A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

6. Another Goodbye

6

Another Goodbye

T here’s a common theme in the past few days and it’s called saying goodbye . A necessary step when one feels that it’s the only way to focus on their career. There are plenty of people who can have it all and do it all. But unfortunately, Eleanor doesn’t think she could ever belong to this lucky four-leaf-clover elite group. It’s just one of the side effects of allowing herself to have a mythological ex, with mythological memories and a useless tattoo that serves as a daily reminder of how hard it is to focus on the task at hand with a messed-up heart.

So, no. Not happening again. The decision was made and sealed a long enough time ago. And it’s non-negotiable. It’s on Har’el and her cousins to each find the loves of their lives, get married, start their own families, and get those deeply desired great-grandkids for their grandparents. Eleanor can focus on building her science career, calmly and without distractions. There are plenty of scientists who have devoted their lives to science; she would love to get a spot on that shiny lonely-heart hall of fame.

But belonging up there feels unnecessarily challenging at Dulles Airport in Virginia, when together with Aiden she walks off the plane and arrives at customs, where American citizens go one way and foreigners go another.

And it’s not because of the extremely long line on the foreigners’ side. Eleanor can deal with lines – especially an organized one like this. It’s because of Aiden’s “Where’s your jacket?” concern when she tries to peel his warm drummer hoodie off her so she can give it back. And because he pulls on the hem of her T-shirt when it rides up, to cover her exposed skin.

“Uh… I don’t have one yet,” she admits. Aiden raises a bewildered eyebrow at her. “What?!” She goes for a defensive smile. “Do you know how hot it was in Tel Aviv when I left?”

“Jesus Ellie, it’s freezing cold outside.” He takes off his winter coat almost reflexively. “Wear this.” And she can’t help relishing the way he says her name. Or his commanding tone.

“I can’t possibly accept it, it’s not your fault that I came… clearly unprepared.” Yes, she should have done her homework better.

“I don’t recall asking.” He wraps the coat over her shoulders, capturing her inside.

So controlling!

“No way,” she says, shedding it off and giving it back, despite really liking the scent and feel of it.

“Then at least take the hoodie,” he pleads.

Letting her head rest on his chest on an international flight was one thing, but she literally could not live with herself peacefully knowing she has some stranger’s hoodie in her closet. She hates it when people borrow stuff and never return it.

“You don’t have to give it back, I have plenty of clothes at home,” Aiden insists, but seeing her contempt he adds, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be playing at SigmaV on December 30th. May even throw in some Shinedown songs. You can give it back then.”

She hesitates. And then hesitates some more. And not because Shinedown is her used-to-be-favorite band. Or because she swore off music a while back.

But because the plan was to never see Aiden again.

Because she’s now miles away from home, executing her well-crafted plan, and she can’t afford distractions. And this is already showing the potential to become a huge one, starting with the fact that Aiden’s a drummer, and a very handsome one, she should add. And then topping it off with the little bits of his personality he seems to be working hard not to reveal. Without much success.

And yep… A total swoon risk.

She knows one when she sees one. It’s the kind of risk she needs to stay away from if she wants to keep her misshapenly-pieced-together-previously-shattered heart relatively (all things considered) intact.

“I am not sure how this will work with my dislike, with a passion, for music. Can I just stop by and leave it there for you?”

Yes, outsmart the system. Go ahead.

“Whatever works for you,” He rolls his eyes at her and smirks. “It wasn’t a pickup line.”

Seriously?

“I didn’t think it was, just stating a music fact here.”

“Uh-huh…” That ghost of a smile there. He’s so stingy with those smiles!

“I’ll think about it,” she says. Her potential head injury from yesterday at the airport might be giving out some signals here, total lapse in judgment.

“You should probably text your mom that you’ve made it safely.” He hands her his phone.

“I told you to delete the app,” she admonishes, but takes the phone anyway and quietly types as he suggested.

That was nice, he’s nice—sparse on smiles, but nice.

“Thanks,” Eleanor finally says, handing him back his phone. Their fingers touch. A lightning bolt.

Urgh…

“What did you write? She’s sent back a poop emoji.” Aiden bites down a smile.

Oh, saw that!

She huddles closer, trying to make sense of the little poop on his screen. “No, she’s deleting it. And now she’s apologizing for pressing the wrong emoji,” Eleanor translates. And noticing she’s invaded Aiden's personal space, yet again, she takes a step back.

