Cure for Insomnia Page 10

  “Deal.”

  “But I think I’m right. What does that get me?”

  “Another date?”

  I laughed. “I was kind of hoping I’d already earned another date.”

  “What would you like?”

  “Details about your worst date.”

  “Deal.”

  “So, am I right?”

  “Yes. Before Greece, we lived in France. That is where Neil was born.” She looked past me and her thoughts drifted far away from our date. I wondered if things had been easier for her family when her brother was younger. Before I could ask, something caught her attention and she nodded. “Alex is waving us back.”

  I wanted her back on the date I was enjoying so much and prompted her back to my request. “Worst date! Out with it.” I caught gratitude in her eyes when she turned back to me.

  “High school. I went out with the boy who had a locker next to mine.” She paused and turned to me.

  “And?”

  “The boy part does not worry you?”

  “Not unless you’re married to him and about to tell me that I only have the potential to be your mistress.”

  She laughed and the sea breeze tousling her hair carried the joyous sound. “We went to see a movie. When we came out, his car had a flat tire. He was going to call a company for help, which was unnecessary. My father had taught me how to take care of a car, how to change oil, change a tire.”

  “I’m guessing he didn’t appreciate that.”

  “Correct again. The whole drive home, I was thinking about what to do when he tried to kiss me. But when he pulled up at my house, he said thank you for changing the tire. He didn’t even put the car in park.”

  “Too bad you weren’t out with a girl. I would’ve let you get to first base for changing my tire.”

  “I have met women, too, who did not like to be made to feel incompetent.”

  I considered her words, sifting through them because I could not see why a date changing a tire would make anyone feel incompetent. It was something learned, and diversified skills seemed like an asset, not a threat. “I would think it’s on them if they felt incompetent around you. For me, that’s hot. I know it’s only one example, but…” We had met back up with Alex by this time, so I whispered the remainder of the sentence. “Hot.”

  Back on the trail from the beach, I fell behind Remi. I couldn’t feel my hips anymore, and I was fairly certain I’d lost some skin on my knees, but I couldn’t remember feeling more satisfied with how well a date had gone. At the top of the hill, Alex stopped to let the horses graze while we waited for the sunset.

  “Could you take our picture?” Remi asked.

  He took her phone and backed his horse away from us. Remi swung her horse around, trying to get next to me. “Give Brownie a kick. Bring him up next to me.”

  I tried tapping the horse with my heels. Brownie shifted his weight, pushing up into M&M’s rump. The little mare raised her tail exposing the biggest vulva I had ever seen. The horse let loose a waterfall of urine before I could even comment. I tried to swing my leg away from the steady yellow stream, but Brownie refused to move, and I stared in dismay as the flood hit my ankle and foot. “Your horse is peeing on me!”

  This was the image Alex captured. Two horses pushed together, Remi’s head thrown back in laughter, and my face contorted in disgust. And in the background, a gorgeous sunset.

  I stood barefoot in the parking lot of The Miracle Center next to Remi’s car, my urine-soaked shoe and its mate in the trunk of my car.

  “Can’t I post this?” Remi asked, studying the photo Alex had taken.

  “I’d rather not be introduced to your friends and family as the pendeja who let a horse piss on her foot.”

  Remi frowned, but her face was still full of mirth. “You did get what you wanted.” She stepped forward and clasped my hand.

  “How’s that?” I could not take my eyes off Remi’s mouth.

  “That was the most memorable date I’ve ever been on,” Remi said. She traced one finger from my ear down to my shoulder, awakening every nerve ending along the way. Sweeping her hand around the back of my neck, she pulled me into a kiss. I could have lost myself in the silky softness of Remi’s lips had they not parted once again in laughter. “But you smell awful!”

  I reached around and playfully swatted Remi’s rear. “Well at least my ass isn’t black.”

  Remi’s eyes widened in surprise. “My ass is black?” She bent to examine her legs. Her knees and thighs were equally stained with oil and dirt from the saddle. “Oh! These pants are ruined!”

