by Liz Everly
So she dived back into her room, only to emerge a minute later with a boxy lemon yellow cardigan, a real granny sweater. It was even embroidered with goldfish.
"So are there?"
"What?"
"Any likely prospects in your group?" Nadia pointed her chin at Bonifellow.
"Bonifellow? Ew. No. Anyway, I'm here to work. This is not economics sex-camp, Nadia."
Nadia sprayed her milk. Laughing, she wiped her chin.
"Well…actually, there's this one guy…" Jenny started to confess, slowly. "We met in the elevator the first day."
Turner, of course. He'd been carrying a duffle over his shoulder and a messenger bag slung across his back. She'd been trying to hold a box of academic files under one arm, along with her suitcase handle, but somehow she kept losing the box as it slipped out from under her arm. Turner took it from her without asking. He held it for the rest of the elevator ride.
I'm Turner, he'd said.
It could have been a nice beginning. She could have said I'm Jenny, thanks for the help. But no. She'd spent the rest of the ride on the world's slowest elevator her hands sweating, her mind a complete blank. Then she'd decided to be all feminist and insist she have the box back, that she could carry it and should carry it. She still cringed at the memory, her hands tightening on the lip of the table as she related it to Nadia.
He'd given her a look like she was weird.
Then the elevator door had opened, they both stepped out onto a mezzanine floor, and he gave her the box back. She'd taken it with one arm and promptly spilled it all over the entire mezzanine area. He'd helped her clean it up, looking bored.
"Then he asked me if I'd be at the faculty mixer after dinner."
Jenny had choked out some totally incoherent reply, crammed the papers back in the box, swept it up with her suitcase, and strode away over the bridge that separated his dorm from hers. But she'd been looking back at him as she did so, so she hadn't seen the glass door that separated the dorms.
"I walked right into it. Wham! Bruised my nose and everything," she confessed.
"Oh no!" Nadia laughed.
After bouncing off the door and spilling the files again, she'd heard him call out that he'd see her that night. At the mixer. If she got over her concussion. Finding her assigned room, she lay down and grabbed a pillow. After putting it over her face, she'd pounded her head through it for a few minutes.
When self-asphyxia hadn't helped, she'd gotten up, washed her face, changed her attire, and went to the mixer. The room had been incredibly loud with conversation. Turner had come over to her within ten minutes, and she'd asked him about his research. She'd only heard about every three words of what he was saying and had tried to fake her way through her replies, acting all nonchalant like everyone else.
He'd leaned his head in towards her every time she talked, sort of a pecking motion, to try to catch her words over the noise.
"What?" he'd asked several times.
"I hate this, it's so loud," she'd said.
"Sorry," he'd said. "Didn't quite catch that."
Into a sudden lull in the conversation she'd yelled, "I said I hate this place, don't you?"
He'd given her an odd look, "Yes, I gave up twelve weeks of my summer to come here. Because I hate it so much."
After that no one could get a peep out of her. She'd been on the verge of tears.
"So what happened?" Nadia asked.
"Nothing."
"No, I mean after."
"The thing is Nadia, I've got no game." Jenny slapped her hands down on her white jeans, which had an oily soup stain across them now, and stood up. "I admit it, I accept it, and I've resigned myself to the fact that I am probably further ahead in my career than most of my peers—because let's face it, you can get a lot of work done if you never have a social life. Fun is a massive time suck."
"I smell a summer fling," Nadia said.
"She who smelt it, dealt it," Jenny said. "I don't do flings, I'm no good at them."
"How can you not be good at a fling? That's ridiculous. I think you're over-thinking this stuff."
"You're right, I do over-think. Always. I think if I get involved with Turner I'll probably want it to go on. Meanwhile, he lives on the other side of the entire country from me. So how's that going to work?"
"You don't know where he lives."
"He said at the mixer he spends a few months each summer up in Alaska doing field research."
"What does Turner study?"
"It's on the tip of my tongue. It's a high school mascot."
"Bears? Eagles?"
