A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

2. Goodbyes

2

Goodbyes

One Day Earlier

“ E llie, honey, are you coming? Everyone’s here. Time to put this laptop down already!” her mom scolds gently in Hebrew.

“Just one last sentence, gotta finish this email,” Eleanor shoots from behind her screen, not taking her eyes off it.

And some data crunching and she’ll be done—maybe, possibly for the next hour or so.

Dear Professors Harrington and Kowalski,

I hope you are both well.

I received the final visa approval and paperwork and will be arriving in the US on December 21st.

I look forward to meeting you both.

Happy holidays!

Eleanor Benjamin, PhD

She types the message quickly and sends. Her laptop is resting in her lap, legs sprawled on her bed in her childhood room. At this time tomorrow, she’ll be on a plane. The anticipation will most likely keep her awake all night. Her inbox pings; looks like an automatic email response from Professor Kowalski.

Dear sender, thank you for your email. I’m currently traveling to attend an international conference in Spain, returning December 21st. During this time, I’ll have limited Internet access and my responses may be delayed. For urgent matters, please contact Dr. Yan Dimitrov.

Best,

Professor Andrew A. Kowalski, PhD

Genetic Disease Branch

Gene and Epigenetic Research Institute (GERI)

Followed by another ping. Wow, that was fast!

Dear Dr. Benjamin,

I’m pleased to hear it went smoothly the second time around. I do regret the initial confusion with your paperwork. Mrs. Jones sends her sincere apologies for mixing your last name with your first.

Please bear in mind that our offices will be closed from December 22nd until January 2nd. The labs will be open, but a badge is required for building entry. I am sure you are anxious to get started. Professor Kowalski is trying to find a work around so you can get started right away.

I look forward to meeting you soon.

Safe travels and happy holidays,

Professor Jim Harrington, MD, PhD

Head, Genetic Disease Branch

Gene and Epigenetic Research Institute (GERI)

And yet another ping shortly after, despite his previous automatic out of office response.

Dear Dr. Benjamin,

Glad that things are moving along.

I hope you’ll find GERI a new home away from home.

Per Professor Harrington’s request, I’ll try to see if I can get you a visitor pass. In the meantime, please use this break for settling in and getting to know the area.

Happy holidays and I look forward to seeing you in the new year.

Professor Andrew A. Kowalski, PhD

Genetic Disease Branch

Gene and Epigenetic Research Institute (GERI)

So formal. Calling each other ‘Professor.’ Eleanor hopes they will be open to moving to first-name basis once they meet in person. She’s a little disappointed that she might not get to do too much until the new year, but it’s just a bump in the road.

One more email. The tips of her fingers buzz in a pleasant, unfamiliar way as she types. She’s excited by the realization that the plans she has been meticulously crafting for the past year are finally turning into her new reality.

Dear professors,

Thank you for your kind welcome emails.

A visitor pass would be great!

In the meantime, while I patiently wait for the visitor pass or the new year, please see attached my updated research plan for my first year at GERI, with your suggestions incorporated.

Thank you again for your insightful comments.

Eleanor Benjamin, PhD

She hits send . There. She’s done. Or not… stupid excitement.

“Sorry, forgot the attachment, here it is,” she types quickly, making sure to attach the file this time. She’s been writing and perfecting her research plan so much in the past several weeks she could probably recite it in her sleep. She sighs and resends.

“Eleanor!” Her mom’s voice, more impatient now, brings her back to earth. She did promise to get out of the room sometime today. Moving back in with her parents at the advanced age of twenty-eight—albeit only for two weeks—has been challenging. She had to clear out her rental apartment and pack up her stuff in preparation to move across the world. She’s glad she could stay with them for her last two weeks before going away, although they may have been less than excited—gently put—about her optimal times (1 a.m. to 4 a.m.) for performing data analyses or reading scientific papers. Or her typical working hours (noon to midnight) at the lab. Her parents are generally not too excited—again gently stated—about her work-life balance, or lack thereof. Saying she’s not a morning person might be a gross understatement. And living alone for the past several years may have accentuated it.

Eleanor closes her laptop and jumps up to her feet. A quick glimpse in the mirror.

Gosh, she looks like a scientific mess… Which—unlike a regular mess—is a more established, hypothesis-driven kind of mess.

She runs a quick hand through her hair, fixes the hem of her shirt and changes her pajama shorts to actual jean shorts. There. Ready to tackle the day, or late afternoon, to be precise.

Has she been in her room for so long?

“There you are!” Her dad smiles warmly as she emerges and pulls her in for a side hug.

“Ellie, I can’t believe you’re going so far away.” Her mom takes her other side for a parental cuddle collab. “Now go get yourself a plate.” She nudges her toward the large island in the center of their kitchen, filled with amounts of food that could suffice for her entire postdoctoral period, times three. “You’ve been stuck in that room of yours for hours. You must be starving!”

