A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

16. Shopping

16

Shopping

T he next few weeks go by quickly. Eleanor splits her time between lab safety training, waste disposal training, online cybersecurity training, and finally some lab experiments in her new dungeon. Which doesn’t really look like a dungeon anymore, thanks to some intensive clean up, a horrendous task she has committed to memory as a fun activity. And it might have had something to do with the handsome blue-eyed professor being involved.

Aiden, the person she was planning to never see again, is now an integral part of her weekly calendar—1:1 mentorship meetings, lab meetings, or just around when running experiments. Inhabiting her thoughts, colonizing her dreams.

But it’s not even remotely enough…

Eleanor’s not sure why she had these unrealistic expectations that Aiden would continue their newly formed nighttime texting tradition. She’s been hoping for more of those short-flirty end-of-day message exchanges. Which is a ridiculous expectation, since she’s the one who had told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship. She’s the one who had said she wasn’t interested in ‘anything period.’ And now that they’re supposed to keep whatever this is to a strict professional level… she definitely shouldn’t be expecting late-night texts from him. Yet when her phone chirps around midnight, for a brief second, she’s always hoping it will be him, despite it being the usual time that her family back home wakes up.

And then before falling asleep, she just has to take a quick glimpse at her lock screen—their selfie. She should really put an end to this habit. And mostly change her lock screen already, someone might see it and get the wrong idea.

Or actually the right idea. Whichever is it?

But she pushes through. Busying herself with science is her best medicine. Results are trickling in, and things are looking up.

“Heard you’re already making an impact at the Harrington lab.” Tara Jones’s big smile comes into view as Eleanor passes by the lunch room.

“I hope so.” Eleanor grins at her.

“I know so.” Tara winks in her own special way, stepping into the hallway, gesturing toward Aiden’s lab. “And there too.”

Hmmm, that’s a different kind of… impact.

“And that’s where I’m headed to now,” Eleanor says cheerfully, opening the heavy lab door.

“Hello,” she says into the large open space as she enters. Looks like the time-for-lunch memo hasn’t reached the Kowalski lab yet.

Zoe gives Eleanor what seems to be her best fake smile. How she has managed to get on Zoe’s bad side so quickly is a mystery. Or perhaps that’s her default side.

“Hey,” says Finn, aka Dr. Surfer, looking up from his very large collection of colorful microcentrifuge tubes.

Where does he get his tan from? She needs to know.

“Hey Finn.” She smiles.

“Want to catch lunch later?” he asks, switching the dial on his pipette.

“Have a meeting with the boss, maybe another time,” is her polite evasion. She keeps walking and sighs inwardly for having turned down a lunch invitation—this is now the third time—from a perfectly nice and good-looking guy she would normally spend at least a few seconds ogling. Yet she only has eyes for one man. And it goes against every single part of her short and long-term plans.

She lets her feet carry her the last few steps to Aiden’s office, gently knocking on his door for the sake of formality, but then she lets herself in, of course, without waiting for a response.

“What’s up?” she says to the handsome man peering at her from his desk.

How long will it take before she’s able to walk into his office without experiencing this swarm of butterflies swirling inside her? The insanely fast heartbeat?

“Hey!” Aiden’s face lights up, almost as if his expression has a before and after-Eleanor-comes-into-view.

And she likes that immensely.

In fact, it makes this treacherous blood pumping organ of hers switch from beating to thumping and hmmm … a whole list of symptoms she can’t quite decipher.

Good thing she’s not capable of falling in love anymore. Not being able to touch this man is already giving her a heartache.

She does, however, need to find a way to dial down the heat if she wants to be able to do any kind of professional work in his lab.

“Hey,” she says back. “Do you still have that WhatsApp app?”

“Yes, why?” he asks, giving her his complete and undivided attention.

“I don’t know, you haven’t been using it much.” Assuming he’s not texting anyone else on it.

“Did you want me too?” His face is either confused or hopeful, she’s not quite sure. But yeah, she kind of did.

Does. Would. Will.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” she says, feeling like a sixteen-year-old girl all over again. “If you want. It was your turn to write. Has been your turn for a while.”

“I didn’t know we had a rule for that,” he says, almost apologetically.

“We make these up as we go, remember?” She plops into the chair closest to him, kicks off her shoes and draws her feet up to a cross-legged position. “You can add it to the list, ‘nighttime texting,’ right under my ‘honesty’ rule.

“Duly noted,” he says and pushes a takeout bag in her direction. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“SigmaV burgers?” She beams. “I’ve been craving that! How did you know?”

“That’s what you were craving last week,” he says. “And the week before.”

And the week before too. SigmaV burger lunch is becoming their tradition.

“What can I say? I’m nostalgic.” She pulls a burger out of the pink paper bag and unwraps it.

“I share your nostalgia.” Aiden pulls the other burger from the bag, two bottles of water and a big box of fries.

