A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

28. Apology Crafting

28

Apology Crafting

I t’s definitely a craft of sorts. Harder than any scientific manuscript she’s ever written. Delivering a proper apology to a righteous recipient requires a great deal of talent and humility, and a pinch of boldness, especially when it involves prideful, never-admit-being-wrong Eleanor. Because as far as she’s concerned—she’s never wrong.

Lashing out at Aiden? In her mind, that wasn’t wrong.

Expecting him to want to shout she’s his girlfriend from the rooftops instead of fake-breaking up with her in the car and taking the time to figure things out or hiding it altogether? Sure. He was the one who started this whole relationship stuff, faking it until they were actually making it, and then changing his mind. No, she wasn’t wrong to be mad about it. Not after he had promised that some things were permanent and irreversible. And yes, maybe she was wrong to expect Aiden to read between the lines and follow her subtext, because she’d never actually confessed her feelings out loud. But rationalizing when upset is not always an available option, and defense mechanisms, as they are, can sometimes kick in too soon or spin out of control.

But it was Alannah who made her see things in a different light. “ I think you broke Professor Kowalski, ” she said, in that special half-joking-yet-dead-serious way of hers. “ He stopped shaving, stopped talking. He doesn’t even lift his head from his computer, except for emptily staring out the window. And when he started calling us by our first names and permanently moved our Wednesday lab meetings from 7:30 a.m. to 10:30 a.m., that’s when we all got really worried. The man is absolutely falling apart. You have to do something .”

Alannah, of course, made sure her observations were not limited to one side only. “ And look at you, you’re in no better state than he is. Don’t take it the wrong way, but when was the last time you showered? Or put on some regular people’s clothes? Or had anything to eat other than candy and coffee? Your dentist will commit suicide at your next appointment if you keep going at this pace.”

And her roommate didn’t stop there…

“I’m not saying the man is perfect, and of course I don’t know the whole story,” Alannah kept at it. “But you, at the very least, owe him an apology for executing your attack during his lab meeting and hanging out your dirty laundry in front of his students. You crossed a line.”

Yes, Eleanor crossed that sacred line between personal and professional…

So she sits down on her bed, a notepad and pen in hand, in the dead of night—because that’s when her inspiration peaks, and she can’t sleep, and anyway, sleeping is overrated. And starts drafting what she will say when she walks into Aiden’s office again, closes the door behind her and delivers that much overdue apology.

Her phone buzzes from somewhere under her covers. Yes, despite the fight with her fake boyfriend, she still lulls herself to sleep by staring at their selfie from that flight from Spain. A treacherous spark of hope rises inside her. A hope that maybe it’s Aiden.

He tried to contact her several times after she stormed out of his office, but she was too angry, too hurt, too prideful to let him in. And now—now he’s stopped trying. Giving her space? Or just distancing himself? Letting himself forget her? She quit their collab, so now he can safely and efficiently remove her from his life. Leave that page behind him and move on. And she hasn’t done much to stop him.

She digs out her phone from between the folds of her Disney sheets. Maybe it’s these princesses that have been messing with her head, blinding her with all these happy-ending fairytales. Why couldn’t they have had superhero designs at that store instead? That would have been more Eleanor-suitable, and for sure safer.

“Eloosh, this is some next-level-deep shit,” is a wild, toned down, English translation of Gillie’s message in Hebrew. “And I mean that nicely. Please don’t freak out,” he adds before he sends an image. She opens it, not really knowing what to expect, but once her brain registers it she gapes, quite shocked. It’s a news piece.

“Lovers Reunited,” says the title. “Hot Israeli Drummer Oren Hason Back with His Long-Time Ex.” It’s followed by a pretty bold photo of Oren and Eleanor. “An accidental meetup in San Diego leads to a comeback.”

“Where did you get this from?” Eleanor tries to get her erratic nerves under control as Gillie follows up with a WhatsApp video call.

“I hope you’re sitting down,” Gillie says, barely giving Eleanor a chance to breathe before he continues. “It’s decently distributed across social media…”

“What in the world?! This is an old photo from like five years ago.” She looks at her younger, bathing-suit-clad self, enjoying the sunny Tel Aviv beach in Oren’s arms.

Gillie shares the link to the post so she can enjoy the whole entire story. “Right now, it’s still relatively contained, so maybe your new boyfriend won’s see it,” is his attempt to control the extent of her rage. “Although you might want to give him a heads up…” She can barely bring herself to scroll through because this is a real fucked-up shitshow. The first comment was made by someone who calls themselves UnderDog28, “Messing around with her professor, that’s what brought her to San Diego… Has to be fate,” the asshole wrote. Then they followed up with additional sarcastic and degrading gems about Eleanor sleeping her way for career advancement and about Aiden and sexual harassment. And yes, names are mentioned. And of course, GERI’s official Instagram account is tagged, and it seems to have sparked a whole inflammatory chain reaction, setting the tone for a long list of comments about nothing and everything that could wreak havoc on her and Aiden’s careers.

