by Havana Scott
But I can’t. And it kills me that I don’t know why.
4
ROMAN
We might be fourteen years apart, but we have a lot in common. And I don’t just mean Doctor Who either. For years, I’ve known I suppress emotions, and Alice is clearly dissociating from hers. But what does this mean for us?
Can two people who fail at relationships be friends?
Should I be sitting here at the lake with her when I know she’s suffering from dissociation? As a man of science, I know the implications—I could do serious damage to her delicate psyche if we were to develop feelings for each other during the therapeutic process. But I’m drawn to her. This is stronger than a regular doctor-patient connection. I have to hear her story. I have to help her after she came to me for help.
I also can’t stop staring at her, absorbing her twenty-year-old beauty, remembering where those lips have been, how desperate she was when she came home with me. My cock remembers too and hardens instantly. Deep down, I’m just a stupid, horny man before anything else. I don’t think I’ll ever control those impulses completely, and in this case, I’m not sure I want to. Because here’s a fat truth—
I like Alice.
There. That’s a start.
Between the students sleeping under trees, ducks begging for scraps, and summer buzzing all around, it’s enough to make me feel like I’m dreaming. I rip out weeds growing through the sand and split them in half. “What about school?”
“What about it?” she asks.
“You wrote that you have school issues.”
“Oh, that.” She lies back, blonde hair all around her like a golden halo. “I’m in the engineering program. It’s mostly guys. I’m used to it. I went to a magnet high school for nerds, so most of my classmates have always been boys. There’s a few girls, we stick together, and honestly, most guys have our backs. But the thing is, I’ve always had to fight.”
“Fight how?”
“Stand up for myself, for my suggestions to be taken seriously. If I’m in a group project, there’s always some jerk who thinks his opinion matters over mine. Sexism is real, doctor.”
“I know it is, and I’m sorry you have to fight so hard. It’s only going to be a tougher climate when you enter the workforce, you know.”
She shrugs. “It’s the only climate I’ve ever known. I’m not saying I can’t handle it. I’m saying I’m tired of always having to fight. My dad’s the Operations Supervisor at Tesla, which makes it worse, because all the guys in my program know I’m going to get in.”
“They’re envious.”
“Some of them, yeah.”
“So, because you take after him, he expects you to be perfect?” I ask.
“Perfect GPA, perfect resume, the whole thing,” she replies.
“Do you think it’s because he understands the challenges you face, and that’s why he pushes you hard?”
“No, he’s just a jerk.” She laughs, but it’s a sad laugh. “Kidding. He knows I work hard to achieve the same results as the guys do, but no, he doesn’t have a fucking clue what I go through. He’s never had a guy call him a ‘cute know-it-all’ like I’m some little girl who should stay in her place. He’s never had someone take wires straight out of his hands to fix the robot you’re working on, because he doesn’t believe you can do it yourself.”
“That sucks.”
“It does, but like I said, most guys are fine, supportive. They’re feminists.” She chuckles. It’s nice to see her more relaxed. “But it’s still a man’s world, and I cannot graduate with anything less than a 4.0, or I won’t get hired by my dad’s company.”
“Tesla.”
“Yes.” Alice closes her eyes and lets out a deep, yoga-like breath. I like the way the sunlight shifts its trajectory up her body. The tips of her dark eyelashes are gold.
I get it—she’s under a lot of pressure. Not only is she intelligent, but she’s beautiful and probably has to fend off guys wanting to hook up in addition to fighting for respect. It’s clear why she’s dissociating—she only has so much energy, and she’s using it for school. Her brain and heart have no time for emotion. I don’t know why that disappoints me; it’s not like I was hoping we’d fall in love or anything.
