A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

17. Routines

17

Routines

“ G oing home soon?” Eleanor’s favorite voice prompts her to lift her head from her notebook to see Aiden leaning on the doorframe to her lab, holding his coat over his shoulder. Just another one of these late nights at the Harrington lab.

“No, I’m trying to make sense of today’s experiment. Can’t wrap my head around it. I’m not going anywhere until I do.”

“It’s pretty late. Walking out to the metro here at night is probably not the—”

“Oh, I do this all the time, don’t worry,” she dismisses.

“This makes me even more worried.” His eyes fill with concern. “Take a break, go home. Things will make more sense tomorrow, after you let yourself take a step back.”

“I know you’re right, but I mentally can’t. I’m going to run one last experiment for the day, don’t wait up.”

“Well, you might want to reconsider,” he says, pointing to the window. She lets her gaze follow, noticing large white flakes dancing around the sky, slowly covering the grass outside.

“It’s snowing?!”

“Yes, that’s why I came up here. I had this suspicion that I might find you still working. And now that it’s confirmed, I’m going to make sure to drag you out of here every night.”

“And that’s how a girl gets herself a regular ride home,” Eleanor quips.

“Smartass. Now let’s get out of here before they close the roads.”

“My first real snow!” Eleanor squeals, closing her notebook and putting on her winter gear. “And you’re so going to play snow fight with me right now!” It doesn’t take her more than five minutes to pull Aiden by the sleeve, shut the door behind them, run down five flights of stairs and into the beautiful white world that’s waiting for them outside.

It’s probably been snowing for a while, as everything is covered with a soft, feathery powder. It’s a whole new dimension under the GERI campus lights. Eleanor can’t help herself, jumping up and down, spinning around and landing in the snow.

“I’ve always wanted to know how it feels to make snow angels!” she exclaims. “Don’t just stand there,” she shouts, making snowballs and throwing them at the handsome, serious man looking at her.

“Don’t challenge me,” he warns before he gives in and starts chasing her around the backyard of their GERI building. Their footsteps fill the entire area within minutes.

“Hey, you’re cheating!” she says at the sight of him making snowball stashes.

“How is this cheating?”

“You obviously grew up with snow. I can’t even make a decent snowba—” She laughs as some of the snowballs come flying at her. “Show off!” When he bends down for another batch, she leaps forward and knocks him down, wrestling him for that last snowball.

“You’re crazy,” he laughs as they both roll down on the ground together. A rare, pure, carefree laugh, from Aiden. A glorious, magical moment. And she’s utterly dumbfounded. Dazzled. A complete goner.

“I warned you,” she says quietly as their eyes meet. Their legs and thighs are intertwined, boots and jackets tangled and covered in snow. “Sorry, I’m breaking all the rules,” she laughs. But she lets her lips hover over his for a few more moments, basking in his warmth and scent, letting that lightning sensation travel through her before she forces herself to disconnect and gets up. “I’m ready for my ride home now.”

“How are the withdrawal symptoms?” Aiden texts her on Saturday morning.

“From not working?” A big smile spreads across Eleanor’s face. Night texting is becoming a habit, but weekend texting—this is a pleasant and an unexpected surprise. “I don’t even know how to not work on weekends, I’m getting jittery. I have no idea what to do with all the spare time and energy.”

“I’m sure you can think of something. Based on your experimental designs and your first author publications, I don’t think creativity is an issue for you.”

“In the lab, yeah.”

“Well, I can think of a few things outside the lab too, but that might go against rule number two,” he writes. And she wishes she could see his face right now.

Actually…

She presses the little camera icon on the screen, prompting him for a WhatsApp video call.

“You can’t just throw out statements like that while depriving me of your facial expressions!” she protests playfully as his handsome face comes into view. His hair is unruly and there are signs of a stubble that give him a ruggedly sexy look.

“I deeply apologize,” he says, allowing a slight, lopsided smile to escape.