"No."
"Cougars? Wild cats?"
"Some kind of varmint."
"Wolves? Beavers?"
"Like a muskrat."
"What sad little high school in America," Nadia asked, tossing down her crumpled napkin, "has a muskrat for its mascot?"
"My point is, do you realize how expensive airfare to Alaska is these days?"
Nadia crossed her arms to lean in. "Okay, fine. But what about the guy that's been staring at you for the last five minutes across the cafeteria?"
Jenny looked over, and instantly squinched down in her seat, one hand covering that side of her face.
"That's him," she hissed.
Nadia made a purring noise. "The biologist? You didn't say he was tall and hot. I thought you meant one of those other geeks." Dropping her voice she said, "You're crazy not to jump his bones."
Jenny kept her face hidden. "It's not that I don't want to, it's that I don't know how. I couldn't get from hello to the bed without making a total ass of myself."
"It's sex, Jenny. If you have to talk your way through it, you're not doing it right."
"You make it sound easy, but he's a strange man, and I absolutely suck at talking to strange men."
"He's coming this way."
"Oh god."
It was too late to get up and flee.
"Ladies."
They murmured in response. Jenny found the pattern on her orange cafeteria tray completely absorbing.
"Jenny." She was level with his pelvis and swallowed hard, feeling acutely self-conscious. She knew what his face looked like, but could not seem to force her eyes upwards to meet his.
"Want to introduce me to your friend?"
"This is Nadia. Sleep disorders."
"Hello, Nadia Sleep Disorders," he said, and then looked at Jenny again. She felt his eyes studying her, waiting. His hair always seemed to need brushing, but the clean, strong lines of a Greek warrior offset his messy hair, just as his broken Roman nose set off the sculpted perfection of the rest of his face. Together his face and body sent her into a deep primal frenzy.
He was sex on a stick and there she was fizzling and popping in his presence,
That stare she'd received before was now slightly masked, but only slightly. If he could stare at her like that, why couldn't he take over the situation and move them along to the post-talking stage so they could enjoy the next part of the adventure? The part that would involve kissing and silence. And fucking. She'd lied to Nadia. She'd take a fling with him any day.
She realized she was frowning in alarm as she looked up at him, and made herself stop it and look down again.
"So, Jenny," Nadia said. "Introduce me."
"This is…"
She turned away, only to look back up at him completely stricken.
His name had fled her brain.
"This is—?"
He turned to Nadia, obviously pissed. "Turner Michael. Biology."
"His name is backwards," Jenny said to Nadia. "I told Nadia that you studied varmints." She wanted to slap herself. Idiot. Idiot.
"Love these institutes. Smart ladies everywhere you look. Yes, I study varmints." Then he looked down again. "What are you researching this summer Jenny?"
The paper had been her idea, in fact. "Five crucial aspects of social reality for the continuance of consumer goods spending."
A conversation-killi
ng silence met that announcement.
"It's behavior economics," she explained slowly, wishing she could crawl under the table and die.
"Sounds fascinating," Turner said. Nadia choked a little. Jenny blushed hard.
Then she swallowed. No one said anything.
"So," Nadia said. A pause hung in the air. Jenny studied her empty juice glass like it was a precious cultural object in her hand. Turner seemed to notice her indifference.
"Didn't mean to interrupt you. I'll be on my way then," he said. "Just wanted to say hi."
"Hi," Nadia said.
"Maybe I'll see you later," he said to Jenny softly. Her guts churned over at those words.
He was gone.
Jenny hid her face behind her hand, a fit of fatigue overwhelming her now that all the adrenaline had poured out into her system.
Nadia threw her balled-up napkin into Jenny's face.
"He is so into you. And trying so hard to be nice to you."
"I don't want nice. I want to do him."
"Jenny! Now that's more like it."
"I'd also like him to bring up something we both have in common so we can actually have a conversation."
"Ask him about varmints again." Nadia giggled.
Jenny smacked her glass on the table. "I suck." She tapped her glass in time with her words. "I. Just. Suck." She stood up. "Moving on."
