24. 'Let's begin'
Nata
This is by far the largest audience I've ever faced. I shuffle through the index cards in my hands and wipe my sweaty palms to make sure the remote for the projector won't slide out. The fears of people mocking the way I speak I had through school are no longer fueling my anxiety. Half-a-decade with Toastmasters International gave me the chops to construct a speech and deliver a well-structured and entertaining enough presentation. My amygdala's new favorite way to torture me is the notion my peers in the scientific community will cancel me for pretending I'm knowledgeable or experienced enough to lead a lab.
With my mind spinning like a mouse chasing its tail, I stride to the podium and set my cards on the wooden surface. Hundreds of heads lift to watch me. It's time. I know the data and the format. I'm prepared. I've read and re-read the results to Kate multiple times a day this week, tweaked the words and the speed of my speech. If anyone asks me side questions, I can talk about my subject for a couple of weeks straight before I run out of topics to discuss. I'm as ready as I can be. Why are my lungs struggling to draw air? Why is my stomach behaving like I just got off a roller-coaster and need to find the nearest bush? I grind my teeth but set a smile on my lips.
Latecomers trickle into the chairs in the back and side seats. I scan the audience, searching for familiar and friendly faces I can ground myself in. If I look carefully, I'd recognize more than half. The conference circuit is small, the smaller the research area, and nanodelivery has been a growing pond, but no new face comes unnoticed. Usually Samson is that face for me, and I see him in the second row, but now he's my red zone, the place I can not and will not look at. Kate is doing her presentation at the same time, so she's out. The timer moves from 15 to 14:59:59.
"Thank you for coming to hear me speak about utilization of click chemistry to study the interplay of linker chemistry and polyethylene glycol molecular weight of gambogic acid nanoparticles. I'm Natalia Boyko. I'm representing my lab at MB Tech that focuses on delivering the drugs to the target site so we can increase the efficacy and reduce the side effects."
The rustling settles to a level that I don't have to shout over. I launch into the overview of my presentation and what I've been working on. The conference autopilot mode is on. The words I've repeated variations of enough times that I don't have to think about them roll off my tongue. Phillip enters when I flip to the second slide. The agreement was that he'll stay at the hotel to meet me after my day is over, but I didn't expect him to actually attend the conference. I never told him when I'll be presenting, not that it's hard to figure that about via a simple Internet search.
I split the fifteen minutes of my presentation into three parts, with the first five where I try to cram everything about the last four years of research: the failures and the accomplishments. Five minutes of the update I'm here to present. The last five, I answer the questions.
The time flashes to six zeroes. My time's up. I answer a couple more questions and conclude my presentation, not wanting to bleed into the time of whomever comes after me.
The nausea returns with a side of anxiety when my gaze lands on Phillip again, and he smiles at me. I'm no longer thinking of my presentation. The images in my head are of what we are supposed to do tonight. Something I'm much less confident in. The heat settles in the middle of my body, and the contents of my stomach are brewing like some witch's potion. I wish I knew the outcome of whatever is happening. I look above everyone's heads, because to the left is Phillip with his smile that clears my head of all scientific thought, and to the right is Samson whose forlorn glares excavate the guilt I thought I successfully buried.
I thank everyone and take the side stairs. Instead of finding a seat, I gun for the exit. Running would be perfect right now, because my body wants to leave the room and propel myself as far away as it can, but I'm wearing my kitten heels and slacks, and I still plan to attend the last session of the day. I can't be sweaty and red in the face.
Out of the auditorium, I speedwalk down the hallway and crash on a bench in the atrium. Every fortification I've built inside since my parents' divorce is shaking. I can't pretend that I'm in San Francisco during a major earthquake because the walls around me stay still. The only thing shaking is me. My fears have been digging tunnels in the walls I've been protecting myself with. I bite the inside of my cheek as my circle of self-protection crumbles when I need my defenses most of all.
"Are you okay?" Samson squats by me and lays his hands on my knees. His concerned voice is so familiar, so comfortable. "Hey. You did great, but I could see you were not yourself. What's going on?" He talks to me as if we have not been avoiding each other over the last month. "No matter what you think, I care about you. How can I help? Do you need to go to your room? Are you feeling sick?"
I'm feeling sick but not the way he thinks. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Samson is the guy I was supposed to be staying here with like we always do. He's the one I should be curling next to in bed, not worried, trying to make this trip a mini-vacation I don't otherwise get to go on. Samson wraps my hands in his, and I let him. The comfort of the old feeling when I was sure of everything that was happening in my life returns. I linger in the love we've shared for so many years. Am I making a mistake? Where is an eight-ball when you need one?
"I'm fine," I whisper to him.
