Cure for Insomnia Page 4

  “Yes!”

  “Ready for breakfast? You want cereal?”

  “Sure.” Rosa’s brow furrowed.

  “What?”

  “I’m happy that you slept well last night, but that means that we should have been looking for a girlfriend instead of having you meditate or take melatonin.”

  “I told you it’s not your job to find me a girlfriend.”

  She poured cereal in her bowl, looking thoughtful. “Maybe we’ll find her at the beach. I can do my homework while you work, and we’ll both be on the lookout.”

  “Now you sound like a detective.”

  “Detectives search for answers too. It’s not so different.”

  “I can’t argue with that. You sure you’re okay if I do some of my work?” I couldn’t help hearing Ann’s complaints hurled my way at the suggestion of taking a laptop with us to a coffee shop, let alone the beach.

  “As long as you promise to look up once in a while. Maybe the pretty judge will be there!”

  When she said that, my stomach fluttered. Was that possible? Here I was thinking about the past. Rosa had a much better idea to keep my focus on the future.

  Chapter Five

  “G’day.” Valerie gave me a squeeze around the shoulders as she sat down next to me on the patio outside the small campus café that sold snacks, sandwiches, salads, and soups. It was the tall Aussie who had observed the place’s predilection for food that started with the letter S. Valerie had just begun her postdoc, the low-pay entry point on the path to being a Primary Investigator with a lab of her own. Many shared lunch tables led to a friendship that had supported me through my breakup and celebrated Valerie’s marriage to her wife, Emma. “You look well rested,” she said.

  I scowled at the sarcastic inflection. “I never should have told you about the sleep study.”

  “I disagree. We’ve all lucked out.”

  I laughed. When I’d been in the rub-lavender-on-your-feet week of Rosa’s sleep study, I’d complained about the smell. After the first night of my hands stinking of the oil, I took home some gloves, but I did not find snapping them on to smear oil on my feet at all restful. I’d quickly passed it on to Valerie having barely made it through the week.

  “Emma finds it very soothing.”

  “Like that helps me.” My thoughts flitted to Remi. Her solution for my insomnia would probably not involve lavender oil.

  “I think you didn’t expect anything to help.”

  “You try taking melatonin. It makes everything taste awful, almost as bad as valerian.”

  “I don’t have trouble sleeping.”

  “No, but you have Emma.”

  “I do, and, sorry to say, mate, I’m with her on this. Nothing helped you because you didn’t even give it a chance to help.” Emma taught interpretive dance and believed in esoteric things like miracles. Valerie and I often talked about the irony of a hundred scientists grounded in replicable data working at a place called The Miracle Center.

  I sighed heavily. I would have taken a chance on giving Remi’s idea a try in a heartbeat. “I tried to give something a chance…” I stopped. I hadn’t wanted to tell Valerie about Remi, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  “What?”

  “At Rosa’s science fair, I sort of met someone.”

  “What’s that mean, sort of?”

  I described the flirtatious exchange and the embarrassment courtesy of my niece, ending with my disappointment with the phone call.

  “Crikey, you’re a researcher. How hard is it to find out who the judges were? You should be able to find her in a snap!”

  “I already tried that. They said they don’t have a judge named Remi.”

  “She’s got to be affiliated with one of the schools in the area. Couldn’t you hang about and see if you spot her again?”

  “Sure. That’s not at all creepy.”

  Valerie slapped her knee and laughed as she shook her head. “What I would have given to see Rosa telling that hot judge that she needed someone to sleep with her aunt!”

  “She meant someone to sleep in my bed. She made a prediction and early research suggests she’s accurate. She slept over a week ago, and I was dead to the world the whole night. Once she was back home, I fell right back into restless nights.”

  “Well you need to do something because you look like shit.”

  “I know. I thought I was managing fine with the amount of sleep I was getting. Since I started trying to sleep better, though, I realize how messed up my sleep pattern really is. I thought once I finished my PhD I’d sleep better. Or once I figured out where I was working I’d sleep better, but I’ve hit those goals, and my mind keeps spinning.”