"Maybe being over-tired is making it hard for you to think on your feet. I'll help you with that."
Jenny tilted her head. "I wish, but no, I'm always this pathetic around guys. I tried blaming it on going to an all girl's school for years, but…"
"I can help you." Nadia grabbed her arm and began walking with her out into the steamy green campus. "This guy I know is bugging me to try a new sleep recording device he's created. Let's do an intake on you at the lab and then we can try it out tonight."
"Yeah? Oh Nadia—"
"We'll see what's going on. If the device works."
Of course, she saw Turner in the elevator coming back from Nadia's intake at the lab. Before the doors closed he stepped on. She nodded and then looked ahead and up because her palms were sweating hard and she was squeezing her mind for what the name of the varmint was that he studied. Badgers? There weren't badgers on this continent were there?
He said nothing either and, in the long silence it took before the doors finally closed, she reflected on her acute consciousness of his body.
He suddenly turned towards her and stood much closer in a way that stunned her with its familiarity.
That body. His shirt rode on top of it, like it was too muscled and curved and unreal for the shirt to know how to sit on it the normal way.
"So you're not going to say anything? Even when we're alone, you're just going to stand there and pretend like you can't even remember my name?"
Her mouth opened slightly as a voltage of shock from his words stabbed like an arrow into the center of her brain. Absolutely not one word—not one iota of English came forth from her gasping mouth. The door opened, he got off, and those shoulders were gone.
The doors closed, only to open again. He got back on the elevator and was kissing her, hot and demanding, spreading her against the cold steel wall until the bones of her pelvis were crying out with tingling nerves in response.
The door opened. "Fine." He strode off the elevator, as she blinked at the unreality of what had just happened.
Chapter 2
"Any family history of sleep walking? Other than you?" Nadia asked.
"I was adopted."
Nadia filled in notes as Jenny provided details.
"Any sleep talking?"
"When I was little. My mother said I would scream and shout like I was fighting something. My dad was in the state department in Morocco. The locals said I was, um, possessed by an evil genie." Jenny gave a small smile.
No smile from Nadia. "That's superstition."
"Right. Sorry. I suppose you can't publish findings on an evil genie." Jenny had signed a waiver allowing Nadia to use her findings for her research. Jenny ducked her head. Nadia was going to help her. The happy fact lifted up her spirits through the thick mud of her brain.
"The housekeeper in Morocco quit because of it, so finally my mother hired an exorcist to treat me."
"Did she really?" Nadia's cute nose wrinkled.
"Oh, she didn't believe it would help. She just wanted the maid to come back."
"What happened?"
"Nothing. I mean, I guess I fell asleep, I don't remember. He spit some chewed up tea leaves in my face. My father said it was a total waste of money, but the serving staff came back to work and I stopped sleep walking."
"The power of suggestion. How old were you?"
"Ten?"
"That's about the time kids usually stop sleepwalking anyway."
"Oh, okay."
Nadia smiled. "Aside from being possessed by an evil genie, did you have any other symptoms?"
"Like what."
"Snoring?"
"No. No, I don't think so."
"Do you live alone?" Nadia asked and Jenny nodded. "So how do you know if you snore or not?"
"Okay, I get your point."
"Last spring, were you under a lot of stress then?"
Thinking back on her first year of teaching, Jenny responded, "Definitely."
"Going through a lot of sleep deprivation then?"
"Yes. Then I went to Thailand. I had some serious jet lag there and when I came back, and… it just never seemed to go away."
"So it's fair to say you're operating under a substantial sleep deficit?"
"Definitely." Tears welled up in her eyes and she struggled to control her voice. It was more emotional answering the questions than Jenny expected. Or maybe she was so weepy because she was so sleep deprived. Her nerves were frayed. She felt like she was underwater and moving slowly, but jumpy at the same time.
"What? I'm sorry."
"I was asking if you suffered from any other major health disorders. Any epilepsy?"
She shook her head.