"You're not. Let me get you to your room."
A pair of sleek leather shoes appears next to Samson.
"I'll take care of her." Phillip's usual polite and laughing voice is harsh and demanding.
Samson stands and straightens to his full height, which still gives Phillip several inches on him.
"I know what she needs." Samson's words are directed at Phillip.
Phillip smirks. "If you did, she would've had your ring on her hand still. And I know where that ended up."
Samson's flinches as if Phillip slapped him. I regret sharing with Phillip the episode between Samson and me that happened in my office, but he asked, and I promised him I'd be honest about everything.
"Whatever you are trying to prove, we all know I'm the right choice here," says Samson.
"Right for whom?" Phillip's smirk grows into a cold smile I've never seen on him before. "This is not a competition."
"Then why are you trying to pretend you've already won?" Samson doesn't move or step away.
Two men fighting over me theoretically should be fun. In reality, it's everything but. Uncomfortable. Unpleasant. Unprofessional. Although most of the attendees are in the secessions, the small number who are wandering around can hear what's going on no matter how close to whispering the exchange between Samson and Phillip is.
I must put an end to this nonsense. I rise, and they swivel their heads my way as if I have the answer. I wish I had answers. I only have questions. My watch buzzes on my hand. I glance at the reminder of my ovulation window. I pull the sleeve over it before either of them sees it. No matter what my feelings are, Phillip is here for a reason, and I've signed my name on the line of our contract voluntarily.
Biology doesn't care who I loved and what I would've liked to happen. I have to follow the plan. The one that is under my control. I take Phillip by the wrist, closing my hand over his sleeve with a French cufflink. "Take me to your room."
Samson's eyes water. His jaw tightens as he raises his chin but doesn't move. "I won't give up on us, Natalia. I'll be here when you are ready to get back to our life. I love you."
He should've hit me because it would've hurt less. My chest aches from the blow of his words, and my eyes burn. If Samson wants to get a reaction out of me, I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing he still affects me. The Samson-shaped scar in my heart is starting to heal, but every interaction with him threatens to rip the stitches off and plunge me back into the heartache I long to move on from. My lip trembles, and I suck it in. My fingers shake, and I look at the traitors.
Phillip moves my hand into the crook of his elbow and places his palm over it. The weight and warmth of it stops the shivering in my fingers. "Let's go."
I match his step and don't pay attention to the people, corridors, and elevators. I'm on a different autopilot. Phillip slides the key into the door and ushers me into the room.
The living room space I step into is in a different league from the standard hotel room Kate and I are sharing. Phillip sits me down on one of the two sofas that flank a fireplace.
The cushion dips under his weight next to me, but I continue to stare forward, my body and brain in a stupor I can't seem to get out of.
"Want a drink? Water? Coffee?"
Coffee is the smart choice, but I'm unable to make them any longer. I want to forget the hurt. Forget what I could've had and didn't. "What's in the minibar?"
Phillip opens the small fridge and lists the names on the tiny bottles. I rarely drink, but today is the day drinking seems like the wrong move that can right my situation.
"Whiskey." I pick what I think has the most alcohol content.
Phillip picks a glass and twists the lid on a tiny bottle.
"No." I make it off the couch and remove the opened bottle out of his hands. I take the first gulp. The alcohol burns my mouth and throat as it draws my attention away from the pain inside me.
I finish the bottle and take the other one from Phillip's fingers. This one burns less, but my head hurts less as well. I grab the lapels of Phillip's jacket and pull the expensive piece of clothing off him.
"Are you cold? I have other jackets I can give you." He nods at the door, I assume leads to the bedroom.
"There are other ways you can warm me up." The alcohol couldn't have hit me yet, so the bravado is all mine. I throw his jacket behind me and undo two buttons on his shirt before he puts his hands on mine.
"Stop." He fights with me when I reach for the third button. "What are you doing?"
"What you came here for." I meet his gaze. "Sex." I raise my chin. "We're going to have sex and get it over with."
"We don't have to do it now." He holds my stare, his eye soft and kind. "You're upset. I can order in, we can talk. We have the rest of the day and the whole night."
"I'm not hungry, and talking is not going to get me pregnant." I take my hands out of his and unbutton my shirt. Focus on the things I can control. I peel the clingy material off, pull down the zipper on the side of my slacks, step out of my shoes, and let the pants drop on the floor.
The loud intake of Phillip's breath drives my head up.
I stand to my full height, which feels so much shorter with him next to me. Goosebumps cover me from head to toe. "Do you not want to do this anymore?"
"I want it just fine." His eyes have no trace of kindness or warmth anymore. His jaw muscles are ticking. "I thought we'll get into sex... a different way."
