A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

31. The Plan

31

The Plan

A fter some tea and Alannah’s vegan—but nonetheless delicious—cookies, and equipped with over sixty years of relationship experience combined (contributed by Eleanor’s parents), and three tired scientists, including one who does not believe in pre-marital relationships (Alannah), one who’s still waiting to find his special someone (Gillie) and one with mostly some failed relationship attempts (Eleanor), they all brainstorm a plan. It’s a multifaceted, multi-step plan, and it includes:

The letter, that lame letter Eleanor started writing last night. Yeah… the one that could really use some work. She’ll polish it up and drop it off at Aiden’s dad’s house on one of the days Aiden is not expected to be there. Then Eleanor needs to cross her fingers and hope his dad will remember to deliver it. Gillie and Alannah tried to volunteer for the delivery but there’s no way Eleanor would drag them into this mess.

A more creative route for contacting Oren: crashing his gig in New York City. Oren is probably the only one who can get the media off their backs and put an end to this getting-back-together-with-her-ex stupidity. And also clarify the year that photo was taken. Oren hasn’t returned her message—he’s probably, unsurprisingly not checking messages on his old Israeli number. But Alannah found out his band is performing in New York city tomorrow! It’s a smallish event, only about four hours away. And so they’re going. And by ‘they’ she means Alannah and Gillie are coming with her. And they’re taking Antoine, who without even blinking, jumped on the opportunity when Eleanor called.

This one builds on the rave success of the two previous steps. It also requires a great degree of helplessly naive positive thinking, and some TBD items. But it mostly involves getting the grumpy professor Kowalski back into her life ASAP, because frankly, not having him in it is unacceptable. And is just not compatible with… anything really.

So yeah… the letter. Filled with her dreadful writing. But hey, being the worst love-letter-writer this universe has possibly ever encountered is part of who she is. And definitely shouldn’t stop her from getting what—ahem, who—she wants. Despite being able to write an entire scientific paper in English, completing a whole letter—be it in English or any other language—would be an impressive achievement of its own. Pen still in hand, Eleanor re-reads her masterpiece one more time.

Dear Aiden,

First, full disclosure. Please accept my condolences for subjecting you to what might be an awful imitation of an apology letter. Nonetheless, it’s an accurate representation of my creative writing skills. As you are probably able to tell, it’s probably not my strong suit; you can ask my high school Hebrew literature or grammar teachers, even my English teacher, they’d all be able to corroborate. They all advised me to stick to what I was good at (not writing, thankfully—science). I know you’re going to say that I am capable of writing reasonable scientific papers. Science is different, but putting romance aside for a second, once I get my own lab, I’ll probably have to hire a full-time medical writer.

Just putting it out there.

So now that we’ve got that out of the way… There are a few things I really wanted to tell you. Which sucks because now that I finally have the courage to say them out loud, we’re not supposed to talk to each other. Consequently (my English teacher would surely be proud), I figured, with a little help from my best friend Gillie, that an old-fashioned letter might help me out here. I’ve underlined for you for better reading experience.

So first things first , I’m sorry about the way things came about. The situation you’re now in—it’s all my fault. Hurting you was never my intention. And if I could take it all away, I would. Although what we had between us—that unbelievable pull, our kisses, the amazing night we had together (mind blowing!)—I’d never want to take those away. I might be contradicting myself here, sorry about this too. What I’m really trying to say, is the last few months since falling into your lap at the airport have been the best of my life.

My despicable lack of self-control —I usually have better self-control, but with you it was impossible. Sorry I couldn’t keep my hands to myself and constantly challenged you. Also for jumping you constantly in the darkroom, in your office, and pretty much everywhere (except when I was sick and totally wiped out), which leads me to that steamy photo of us together that somehow made it into the hands of those three no-fun GERI people. You had tried to warn me that this could end badly for us. Had I listened—something I don’t do often, especially not when it involves you coupled with delayed gratification—you would have been spared from this social media shitshow and this stupid investigation. I’m so sorry for getting you in trouble, and I’m planning to fix it.

Being your fake girlfriend —This was, sadly, the best romantic relationship I’ve ever been in. And even though it was pretend, you were the most amazing boyfriend I’ve ever had. And I say ‘sadly’ because it made me realize how I wished it was real. How I wished we were real. To the point that I thought you wanted that too. Maybe I even imagined you said it, but granted, I was too delirious from high fever and dehydration, so I’m sorry for being mad at you for reverting back to our pre-fake relationship and for fake-breaking up with me upon our return to GERI.

