Waves and Light: Opposites Attract Series

by Elizabeth J. Merrill

  “She does her best, and she has good intentions.” I felt like I had to defend her even though she clearly steered me wrong with that whole blue eye-shadow thing.

  “What’s in the bags?” Veronica asked.

  I trudge down the hall with my mountain of Neiman’s bags. “Stuff.”

  “What kinds of stuff?” inquired Veronica trying to sound innocent.

  “The kind of stuff you get at Neiman’s when you have a makeover.”

  “I didn’t realize you were having a make-over. I thought you were getting some hand-me-downs,” insisted Veronica.

  “I did get hand-me-downs, Nieman’s hand-me-downs.”

  “What?” she almost yelled.

  “Most of this stuff is last year’s samples. David’s mother is a buyer for Nieman’s. They have a closet full of stuff they sold in previous years. She picked a few things out for me so that I could look appropriately professional for a Fineman scholar.”

  “Nerds need to look professional?” she asked skeptically.

  “Scholars need to look professional. Apparently David is on a mission to make physicists look cool, so he helps out the new scholars with a few new clothes.”

  She eyed my bags. “That looks like more than a few clothes.”

  “David’s mother took one look at me and decided I needed more than clothes, so she called in a few favors so I could get the works.” I neglected to tell her I was having several outfits altered.

  “Whatddya get?”

  With a sigh, I started pulling stuff out of bags. I needed to wash and pack it tonight any way. David was picking me up to go back to Austin at 1pm tomorrow.

  “Mostly I got shoes, because apparently samples usually come in size six, and only a few people can wear that size, so they had a lot of old stuff hanging around.”

  “Ohhh….these are gorgeous.” Veronica cooed as she pulled out a pair black of spike-heeled booties.

  “You can keep those.” David really wanted me to take them, but I can’t see myself walking around campus in spiky heels. I’m not sure where Veronica will wear them, but she can worry about that.

  “Thank you! Thank you! You’re the best sister ever.” She screamed while she gave me a hug and then dashed off to her room no doubt to put the booties on and admire herself in the mirror.

  *

  Since I’m in town, Mom went all out on Sunday dinner. Now that we’re poor, she’s returned to the staples that she made for us when I was a kid. Tonight we’re having chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy. She’s also over cooked some green beans with bacon and put too much ranch dressing on an iceberg lettuce salad. I know this stuff is bad for me, but I can’t help it, I like it. Working out my jaw trying to render the chicken-fried steak into something my stomach might digest dredged up childhood memories about eating dinner with my dad. A wave of nostalgia hit me just when my mother looked me over. I swallowed down my tears mostly because they would have messed up my make-up. I did my best to recreate the Daphne/Felicity look and didn’t do too badly. And I wore one of my new blouses over jeans. Even though I tried to surreptitiously slide into my place at the table for dinner, my mother registered the make-up and clothes like a Geiger counter at Chernobyl. “Bambi!” she squeals, “You look lovely. I knew if you’d take a bit of time with your appearance, you would look like a runway model.”

  “Thank you mother. David’s mother pulled in some favors for me, so that I could look “professional” not like a model. [I use my fingers to make air quotes and roll my eyes for emphasis.] Besides, very few run way models are 5’3”. Unfortunately even scientists have to look made-up these days. And I’d really prefer not to be addressed with the same name as a cartoon character even though obviously you like it.”

  “I can’t believe that you’re rejecting the name your father and I gave you,” my mother huffed.

  “”Bambi” [more air quotes and eye rolling] isn’t really a scientist’s name. Know any Nobel Laureates named Bambi?”

  “It’s a lovely name for the lovely girl you are. So who’s this David?”

  “He’s another Fineman scholar. His mother works at Neiman’s and he lives in this neighborhood.”

  “You mean David Slade?”

  “Yes, how did you know?” I asked in astonishment as if my mother had somehow developed telepathy or something.