“I’m not even sure I want to work at Tesla, between you and me. I’ve often thought of applying at Disney or Universal Studios, somewhere that hires engineers but in the creative sense. But I’m terrified—terrified—of telling my dad that.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t get it. He thinks engineers working in creative fields are ‘lightweights.’ ‘They’re not real engineers,’” she says in a man’s voice I can only assume is her father’s. “‘They’ve failed at real jobs, so they turn to movies and sound for concerts.’” She scoffs.
What a dick. I never thought there was real engineering versus creative. “The struggle is real, isn’t it?” I ask. “I mean that seriously. Not being facetious.”
“You have no idea.”
“I have some idea. Seems that your biggest challenge will be the ultimate male in your life—your dad. Your struggles at school are child’s play compared to him. At some point, you’re going to have to tell him how you feel.”
She nods, folding her hands over her chest, the most peaceful I’ve seen her yet. “I know.”
It never ceases to amaze me that my patients always know what it is that’s bothering them. They understand what they have to do. They just need help navigating the fog in their minds, someone to confirm it for them.
But I told Alice we’d talk as friends, yet here I am, analyzing her. I should tell her something about myself, so she doesn’t feel like it’s been a one-way exchange. I’ll tell her about my divorce three years ago. Not everything, just enough so she sees that she’s not alone, that I also dissociate like a fucking pro.
“You know, so we’re on even ground,” I say, ripping grass into even smaller pieces now, “you’re not the only one who detaches. I can’t—”
“Crap!” Suddenly, she shoots up and turns on her phone screen. “What time is it?”
“Quarter after ten.” So much for telling her how I deny myself emotions and love, too, but for a different reason—because I don’t feel I deserve it. I failed once before. I’ll fail again.
She scrambles to her feet, picking up her backpack. “Robotics started ten minutes ago. Shit, I have to go. I’m so sorry! Thank you for talking to me.”
I stand, too, hoping I’ll get a friendly hug, a handshake, anything, but she runs off. I wanted to ask if we could talk again—whether more off-the-record therapy or hell, I’ll take another sexual encounter, if she’s willing to give it—but I say nothing.
And I get nothing.
dis·so·ci·a·tion
diˌsōSHēˈāSH(ə)n,diˌsōsēˈāSH(ə)n/
noun
the disconnection or separation of something from something else or the state of being disconnected.
the separation of normally related mental processes, resulting in one group functioning independently from the rest
But there’s a silver lining—I have her phone number back in my office. Her address, too, for that matter. Would it be unprofessional to use it for personal reasons? Call her in a few days once the air has cleared? Yes. But with the way I can’t stop thinking about Alice, ask me if I care.
5
ROMAN
When I screech into robotics lab, Jilly’s the first to notice, and she cringes, pointing me to my group. Everyone’s already working on the new assignment, and it doesn’t look good for me. Professor Eckler has put me in Aaron’s group. I can tell by the death eyes he and Parker are giving me. Gunther’s in my group, too.
Unnoticed by Eckler, I fall into my VEX group and pick right up as though I was never gone. Looks like we’re working on stability this morning. It’s a competitive game robot, not the humanoid kind—more like the Wall-E kind—square, clunky and designed for only one purpose: to throw objects into your o
pponent’s side of the ring. Eckler strolls by, hands behind his back, surveying the work. “Overslept, Miss Verano?” He eyes me suggestively. Damn. I was hoping he wouldn’t notice, but Eckler likes me for the most part.
“No, sir,” I shake my head, “I had something this morning that ran too long.” He nods and walks away.
“Female problems?” Aaron smiles sardonically, exchanging looks with Parker.
No, Aaron, not female problems, you fart bag. Just normal people problems. “Nice,” I mutter at the worktable, surrounded by my team. Gunther doesn’t look at me, doesn’t give me the once-over like he usually does. Is he mad I’m late? Does he assume I was with Dr. Lee after leaving the place with him Friday night?
“What are we working on, guys?” I ask, brushing it off.
“What does it look like?” Aaron says.
“Stability. But I mean, what, specifically?”