  “And now it’s spinning on how you can’t sleep. That can’t be helpful. I’d offer to come over, but I don’t think Emma would be keen on that.”

  “No. You’ve got your own stresses. Any luck this month?” Valerie and Emma had been trying home insemination for three months.

  Valerie pushed her pasta salad around with her fork. “No. I was so ready to break out the ‘third time’s a charm,’ but…”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. I told her I thought we should try going to the clinic in San Diego, but she wants to try one more time at home. She says that a sterile environment doesn’t exactly inspire the miracle of life.”

  We ate in silence. “I’ll worry for you while I can’t sleep.”

  “You’re a good friend. I’m going to get some tea. You want anything?”

  “Tea doesn’t start with ‘S’.”

  “I’ll get soda, then.”

  “You mean sugar water. I’ll pass.”

  Valerie returned with her drink and set a chocolate cookie in front of me. “They had your favorite, so I grabbed one for you.”

  “Thanks. You have to split it with me, though. Unless I find time to exercise, I can’t afford the calories.”

  “Run the campus with me. I’ll kick yer arse.”

  “No surprise there.”

  * * *

  “I hate this.” I pushed on my knees as I climbed the third flight of stairs two days later when I joined Valerie on her exercise routine. “And I hate you.”

  “Arms up, you twit! You’re burying yourself there!” Valerie trotted back down the stairs, pivoted and climbed the stairs again. “Chest up, legs up!”

  I swatted at my friend and stopped at the landing, chest heaving.

  “Don’t give it away, mate. You can make it!”

  “You go.”

  “Like hell.” Valerie did jumping jacks as she waited.

  I knew that the longer I stopped, the more difficult it would be to climb the next set of stairs. My friend’s endurance was maddening. I should take comfort in knowing that Valerie worked for her toned body, but I didn’t, at least not when she seemed to climb the stairs of The Miracle Center’s main hospital effortlessly. I took a deep breath, lifted my torso and faced the next flight.

  “Here we go!”

  “Remind me why we’re doing this?”

  “You’re the one who said how bad it would be for someone studying diabetes to be diabetic.”

  “It’s more than…” my need for oxygen punctuated my thoughts, “…diet and exercise. That study…”

  “I know all about the study. You and your epigenetics. Save it for the ladies. I won’t let you turn into a pudgy, pale lab rat.”

  “Pudgy, maybe, but pale?” My panting echoed in the stairwell. My parents were Hispanic. I could stay inside all day everyday and never be considered pale.

  “You know what I mean. Stay inside, it doesn’t matter what skin tone you have. You’ve got to get out of the lab. Your skin misses the sun. Vitamin D. Come to the house this weekend. I’ve got my doubles volleyball tourney. You can help me warm up and catch some rays.”

  “Can’t.”

  “You’re not in the lab Saturday.”

  “No.”

  “You have a date,” Valerie fired b
ack so quickly I had a hard time answering.

  “Not really.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, not really?”

  My muscles screamed. I waved away Valerie’s question, focused only on getting more oxygen to ease the burn.

  “Got it. Save your breath. Let’s see. You have a research strategy to find your hot judge and start this weekend.”

  “Nope,” I gasped.

  “The spring interns roll in, and you’re doing a walk-through of the lab?”

  “No.”

  “Your sister needs you to babysit?”

  I shook my head, instantly regretting the action as a wave of dizziness swept through me.

  “One of the little people has a game?”

  “No.”

  “Family barbeque? If that’s it, why am I not invited?”

  All I could manage was my best glare.

  “Step it up then. I’m out of guesses.” Valerie dropped behind me and gave me a nudge from the back.

  Swatting at her again, I made the last few steps up to the fifth floor. Gasping for breath, I rested my head against the railing waiting for the lightheadedness to pass. How could my feet feel like lead when my head felt like it could float away?

  My so-called friend squatted and kicked her feet back as if she was going to do a pushup but then hopped back up. She smiled wickedly every time she stood, and I knew that she expected me to join in.

  “I really do hate you. I should’ve taken that position at Johns Hopkins.”

