million dollars to develop a laboratory?”
“Easily,” says Denton, sounding awed by the offer too.
“That’s where I come in. As you know, I make money by owning equity in other companies. But I plan to transition into making, building and producing on my own. Especially products that can support the U.S. troops. Your supplement is a good example because it’s light and small so it packs well. It also has potential for charitable use, including emaciated civilians the troops are tasked with caring for.” He speaks fast—a tone of urgency in his voice. It sounds like he has been in the theater himself. An idea forms in my head.
He interrupts my hypothesis. “This would be my first venture into production. I’d like to start with you.” His eyes brighten, never leaving mine, as if he is implying more with his words.
“We would go into business together?” I whisper in astonishment.
“Yes. As you’ve just proven, our business ethics match. You’re bright, hard-working and shrewd. But I could be a passive investor, if you wish. You would have all management power.”
I know why he added this. With Denton here, he can’t say more but he just freed me if I didn’t want to deal with him after our nights together.
Denton is watching me. They’re both waiting for me to say something. How could I ever get over Aiden after this? After he hands me my dream on a lab tray? There would never be another man for me. Of that, I’m certain. I would want him every day for as long as I walked the earth, because it would be more than love for me. It would be that irreversible bond of origin, of the one who gave you life so you could live your dreams. And my only family would be that lab—that one thing we would share. He would move on, with a wife and children, but I would not. The loneliness of the image prickles the beauty of the dream.
I find some air and string the words together. “I think what you’re offering is a tremendous opportunity, Mr. Hale. If it’s okay with you, may I think it over to make sure I’m doing the right thing? For both of us?”
His eyebrows rise slightly at my last words, but he nods. “Yes, but don’t take too long. You have to let Bob know soon, and you don’t want any delays.” He looks intense, anxious even.
“I understand. I’ll let you both know by this weekend.”
“Good. Now, are there any other questions before we sign the agreement?”
I’m about to shake my head when I remember. In my astonishment, I almost forgot. “Why are you interested in military defense, Mr. Hale?” I try to keep my tone light and not give away how much I want this information for my theory.
The tectonic plates shift in his eyes abruptly. He takes a sip from his glass of water, looking like he was hoping this question would never come. I wait.
“You’re not the only one who has fought for the American dream,” he says after a few moments.
Bingo! “You were in the military?”
He nods once, keeping his eyes on me.
“That’s impressive, Mr. Hale. When?” Denton asks. With every word Aiden speaks, I think Denton is developing a man crush on him.
“When I was eighteen,” Aiden answers politely, but his voice is hardening.
“How long were you in the military? Were you in the Army?” Denton presses on. He’s in love.
“No, the Marines. For about five years.” Aiden’s sentences are getting shorter. I know I have only moments before he ends the conversation. I make my move for the final missing piece.
Chapter Thirty
Discovery
“Were you in combat?” I ask.
His jaw flexes for a millisecond and he turns to me. “Yes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll add your terms to the agreement.”
The moment he leaves the room, my brain jumps into overdrive but Denton interrupts me.
“What an inspiring creature. Marine, then college, then this. When does the man sleep?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble, grateful for my long hair in case my face betrays my intimate knowledge of Aiden Hale’s bedroom.
“Isa, I’d like you to forget about my being a professor for a moment. Can you do that?”
The question takes me by surprise. “Sure, what do you need?”
“I need you to talk to me like a friend.” He smiles. “What’s going on with you and Hale?”
I flush. How embarrassing. Denton was thinking I managed to impress a businessman with my supplement and now he suspects I got this deal with something else. I can’t look him in the eye. I doodle with my finger on the cherry wood table.
“I like him.” I whisper the understatement of the century.
Denton’s hand moves closer to mine and he bends his head to see my face. “I’ll give you some unsolicited advice because I wish someone had given it to me. I think he made you an incredible offer. If you weren’t so taken with him, I’d say jump on it. But if you feel strongly about him and you don’t think he can reciprocate, I implore you to think it over carefully. I don’t want you to jump into this because you feel you have no other options. With your visa, kid, they’ll line up to hire you, and you’ll get your own lab someday. Just think it over.” He pats my shoulder.