“Hmmm… the taste of a load of B12!” Eleanor devours her burger in large bites. “It has the taste of that night at SigmaV, when I was certain that you were a drummer. And a distraction.”

“And now I’m not a drummer anymore or not a distraction?” That tentative smile is challenging his lips.

“You’re still both, but now you’re also… other things.”

“Good things or a bad things?”

“A load of good things,” Eleanor says playfully and grabs a few fries from the pile.

“Heard you already have some exciting data.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“On my weekly meeting with Professor Harrington. He couldn’t stop bragging about his new female postdoc.”

“Well then, since you asked.” She puts down her burger and slides her lab notebook to his side of the table, leaning over and opening it on her latest data summary. “Let me know if you want me to walk you through my analysis, once I’m done enjoying this burger.” She smiles proudly.

“This is awesome!” he says, admiring that fine little image of her latest lab results. “What were your controls?”

“It’s on the previous page.” She leans over again and turns the page.

“A very creative, flawlessly designed and executed experiment, I’m impressed,” he concludes contently, after reading through her extensively descriptive notes and results. His blue eyes lift from the lab notebook to her face. “Although I have to say, I’m not surprised.”

“Why, thank you, Professor Kowalski!” She feels her cheeks heating up. “Now for part two, which will need to take place here. There are a few techniques I’ll need to learn.”

“You have my entire lab at your disposal. And you can start ordering reagents, I’ll email you my lab’s payment info.”

“Oh good, I’ve already made a long list of stuff I need.”

“Brilliant. If you need anything sooner, you can try the on-campus self-service store.”

“A what now?” Did she hear correctly? “What is that?”

“Exactly what I said. A self-service store, it has some basic reagents and kits, restriction enzymes, antibodies, tissue culture media—“

“Professor Kowalski, I can’t believe I’m only hearing about this magical place for the first time now! You’re so taking me there after lunch!” Eleanor can’t hide her excitement.

“You got it, Dr. Benjamin.”

“This is unbelievable,” Eleanor chirps.

Aiden is pushing the cart while she’s busy dancing and spinning around the aisles of shelves filled with research-grade equipment and lab supplies, exactly like he promised. “It’s like taking a kid to a giant toy store and telling her she can choose whatever she wants, all expenses paid.” Eleanor has to share her thoughts out loud. Maybe a bit too loud.

A few smiling heads turn toward her.

“I have a feeling you are talking about yourself as a kid?”

“Probably not just as a kid…”

“Still have a thing for toy stores?” There’s a mix of amusement and fondness in his expression that could make the frozen-est of hearts melt.

“Of course! I was heartbroken when I heard Toys “R” Us closed their stores,” she says, pouting.

“I think they’ve reopened in some capacity. And I think Target has a decent toy section.”

“Well, then you’ll know where to take me on a date if you… um… if that ever comes up.”

Why on earth is she talking about dating?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, regardless of the big elephant that should be lodging itself between them.

Some reagent shoppers give them curious looks, including a few stares from several girls as they spot Aiden. One of them looks exactly like that blonde who was ogling him at SigmaV.

Why does this make Eleanor jealous?

“You have a fan club here, and we’re making waves,” she half-whispers when they turn into an empty aisle.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he protests. It’s actually endearing to see how oblivious he is to that.

“Look there.” She turns his head toward some of the surprised faces.

“I don’t usually hang out at the self-service store,” Aiden explains. “Or hang out with people.”

“Hmmm… I’m not just people !” Eleanor says in feigned disapproval.

“Correct, therefore I’m here.”

She has to resist the urge to hug him, because that last statement was awfully cute. Especially said with his all-serious face. “Can we add an amendment to the ‘no hugging’ rule under special circumstances?” she hears her voice asking before running it by her common sense. Aiden looks contemplative, but she doesn’t stick around for his response, because her eyes spot the marvelous restriction enzyme freezer, and she has to check it out.

Back at the Kowalski lab, Eleanor is busy unpacking her latest shopping spree items on her newly assigned part-time shelves and lab bench, admiring her shiny Gilson pipettes and organizing her new and expansive collection of restriction enzymes in her very own freezer.

“Have you decided how you’re going to split the time between your two labs?” Aiden appears beside her.

“I’ll probably spend three or four days here and three days at the Harrington lab, depending on which experiments I need to run. I think real-time PCR and Western blots I’ll probably do here because you have it all in one place. I also like your dark room,” she says. “I mean for developing Western blot films, not on the sexual innuendo side.” She chuckles because both came to mind. At least to her mind. And then chuckles some more because Aiden gives her a hungry look.

“So according to your plan, if I counted correctly,” he changes to a safer topic, “you’re planning to work between six and seven days a week?”

“That’s correct, your counting skills are superb, Professor Kowalski,” Eleanor says, organizing her new lab notebooks on the lower shelf. Keeping records the old fashion way—pen and paper—draws out inspiration.

“I don’t let my students work during the weekends,” Aiden says, his face turning serious. Well, serious-er.