“Excuse me.” Someone rushes them from behind, making Eleanor jump into Aiden’s bubble once more. “Are you in line?”

“Go ahead,” Aiden pulls her closer to let the intruder pass.

The heart palpitation symptom is back.

“Okay, then, I guess it’s a goodbye,” Eleanor says when he lets go, trying to get this blood pumping organ of hers under control . “Thanks for letting me fall into your lap yesterday, and for letting me borrow your hoodie. Oh, and for allowing me to snuggle into your chest the entire flight. That was nice. Well, the list is endless really,” she laughs.

“You’re welcome.” He releases something that sounds like a gruff laugh. It’s rusty, but still a laugh! A surprisingly adorable sound, especially coming from someone who seems to have a painful relationship with letting his lips curve upwards.

Aiden holds out his hand, but this seems too cold to be appropriate, so she just leans in and gives him a hug, snaking her hands around his neck before her full-of-science brain gets a say.

Gosh, he’s tall.

This takes him by surprise, his arms still hanging by his sides for a second before he recovers and reciprocates. It’s a friendly hug, because he’s sort of been her first-ever friend in the U.S., and that’s something, even if it lasted less than twenty-four hours. But it feels good, so she’s stalling.

Another lapse in judgment.

“I hope I’m not harassing you,” she says into his wall of a chest. “I’m used to getting hugs in airports, and there’s really no one here waiting on the other side for me with a hug. So, you will have to do.”

Yes, perfectly reasonable explanation.

“Glad to be of service,” he chuckles.

“You’re eventually going to smile,” she says, letting him go.

“We’ll have to see about that. December 30th, 7 p.m.”

“I never said I was coming,” Eleanor protests, stepping into her side of the line.

“You never said you weren’t,” he says impassively, poker face back on, then disappears into his line.

Dammit. A challenge. Eleanor has trouble turning down challenges.

The airport shuttle stops at the entrance to Eleanor’s new apartment building. Well, new would be an overstatement. She contemplates asking herself why on earth she did not come for a prep visit. But that would be a useless question, seeing that she’s already here and has already signed a full-year lease agreement with a roommate. She reminds herself that it’s right in the center of town, close to the metro that will efficiently deliver her to work every day, and that’s all she really needs.

Plus, she’s managed to go through life so far without speaking to herself, so now is probably not a good time to start.

She pushes the car door open and clambers outside, letting the chill shock her like a dive into a human-size dry-ice bucket—if that was a thing. Not the mild winter she was expecting. Thank God for Aiden and his hoodie. Maybe she should have opted for his coat after all.

The driver drives off as she struggles with her two huge suitcases. They clearly weigh more than the allowed limit; she’s not sure how she managed to get away without paying the extra fees at the airport. Eleanor somehow drags them up the stairs before she finally opens the front door to the building.

So this is how it’s going to be, completely anonymous. No one’s holding a ‘welcome home’ sign for her or bringing a dish with her favorite food. No flowers, no balloons. No press preying on information on Oren Hason’s long-time ex either. And that’s exactly what she wanted—to get away from everything and everyone, be anonymous. Just her and her science, that was the plan.

The place looks nothing like it did online. Either the landlord had worked some Photoshop magic, or Eleanor looked at it through her imaginary optimistic sunglasses.

She must have forgotten those at the airport, along with her cell phone.

The elevator has seen better days, or perhaps smelled better at some point in the past. But it’s totally worth holding her breath twice a day for the sake of science. A total bargain. The doors open into a long corridor with an interesting matching shade of dirty blue on both the walls and carpet. And despite the peeling paint decor and slight moldy smell, blue is still her favorite color.

And also seems to surround her lately.

Eleanor scans the little signs on each door in search of her apartment, rolling her gigantic suitcases behind her, one in each hand, until her eyes finally land on the anticipated 511. Ah! She’s made it.

She picks up the little plant standing on a stool by the door and digs in the ground for the key. When Alannah, the roommate she hasn’t met, said she was going home for Christmas, Eleanor was quite concerned about her key hiding spot of choice, but apparently it’s the technique that counts.

She jiggles the key into the lock. The door makes a squeaky sound, the kind that puts WD40 on her emergency shopping list. Then she brings her right foot forward, just as her mom instructed, and makes her way into the place that from this moment on, although might require some adjustments, will be called home .