“I made a list of things I could do, but nothing comes close to running a real-time PCR or engaging in DNA and RNA extractions,” she says. “What are you planning to do today?”

“Going to visit my dad, taking a double shift. Kim was on-call last night, so I’m giving her a pass. My dad has been asking for you, you know?”

“Really? He remembers me?”

“You’re unforgettable, even for an old man with Alzheimer’s. He says he won’t eat until you make him that soup again,” Aiden deadpans.

“Your dad knows what he’s talking about.” She smiles to herself, remembering his old biochemistry books. “Okay, I think I’ve just made plans for the day,” she says, her mind set up.

“It doesn’t involve hanging out at your postdoc lab, I hope.”

“No, but it does involve hanging out with my unofficial postdoc mentor. And his dad.”

It doesn’t require any convincing. Or debating whether it goes against any of their rules. Although seeing Aiden in his ripped jeans and hoodie thirty minutes later, with this weekend stubble that looks so much better in real life, surely and undeniably defies their ‘no seduction’ rule.

Eleanor climbs into his car, planting a small kiss on his cheek and stealing that hug he said he’d appeal for the other night. It’s reflexive, like friends do when they meet. But his scent, the feel of his embrace, the touch of his bristles on her face, are nothing short of electrifying. And as she takes her body back to settle in the seat, it feels like the world moves in slow motion.

Whoa…

Aiden’s eyes darken and linger on her for a moment, as if he’s debating whether to ravish her mouth or casually turn the car on and start driving. Unfortunately, he decides to go with the more conventional option and puts on his seatbelt. Driving it is.

They spend the day having pleasant conversations with his dad, who is excited to see them show up together. It’s another one of his good days according to Aiden. Eleanor has come equipped with a new batch of scientific papers for Gordon to read. Now that she knows that he is THE Professor Gordon Kowalski, she is able to tailor these papers to his specific scientific field and present one of his biochemistry books for his autograph. This almost brings Gordon to tears. Excited tears. Eleanor is surprised at how humble the man is.

She also cooks up some new favorite salt-free foods for him, making sure to gently bump or rub into Aiden at any chance she gets while they are in the kitchen, just because she can, enjoying his little feigned admonishing grunts. Gordon happily eats her creations, and just like that, visiting Aiden’s dad becomes her new weekend routine. Maybe not working on weekends is not such a bad idea after all?

Time goes by quickly, her life taking on a sort of rhythm. A disorganized rhythm at times, because no one day for a scientist looks like another. Even running the same experiment has the potential to yield slightly different results. Never boring is definitely a life motto for her.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months. Eleanor’s mornings before she gets to the lab are pretty much the same. She wakes up, usually with her cell phone still laced between her fingers or nearby—a product of late-night texting with Aiden that typically ends with one of them, at some point, usually Eleanor, falling asleep. Or staring at her phone’s lock screen, remembering the moment when letting her body sprawl all over Aiden was uncomplicated and allowed. Or at least considered—based on the collection of facts known to society at that point in time—as ethical.

The days at both labs are uneventful. That is if heart palpitations and deep-core butterfly swarms are considered typical. This new reality—where Aiden is her collaborator, and she can’t do anything about this nonsensical growing list of manifestations—what is the culprit exactly? Excitement? Frustration? Whatever it is she’s been nurturing inside is disconcerting. So in light of all that, and since there’s nothing else she can do about it, Eleanor just has to accept that this entire collection of symptoms should now be regarded as normal. Her new normal.

Her own list of Aiden-induced symptoms.

She is also acquiring new expertise—polishing her fine motor skills by pipetting tiny 384-wells plates or generally staying focused in the face of her racing heartbeat or her occasional hair-bristling attacks that seem to appear randomly, whenever… Aiden. He doesn’t need to look at her, or even be in her vicinity. Heck, not even in the same room. The mere thought of him, a fraction of a memory, a brief sniff of his scent, one syllable or a gruff sound of his voice when he's talking to the other members of the lab or on the phone, can send her mind on a field trip.