Eleanor wonders how she’ll feel not hearing Hebrew all around her anymore. Not being surrounded by family. Not being nudged to take a break. Or rest. Or eat. Or get a life.

“You have to try the chicken,” her aunt Orly loads a pile on her plate before she has a chance to resist. “I tried a new recipe!”

“She doesn’t like chicken.” Her mother’s see-all-know-all voice carries from the other side of the kitchen.

“Nonsense!” Orly laughs happily, unfazed. “Ellie loves my chicken.”

“Eloosh!” She manages to hear before being grabbed from the back and swung in the air by her best friend in the world.

“Gillie!” she fake-scolds without turning her head, trying to balance the chicken on her plate. “Put me down, you big bear!”

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, but eventually lets her feet touch the floor again.

“Here!” She hands her best friend the plate. “You have to try my aunt Orly’s new chicken recipe.” She’s too excited to eat right now.

Gillie takes the plate willingly and disappears into the kitchen to make himself useful and load some more food on it.

Eleanor moves over to the backyard, sliding the glass doors open to join the rest of the gang that is busy chatting, chewing and generally enjoying the nice Tel Aviv weather outside. A warm, breezy evening in December is not unusual, although it is technically considered winter. She hopes the Washington D.C. winter will be as mild. She hasn’t actually had a chance to check but—

“Ellie!” She’s greeted with an attack of canonical voices and smiles. All heads turn toward her. Yes, they are all here for her. Her going-away party.

“I am going to miss you, kid!” Her grandpa huddles to the side of his bench to make room for her beside him. He looks at her proudly, eyes gleaming.

“I’m going to miss you too, Saba.” She lets her head rest on his shoulder.

“Are you done packing?” Her grandma scurries to take her other side, sounding her usual concerned-self.

“Yes Savta,” Eleanor reassures her fondly.

“But you’re not eating?” Still concerned.

“I’m too excited to eat right now. I’ll grab something later, don’t worry.”

“It’s her job to worry,” her grandpa says lovingly.

“Exactly,” her grandma agrees, “and you need to eat something, grow some curves, if you want to be able to find a husband in America.” Savta’s a tease, but there’s a serious tone to it too.

“I’m not going all the way to America to look for a husband, Savta,” Eleanor tries to say while her brother ruffles her hair as he walks past them.

“Prince Charming may be waiting,” he says mischievously.

“Har’el!” She laughs while pushing him away. Then, turning back to her grandmother, she adds, “I’m going to be focusing on my research. I don’t have time for romantic fairytales.” She tries to move her hair from her face after her brother’s doing.

“Har’el may be right, you just never know. Prince Charming may indeed be waiting for you there, so keep your eyes and your heart open. I know you have all these important sciencey thoughts in this smart head of yours, but don’t forget to leave some room for love. I want to meet my great grandkids in this lifetime.” Her grandma sends a fond smile above Eleanor’s head, meeting her grandpa’s eyes as he nods in agreement, reciprocating the smile. Her grandparents have been together since high school and are still deeply in love. That must be a one-in-a-million kind of love story. What are the odds? Basically impossible. Come to think of it, her own parents actually share a similar success story. Which, by all means, has to be statistically impossible. And even less likely to replicate yet again.

“Did you hear that Ha’rel?” Eleanor rolls over the responsibility to her eternal bachelor of a brother. “You better hurry up, Savta wants great grandkids soon.”

“I’ll consider it,” Har’el says unconvincingly.

“Going to get a drink, can I bring you anything?” she asks her grandkids-hungry elders. Not a master at segueing but still a reasonable attempt.

“No, honey, thank you, go mingle with your guests,” her grandmother commands, letting her off the hook.

Eleanor gets up to pour herself some grape juice, trying to wash away the topic. Romance talks give her skin rash. She doesn’t even like romantic movies. Well not since Oren, her ex, that is. If given a choice, she’d probably prefer the frog over Prince Charming.

She joins Har’el, Gillie, and her cousins across the backyard. All seem to be interested in her upcoming journey. Eleanor is the first one in the family to leave their home country’s embrace and move across the world for a postdoctoral fellowship. She’s also the first one with a PhD. So many firsts. Exciting and terrifying.

“Gillie, can you tell my sister to stop making up words? Is epigenetics an actual word?” is Har’el’s response to Eleanor bringing up her research plans.

“Epigenetics is an actual word.” Gillie barks out a laugh. “People tend to overestimate what their DNA sequence can tell about them. But our DNA is only part of the story,” he explains. “It tells you the what, but it doesn’t tell you the how .”

“He’s a revolutionist,” Eleanor tries to lighten up the conversation.