  “I’d say I’m sorry, but my shoe is toast.”

  Remi kissed me again. “It was still a great date.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

  “I more than enjoyed myself.” Remi took my hand and squeezed it tightly. “I kind of like you, Karla Hernandez. Tu me rends tellement heureuse.”

  “I have no idea what that means, but it sounded good.”

  “Me kaneis charoumeno.”

  I hesitated, not understanding a word. “I still have no idea what you said.”

  “Same sentiment, different language.”

  “Greek?”

  “Very good. You make me so happy.”

  “I thought you swore in Greek.”

  “Only when someone makes me mad.”

  “Then I’ll do my best to stay on your good side,” I said, sneaking one last quick kiss.

  Chapter Eleven

  I also had to stay on my family’s good side, which meant going to mass on Sundays. Remi and I exchanged a few texts comparing how stiff the horseback riding had made us, but we hadn’t talked about when we’d get together again. I had no doubt we would, but since I had chosen the last date, I would wait for Remi to make the next suggestion.

  I would have obsessed about it, but Monday’s routine was blessedly busy, helping me shelve the question. I’d barely finished and was ready to leave for the monthly seminar when Judy came into the lab anxious about the results from the latest batch of volunteer white blood cells.

  My back pocket buzzed, and I glanced quickly at my watch. It would be Valerie waiting in line for the box lunches wondering where I was. Judy was still talking, and I couldn’t find a logical spot to interrupt her. My phone buzzed again. It took all my self-control to nod politely and ignore the texts. Judy knew about the monthly seminars, and my stomach turned uncomfortably as the seconds ticked by.

  “I just need to do the western blot analysis,” I said, “but I’d better get to the seminar before the speaker starts.”

  “Who’s talking today?”

  “Someone from Coastal State University.”

  Judy shrugged. “Fill me in if you learn anything meaningful.”

  Typical Judy, wanting her lab to make an appearance but not worth her time. I ran down the stairs and sprinted across campus, grateful for the exercise I’d been doing with Valerie that made the run possible. Glancing at my watch, I hoped they had not started on time and that I would be able to slip in with other stragglers. Since Valerie always grabbed lunch for me, I could at least beeline for the auditorium, but I always felt better with a few people entering behind me.

  When I whooshed open the door to the lecture hall, I could already hear someone from The Miracle Center introducing the speaker. Valerie sat where we usually did, a few rows in on the left. I bowed my head, trying to fold myself invisible as I scooted to my seat.

  Valerie handed over my lunch with a dramatic eye roll.

  I opened the box whispering my thanks. “Got caught up talking to Judy.”

  “Punctuality is important, mate. And I betcha she would’ve agreed if you worked up the balls to say something.”

  I shook off the familiar dig and focused my attention on the speaker. Though I was doing my best to focus on the talk, snippets of the hours I’d spent with Remi kept taking over. I shut my eyes and stopped chewing. Something in the speaker’s cadence reminded me of Remi. �
�Where’s she from?” I asked Valerie.

  Valerie set aside her lunch and ruffled through some papers. “Lebanon.”

  “Let me see?” I took the flyer and studied the picture. I saw a resemblance to Remi in the rich skin tone and sculpted brows. I closed my eyes again and listened intently.

  “Are you catching any of this, or are you napping?”

  “It’s her voice. It doesn’t matter what she says. I could listen to her all day.”

  “Accent whore.”

  I swallowed a laugh, coughed and took a sip of water. All of this brought Remi to mind again. I pulled out my phone and found two messages from Valerie. One about lunch, the other about my “chronic problem with promptness.” As I was about to text Remi, my phone buzzed. Angling the phone away from Valerie, I opened it.

  Trying hard to think of a date to top horseback riding. Would very much like to see you again.

  I smiled, and Valerie elbowed me and pointed to the screen.

  I can swing that. I added a smiley emoji. What do I get if I guess another language correctly?