  “You were never leaving. C’mon. Let’s get our view.”

  I followed her to the panoramic window where we could see the sweep of the research center a half-hour north of San Diego. My building, which housed diabetes research, sat three hundred and fifty yards southwest of the hospital. I knew the exact measurement because Valerie had mapped out a precise two-mile walk around the campus. Valerie’s building, which contained the cancer research labs, sat below mine and had no view, and though the coastal breeze made her twice-a-week afternoon walks pleasant, Valerie liked to climb the stairs to see the ocean beyond the campus.

  Valerie said, “Out with it. Why can’t you come out to the beach with us this weekend?”

  “My brother won tickets to the Padres game.”

  “Called the radio, did he?” When I confirmed, she mumbled, “Unbelievable. The luck in your family!”

  “He’s got a special knack for sure.”

  “It’s your whole family. Your drug might be going to a clinical trial! It’s going to be huge. Put you on the map. Dr. Vogelsang’s been trying for how many years, and when you decide to stay, she finally gets a sponsor? You’ve got it, too.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? What does that mean, maybe? The sponsor is excited, yeah?” Valerie asked.

  “The research is going well. We’ve got steady volunteer recruitment. We’re culturing their white blood cells. Looks like our treatment is reducing retinal adhesion molecules which hopefully correlates to decreased white blood cell adhesion to retinal tissue associated with blindness. Judy is meeting with the sponsor to discuss dosage and delivery of the drug, and the FDA Fast-Track application.”

  Her gaze out on the ocean, Valerie’s expression put her miles further than anything she could see on the California coast. “What I would give to work with her.”

  “You hate diabetes research. And it’s creepy how you crush on my boss.”

  “Who wouldn’t? She’s beautiful, intelligent, and driven. I don’t know how you get any work done at all. If I worked in that lab, I’d stare at her adoringly all day.”

  “Even if it wasn’t unethical and inappropriate to date your boss, she’s not gay.”

  “You don’t know that. You’ve never seen her partner…”

  “Judy lives at the lab. Her partner never sees her. And I’d put money on that being a man that she keeps in his place by using ‘partner’ instead of ‘husband.’”

  “I wouldn’t mind being put in my place by…”

  “Enough. You are so gross! I’m going to tell your wife that you have a thing for my boss.”

  “Go right ahead. She feels the pull of Dr. Vogelsang’s magnetism as well.”

  I looked out at the ocean and wished we were staring at the waves from where we could hear them pounding on the shore. The campus bustle inhibited the peace that should come with such a view. “I didn’t stay in her lab because she’s hot.”

  “Ah! Finally you agree that you’ve got a crush on her.”

  “No way do I have a crush.”

  “Then why is it so hard for you to say no to her?”

  “Because she’s my boss! I’m sure you don’t say no to your PI!”

  “I do when it counts; like when Emma miscarried and needed me at home.”

  Her words snuffed the lightheartedness from our conversation. I knew that she disapproved of my working relationship with Judy, that I should stand up for myself more, but I also knew that she was jealous of the trajectory of my career. I didn’t know how to respond.

  She waved her hand as if to erase her last comment. “Crush or not, your involvement in this clinical trial is your ticket. With your name associated with a drug that’s a potential blockbuster, you’ll get your own lab for sure!” By unspoken agreement we turned and headed for the stairs to continue the workout.

  “That’s still what you want, isn’t it? Your own lab? Your own research? Your own team?”

  “Of course,” I said, my eyes on the stairs.

  “You don’t sound very excited.” Jogging with ease, Valerie continued, “Have you finally realized that no matter how great success is, it’s nothing if you don’t have someone to share it with?”

  I grunted.

  We pushed through the ground-level doors, inhaling deeply. Gardenia hedges perfumed the air. Freshly cut grass gave a new-day tang even though the sun was dipping toward its coastal sunset. Purple jacarandas shadowed the path back to our buildings.

  “Still hung up on the judge?”

  “It doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t say that she had some ideas for the sleep study and then give me the wrong number.”

  “But what are you supposed to do? Wait until next year and hope she judges again?”