“What? No, I have to. Plus, I’m not really your student. I guess I’ll spend Saturdays and Sundays at the Harrington lab then.”

“You know,” he says, leaning on the wall beside her, their elbows almost touching. “My PhD advisor had a strict rule against working on weekends. He also had this phrase he used to say when he saw me working long stretches or pulling overnighters— ‘I can tell you’re working too much and thinking too little.’ He believed that to be a good scientist one has to be able to take a step back to process and look at the big picture,” Aiden’s tone is passionate and determined. “Every time I had gotten stuck, a day or two away helped me get the right perspective or wrap my head around data that didn’t make sense.” His eyes hold her gaze, “I can’t tell you what to do, Ellie, especially when you’re at the Harrington lab, but at least give it a try.”

“It’s an interesting theory, but if I don’t work on weekends—what the hell am I going to do with all my spare time? Is reading papers allowed?”

Aiden shakes his head. “Just give it a try.”

After a long but fulfilling day at both labs, having gone shopping for her favorite supplies twice in a span of one afternoon—once with Aiden and his lab budget, then later with Antoine, equipped with Professor Harrington’s budget, and then squeezing in a few more experiments—things are on the up and up. Stocking up on supplies for two different labs almost feels like living in two different homes. She’ll have to keep track of what’s needed where, what’s running low where. Two separate shopping lists. This might get tricky for someone who can barely remember what she had for breakfast. No, actually that was before Alannah… Those brownish wheat-grass hulk juices, with whatever goes inside them, are undoubtedly unforgettable. Although she has to admit, she’s warmed up to them, and they do the trick. Her coffee dependency, in this span of a few-ish weeks, is already becoming more bearable. She now can go an entire morning before storming into Antoine’s room and dragging him to the little sign-less coffee shop.

Eleanor takes off her shoes at the entrance to her little apartment and heads straight to the shower, trying to scrub off whatever DNA fragments or reagents she may have carried over from her afternoon extraction. She was wearing a lab coat and gloves, but after taking all these GERI mandatory lab safety training courses, she almost feels paranoid. Despite having worked in a lab for the past eight years, being very well-aware of the risks of working with different reagents and practicing all the rules of reducing the risks of cross-contamination, hazardous exposures and all the other sophisticated names that come with it, she’s been thinking about this shower ever since she walked out of the lab.

“I’m traumatized.” She shares the vivid images from her latest safety training with Aiden when he texts her, exactly as she instructed him to do. “That lab safety video makes me question every single move I make, every single thing I touch. My brain is possessed by that poor scientist from the video now.”

“That’s the point of the training,” he writes back.

“Traumatize poor postdocs? Deter them from doing lab work?”

“No, creating this thought process. Take off their gloves before they reach for their phone or their water bottle, or the door handle.”

“Oh gosh, I’ve waisted so many good glove pairs along the years, taking them off to answer phone calls.”

“Good, because I once fired a staff scientist for chatting over the lab phone with his dirty gloves on.”

“Fired?” No wonder people look wary around the man.

Well, the phone in Aiden’s lab does have a bold sign with the words ‘clean phone, no gloves, offenders will not be tolerated’ warning on it.

“Yes, and that’s why you got yourself five boxes of these fancy purple no-powder gloves you asked for. Use them generously.”

This guy writes text messages like he’s speaking them out loud.

“Thanks for taking me to the store today, I had a great time.”

“You’re welcome,” Aiden writes back, and then there’s silence. Text silence, that is.

So from talking about everything but work, they’ve shifted to talking about nothing but work… Is this how it’s going to be now?

A slosh of disappointment settles in her stomach as she lays her phone quietly on her nightstand and walks out to the kitchen.

The trouble with expectations…

“What do you miss the most being far away from home?” is Aiden’s text message waiting for her as she walks back into her bedroom. She is showered, well-fed (thanks to Alannah) and tired, but this sparks a new streak of anticipation. A small glow settles in.

Oh, come on… Happiness governed by someone else’s doing. She did not sign up for that. Well, not knowingly.

“I miss the food. Not that Alannah’s isn’t good, but I miss my mom’s cooking,” she writes back.

“I thought you were ignoring my message.”

“Just playing hard to get,” she writes, smiling, even though he can’t see it. “And I miss my family.” Her mind is still unwrapping her thoughts about his question. “And hugs,” she adds. “And feeling like I belong.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“No, I think belonging takes time.” If that’s even a word… “But it was only when that feeling was taken away that I realized what I had in the first place,” she admits, also to herself, for the first time. “And I also think belonging takes action. I have a feeling it’s not going to happen by itself.”

“Anything I can do?” he writes, which is sweet, all things considered.

“Hmmm,” she responds, stalling, even though the rules of texting may not require it. “You diplomatically omitted the hugs part.”

“Well, considering the circumstances,” is his unwavering response, “I might consider appealing for a temporary reversal of the ‘no hugging’ rule.”

“I fully support your petition.”