Is it the same way for him?

Aiden has also embarked on a brand-new habit of keeping his office door open, a thing that, based on Tara Jones’ crucial fact-sharing during hallway conversations with Eleanor, had apparently been unheard of prior to Eleanor’s joining his lab. The other lab members are still undecided as to whether they are in favor of this new habit or not, but it sure gives Eleanor free range to observe Aiden at all times, so no complaints there.

Throughout the weeks, Eleanor makes her best effort to show up on time to the way-too-early lab meetings and the journal clubs at the Kowalski lab—and being on time, especially as defined by Aiden, is no easy task for a last minut-er like Eleanor. It’s a different case with the newly revived lab meetings and journal clubs at the Harrington lab. Since Eleanor is their sole initiator and organizer, they are governed by her own rules, which also include her own individual time management preferences with regards to their start time, typically meaning on- timish plus five to ten minutes buffer, or rather—after. After all, one has to stay loyal to her principles. And, importantly, adding food adventures to these meetings has been proving to be a tremendous success.

In between all these meetings, she runs her experiments, keeping herself busy, hypothesizing, designing, planning, dreaming up theories, crunching data, creating graphs, presenting, brainstorming, writing papers, sending abstracts to conferences, meeting with her mentors, re-educating Professor Harrington, going on short coffee breaks with Antoine, coaxing her lab members into having lunches together. It’s all fine, and engaging, and interesting. But there’s still something missing that she can’t quite pinpoint.

Once in a while her mind drifts again to this strange collection of Aiden-induced symptoms. Yeah, the ones she keeps dismissing. She’s tried really hard, very unsuccessfully, to find a scientific rationale for them.

Other than lust of course. And potential feelings she would deny if asked about.

But when the symptoms start becoming more and more frequent, she starts charting them in one of her lab notebooks. A little heart for the fast heartbeats that should not be compatible with breathing or living. A triangle for the occasional nosebleeds; thankfully these don’t happen often, but when they do it’s always when Aiden is around. A star for the insane flock of butterflies in her stomach. And a circle for every time her mind summons uncalled for thoughts. Thoughts that invade her personal brainstorming bubble, her scientific daydreaming and her nighttime.

Which up until the distraction known as Aiden crashed into her life, this was unheard of. Impossible. But unfortunately, despite devoting a great chunk of her career to gathering and mining data, she cannot make any sense of the odd collection of these observations or find any patterns.

None.

Nada.

Other than… Aiden.

Frustrating.

“What are these little marks on your lab notebook?” is Aiden’s observant response as she shows him her weekly results.

“It’s just me charting. I’m having this strange collection of symptoms.”

Along with an unexplained urge to share this info with him.

“What symptoms? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?” His beautiful blue eyes fill with worry as he studies her.

Yes, there is something he can do in fact, but that might go against most of his rules…

“Don’t worry, it’s just symptoms.” She offers a smile.

“What do you mean just symptoms?” His eyebrows crash together.

“Fast heartbeats, butterflies, maybe some erotic thoughts…”

“Okay smartass,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. “What’s the root cause? Come up with a diagnosis yet?”

Yes, she’s suffering from an incurable disease called “infatuated with this marvelous man who also happens to be her unofficial mentor.”

“No, but I know the prognosis.”

Hopeless. Doomed.

“Symptoms have underlying reasons. You don’t just deal with symptoms, you need to deal with the culprit.” Aiden gets up and approaches her.

“Not in the modern healthcare system you don’t. That’s what keeps drug companies in business. Wouldn’t it be better to solve what’s causing high cholesterol levels instead of taking statins? Cure type 1 diabetes instead of taking insulin?” She gets up as well, meeting him halfway. “Yet you don’t see that happening, do you?”

“Ellie, are you seriously comparing feelings to chronic diseases?”

“Yes Professor Kowalski, and if there was a cure, I would gladly take it.”