  We could use rules for strip poker.

  I couldn’t quite stifle a snort. Valerie leaned into me and mimicked my voice, “It’s rude to text during a talk.” Caught by my own reprimand, I grimaced. Still, I couldn’t resist answering. I’m right, you lose an article of clothing. I’m wrong, you get one of mine? I did feel guilty about how little attention I was paying the speaker. Plus, Judy would be quizzing me. Only one more text, I told myself.

  Precisely. And then I can make a guess about your body adornments.

  Several flirty replies flashed through my mind, but I had to tame them. Reluctantly, I tapped out. Have to text later. At a seminar.

  I tucked the phone between my thighs and concentrated on the speaker. My phone buzzed. Valerie glanced at it, but I kept my attention glued to the speaker.

  “Following the correlation between the integrated samples and the meta-analysis, we found a proportional…”

  “Are you following this?” I whispered to Valerie, worried that my texting had cost me the ability to comprehend.

  “Not a word. It’s all English, but she lost me at the first slide.”

  After another five minutes of concentrated listening, I still could not make sense of the talk. Leaning toward Valerie, I whispered, “They’re good slides.”

  “Agreed. Brilliant graphics.”

  “Yes,” I echoed. “Very pretty.” I tried as hard as I could to grab hold of the speaker’s information. I thought back to last month’s, a challenging talk on technological advances in bypass surgery. Even though I knew little about surgery, it had made more sense than this presentation. I was surprised by how easily I was distracted by Remi.

  Heat and desire flashed through my belly as I imagined a game of strip poker. It was not difficult to think of Remi removing clothes, and I was grateful for the dimmed lights when my mind willingly switched gears to how Remi and I could make good use of a dark room.

  Valerie and I carried our lunch boxes toward the exit. I dropped the box and sandwich wrapper in the trash can and held the cookie and chips I hadn’t eaten.

  “You going to eat those?” Valerie asked.

  I brightened. “Are you eating for two?”

  “Bit early to be thinking about that, mate. Sadly, I have to stay late tonight. I have an appointment at the mouse house at nine.”

  “What about that new intern you hired? Why can’t he do it?”

  “He quit already.”

  “Amazing! You go through interns faster than Judy goes through office administrators.”

  “Nobody can stand working for the sloth. If I didn’t have two years invested in this project, I’d leave as well. I can’t blame people for bailing so quickly when they don’t have a whole lot invested.”

  I had grown used to Valerie referring to her boss by the animal she claimed he resembled. The description went beyond his eyes, which he barely opened, and his swept back hair. More of a problem for Valerie was his laziness. I often thought of our PIs as at different ends of the scale. Sometimes I wished Judy would ease off the gas pedal, but I knew that Valerie wished Dr. Seonwoo was more active in driving his lab.

  “Sorry to be such a downer.”

  “You’re not a downer.”

  “What were you and your hottie texting about?”

  “What I get if I guess the next language she speaks correctly.”

  “That sounds a lot more interesting than our speaker. Have fun with it!”

  As soon as we parted ways, I pulled out my phone. I texted Can u talk? A moment later, my phone rang.

  “I guess the answer is yes,” I said, not bothering to suppress the smile that blossomed when I heard her voice.

  “You had a seminar?”

  “The monthly speaker at The Miracle Center. Valerie and I attend as often as we can. She pestered me about how rude it was to text even though we didn’t understand the speaker at all.”

  “Still, I imagine your being there makes a good impression. As long as you’re not on your phone.”

  “Thanks for understanding. The only thing I got from the presentation was that you must speak Lebanese.”

  “Very good. I do speak Lebanese Arabic. How in the world did the talk help you establish that?”

  “The speaker was from Lebanon. Looked a smidge like you, too.”

  “My mother is from Lebanon.”

  “Ha! Knew it!” I punched my fist in the air victoriously. “Is that where you lived before Greece?”

