Shay - Delphine AU | Part 9 (Rough Draft)
Could Shay and Delphine have been a thing in a different universe?
Prev: 1-5 (edited), 6-8, 9*
-- Part 2: Jennifer --
On a spring day Aldous Leekie summoned Delphine. Such office affairs had the air of ceremony, the request descending through channels via a call from his secretary, never by SMS or email, and Delphine's arrival, though punctual to the time designated, an intrusion interrupting whatever he was engaged in. Delphine rarely found Aldous Leekie an idle man. So her impression of him had ever been and so stemmed her admiration of his ambitions, of the restless questing of his mind, the breadth of imagination, stamina, and tenacity that encompassed and pursued so much at once.
When Delphine stepped onto the floor, the secretary offered her a perfunctory nod and waved her inside. Through the glass of the door and walls Delphine saw Aldous seated at a microscope, his back to them. She let herself inside.
"Ah, Delphine," Aldous acknowledged her arrival, eyes never straying from the eyepiece of the microscope. A monitor at hand projected an image of tissue suspended in an aqueous fluid.
In the privacy of being unobserved, Delphine's judgment conducted a brief debate on a form of address. "Hello, Aldous."
A smile stretched his mouth as he turned at last to face her. "It's good to see you."
Her chin dipped. "Likewise."
His eyes scanned her from head to toe, not unlike in the study of a specimen. "You look well. How are you feeling?"
"Much improved, thank you," Delphine assured him. It wasn't unlike him to ask after her health, but the subtext of his question triggered the realization that it had been quite some time since they'd seen and spoken to each other. The accident had been a disruption, yes, but Aldous Leekie was perpetually a busy man. With his book and his speaking engagements and the promotion of Neolutionism. With expanding his network of contacts and industry leaders and thinkers on the forefront. With his research side projects. With Project Leda. All these demands on his time bounced him around the globe. Success had rendered him a nomad, as much as it made him visible.
Delphine had contemplated his career as a possible model for her own, yet to see him now she couldn't have said she had missed--or envied--his presence.
"I'm glad to hear it,* Aldous said, warmly, "because I have a proposal for you."
Dinner, was Delphine's immediate thought, because sometimes Aldous enjoyed a grand gesture.
Very well. Delphine felt up to it.
Aldous continued, "How would you like to become more involved with the Project?"
Already halfway to accepting an imagined invitation unmade, Delphine's mind stuttered, stumbling on Aldous' pronunciation of "Project," the undeniable emphasis that transformed the word into a proper noun, which only ever meant one project, The Project: Project Leda.
"Yes," Delphine breathed. It was the only answer. Had ever been the only answer, whatever Aldous proposed.
Aldous nodded. "What I'm about to tell you is confidential and cannot be discussed with anyone below the highest security clearance. You understand?"
Delphine nodded. "Of course."
"There's been an unexpected development," Aldous said. His expression darkened. "It could be an isolated incident. It might not be. What we know is that one of the subjects has been exhibiting alarming symptoms. Of what, we haven't determined, but signs indicate some sort of illness. Our top priority, you understand, is to determine if this originates in a genetic predisposition. You know what that could mean."
Delphine nodded.
Aldous tapped the countertop with a finger. "We've brought her here for treatment and observation. Without revealing anything of her nature or our concerns to her, of course."
"Of course," Delphine echoed softly.
"Nealon is heading up the investigation," Aldous announced. "I know you haven't worked with him, but I suggested you for his team, in the capacity of an assistant, given your standing and experience. He approved. Now the decision is yours."
"Yes, I would be honored," said Delphine without hesitation. Of course. Of course.
"Excellent," Aldous said. The contentedness of his little smile conveyed that he'd expected nothing less. "Report to Nealon first thing Monday morning. He'll provide you the specifics of the case."
Delphine nodded, then stood in awkward silence.
Waiting. For another matter. For that invitation.
Aldous watched her, eyebrows slowly rising.
"Thank you for the opportunity," Delphine said at last.
Aldous nodded, dismissive, careless. As if radically changing someone's career was an act he performed all the time.
Delphine turned and sought the exit. Aldous's voice caught her at the door. "Delphine."
She swiveled, hand on the door handle.
"You'll keep me updated," he said, issuing a directive.
A flash of confusion jolted through Delphine, even as she automatically replied, "Yes."
"Good," Aldous intoned simply. He turned back to the microscope.
Delphine took it as permission to leave.
*
Delphine sat exceptionally fixated on the liquid in her glass that Friday. So much so that Shay was pretty convinced that Delphine didn't hear a word she was saying.