“We’re working on using anti-tip pegs today, Your Highness.” Aaron sifts through a box of robot parts looking for the pegs we need for our design which we started building several weeks ago. His tone is thick with resentment.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I had therapy this morning. I don’t think I’ve missed too much, have I?” From the stuff laid out on the table, I can’t have missed more than Eckler’s overview.
“Everything okay in Wonderland?” Aaron chuckles, glances at Parker again who snickers but then sobers up the moment I glare at him. Aaron might be a condescending ass, but Parker and Gunther usually have my back. Still, I hate that I have to deal with his attitude every time.
I will not get a B today, because of him. I refuse.
I crack my neck and stay focused. “Can we not talk about me? Are we supposed to figure out which is the best way to arrange the pegs?” I ask. “For the robot not to tip over?”
“You assume correctly,” Aaron mumbles, “except we’re going for one peg, as in singular, not multiple pegs.”
Um, no. It’s absurd to use one peg, which only works best when the robot is tipping backwards. If it’s tipping to either side, we’re going to need more than one peg. “Wouldn’t two, one on each side, be symmetrical and therefore more stable?”
I should be telling him this with confidence. Not asking him. I already know it’s the best way to keep stability.
Aaron sighs, as if the silly woman has spoken out of turn. “No, Alice, we already decided this before you walked in late. We’re going with one peg.”
So, because I’m late, Aaron gets to use it as an excuse to undermine my ideas and hijack control of this project? Why won’t the other guys say anything? I look at Gunther and Parker. “What do you guys think? Don’t you agree that two pegs would be more stable?”
Parker opens his mouth to speak, but Aaron silences him. “That’s leading the witness. Two pegs might be symmetrical and a prettier design, but we’re not going for pretty here. We’re going for functional.”
“Ouch,” Parker mumbles.
Gunther glances at me. “I don’t think that’s what Alice meant to suggest.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him, turning on Aaron. “Seriously?” I gawk at him through the framework of the robot. He glares back underneath those huge black eyebrows of his, still screwing his anti-tip, singular peg in the middle. “That is not enough on any planet to stabilize this machine. Look at how heavy it is.” I lift one arm alone, and it falls, tipping the frame. “You think I’m suggesting two pegs because it’s prettier?”
“Well, you are a girl, so it makes sense. Women tend to favor form over function.”
I almost punch him in the throat. I cannot believe, in this day and age, that I’m having this conversation with a guy my age.
I scoff. I can only keep my composure so long. Now, my blood is beginning to boil. “Since when do I care about pretty? You’re the one who wanted to put eyeballs on the robot last week, Aaron.”
“Because it was funny.”
“Because you think you call the shots. You think the rules don’t apply to you. It’s not okay for a woman to choose form, but when you choose form, suddenly, it’s comedy? This is a group project. The least you should be doing is listening to other points of view.”
“Even if I listened to your point of view, you’d be outvoted, since three-fourths of us already agreed on the one-peg design before you arrived. You snooze, you lose, sweetheart.”
“Don’t…call me sweetheart.” I set my screwdriver down forcefully. He doesn’t get to call me sweetheart.
“Can we have one nice dinner without you kids fighting?” Gunther tries to make light of the argument.
“I was only outvoted because I wasn’t here to present a different perspective. You took advantage of my absence.” I glance at Aaron. For once, he says nothing. Ha, got you there, Voldemort. “Look, I’m suggesting two pegs because yes, the one peg is better for backwards-tipping, but two pegs will cover the sides as well. It’s better for covering our bases.”
I know what I’m talking about, damn it, and these two goons do, too.
Aaron keeps moving as though my words have no effect on him, like it’s already been decided without me. This is why I hate group projects, and a career in engineering is all about group projects. There will always be that one guy, that Aaron who thinks he’s king of the lab.
Stop letting him get to you, Alice. Breathe.
