Wish I Were Here

Chapter 27

T he bus pulls up just as I get to the stop, and I arrive at the café in record time. Melanie isn’t here yet, so I grab a table near the front and sit down to wait. Ten minutes go by, and I check my phone for messages. Melanie said she was heading over from the hospital, and that’s only a few minutes from here.

Maybe she’s caught in traffic. Or maybe a real patient with food poisoning came into the ER, and she had to explain the dangers of gas station sushi. There could be a million explanations.

The front door jingles, and I turn in my chair. But it’s not Melanie who walks into the café; it’s Dr. Gupta. This must be his usual spot. I wish I’d thought of that before I’d agreed to meet here. I’m trying to show Melanie that I’ve got my life together, and a conversation with my angry boss over my lost identity isn’t going to help my case. Suddenly, I’m grateful she’s running late.

Dr. Gupta makes his way over, and I force a smile and slide out of my chair. “Hello, sir. How are you?”

“Catherine,” he says, not bothering to answer the question or return the niceties. “Have you sorted out your identity issues yet?”

“Yes,” I answer, picturing my birth certificate tucked into my file box at home. I moved it from Melanie’s green folder to a red one so it matches all the others in that section of my personal paperwork. The DMV opens at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow, and I’ll be first in line. From there, I’ll head over to the Social Security office. “It will be sorted first thing in the morning.” I mentally cross my fingers, hoping I’m right.

“I sincerely hope so.” Dr. Gupta gives the hostess a wave, indicating he wants a table for one. She nods and sets a menu by the window. He turns to follow her but then stops and looks at me. “I had a chance to look at the outline you sent this morning. I’m intrigued by your thoughts on methods for solving hyperbolic equations.” He hesitates and then gives me a curt nod. “Excellent work. I knew there was a reason we hired you.”

I let out a relieved sigh.

“I’ll send over my notes later today,” Dr. Gupta continues. “Make the changes and get it back to me by the end of the week.” His gaze slides away from me, distracted by something over my shoulder.

“Excuse me,” comes a familiar voice from behind me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I turn to find Melanie standing just inside the doorway, and from the way her lips curve upward, I can tell she heard Dr. Gupta’s words.

“You’re not interrupting,” I assure her. And then I have a vision of Dad barreling across the lawn with his juggling clubs and, later, nearly tearing Dr. Gupta’s arm off with his vigorous handshake. I appreciate that Melanie thinks about the impression she’s making with my boss. “Melanie, this is Dr. Gupta, the dean of the mathematics department. And, Dr. Gupta, this is Melanie Jankowski, my mo—”

“A family friend,” Melanie cuts in smoothly, holding out her hand to give Dr. Gupta a quick, appropriate handshake. “Dr. Gupta, I believe we met at a faculty symposium last fall. I teach in the medical school.”

“Ah, yes, Dr. Jankowski. I remember your presentation well,” Dr. Gupta says, more animated than I’ve ever seen him, except for maybe that time he was yelling at me for losing my identity. “Brilliant.” He turns to me. “You keep very good company, Catherine.”

Again, I contrast this moment with Dr. Gupta backing away slowly from Dad. This is all going so well. Or it would be if one little thing weren’t nagging at me.

A family friend.

“I’ll be presenting again this year,” Melanie adds warmly. “Please do stop and say hello.”

“Of course.” They talk for a moment about her subject area, but I struggle to focus. Did Melanie intentionally cut me off when I was about to call her my mother? I remember her remarking that she doesn’t like to mix her career and personal life. I suppose that since we all work at the university, it’s easier to keep things compartmentalized. Still, my unease lingers, even when Dr. Gupta gives me another one of his approving nods. “I look forward to hearing from you soon, Catherine.” He heads to his table.

“Well,” Melanie says, sitting down in her seat across from me. “I’m glad to see you have a strong mentor.”

“Oh, yes, I’m very lucky,” I agree. Though I’m not sure I’d call Dr. Gupta my mentor quite yet. But I’m sure he’ll invest more time once I’ve sorted out the identity issues.

“He seems to admire your work,” she adds. Do I detect a hint of pride in her voice? “Well done. Keep it up.”

“I can’t imagine it any other way. I’ve always worked hard, gotten straight As, and had full scholarships to college.” But as I say the words, something heavy settles in my chest. Make the changes and get it back to me by the end of the week. I know I can do it, I always have, by pulling all-nighters, sleeping at the library, doing whatever it takes.

But even with Dr. Gupta’s approval, I can’t quite muster the enthusiasm like I used to. All day yesterday, when I was holed up in my apartment working on the paper, I just kept thinking about everyone at the community center. The fundraiser is only a week away, and they need everyone to pitch in.