So certain that, in as bland a narrative tone as she could muster, Shay said, "So my last client of today decided he would derive the most benefit from our session if he were naked. I don't mind. I put down towels for his modesty, I leave the room so he can undress and lie down, and I come back and I do my thing. But in the middle he says he really needs to go to the bathroom, and before I can do anything, he stands up. The towels fall away, we're standing in the room together, he's naked, and I notice he has these amazing, beautiful eyes. We stare at each other and before I know it, I'm in his arms, he's kissing me, I'm kissing him--
"We have sex right then and there and now I'm straight."
Silence. Not a batted eyelash.
Shay cleared her throat. "Aren't you happy for me?"
"Hm, what?" Delphine started, turning to her sharply.
Shay giggled. "Where are you?"
"I'm sorry," Delphine said on a sigh. She raised a hand and rested her fingertips on her forehead. "I'm just--I found out today I have a very big meeting on Monday and now I'm just--" She blew her breath out, lips blustering.
"Like a presentation?" Shay asked.
Delphine shook her head. "No. But an opportunity. A big one. For me."
Shay nodded. "And you're nervous. Anything you have to prepare?"
"No." Delphine frowned. "At least, not that I know."
"You'll do fine," Shay assured her.
Delphine sat back and crossed her arms. "I don't doubt my abilities. I'm unsure . . . where this may lead."
"Is it a promotion?"
"More like a transfer, I think. I'll be working with new people." Delphine shook her head, lips pressed together. "I don't know. I didn't see it coming."
"But you want it," Shay deduced.
"Yes," Delphine said faintly, head bobbing in a nod, "I do."
"Okay," Shay said, leaning forward, "then maybe we should do something this weekend to distract you from thinking about it too much."
"Hm?" Delphine's eyes cut over with interest. "Like what?"
"Want to see a movie?"
Delphine received the suggestion blankly. Her smile was slow in coming. "I have not seen a film in the cinema since I moved. I have no idea what is showing."
"Neither do I," confessed Shay. She plucked up her phone and held it aloft. "But we can find out in two seconds."
Delphine smiled. Tautly. But it was a smile.
*
Dr. Nealon surveyed Delphine with a look that optimistically read as disinterested, pessimistically as unimpressed, and realistically was likely only evaluative. Where Aldous was gregarious, charismatic, and reassuring by way of small talk, Nealon . . . was not.
They'd never met before. Delphine knew of him but if he had had even the smallest notion of her existence prior to this moment, he made no show of it. He peered at her as if peering over spectacles.
He wasn't wearing any.
"You know why you're here?" he asked flatly.
"One of the subjects has fallen ill," Delphine said evenly. "We are currently diagnosing and treating her."
Nealon cocked his head. "One of the subjects?"
"Of Project Leda," Delphine supplied.
Nealon nodded. "That'll do."
Delphine released the breath she'd held under Nealon's detached assessment. He slipped a pen from the front pocket of his lab coat, placed it atop a manila folder in front of him, and slid the package across the desk toward her. "You need to sign this confidentiality agreement."
His attention hovered expectant on Delphine as she slowly picked up the pen and opened the folder. Delphine got the distinct impression she shouldn't waste anyone's time reading it. Nonetheless, she took a moment to skim the pages. Nothing leapt out as surprising or unusual. She uncapped the pen, a fountain pen, and scribbled her signature beside the "x."
Nealon reclaimed the folder and pen promptly. "As a precaution, assume all the staff you see on assignment are unaware of the reality of the situation. Many of them are. We are, however, all on the same page: To diagnose and treat an as-of-yet unclassified illness."
Nealon slipped another folder before Delphine. She reached for it with a bit of hesitation. Nealon made no move or sound to stop her. With more self-assurance than she felt, Delphine took up the folder and revealed its contents.
"This is Jennifer Fitzsimmons," Nealon intoned as Delphine's eyes picked out corroborating information off the pages. "Age twenty-eight, an American citizen, and up until very recently one of the healthiest and fittest among the subjects. She's a teacher and swim coach, almost had a shot at the Olympics a few years ago, maintains a healthy diet and regular exercise regimen.
"About two or three months ago we began to notice changes in the numbers of her blood work. High lymphocyte count. High CPR and ESR. We weren't sure if we were seeing a serious trend and had no way to conduct more thorough examinations until Jennifer herself took further action. When she developed difficulty breathing, she consulted her physician. The tests found polyps in her lungs."
"Could they be tumors? Cancer?" Delphine hazarded.
Nealon shook his head. "No. The leading preliminary theory is that we're looking at something autoimmune. It may explain why, with how healthy and robust Jennifer was, her condition seems to be rapidly progressing."