"What way is that?" I circle my wrist around his groin. "D'you need time to get into the mood?" If I have to seduce him, I might just have found the first flaw in our deal. Seduction isn't something I've ever had to do. If practice makes perfect, I'm as imperfect of a seductress as one can be. I massage my temples as my cheeks heat from embarrassment. Why did I think him sleeping with many women would mean he would instantly get aroused by looking at me in my new matching bra and underwear set? I step back, crossing my arms on my entirely too exposed chest. "Any way we can we just get this over with?" I plead.
Phillip's long arms reach for me and pull me to him like I'm a chess piece, and he's in charge of the game. His chin rests on top of my head. "I was planning on being a gentleman." My face rest on the exposed patch of his chest. He's cool against my flaming cheeks. The heat travels down my neck and across my front. He wraps me in a hug so tightly, the feel of his hands on my back burns me more than the alcohol did. "Figuring out what you like and getting you warmed up."
"No need." I push against his chest. "We're not here to make love. We are here to get your sperm to meet my eggs." I wriggle out of his embrace and put a foot of distance between his naked and my almost naked chest. "As long as you can get hard enough for the job, I think we should move it along."
He washes his hands over his face. "I do know how the process works."
"Then stop talking, and let's begin."
"Are you sure?" Phillip's gray eyes watch me, searching for a lie or a trace of hesitation. "You promised to tell me the truth."
There's no hesitation in me. I'm doing this. Things are always scary the first time. Once we get over today, I'll know what to expect. It will be easier. At least it should be. I undo another button on his shirt. "Right now, us doing this is the only thing I'm sure of."
He nods and lowers his head, aiming to kiss me. I move my face so his lips land on my cheek.
"Kissing is unnecessary," I say.
"Are you serious?" His voice goes up, and he throws his hands in the air. A storm of irritation clouds his eyes.
"Let's not blur the boundaries here." I undo one more button of his and put on a brave face. "We are not a couple. There's nothing romantic about what we are doing." One more button's open. "It's sex for the most basic biological reason there is." Last button. I look back into his eyes. "Can we agree on that?"
"Why?" His eyebrows form an upside-down V. "We can enjoy the process while we are at it." He reaches to caress my face, but I swat his hand away. "Nata-"
"I can't stop you from enjoying it." I pull the tails of his shirt out of his pants. "But I'm not here for pleasure." I set my fingers on his belt buckle. He groans. I'm either doing something right or utterly wrong. His hands hang limp by his sides, not helping but not hindering me either. "This is strictly business. I thought you were on the same page with me."
"If that's what you want," he says in a low voice that is void of emotion.
"This is what I want." I can almost believe myself, I sound so confident. The pulse in my temple is out of control, as I wish for another mini-bottle of whiskey, but that'll distract me from moving us along. I pull his belt out of his belt loops and send it flying behind me. My palm on his chest, I push him toward the door into the bedroom. "Can you stop talking and get inside me?"
5.3.23
Author's Note
It's happening, people!!!! How excited are you about the next chapter?
But on a serious note, for any scientists out there, I want to apologize for anything I might misrepresent. Although my mom was a scientist, I have no idea about that world.
When Nata told me she's a scientist, I tried to persuade her to pick a job that would be less difficult for me to write about. She didn't care. To do Nata's profession justice, I've interveiwed two actual scientists, visited a lab, had a writer-friend who is also a scientist spot-check more sciency chapters, and I've become a fan of a YouTube channel that Anniochan runs. She is a PHD student in Canada, and I binge-watched one too many of her 'Day in a life of a PHD Student" vlog videos. The title of the presentation in this chapter is actually one from her channel.
Once I edit this book, I'll be coming up with something different, but for this first draft, the topic Annie explained made sense to me. Plus, nanodelivery of drugs to treat cancer seemed like a very interesting research area.
If you notice mistakes, insonsistencies, or have knowledge in this area or scientific environment in general, please let me know. I'd love to fix any issues and ensure Nata is a good representation of a scientist.
I'm posting this chapter today, as I'll have a minor surgery on Friday, so the next chapter might come on Friday but most likely will come out over the weekend. I'm trying to post a couple of chapters a week during May, or I will end up with a dump of chapters at the end of the month.
Make sure you have this book in your library and that you follow me, to get my most likel irregular but more frequent updates this month. I'm also on IG, Facebook, and TT as galarussauthor. Follow me there as well for extras and updates. I promise, I'm very friendly.
As I said at the beginning of the Author's Note: it's happening!!! Next chapter is for sure mature. I know you've been waiting for it, and I've tortured you (and Nata&Phillip) long enough.
Love,
GR
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