  “No. My parents met there when my father was an aide to the ambassador. It is my birthplace and where all of her family remains. I try to visit every other year.”

  I stopped outside my building, reluctant to end the conversation, especially as I had won with my guess. I said as much and added, “I cannot wait to pick the article of clothing for you to shed.”

  “What makes you think you get to pick? You said nothing about selecting the garment.”

  “Damn,” I said with mock disappointment. “Probably better for me not to give it more thought right now since I have to get back to work.”

  “Too bad I am not waiting in the darkroom for you. I have some ideas of where I might find other piercings.”

  “You’re cheating.”

  “Or tattoos.”

  “You’ll have to earn that information fair and square.”

  “You could make a wrong guess about the last language on purpose.”

  “What’s the fun in that?”

  “I could make it very fun.” The richness in her voice gave me no doubt to her sincerity.

  “You are not making this easy.”

  “Make the most of the time you have to make your selection. How about that?”

  “And when do I get to make my request?” Was it too soon for me to ask about tonight? Before I could overthink it, I said, “Are you free tonight?” The drawn out silence between us made me kick myself. It was too early. I sounded desperate. “That was stupid…”

  “Don’t,” she interrupted. “I would have suggested the same except…I am otherwise committed.”

  Silence again. And I needed to work. But I didn’t want to hang up, not when the conversation was going like this. Fix this! Fix this! I mentally admonished myself. “Tomorrow it goes up to two articles of clothing.”

  “Thank you for understanding.” Her voice softened. “Dinner?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “On a weeknight I won’t be able to plan something to top our last date.”

  “Maybe there are other ways to make it memorable,” I suggested.

  “Unquestionably, there are,” she answered. “And now I have to do my best not to let my thoughts linger on that. MneHkeh areeban, Karla.”

  “Showing off your Arabic?”

  “It seemed appropriate. We will talk soon, Karla.”

  “I look forward to it. Bye.”

  Floating from the brief exchange, I continued with a spring in my s
tep. Someone was standing outside the clinic, and I started to smile in passing. Then I recognized the figure. I stopped in my tracks. Maricela’s mother. We stared at each other. Had I been in motion, I could have kept walking. I had to say something despite the hostility she radiated. In my rudimentary Spanish, I tried to share that Maricela was working very hard and had a lot of potential in science. I was trying to think of the word for “proud,” but her expression cut me off.

  Her eyes narrowed and I could feel her disgust. She stood fortress-like, her arms folded. Her flowing black skirt and long-sleeved black tunic made her look funeral-bound. A flood of Spanish invective erupted, and I scrambled to translate. My skin flashed hot when I realized I didn’t need to understand what she was saying to capture her point. There was no misunderstanding “dyke,” “bad influence” and “disgraceful.” Her words pierced me, yet I did not move. I couldn’t until others started heading down the sidewalk. I tried to direct Maricela’s mother to a bench, but she swatted me away and stood her ground, her color and voice rising.

  I held up my hand and shut my eyes in an effort to block out her words, which seemed to ruffle her further. My body screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t. I refused to walk away from this woman and make her think that she had won.

  After what felt like an eternity, Maricela appeared. “Mamà!” she cried, wrapping her arms around the shorter woman’s shoulders.

  She pushed her daughter aside and turned her venom back on me. More “dyke” arrows flew and Maricela winced.

  “Mamà, calm down. Please, Mamà.” The look she shot me was mixed with apology and something else. Shame? Or Blame?

  Anger bubbled up in me. I had done nothing to invite this woman’s ire, yet I was somehow being held accountable. Maricela wrapped one arm around her mother and guided her to a bench, murmuring in Spanish.

  Crossing my arms, I waited while Maricela spoke to the irate woman. I hoped for an apology. I had done nothing more than help Maricela stay on track in both her service project and semester.

  With averted eyes, Maricela finally approached me. “Dr. Hernandez, I am sorry.”

  “You are, but not your mother.” Mrs. Gonzales and I continued to stare at each other angrily.