"Are you on any medication?"
"No."
"Do you take any sleeping pills?"
"Actually, I did this spring. After Thailand I was taking Ambien for a while."
"Oh, Ambien is the worst. So, here's a calendar. I want you to show me how long you've been experiencing poor sleep."
“I also, well, sometimes I smell sort of funny in the morning.”
"What do you mean funny?"
"I don't know. Sweaty? Musky? Like I a need a shower. Badly."
Nadia pushed out her lower lip as she considered this. "Are you having night sweats?"
"I have no idea."
"Are your pajamas drenched with sweat?"
"Yeah…" Suddenly her heart was beating fast.…
Before falling asleep each night, the string of awkward moments with Turner came back to life before her eyes unbidden. It was like she opened up the box of all the embarrassing things she'd ever said or done throughout her entire life—not just with Turner. Soon she was writhing in self-loathing. The next morning she'd wake up on the floor, sweaty, sticky, and with some completely hot forbidden image of Turner seared into her brain. It always made her heart beat out a heavy staccato rhythm. By the time she crawled off the floor and into the shower she was so exhausted she wanted to go to sleep all over again.
They agreed to meet again at her room at ten-thirty that night.
***
Nadia took out a white plastic tray and rolled back a black nylon cover. Across the white tray was an array of felt pastel stick-um dots. "This device allows us to do a polysomnograph."
One large felt patch was the size of a half dollar. It was tan and would go on the inside of her arm, down near her armpit and to the side, like a nicotine patch. It was a micro-transponder, Nadia explained. It was bigger and heavier than the rest of the dots, collecting their information and transmitting them wirelessly to Nadia's iPad. The rest of the dots w
ere electrodes that transmitted their info to the transponder.
"Okay, let's do it," Jenny said.
She got up and removed her pj top. It was her favorite, with slices of cake on a pink background. Underneath was a white cami. She sat on the bed while Nadia dragged a chair over from the desk. Like a beautician, Nadia took out the tray from her bag, rolled back the cover and began to apply the felt pads all over Jenny.
The smallest light pink dots went right on her eyelids. They felt like wearing false eyelashes and were the size of a pea. Nadia placed them in the corner of each eye as well. Some light purple dots went up along her hairline under her bangs, and on the side of her face. One came with a tiny needle that stuck into her ankle—"Ouch!" Nadia said it measured oxygen levels in her blood. There was one behind her ear. Nadia told her it measured audio vibrations to see if she was snoring, or gasping, etc. A few went on her back near her ribs and others dotted down her sternum and under her breasts—they measured heart beat and respiration.
Jenny put back on her cami top and then her pj top. She walked Nadia out to the elevator. She was happy, and it felt almost cozy walking around in her pj's in the dorm. She took the elevator down with Nadia and said goodnight. Outside fireflies were all across the campus lawn. Another reassuring sign that everything was good in her life, and it was going to be okay. She stayed there next to the elevator for a second. The pads felt light; she was already forgetting them. She wanted to run outside and catch the fireflies, it was that kind of summer night. Then the elevator door opened.
Of course he was inside. She stepped in barefoot, trembling head to toe, her hands clenched at her sides. Had she been waiting because she was hoping to see him? The world stopped whenever he was around. In fact, she felt sort of terrified of him. Why? She didn't know why, but she couldn't help it. She just was.
There was another long tense silence.
"Fine," he said. "We don't have to talk. If that's what you want. Whatever."
Then he stopped the elevator, which made the alarm go off.
She froze. Clearly the problem wasn't just that she was ridiculously shy, clearly she also had a crush on a madman. That didn't help matters though, when her heart was going berserk and she could barely catch her breath from some mix of fear and longing. She was looking down at his jeans, and he was forcing her face up, which just made her eyes try to stick even harder to his jeans. But he was having none of it. A pulse beat in his tan neck. In her dreams he had a kind of farmer's tan, his arms dark but his chest pale, with a thin T shape of darker hair than the light brown stuff on his head.