  “Not many Davids live in this neighborhood who have mothers who work at Neiman’s. How is Candi?”

  “Candi?” [Huh? Candace seems entirely too sophisticated to have an acquaintance such as my mother.] I recovered with, “Candi’s fine. In fact, she looks great and was really nice to me. She even recommended someone to sell your jewelry to. I’ll give you the card. She also said to be sure and drop her name. How do you know her?”

  “We’ve known her for years. Your father recommended this neighborhood to her after her divorce. You and David were on the Y swim team together, don’t you remember? He was a few years older than you were, and he always won. I thought he went to school on a swimming scholarship.”

  “I don’t remember him…” but I did have some hazy recollections of a cocky boy a few years older than I am who acted like he was just wasting his time on our bush league Y team. He always blathered on about how they did things differently during the “season” when he swam on a “real” AAU team. I guess it really is a small world.

  “Well he’s a Fineman scholar now, and he’s giving me a ride back to school tomorrow.”

  “Isn’t that wonderful dear? He was always such a nice boy.”

  “Sure.” I don’t think she really knows David.

  After lunch Mom left on an errand. I rushed to cram all my new clothes into my suitcase and bags. With any luck David would get here on time, and we’d be gone before Mom got back. I was smart to tell her we were leaving at 2pm instead of 1pm. I don’t want her dropping the “Bambi Bomb” in front of David.

  David pulled up just a few minutes after 1pm, and I raced to cram my suitcase and other things into the back of his Honda. I was just about to slide into the passenger seat when Mom pulled into the drive way.

  I couldn’t very well drive off and leave Mom to schlepp groceries so I told David, “give me just a second while I help my mom carry groceries into the house.” I heard David politely offer to help as I sprinted to the car, snatched up every bag, and bundled the bags and Mom into the house before she could interact with David. I managed to get her safely into the house with the groceries despite the fact that Mom almost broke her neck trying to look over her shoulder at David.

  “I thought you were leaving at 2pm,” she asked suspiciously.

  “David forgot he has a 5pm study group to lead, so we’ve got jet off so he’ll be on time. I’ll call when I get there.” I gave Mom a quick hug and dashed out before she registered what was happening.

  As I slid into the passenger seat again, David gave me an odd look, but pulled away from the curb. Whew. Disaster averted.

  David

  B.D.’s mom looked eerily familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen her before…from my childhood. I can’t quite place her, but I know that I know her from somewhere. I’m sure it will come to me. I start the car and head off.

  “Thanks for the ride,” B.D. offered.

  “Sure, it’s on the way,” I shrugged.

  “Well I appreciate it. It’s a lot better than riding the bus.”

  “No problem. I appreciate the company. It’s a boring drive when you’ve done it over and over again. You want me to give you a ring next time I go home?”

  “Sure. My mom would like it if I came home every weekend.”

  I snorted. “My mom too. Like we don’t have anything better to do than hang around Houston.”

  “Right!?@!!!” she agreed.

  We sat there silently as I crept through the inexplicable Sunday afternoon traffic. I decided to bring up the banquet. “You know the Fineman banquet is in three weeks right?”

  “Yes, do I have to go to that?” she ask
ed cluelessly.

  “Do you have to go? YES! Of course. But you wouldn’t want to miss it anyway. It’s the perfect way to smooze. Not only can you meet all the professors—your cushy lab job might not last the rest of your degree, so you need a place to land—but they also invite a bunch of old industry guys. Every major IT company with a presence in Austin comes. TI people come from Dallas. Usually a few people from institutions and businesses outside the state too. We had Schlumberger guys and a prof. from MIT last year. It’s your chance to get to know these guys, so if things don’t work out in academia you have options not to mention helping you out now. I met gaming guys who gave me the summer gig programming at the banquet. I made more money doing the calculations and writing the subroutine for a person falling from a great height (PFGH for short) than I’m going to make working as the tutoring center manager this semester. And that gig took all of forty hours around my other summer gig.”