Which leads me to your lab meeting . Rationally speaking, I had no right to be mad at you, especially since I was the one who kept telling you I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship. It was a clear case of disconnect between my mouth and my… well, everything else in me. Lashing out at you during your lab meeting was inappropriate and out of place, and I’m sorry for what I said back there. I think you are a great mentor, despite your grumpiness and broodiness around other people. Your students look up to you and are grateful for everything you do for them. I know because they told me. And because I’ve witnessed it first-hand. And even though you weren’t my formal mentor, I’ve learned a lot from you. I do, however, stand behind what I said about the 7:30 a.m. meeting time and the fact that it’s painfully, excruciatingly early.

My (not anymore) mythological ex —And before you get yourself all worked up—he IS still my ex but certainly NOT mythological anymore. You were right. There was no such thing. Not for me, at least. But until I met you, I just didn’t know better. I do now. The way I feel about you is so much stronger than I’ve ever felt before, toward anyone. It took me a while to realize and to admit it, even to myself, because it scared the shit out of me. It doesn’t anymore. And I’m sorry I never got the chance to tell you. Or maybe I did, there’s a blank blob in my memory from the fever adventure. And I’m sorry this whole thing got out of control and blew up on social media. That’s what I get for dating someone famous five years ago. I am working on fixing that too.

My very creative collection of symptoms —The crazy fast heartbeats that are incompatible with breathing, the butterflies, the lack of self control, and I suspect even the nosebleeds are all part of the same diagnosis. My Aiden-induced symptoms—in case you’re having trouble reading between the lines here.

And back to the fever adventure —Like I said, there’s an entire Swiss cheese block of holes in my memory. But what I do remember is you being there for me, taking care of me, as if nothing else in the world mattered. And it breaks my heart that you’re going through this whole mess now, entirely alone, and I’m not allowed to be there for you. So I’m sorry for that too. This is probably where I should add my giant thank you for, despite how much you probably hate me right now, putting it all aside and asking my parents to come be with me. It’s all part of how incredible you are, and selfless, and is one of the reasons I love you.

I love you —There, I said it. Well—wrote it (to be precise). I love you, have been in love with you from like the first moment I saw you. Right after thinking I should have brushed my teeth before falling into your lap. I’m sorry it took me so long to admit it, to myself and to you. And sorry for going out of order—I know I talked about my feelings earlier in the letter, but I wasn’t brave enough to write it a few paragraphs ago. I am now.

This letter —I hope it wasn’t too tortuous to read, I am sure it would have made my English teacher pull out some hairs and maybe even revoke my high school diploma (English is part of the high school graduation requirements in Israel), but hey—it would have taken a while to get through professional editing services (if that’s even a thing for personal letters) and I wanted to get it to you ASAP. I also hope you didn’t find this letter too annoyingly long, but I figured—compared to all the emails, scientific papers and reviews you read every day, you should be fine.

I love you with all my heart.

And I miss you like crazy.

And I need you.

And the fact that I can’t see you or hear your voice is driving me insane.

Which is why I couldn’t decide on a single note to end this letter with—so there are four.

And I counted 11 sorries in this letter, in case you’ve lost count, to show that I really mean it.

Ellie

Eleanor puts down her pen, rethinking her closing sentences. She doesn’t like how final all the endings she can possibly come up with sound. And something like ‘I look forward to hearing from you’ would sound more like a follow-up communication for a job interview. So she leaves in the multiple closing remarks. Then she folds the letter and gently seals it into an envelope, mustering her best efforts when writing ‘Aiden’ on top.

Having her parents and Gillie around, and her feelings out on paper, helps get her nervous-wreck of a brain and aching heart a reasonable night’s sleep. The smell of her mom’s homemade burekas is the first thing to greet her senses when she wakes up. And she’s amazed by how relieved she feels to know they are there and the sense of comfort they’ve brought with them. And then she’s amazed by how her mom managed to make vegan burekas taste almost like the real thing, so that Alannah could enjoy them too. Her family is all about inclusion.

“How did you sleep, honey?” her mom asks as Eleanor finishes devouring her breakfast and clears up the table.