I let out a slow breath, while he puts down his wrench and gives the other boys blasé grins with a sigh, like it’s such a huge effort to consider my point of view. Well, for a group grade, he has to listen to others or Eckler will lower his grade. “Do either of you agree?”
“I agree,” Gunther says. He better.
“I sort of agree?” Parker says with a tilt of his head. “I mean, I think they’re both good solutions…” Great, Parker the diplomat who avoids conflict at all costs. I know for a fact that he’s a two-peg kind of guy. His opinion shifts whenever Aaron’s around.
I look at Gunther, sweat forming on his brow, which triggers a memory of his naked body above me, jackhammering into me, thinking in his poor mind that he’s pleasing me. Ugh, never again. I shake the image off. “Tell him why it’s a better design, since he doesn’t listen to me. Apparently, I need a penis to be heard.”
Aaron snorts. “This isn’t about penises, Verano, although I know how much you love talking about them.” Ummm, really?
“Dude, totally uncalled for.”
“It was a joke, Straussman.”
Gunther takes two pegs and places them where we’d be installing them if we were to do this my way. “If you use two pegs, like she said, you cover all angles. See?”
“But the backwards tipping is more likely to happen,” Aaron argues.
“That’s true, but this way, the other angles are covered, too. It’s safer.” Gunther looks at me. “More practical than the one-peg design.”
Aaron holds his breath as he stares at all of us, like we’ve somehow betrayed him by not going with his bossy-ass choice. “Fine, do it however you guys want.” He tosses down his tools and asks Eckler if he can use the restroom.
“Did he just seriously leave, because we outvoted him?” I stand there, gawking. “What is that guy’s problem? First the argument last week that earned me a fucking B, and now this.”
“He’s mad because we didn’t go with his design,” Parker says.
“It’s more than that,” I say. “But in this case, his design wasn’t the best choice. Get over it, you big baby.”
The three of us keep working, and then Parker hops off to another table to fish around their parts box. That’s when Gunther leans into me and says, “He’s mad because he respects you. And he hates when you don’t agree with him.” He positions the two pegs where they go and begins to install them.
“But he doesn’t respect me. He doesn’t even listen.”
“I don’t know. You outsmarted him then. Beat by a girl, and it’s fucking awesome.” He laughs and high-fives me, then gets back to work, but I can’t smi
le. I can’t allow myself a mini victory dance over winning the design, because again, I had to fight for it. I had to force my peers to listen when some people just get others to agree by simply opening their mouths.
Maybe I come across as too soft.
Maybe I have to be more of a bitch.
It sucks that I can’t be nice and still earn the respect of my peers. I leave the lab so bothered that I almost stop by Dr. Lee’s office to talk about it. I’m grateful to have Gunther to back me up, but what happens when there are no Gunthers around to defend me? I know I shouldn’t let jerks like Aaron Rogers get to me, but I do, so somehow, I have to get over it.
On Friday, I’m home, recovering from a crazy week. Our robot design won Eckler’s approval, and he chose ours as a class example of how to work together. Pfft, if he only knew how Aaron engaged in another battle of the sexes with me. Does he ever notice and just not say anything? When is it acceptable and when should I report it?
I think about Roman—Dr. Lee—and what he would’ve thought had he been in my robotics lab to see the struggle firsthand. He probably would’ve said that Aaron’s comment about penises was borderline harassment. He would’ve seen my point of view better. Some people don’t actually believe sexism exists. They think it’s normal for men to treat women that way, like we’re silly creatures with silly ideas.
“You want to come with us?” Jilly and Gunther are going out for more $2 pitchers at Taco Paco’s, but I don’t feel like going anywhere.
“No, thanks. You guys go on out without me.” I watch the door close and stare up at the ceiling. It’s been a stressful week. The truth is, I really want to see Dr. Lee again, and I’m massively fighting it. Seeing him would go against my no-more-than-once rule, but I could use more of those kisses, more of those hands, more of that chiseled, amazing hard body.