“Who the hell is UnderDog28?” she shouts.

“Is that your biggest concern right now?” Gillie gives her an incredulous look.

“Yes, I need to find out where this little shit lives and shove their head into the toilet.”

“Well, I think you have a point there. Looks like the original post came from this same jackass, UnderDog28, who tagged both Oren’s fan page and several GERI official groups. And then also posted the same comments on their pages... Talk about toxic fans. And that’s how it blew up. There’s also a photo of you and Aiden—”

“Don’t send it to me, I don’t want to know.”

“Okay, I guess ignoring is… a strategy.” Gillie’s worried expression fills up the screen. “But Eloosh, the way UnderDog28 presented it—it looks like a love triangle. I think Aiden might appreciate an explanation here.”

“Well, Aiden and I are not really on speaking terms right now,” she mumbles, trying to unsee some of the comments in the post and mostly remind herself it’s still a contained blunder. Plus, as far as she knows, Aiden has no time for or interest in social media.

“I figured there was something going on when you switched so abruptly to sparse mode on text messages, right after you texted the entire family group chat that you were done with love.”

“I’m just a little crazy, is all. Got mad at Aiden for taking a minute to announce us to the world. But that really pales in comparison to this… chaotic state of affairs.” She grimaces as she says it. “Why would anyone do something like that? I’m nobody, this is such a useless piece of news, and a complete lie.”

“Jealousy?” Gillie offers.

“That’s ridiculous.” It might have been the price of dating someone famous, but that celeb-fest had been long gone since she and Oren broke up a few years back. Who would have thought it would come back to bite her like this?

And what happens if these comments get to the wrong hands in GERI? They probably have already… A serious, world-class shitshow. And now she has much more to apologize for than just lashing out at her fake-boyfriend-professor during his lab meeting. Because this fake news story might cost them everything. Thanks to her, once upon a time, being Oren Hason’s girlfriend. And possibly also pissing off someone who identifies themselves as UnderDog28, because this feels like a personal vendetta.

However, at this moment, more than the slut shaming and all other derogatory, career-wrecking comments, Eleanor’s biggest concern is what Aiden will think when he sees that photo of her and Oren. Clearly it’s an old photo from when they were still together, but for all he knows this could have been taken now.

And that apology letter she was drafting? It needs a complete revamping now. She has no idea where to start or what to say. Or even how to say it. One thing for sure—a short, abbreviated explanation jotted on a piece of paper is not going to cut it. Not anymore. This calls for something extensive… And creative. More like an entire book.

She scrolls through the long list of contacts on her phone, searching for Oren’s number. It’s been a while, and she only has his Israeli number, but she gives it a try.

“Please, please answer,” she chants in Hebrew to herself, hoping he’ll pick up. What are the chances that he still has the same number, even after moving to the US? Close to none. And is probably why no one picks up. There’s an automatic voicemail, which doesn’t indicate whether he still owns this number. But at her level of desperation, it’s at least worth a shot.

“Oren,” she says into the phone, recording her message. “It’s Ellie. You probably don’t have this number anymore, but if you somehow hear this message, please call me back!” Her voice sounds even more anxious than she feels.

Gillie is right, giving Aiden a heads up is probably a good idea. There’s no point wondering whether he will find out, because he surely will. But that can wait till morning.

And of course, Eleanor can’t sleep. She spends most of the night responding to family texts—for them it’s already morning. And yes—they’ve all seen the post and read the comments. Even her grandparents, apparently, have started to immerse themselves in social media. And now that the whole thing between her and Aiden is sort of out in the open, it would be a relief to talk about it freely, if it weren’t so twisted and generously sprinkled with juicy yet incorrect info about her and Oren.

She spends the rest of the night tossing and turning and mostly dreading the moment morning comes. Dealing with this thing head-on might be the right thing to do, but doing the right thing is typically far from being a fun option.

“Babe, you look terrible!” is Alannah’s reaction to her dreadful-morning self.

“I know, I’ve been up all night,” Eleanor mumbles, not even an ounce of energy left in her body.

“I know exactly what shake you need. Sit tight, I promise you’ll feel better in under ten minutes.” Alannah’s optimism is usually contagious, but today calls for something stronger to lift Eleanor’s spirit. There’s no amount of vegetable and plant juice in the world that could undo that image and the comments from Instagram. That ridiculous post has already been shared thousands of times since yesterday, and has an unimaginable number of likes.

What is there to like about it?!

So when the fresh-green-brownish juice is ready and served, she just turns her phone to Alannah, getting her up to speed. Speedy quick.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” is Alannah’s uncharacteristic response. Fuck is the one word her roommate avoids using under any and all circumstances.

“My thoughts exactly,” Eleanor sighs.

“Have you spoken with your ex?”