“With you, Aba and Gillie around? So much better!” Eleanor says, smooching a noisy kiss to her mom’s forehead, melting into her loving embrace. “Thank you!” Her parents were right, having them there, despite not being physically back to the place she grew up in, brings so much of home to her, instilling that sense of security and confidence, which is exactly what she needed. But there’s a startling ache in her chest that comes along with it, as she thinks of Aiden and his lack of lifeline to fall back on right now, in these moments when everything is just too tough to deal with alone.

“I’m glad to see you starting to believe in fairytales, Ellie,” her mom chuckles.

“What?” What makes her mom think that?

“Your bed covers.” Her dad’s rolling laugh sounds from the other room.

“Oh, the princess bed covers? I wish they had superhero covers at the store, but it was either this or not using covers at all,” Eleanor says, hearing Gillie’s infectious laugh.

“Now go get dressed.” Her mom hands her a plastic box filled with more burekas. “You have a letter to deliver. And give the poor boy some breakfast.”

“That’s really sweet but I’m not allowed to see him, remember? I’m going at the exact time that he’s not there.”

“Fine, just leave it on the kitchen table. You should never go anywhere empty handed.” Her mom winks. Yes, that’s her mom, always making sure people around her are well-fed. Time to pay Professor Gordon Kowalski a visit.

Eleanor gets off at the bus stop closest to Gordon’s house. She walks down the little road leading to his small street, checking that Aiden’s car is not in sight. Aiden doesn’t normally break his habits, so it was easy to pick out a day he wouldn’t be visiting his dad. But then again, Eleanor is not looking for any surprises, so double-checking is always a good idea.

After a few moments of vigilant inspection, Eleanor climbs up the few steps leading to the front porch, taking in the scent of mint leaves.

With a shaky hand, she knocks on the door lightly. Then a little harder.

“I’m coming!” She hears a cheerful female voice.

Shit…

She was so busy double checking for traces of Aiden that she forgot to account for the possibility that Kim might be there. She considers running.

Yeah, go ahead, real mature.

So she stays put, her hand clutching the envelope and box with her mom’s made burekas.

“Ellie, what a nice surprise, come on in!” Kim’s friendly smile doesn’t leave many options. “Good to see you!” she says warmly.

“Good to see you too, Kim,” Eleanor says, holding out the box to her. “My mom’s homemade burekas, still warm.”

“Kimmie, who is it?” She can hear Gordon’s voice from the Livingroom.

“It’s Aiden’s girl!” Kim says loudly and jovially.

Aiden’s girl. How Eleanor wishes it were true.

“How nice to see you, Ellie,” Gordon says when she walks in, gesturing for her to take the seat next to him on the couch.

He’s having a good day today, even remembered her name!

Her heart squeezes, recalling how Aiden said the count of good days was diminishing quickly. He should be here with his dad, right now. These moments are just too precious to waste.

“Can I make you anything to drink?” Kim asks, getting up to the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea?”

“No, thanks,” Eleanor refuses in her most polite tone. She can’t stay long. Can’t risk coming face to face with the man who steals her breath away. “It’s just a short visit,” she says, and once Kim is out of sight, she hands Gordon the little envelope with her letter. “Could you please give it to Aiden when you see him?” she asks quietly while Kim is in the kitchen.

Gordon slips the letter under his book and gives Eleanor a nod and a knowing smile.

Please please let him remember this one…

“What are you guys hiding there?” Kim’s playful voice sounds behind them. Apparently, she’s no longer in the kitchen.

Busted.

“For Aiden.”

“Modern technology is not your cup of tea?” Her eyebrow pinches, the same look her brother has, just a female version of it.

“Aiden didn’t tell you?”

“Told me what?” Kim’s voice takes on a seed of concern. “I haven’t seen him in a few days,” she admits. “Too many night shifts at the hospital lately.”

“Modern technology hasn’t been on our side, and I should leave it at that.” Eleanor squirms in her seat next to Gordon. “Better talk to him directly. I think he could really use someone in his corner right now.”

Kim nods quietly before she says, “From the way I’ve seen him look at you, the way he talks about you, I don’t think there’s anyone in this world he’d want in his corner more than you.”

“I would love for it to be me,” Eleanor tries to blink away the tears welling up in her eyes, “but I doubt he’d want to talk to me right now.”

“I may be speaking out of turn here,” Kim says, very aware—or completely unaware—of the fact that she has no insight into the backstory to this pitiful situation. “My brother is a brilliant scientist and I love him dearly, but when it comes to you… he can’t tell his left from his right. Please don’t judge him too harshly.”

“Well, I’m no picnic either,” Eleanor sighs. “This one is on me.”