Delphine raised her head. "Rapidly?"
"Considering the time between when we first detected anomalies in Jennifer's blood tests and the extent to which the tumors have affected multiple tissues, it looks to be very aggressive."
Delphine frowned. "The tumors have spread from the lungs?"
"From what we can tell, they didn't originate in the lungs."
Delphine processed the implication. "But they are already in her lungs."
Nealon nodded and pointed at the folder in Delphine's hand with a finger. "Bring yourself up to speed. Miguel will help."
"Miguel?"
"Dr. Miguel Estrada. The primary physician who will be attending to Jennifer's case. You'll be assisting him."
"Not you, Dr. Nealon?" Delphine asked, carefully.
"I will be supervising and keeping apprised of the developments, but I have numerous other duties to see to, as well." Nealon eyed her. "Any other questions?"
Delphine shook her head. "No."
Nealon nodded briskly. "Then I'll introduce you to Miguel."
*
Dr. Miguel Estrada gave Delphine the instant impression of an affable uncle filled with good cheer. He smiled. A lot.
As strange as it was to think, he didn't feel like a likely candidate to be a highly placed DYAD employee.
After making introductions, Dr. Nealon promptly abandoned them, but Delphine was almost glad of it. Estrada exuded a comfortable air that put her far more at ease than Nealon's distance. He shooed her into a chair and was quick to provide and review with her all the information they had amassed so far in terms of medical tests and analyses.
"Have you begun a course of treatment?" Delphine asked.
"Not yet. There is some debate as to how we should proceed."
"What are you thinking?" Delphine asked.
Estrada rubbed the stubble dotting his chin. "I want to lead with immunosuppressants and see how her system responds. As you can see, the spreading is very aggressive. I think our first priority should be to inhibit and contain the extent, if we can. If that course is successful, we might be able to reverse it as well."
Delphine nodded. "The patient is here?"
"Right now?" Estrada asked, which made Delphine straighten up. "No. She's scheduled to come in this afternoon for an MRI."
"Scheduled to come in? She's not admitted to our care ward?"
"We thought it would be more comfortable to settle her outside of our facilities. We provided her and Greg, her partner, with housing nearby." Estrada smiled. "I hope the arrangement is more encouraging. Being here all day might dampen her spirits. She's very positive, but every little bit can help."
"Was it your suggestion?" Delphine wondered.
"Greg's. He's shown a lot of care and concern. He's understandably anxious but he's doing what he can."
Delphine nodded slowly.
"You're anxious to meet her?" Estrada asked, kindly.
Delphine nodded. "I am."
"Her appointment is at two. I'll leave those with you and see you there?"
*
There was little in the way of personal information among the files that Estrada left with her. Delphine wasn't much surprised. Project Leda was very carefully compartmentalized in a manner that rendered it difficult for any single technician or researcher to assemble the full picture and was even more difficult and uncertain for employees to share and collect aggregate pieces. Aldous was one of the privileged overseers, Nealon most likely another. She and Estrada were cogs, slotted together now, but uncertain as to the other's shape and size.
Jennifer Fitzsimmons was an easier read, medically. Delphine reviewed a history that dated back several years. It spoke of up-to-date vaccinations, no major illnesses, and a shoulder injury that though reoccurring had not incurred surgery. She'd had her tonsils and wisdom teeth removed and had regularly undergone annual physicals. Fitzsimmons had been a picture of health.
Until she wasn't.
To Jennifer that meant the first pangs of difficulty breathing. To her doctor that translated to the discovery of the growth of polyps on her lungs.
DYAD had had evidence of the numbers changing sooner than that.
Delphine frowned.
*
She was short.
The realization hit Delphine belatedly, when she at last stood before the self-contained form radiating energy and uncertainty. Technically Delphine knew exactly how tall the woman was--163 cm--and she wasn't unused to her height being emphasized (and remarked upon), but technically Delphine knew a lot and technically Jennifer Fitzsimmons was a miracle of science and had no right to be real and standing in front of her.
"Hi," the woman said brightly, smiling widely and enthusiastically thrusting out a hand. "I'm Jennifer."
"Dr. Cormier," Delphine introduced herself, slipping her hand into Jennifer's. Jennifer's grip was strong and firm, a quick squeeze that seized Delphine in her grasp. "Enchantée."
"It's, um, nice to meet you, too," Jennifer stammered slightly. She appeared a little startled. Not as startled and preoccupied as Delphine digesting the marvel of genetic blessings that had formed the wondrous reality of the chipper, fair-faced, broad-smiled, curly-haired woman. "Are you French . . . Canadian?"