“I left him a message, but I don’t think I have his current phone number. We hadn’t really kept in touch. It was too painful after the breakup. And he was nice enough to not push it last week when we met in San Diego.”

“You need to find a way to contact him.” Alannah’s eyes grow wider, emphasizing the apprehension on her face. “And you HAVE to warn Professor Kowalski.”

“There’s still a chance he won’t see it. I mean, with all due respect to Oren Hason—he may be famous, but not that famous.”

Is she backing out of the entire apology?

The thought of exposing Aiden to this whole thing, showing him this photo—despite it being an old photo—makes her stomach churn. Based on his possessive reaction to her and her ex’s matching tattoos, Aiden is not going to take this too well. Fake breakup or not. Just an evidence-based assumption.

“I am no expert,” Alannah says. “But it’s juicy enough. He needs to know, at least about the comments he’s mentioned in. I can see why, given Professor Kowalski’s position, people might think he was taking advantage of you. These are serious accusations.” It doesn’t take a genius to notice how hard it is for Alannah to hold this conversation. Yet she seems to feel it’s her responsibility to gently reflect on how the world might see this whole mess from the sidelines.

“But it’s not true. I’ve been provoking him for months. He was trying to stop me, push me away, warn me this could be bad for our reputations and careers. But I didn’t care, it was like an imaginary magnet was calling the shots. This pull between us. I can’t even explain it.” Eleanor looks at the post again. “Alannah, how do I fix it?”

“Well.” Alannah scratches her head gently like she’s trying to make sense of a bunch of nonsensical data. “You start with drinking this juice. Then you take a shower, you get dressed —and I mean actual clothes. Not whatever it is you’ve been wearing. And not Professor Kowalski’s sweater. And you go talk to him. In person.” Her roommate pushes the green-brownish juice in her direction.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Eleanor pinches the tip of her nose as she brings the weird potion looking thing to her mouth, “but this smells awful.”

“I know,” Alannha chuckles. “But you’ll feel better after you drink it.”

“Better, as in get pulled over for alcohol testing? Or for consumption of illegal substances when I attempt to enter GERI?”

“Well, it’s good juice, but no,” Alannah laughs, “not that good.”

With a lack of any better options, Eleanor drinks the thing. It doesn’t taste as bad as it smells. Or maybe her mind is so preoccupied that all other sensations are only partially coming through. If at all. She showers, gets dressed, and folds the little note she started drafting yesterday. It’s incomplete and doesn’t really include the latest events, but it does begin to explain how she feels and it does include Eleanor’s own way of apologizing. Which granted, is not your typical straightforward apology. Aiden might need to read hard between the lines here. Unless he knows her well enough by now, which she really hopes he does.

The metro ride, despite being only a few stops long, is excruciating. Eleanor hides her shaking hands in her lap, and when that doesn’t help, she tries to hide them in her jeans pockets, then finally resorts to sitting on them.

And despite not usually caring what other people think, she can swear that faces are turning toward her. Is it her horrified-sleepless-tired-terrible look? Is it her imagination? That stupid post could not have made it global so quickly. That’s ridiculous.

When they get to the GERI stop, Alannah takes her hand. “Breathe before you have a heart attack,” she whispers, and doesn’t let go until they get to the gate that only allows one person to pass at a time.

They walk silently, side by side, to the building. Eleanor feels her anxiety level picking up with every step.

“Where do I even start?” she asks her roommate in a weak voice she can barely hear herself.

“At the beginning would be nice. You were planning to apologize for snapping at him at the lab meeting, right?”

“Right, apologize,” Eleanor tries to say, but she’s not sure her voice actually made a sound, so she defaults to nodding her head slowly and unconvincingly.

“Okay, that’s a start. And right after you do, you need to tell him how you really feel, regardless of the post.”

“How do I really feel?” Eleanor asks. And not because she doesn’t know how she feels. But because admitting her feelings is a brand-new territory and mostly because—she’s never actually felt this way before.

“Yes! Tell him how you really feel about him. Before you bring up this whole fiasco.” They enter the building and start climbing up the stairs to the third floor. “He needs to know you love him.”

“I never said…” This particular word was not on the menu. Eleanor hasn’t admitted it to anyone, not even to Alannah, barely to herself. “This was not part of the plan. It’s not ready for prime time.” She shakes her head.

“Oh, yes it is. And it’s about time he knows you feel the same way about him that he feels about you.”

“Dr. Ruth, where do you bring all these insights from? Has he said anything?” Eleanor asks as they step into the hallway.

“Babe, don’t give me that look. Even for someone as inexperienced as me—you guys are SSSOOOOOO obvious!”

They enter the large, open space of the Kowalski lab. Eleanor slowly makes her way to his office, feeling all eyes on her. She opens the door slowly, without even knocking, stepping inside. But despite never missing a day at work since her arrival, Aiden is not there.