“ She’s the revolutionist.” Gillie smiles sheepishly, pointing at Eleanor, but nothing can stop his enthusiastic flow of words. “There are different factors, modifications, chemical markers, which can turn certain genes on or off, change the way they’re expressed in our body.”

“Like a switch? You can turn it on and off as you wish?” Har’el is actually taking an interest in the conversation.

“Not as you wish. Not yet, unfortunately. But yes, in many cases the body can use this mechanism to adjust based on needs and the changing environment. But there are also permanent changes or modifications that you can’t reverse.”

Eleanor rolls her eyes. “Don’t get too attached to this theory, permanent modifications are an exception.” Yes, Eleanor is a stickler for temporary changes. “Like relationships. Not everything in life is permanent.”

“Your parents and grandparents might disagree here,” Gillie reminds her.

“They’re an exception too,” Eleanor agrees. Because going by her last relationship, with Oren, these feelings don’t really tend to last.

“Your genius sister,” Gillie points to Eleanor, bringing them back to the science, “is studying diseases that are caused by these changes. The first thing that comes to mind is cancer—these mechanisms play a big role in cancer. But Eloosh here, is focused on rare autoimmune diseases. What makes someone’s body suddenly attack its own cells or certain organs? Epigenetics may be an underlying cause.”

“Look at you, Gillie, explaining chromatin modifications in normal people’s terms!” Eleanor squeals.

“Still sounds like a made-up word to me. And by the way—it’s layman’s terms ,” Har’el chuckles. “Now for your New Year’s party plans, sis,” he switches back in anticipation.

“No party plans,” Eleanor snickers. “Can’t wait to get into my new lab, though.” She flashes a grin at the sight of her audience’s disappointed, yet unsurprised, faces.

Har’el rolls his eyes, turning to Gillie. “Can epigenetics explain how this weird person is my sister?”

“Partially, yes.”

“Enough science for one night. How is tomorrow looking?” Her cousin is thirsty for details.

“Flying over in the morning, have an overlay in Madrid, just a couple of hours, then USA!” Eleanor stands for a funny celebratory dance.

“Anyone picking you up from the airport?”

“Probably taxi, Lyft, Uber? Whatever they have there.” Eleanor hasn’t actually figured out these details yet. She’ll do it as she goes.

“So no balloons and welcome signs at the airport?” Her cousin sounds disappointed.

“It’s not like here,” Gillie pitches in, “where the entire family waits at the welcome hall and jumps you after you pick up your luggage.”

Yes, it could get sentimental, hectic, and quite vocal at Ben Gurion airport. Eleanor recalls returning home from her last trip to Greece. She had hardly been there for a week but had the full welcome-back reception. Her parents, grandparents from both sides, Har’el, Gillie and even Aunt Orly, were waiting for her at the airport welcome area with flowers, food, hugs. The greeting completely diminished the after-trip slump. It might seem embarrassing for an outsider, but it’s part of tradition. It may suck for an introvert, but one can’t really grow up to be an introvert in the Benjamin household.

When she wakes up the next morning, the house is full of people again. Chatting, laughing out loud, singing to the music playing in the background, cooking. A typical Friday morning at her parents’ house, only it’s not even a Friday.

Eleanor had planned to chart out her route from the airport to her new place in D.C. but got sidetracked by an unexpected data point, which might have sent her through a rabbit hole for a good chunk of the night. Priorities. She is exhausted, but she can make up for the lost sleep on the plane.

She rubs her eyes. This morning, uncharacteristically, she has no urge to go back for a short snooze—yes, from the way she’s been abusing that snooze feature, the alarm on her phone may grow hands one day and swat her. Not today though. She is completely and utterly awake.

Today is THE day. Her mind is literally singing, despite her acquired dislike for music in the past few years. It’s either the excitement or Gillie’s silly song, the one he kept humming yesterday. It’s still stuck in her head.

She jumps out of bed and into the shower. It’s a hot, humid day, and by the time she’s done dressing up she almost needs another shower. One of the downsides of living close to the beach. Although for the most part, the pros outweigh the thick soup-like humidity, especially the sound of the waves on her (not too early) morning runs, being able to go for a swim at any given moment, or just watching the sun disappear into the waves at sunset.

When was the last time she did any of those things? Uncertain. Guess the pros are not such a huge advantage in her specific case, all things considered.

She applies some sunscreen on her already too-freckled nose. Her hair looks like a frizzy beach mess, so she tucks it in a ponytail, away from her face, letting her unruly bangs hang on her forehead—she knows better than to fight that battle. She debates between leggings and jeans—both are too warm for today’s weather—settling for jean shorts again, and a short-sleeve T-shirt.