Her evenings have settled into routines as well—she goes home, spends some time with Alannah, some much-needed WhatsApp video time with Gillie or her mom, and mostly chats along on her family’s giant group chat—they always make her laugh and make sure to give and get full and complete updates. So needless to say, there’s never a dull moment. And she’s grateful for that, because it really helps alleviate that strange homesickness she never thought she’d experience, but she too often does. Especially when things don’t work out the way she wants them to. And that happens because that’s life. And although it seems sometimes that dropping everything and just going home—her real actual home, thousands of miles away—is the magical solution for literally everything, even if it really isn’t, it’s not always easy to push through.

But then the good, the bad, the everything, it all gets sucked into that black hole of one single moment. The moment she and Aiden reconnect. Not the professional mentor – postdoc, scientific brainstorming and data relationship. The personal one. The longing for his texts—now almost like gasping for air—can only be resolved with that much anticipated chirp of her phone, announcing an incoming WhatsApp text from Aiden.

This is how she knows she has it bad.

Really bad.

“Your turn to ask a question,” she writes one night.

There are millions of questions circling through her mind. So many things she wants to know about him. So many things she wants him to know about her.

“Do you regret not meeting me for a face-to-face interview before committing to this collaboration?” he asks.

“Regret? No. No regrets,” she writes. “And full disclosure, I probably won’t ever be able to reverse the memory of our kiss, or the feel of your hands on my skin. And even though it would make my life easier, I’m not sure I want to forget.”

This feeling was supposed to wane over time, like memories often do. But it doesn’t. If anything, her longing for this man keeps getting stronger by the day.

“I don’t want you to forget.”

“Good,” Eleanor writes back. She wants to ask if he has any regrets, but she’s not sure she’d be able to live with his response, either way. The impact of knowing he has regrets could be crashing. And if he has no regrets—well, it might present a much greater challenge to her already pretty challenged self-control.

So instead, she considers letting him in on a more intimate detail. “Would you ever consider getting a tattoo?”

“What kind of question is that?” he answers so quickly. “No, I don’t like tattoos. Why?”

Well, abort then…

“Just wanted to know,” she writes back. Her mind trails to the stupid tattoo on the left side of her butt. The one that bears her and Oren’s initials. Aiden, apparently, is not a fan of tattoos… Retrospectively thinking, she doesn’t like them either. And despite her best efforts, there’s a pretty high likelihood that Aiden will never see her naked, so he might never know. Therefore, she deflects and writes “Okay, your turn,” hoping he’ll let that one go.

“Okay, a tough one,” he writes. “How do you define success?”

“Uh, isn’t that a question you should ask me during our mentorship 1:1 in your office?”

“Is this your idea of evasion?” he insists.

Looks like the professor wants an answer.

“Success to me would be publishing several high-impact manuscripts, getting my own lab in a few years, becoming a full professor before I’m 35 and doing all that with minimal distractions. Not a tough question at all.” She finishes typing and sighs, realizing she is already failing on the minimal distraction front. “How about you?”

“Success to me would be to achieve my goals while they’re still my goals, and to do that without having to sacrifice the things that are important to me.”

“Why Professor Kowalski! Well said!” she writes in response, feeling those goosebumps awaken on her skin. “Very inspirational!” But then she considers it. “Hold on, wait, is that your way of emphasizing your no-work-on-weekend rule?”

“No, but not working on weekends is one of the things I do to achieve it.”

“Sounds like you’re on the right track then.”

“I used to think this way, but I’m not so sure anymore,” is his response.

“What do you mean?” Interesting coming from a guy like him. Already a professor at the age of thirty-five, an incredible track record of extremely high-impact publications, a very well-funded research at a prestigious research institute, a following of students who respect and look up to him. What else is he missing? “Is it about the sacrifice?”

“Possibly. Potentially,” he writes.

“Really? What is it?”

“It’s this one big thing that I hope would not become a sacrifice. It’s my new daily struggle, I just need to find a way.”

“You’re being very elusive, Professor Kowalski.”

“I know, Dr. Benjamin. It’s deliberate.”