  “Really? Programming pays that well.”

  “Not just programming—physics. They wanted a program that made the guy fall like he would in the real world. The only variables I had to account for were weight, height, and wind. It was cake to do the calculations then write the program.”

  “Why are you working in the tutoring center?” she asked with a quizzical look.

  “One, it looks good on ‘ole vita. Two, I finally get to run things my way. I didn’t want to pass up that chance. Three, I want to have a little cash in my pocket to finance the next jump. I’m not sure if I’ll start graduate school next year or get a real job, but I probably won’t get paid before I get there, and I don’t want to run up debt. I’ve managed to pay for my school with scholarships and work so far, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

  “Really? You don’t have ANY loans?”

  “Nada,” I assured her, perhaps a little smugly.

  “I’ve already got $5K from last year, and it’s a private loan—not a subsidized loan since I didn’t qualify for one—so I don’t want to run up anymore, and this year looks pretty good with the Fineman, but who knows what’s around the corner.”

  “$5K isn’t so bad. And now you’re probably good, because I’m sure you’ll get a full ride to grad school.” I smiled at her reassuringly.

  “You think?” she asked clearly fishing for compliments.

  “ You’ve already got a vita that most graduates would envy. I’m sure you’re good.”

  “Good.”

  We fell into a companionable silence, but then I remember. “The banquet. You really should wear the burgundy Dior with pink knit and the pink kitten heels. It will drive the old codgers crazy.”

  She looked at me with one eye-brow arched. “Kitten heels?”

  “Yes, you know, the Manolos with the low, pointy…”

  “I know what kitten heels are,” she assured me. “How do you know?”

  “My mother works in the industry. I spent hours in her office and in the stock room at Neimans. This stuff wears off on you,” I explained.

  She gave me a disbelieving look. “If you say so….”

  B.D.

  Wendy must be wrong. There is no way that a straight guy knows what kitten heels are or who Manolo Blahnik is. He’s got to be gay. She got her information wrong. Maybe he’s a player, but definitely for the other team.

  Half way to Austin, we pulled into the parking lot of what looks like a corner store in the middle of nowhere. It proclaimed it’s name as Hruska’s on the front.

  “We’re stopping?” I asked David.

  “I always stop here. It’s the perfect stop. It’s pretty much halfway, and they have these great sandwiches and jerky and sausages. You’ll like it.”

  “Okay, if you say so.”

  We wandered in, and David was not wrong. This place was jammed with kitschy souvenirs and meat—my two favorite things!

  “I can’t believe I’ve just been driving past meat paradise all these years,” I squealed and ran over to the case of jerky.

  “We’ll get some to take with, but let’s go to the counter and order sausage wraps.”

  I got a spicy one and he got some German thing. We sat at one of the tables and tore into the meat like rabid beasts. I loved smoked meat in tube form. Before long I felt grease drip down my chin. I tried wiping it up with a napkin, but my face still felt like I dipped it in rendered beef fat, so once I polished off the sandwich, I excused myself and headed for the ladies room.

  When I got back to the table, David’s sitting there looking like the cat that ate the canary. That can’t be good.

  “So…ready to grab some meat to go and head on down the road?” I asked.

  “Sure….” He drug out the word, “BAMBI.”

  I gasped like I’d been punched.

  “How do you know that name?” I whispered and looked around for someone I recognized. “And keep your voice down. Someone might hear you.”

  He chuckled. “Sure thing…..Bambi,” he said emphatically with a big, sloppy grin on his face.

  “Seriously shut the fuck up.”

  “Ohhh, getting a little testy are we? Trying to leave your small town roots behind, Bambi Delilah.”

  “BE QUIET!” I said a bit too loud. Everyone in the place looked our way. I smiled and waved and grabbed David by the collar and drug him toward the car.

  “Don’t you want more meat?”

  I redirected him to the jerky counter. I used the tongs to throw several slabs of jerky in a bag and headed toward the check out, threatening David all the way. Back in the relative privacy of David’s car, I asked again.