A surge of gratitude for this man overwhelms me. It’s exactly the kind of advice I needed, the kind of faith only someone in his position can give. Before I realize what I’m doing, I give him a hug.
“Thank you, Arthur.”
He chuckles. “Here is a scientific observation for you, Isa. When it comes to feelings, the male of the species is an idiot. But the good news is, he eventually comes around.” He winks. I twist the paperclip, laughing. Even his love advice is scientific.
Aiden strides into the room minutes later. He must be the most efficient contract drafter ever. Of course, his supermemory must help. And hurt.
He turns to me. “Ready?”
I nod, the magnitude of the moment settling in. He hands me his pen from the inside pocket of his jacket. The pen is warm from his heartbeat. The new lifeblood pounds in my chest as I recognize it. It’s the one he used to sign my new books. I look up at him, startled.
Aiden smiles. “Sign away.”
I wonder if my hand would have shaken with any other pen. But with this one, it does not. He signs his assertive, no-frills autograph next to mine. Denton takes a picture, laughs and claps. When Aiden extends his hand, I take it, knowing he will hold mine. And knowing it will rip me apart tonight.
“Congratulations!” he says. “Time for a celebration lunch?”
Oh no! Alone time. I don’t need Reagan’s pearls of wisdom to know this idea would be like sniffing vapors off the fume hood. Addictive and deadly. “I can’t, Mr. Hale. But thank you for all your help. I’ll never forget it.” I put as much feeling as I can in my voice and squeeze his hand.
His grip tightens once—almost painfully—then he lets me go.
* * * * *
Denton drops me off at home. The whole way, he analyzed the pros and cons of Aiden’s business offer. I heard only half of it. Calico runs to me on the steps, and I do a poor job scratching his head. He abandons me, looking offended.
When I get inside, I see a big banner hanging over the living room door. FEELING LIKE A MILLION BUCKS. It has dollar signs, American flags, hearts and smiley faces painted all over it. Reagan! I call out for her but a Post-it on the TV informs me that she is at her job training.
I march straight to our bookcase for my clinical psychology textbook. I flip through the pages until I find the section I want. As I read, I jot down the key words on a piece of paper.
Marine
Five years—from 1998 to 2003
Combat. Likely Afghanistan and Iraq
Isolation
Hypervigilance
Control
Nightmares
Hair-trigger temper
Rage
Violence
Guilt (“I shouldn’t”)
Lights flickering (To alert him to someone’s presence?)
High-alert at certain triggers—thunder, traffic, honking, camera flashes, new places
Thousand-yard stare (Flashbacks? Memories?)
Physical distance; last through doors; back never exposed; never anyone behind him; won’t go in a crowd (Why?)
Predisposition: eidetic memory
It all fits. Textbook case. Aiden Hale has posttraumatic stress disorder. Severe, by the looks of it. Whatever terror he lived through during combat has never left him.
What got him started down the military path? I don’t know. Whatever it was, he came out of it alive and scarred. But the discipline he learned, combined with his natural intelligence, allowed him to rise to the very top.
At what cost? Loneliness. Self-imposed isolation. Maybe that is why he cannot allow himself to get involved with me.
I hear three distinct slow knocks on the door. They lack Reagan’s femininity or Javier’s friendliness. I peep through the hole. The new lifeblood burns my veins. I open the door.
Aiden leans with his arm on the doorframe. He is looking down at my feet. Then his eyes travel over me, one inch at a time until they meet mine. They are blue fire.
“You have every reason to shut this door in my face. But will you be the miracle I think you are and let me in?”
Chapter Thirty-One
The Truth
I step back against the foyer wall and nod for Aiden to enter. He walks inside and stops in front of me. His face is ashen, the only light burning is in his eyes.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Of course.” I close the door and lead him to our living room. He follows me, his quiet steps heavier. He ducks under Reagan’s million-dollar banner, treads past the sofa and stops smack in the center behind the ottoman.