  “There’s an idea,” I grumbled.

  Valerie smacked me. “That’s no solution! I was messing with you! Come to dinner. We’ll ask Emma.” We stopped in front of Valerie’s building.

  “How’s she going to help?”

  “She has herself tuned into things like energy and fate. If you’re meant to find this Remi, she’ll have some ideas.”

  Valerie disappeared into her building, and I slowly made my way back to my lab wishing I felt as enthusiastic about my research going as well as it was. I had what I had always told Ann I wanted, but if that was true, why was it so hard to stay focused?

  * * *

  I took a deep breath as I pushed through the heavy glass doors and did my best to bound up the stairs, still hearing Valerie’s earlier prodding. I stopped at the bathroom to change and splash water on my face before I went back to my bench. I was still sweaty and red-faced when I heard someone clear her throat behind me and say, “Dr. Hernandez?”

  I turned and found Red Lips wringing her hands and damnit if my stomach didn’t do the dip and spin. I blushed before I could help it. Stop! I scolded myself. So young! I yelled at myself hoping that being overheated hid the blush I felt warming my face. Confronted by her again, I could see just how very young she was. Only a few years out of high school. She had a roundness to her face, baby-fat chubbiness that, I was embarrassed to admit, often lifted a “prediabetic” flag of concern. I spent so much time researching the disease it was hard to tell my brain to give it a rest.

  “I wanted to apologize,” Red Lips said.

  “Accepted.” She wasn’t part of our lab and taking time to work out with Valerie meant I needed to buckle down and get back to work. It was hard enough after discussing Remi. The chiseled bob t
hat set off Remi’s delicate jawline flashed in my mind once again, and I imagined her approaching from behind, interrupting me with a kiss. Startled by the image and the heat I felt, I turned back to my pipettes, hoping that having delivered her apology Red Lips would leave. She didn’t. “Are you interning in Bautista’s lab?” I asked.

  “I go to Beachside Community College. My biology professor has this service-learning project, and The Miracle Center is easiest to get to. But I wish I was in your lab.”

  “Something wrong with Dr. Bautista’s lab?”

  She scouted over her shoulder before she said, “The guy I’m supposed to work with hardly ever speaks English, and when he does, I still don’t understand him.”

  I frowned. I knew how different cultures could affect how smoothly a lab ran. Before meeting Valerie, I would have argued that anyone could communicate through science, but cultural conflicts made work difficult for Valerie, and it seemed this young woman was experiencing the same thing. I hadn’t signed up for this service-learning project, but I didn’t see enough young Latinas interested in the sciences and didn’t want to turn my back on this one. “What’s your name?”

  “Maricela Gonzales.” She extended her hand.

  “At least you found gloves. Not that you’d want to contaminate them shaking my hand.”

  Maricela pulled her hand back making me want to kick myself, knowing how easily young women could be discouraged. And if women in the sciences were rare, Latinas were even more so. That alone was a reason to encourage this woman. I resolved to behave more like a mentor and less like a critic.

  Red matching her lips the day she’d nearly destroyed the lab equipment crept across her cheeks.

  “Sorry.”

  “Mistakes are part of learning. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, okay? I practically live here.”

  “I have a lot of questions.”

  “Questions are good. Keep asking them. That’s what science is about.”

  Her smile was hesitant.

  “You have a question now?”

  She nodded, and I sighed, I hoped not too loudly. I put my samples on ice and hoped it was something I could answer quickly.

  Chapter Six

  Valerie and Emma lived in a Spanish bungalow a block from the beach. At least twice a month, they invited me for dinner. I stowed my Pacìfico beer in the fridge and offered to help. As usual, Emma said she had it all under control, but said I could serve up the beers. I held up two fingers and then flashed three. Emma shook her head, so I popped two caps while I listened again to her plans to remodel the house. Built in the mid-twenties, it had a tiny kitchen she wanted to expand by taking out the wall that separated it from the dining area. That part stayed constant, but Emma often had a new twist she’d picked up from a magazine or a TV show. Tonight, she talked about counters—granite versus composite.