  “How do you know that name?”

  He chuckled again. “I recognized your mother and then I remembered you. You were the one who got me in trouble for throwing a bag of ice in lane one at our last meet.”

  “You were cheating.”

  “I was playing a high-spirited prank. At least, that’s what the coaches thought, but my mother grounded me for a month. I couldn’t play video games for a month and Halo II came out that month. My friends tortured me with it the entire time. I think I should pay you back by torturing you for a month.”

  “No, I’ll do anything you want. Give you anything you want, just don’t tell anyone else.”

  “Not a lot of physicists named Bambi are there?”

  “No, there aren’t,” I hissed. “So keep the name under wraps.”

  “You’ll do anything?” he asked with a lascivious grin.

  Since I was sure he was gay I wasn’t too worried, but I amended with, “In reason.”

  “Well….I think I want….” He laughed again then broke. “I was just kidding. Science nerds need to stick together. I’ll keep your name a secret. It’s not your fault your mother is living in the sixties.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks! I owe you one.”

  While David started the car and pulled down the highway, I looked at his profile just to make sure he was serious about not divulging the Bambi secret. Too bad he was gay. He was really hot in the way that only gay guys are. With a sigh, I turned my head to watch the pine trees flash past as we sped down the highway.

  Wow! And I thought I had it bad saddled with Elmer as a middle name. If I had known that ‘ole Bambi Delilah would grow up to look like that, I might have been nicer to her. I wonder if she ever figured out that I was the one who inked the rim of her goggles? Probably.

  “So….” I broke the silence. “The “luncheon” is coming up in two weeks. It’s at the Driskill. Since you don’t have your car, you want to come with me?”

  “Do we have to go? I’m really not that good at things like that.”

  “First, it’s not do we have to go; it’s yeah! we get to go. It’s worth it just for the food and atmosphere. The tech and research companies that fund this shindig do not skimp. The food is fabulous and the Driskill is historic—epic even. They just renovated and found all these incredible Victorian stained glass windows and shit that make the already swanky restaurant swanky with historic style
. Seriously you hardly even have to use your imagination to picture all the famous movers and shakers who shaped Texas a hundred years ago making shady deals in the lounge. Not to mention that I swear I saw O. Henry’s ghost there.”

  “Really?” she squealed with eyes as big saucers.

  “Well….maybe, but if O. Henry had a ghost, that’s where he’d hang.”

  She giggled adorably. It was hard to reconcile her girlish giggle with her truly terrifying mathematical skills. I never thought I would ever meet someone that I had to admit, hands down, had better math skills than I do much less one that, I had to admit, I really wanted to fuck. I mean strip her down, drive her wild, and bang. But that would never work. I can’t have sex with someone that knows the square root of every number to one thousand.

  “So,” I continued, ““the luncheon” is good not just for the food and atmosphere either. That’s where you make the good contacts. Every technology and research firm in Texas sends at least one representative. I mean you’ll make contacts from IBM, TI, 3M…you get the idea. And start ups send guys too. I told you, that’s where I met the gaming guys that hired me this summer.”

  “You got a job from contacts you made at the luncheon?”

  “Sure like I already explained Hurricane wanted their bad guys to fall realistically in different conditions, so I did the calculations and wrote a script that allowed them to plug in different parameters to guide the fall of a human with flailing arms etc. They can have the baddie fall from different heights through different wind speeds. I even did a modification to calculate how much of the body would be obscured during everything from a light snow fall to sleet to a full on blizzard. It was really fun, and it didn’t take too long. Plus they paid me more than I made life guarding all summer.”

  “Wow! I could use some extra cash.”

  “That’s the place to drum it up,” I replied. “And the entire faculty will be there too, so if there’s someone you want to meet, but haven’t had a chance to take a class with, that’s the place to meet them. Plus meeting them in a social setting puts you on a more level playing field.”