“It sounds like you take after me.” Melanie gives me an appreciative smile.

I sit back in my seat and take in my mother. Even after she spent an entire weekend in the ER, her hair is perfectly styled, makeup light and understated, and she’s changed into a pair of dark trousers and a neatly pressed blue blouse. She mentioned on the phone that she was on her way to her office to do paperwork for her faculty position. And then will she be back at the hospital in the morning?

A couple of weeks ago, it wouldn’t have sounded very different from my life. But now I can’t help but wonder: What about friends? Or dating?

“Melanie, can I ask you something? How do you do it all? Don’t you sometimes get…” I lift a shoulder. “Tired?”

She tilts her head, thinking it over. “Well, it can be difficult to catch up on sleep after overnight shifts in the ER. I make sure to take power naps in the break room whenever possible.”

I trace a finger on the wood pattern on the table. “I don’t mean lack of sleep. I mean, don’t you get tired of the pace? The workload?”

Melanie shrugs. “I enjoy working hard.”

“And what about a social life? Do you—date? I assume you don’t have any other children.”

“No. When you have children, you give up your whole life.” She lifts her hands apologetically. “No offense, of course.”

I shrug. She said essentially the same thing the other day.

“I date occasionally. But to be honest, it’s hard to meet men who can handle being with a woman like me.” Melanie leans her chin on her palm and looks across the table at me. “Women like us. You and I are similar, Catherine. I could see that right away. We’re smart, we’re driven, and we have the opportunity to make it to the very pinnacle of our respective fields.” To my great surprise, she reaches across the table and touches my arm. “We have to be careful of the men we let into our lives. They may seem like fun at first, and you may even think you’re in love. But you have to ask yourself if they’re truly the kind of person who can help you reach your goals. The wrong person will derail your career if you let him.”

I sit back, letting her words sink in. She was in love with Dad once. I can hardly imagine it now. Dad with his buoyant laugh and his juggling clubs and his circus friends. And Melanie off to present at another symposium. They would never have worked out. She would have hated ArtSpace. Don’t even get me started on Burning Man. And then, I can picture Dad telling embarrassing stories about Melanie at the hospital Christmas party, and Melanie’s face growing redder and redder.

It would have been a disaster.

Melanie’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “Don’t you agree, Catherine? That our careers should come first?”

Oh. She’s not just talking about Dad. She’s talking about Luca, too. It was clear she was wary of him at her apartment the other night, and now I understand why.

How many times over the past week was I struck by how alike Dad and Luca are? Yes, it’s their charm and their ability to connect with people. But it’s also their chronic lateness. Their casual attitudes toward work. Their general chaos. Would being with Luca derail my career and my plans? It’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed my mind. But then he gives me that smile… not the wide, charming one he shares with everyone else. The one that’s more subtle, and lifts slightly on the left. The one that’s just for me. The smile he flashes right before he’s about to say something to make me laugh, or after he kisses me, or when I’m worrying over something and he wants to let me know he’s there for me.

But am I just caught up in the fun and excitement of him, like Melanie suggested? Am I flattered that the popular boy likes me? With my mother sitting there like Future Catherine who’s come back in time to show me the right path, it’s hard not to wonder. And hard to ignore how close I’ve already come to letting distractions cost me my job.

With an uneasy nod, I change the subject, steering the conversation to Melanie’s job at the ER and her presentation topic for the symposium. Then I talk a bit about my work—my research paper, my syllabi—but I haven’t started the job yet, so there isn’t much to say. When there’s a lag in the conversation, I remember that I do have something interesting going on in my life.

“I’ve been helping to plan a fundraiser for our local community center.” I wrap my hands around my coffee mug. “Developers are trying to buy the building, so we’re working on raising enough money to save it.”

“Very interesting. How did you get involved with that?”

“An older woman in my building, Mrs. Goodwin, asked me to help. The center serves hundreds of older adults a day, giving them a place to go and spend time with other people.” My voice picks up speed. “Did you know that loneliness is as bad for your health as smoking?”

“Interesting,” Melanie repeats. “It sounds like a worthy cause, and perhaps you can use it as community service on your CV.”

“Oh, I guess.” The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. “The fundraiser is next Saturday. Maybe…” I rub my hands on my pants. “Maybe you’d like to come?” I realize how much I want her to say yes. I hope Melanie will be a part of my life, and this fundraiser is important to me.

It occurs to me that Dad will be there, too. But it’s been thirty years. And if this relationship with my mother continues, they’ll need to be in the same room together at some point.

“Sure. Send me the details.”

I can’t believe how well this is going. “I will.”