“You’ll be too cold on the plane,” is her mom’s first reaction when Eleanor enters the kitchen.

“I’ll take a jacket,” Eleanor dismisses reflexively, landing a small kiss on her mom’s forehead. “It’s just too hot right now, I’m melting.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” her mom grouches but hugs her warmly and hands her a plate already filled with eggs, chopped salad and cheese burekas. “Have some breakfast, today is a big day.”

Eleanor munches on the flaky, salty burekas while still standing.

“Someone looks excited this morning!” Her aunt Orly appears behind her, smiling playfully. “Are you all packed?”

Eleanor nods enthusiastically and tries to shove one more piece of food into her mouth. But to her rumbling stomach’s grave disappointment, she is way too nervous for food. And whether she does or doesn’t eat won’t change the loud rumbling anyway—it’s a typical morning thing for her, gets quite embarrassing at morning lab meetings, even when she eats a full-blown breakfast. Hopefully it settles before she gets on the plane. The people sitting next to her don’t need to be brought up to speed on her digestive system specs.

“Where’s your backpack?” Her mom’s always on top of things. “I’ve made some snacks for you for the flight.”

“Thanks Ima 1 , you’re the best.” Eleanor offers her hand for the snacks, but it actually requires her full two hands plus Orly’s hands to carry them all. “Ima, it’s just fifteen hours. I’ll be in the U.S. in no time, and I’m sure they have food there,” she says fondly, but knows better than to resist the load.

“Whatever doesn’t fit in your backpack you can store in your luggage. You might get hungry before you get a chance to run for groceries,” Orly suggests.

Or find the nearest grocery store….

Eleanor did google the area once or twice, but her focus was on how long it would take to get to the metro and how long of a walk it is from the metro to the lab. Not so much groceries. Again, priorities.

She’ll get the gist as she goes. It’s like playing a board game for the first time, when you’re too excited to read the instructions.

The ride to the airport is interesting. Unsurprisingly, her family all decide to see her off, which requires three separate loaded cars—her parents, Har’el, Aunt Orly, her cousins, her grandparents from both sides and Gillie. They all walk in with her to the luggage drop-off, then try to see her to the gate but are stopped by security. Her dad tries to talk their way through, but that doesn’t work out quite well.

“Aba 2 , it’s okay, I’ve got this.” Eleanor persuades him with a big hug—the only way she can—in the hope he’ll abort that last mission.

“I guess that’s it then,” he says reluctantly, eyes glassy, but then slaps on a proud smile.

They all go through the typical group family hugs and noisy cheek kisses routine, only this time the hugs are longer and more emotional—well, she is going away for a while… Two years? Maybe more? She hasn’t really made plans yet on when she’ll come back to visit. The longest time she’s ever been apart from this incredibly tight-knit gang of hers was maybe two weeks. And she was always a few hours away. Never so far.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” are her brother’s wise-ass words. “Actually, do everything I wouldn’t do,” he smirks and gives her a hug.

“Keep your heart open for Prince Charming.” From her grandma.

And a few more words of wisdom from the others that admittedly don’t work quite as well in other languages as they do in Hebrew.

“Don’t forget to write letters Ellie!” Her grandpa winks at her.

“Orly, will you please help him download WhatsApp and teach him how to use it, preferably today?” Eleanor pleads. Orly salutes in response.

More hugs, more kisses, tears are shed—not hers, her mind is too focused on the thrill ahead, the adventure she’s about to embark on.

“I’m so coming to visit you!” Gillie smashes her in his bear hug. “Never been to America before!” He sounds as excited as she feels.

And this could go on for hours, but the security guard is getting antsy and sends her flock back on their way.

I love you guys! she mouths in their direction, and waves as their figures get small and a little blurry, and everything turns quiet. Well, metaphorically speaking, because it’s an airport after all. Eleanor blinks some potential tears away and she’s back in the game. She’s going to start new research—her dream project—in a new lab, equipped with well-picked mentors to guide her through the different skills, tools, and techniques she’s about to add to her repertoire, and funding! Actual generous research funding. Her PhD mentor had said that she would have access to all the fancy-ass-last-word equipment and tools she’s ever needed. Well, he didn’t actually use the word ‘ass’, but the rest of it was word-for-word. And Eleanor can’t wait to test it all out.

She breezes through the last security check and sits down for ten minutes to sip a cappuccino. Maybe a bit more than ten minutes, because at some point she has to sprint to her gate, before finally settling down in her seat on the plane. Turns out the seat next to her is not taken—which means she can spread out and spend the entire first segment of the flight reading papers, making slides and crunching more data from her last whole genome-sequencing spree. That last one experiment she did before officially graduating from the place that has been her home for the past five years: her PhD lab.

1. Hebrew word for mom

2. Hebrew word for dad