"Oh, no," Delphine said. "I'm from Paris."
"Oh. Wow," Jennifer breathed, impressed. "Oh! This is Greg," she added, indicating the nervous-looking, young, attractively scruffy man beside her. "My boyfriend."
He and Delphine shook hands. His handshake was perfunctory. Delphine was more struck by the way he eyed her, the constant shifting of his gaze around the space.
Jennifer studied Delphine, hesitant confusion on her face.
"Yes?" Delphine prompted gently.
"I'm sorry," Jennifer rushed to apologize, a faint blush lending pink to her cheeks. She wrung her hands. "I . . . I've been meeting or hearing about a lot of doctors since I got here, but I understand that a lot of them aren't . . . medical . . . doctors."
Delphine nodded in understanding. "Ah. Right. Yes. Many of the doctors at the DYAD are research scientists. Some, like myself, are also licensed to practice medicine. I will be working with Dr. Estrada."
"So . . . two doctors. For just me. That sounds pretty . . ." Jennifer's expression cracked, betraying the effort of cheeriness. ". . . serious."
"What is it they say?" Delphine offered. "Two minds are better than one?"
She smiled at Jennifer, as openly as she could, the way she pictured Shay did. After a moment, Jennifer attempted a tentative smile in return.
*
Monday night, Delphine received an SMS: How'd it go?
Delphine replied: Fine. I think.
Shay's answer arrived prompt: (:
//
Aldous requested to see Delphine at the end of the week. Delphine welcomed the summons.
She had questions.
So did Aldous. They traded quickly through the niceties, Aldous keeping them locked in the script despite all parties' lack of interest in the pleasantries, before Aldous opened the floor, saying, "How was your week?"
"Informative," Delphine replied succinctly.
Aldous smiled. "I take it Dr. Estrada has been very forthcoming?"
Dr. Estrada's name had never passed between herself and Aldous, but Delphine wasn't surprised. "He answers my questions." She faltered a beat. "Those I venture to ask. I'm unsure whether or not he and I can . . . talk openly with one another."
"Generally speaking," Aldous drawled, "it's good practice to assume that you can't speak openly with anyone."
"Unless I'm speaking with you," Delphine tested.
Aldous smiled.
"How did you find Jennifer?" he asked, affording the comment no dignity.
"She's lovely," Delphine said, using the first word that came to mind, a bit surprised that it was that. Lovely. "Nice, polite, eager to cooperate. She's very . . ."
Aldous raised his eyebrows.
"Trusting," Delphine finished. She studied Aldous's features. "With me. With Dr. Estrada. With her boyfriend, Greg, especially. She seems very attached to him."
Aldous cocked his head. "You say that like the reverse isn't true."
"That's not what I meant to imply," Delphine said. "From what I've seen, Greg is very . . . devoted to her. They are never apart."
Aldous nodded.
Delphine pursed her lips in thought. "He is . . . overwhelmed, however. Not surprising. It is to his credit that he has remained beside her." Aldous's expression displayed no shift in the slightest as she carried on. Delphine wet her lips. "Have you met Greg?"
"Briefly," Aldous replied.
Delphine nodded slowly. "Jennifer told me that it was Greg who discovered the DYAD Institute and solicited our help. Your help, actually."
"Are you trying to get me to toot my own horn, Delphine?" Aldous teased, but there was a hard set to his mouth. "I'm not a very hard man to find. I dare say a quick Internet search would associate me with a number of cutting-edge science topics."
"Right," Delphine agreed. She offered a smile. "Greg was quite embarrassed to hear Jennifer tell it."
"Young love," crooned Aldous in a manner that sounded less like an exaltation and more akin to a lament. "But we're not here to talk about him. There's a much more interesting subject."
Delphine rubbed at the armrest. Greg was an interesting topic for her, insomuch that she was unsure at times how to navigate around him. He hovered and observed and attended like a nervous hummingbird, an energy that could send Delphine's nerves jangling, as if somehow his behavior reflected back at her the ulterior motives that put her in the same room as Jennifer Fitzsimmons. But the significant other read as insignificant marginalia to Aldous.
Delphine tacked to another question. "We have medical records for Jennifer going back years."
Aldous nodded.
"We knew she was ill before she or her doctors did," Delphine pointed out.
Aldous held up a hand to forestall her next observation. "We didn't know she was ill. We knew changes appeared in her blood work."
"Which means we had her blood tested before her own primary care physician did," Delphine wended to the point. She flipped a hand palm up, fingers splayed. "How?"
"Ah," intoned Aldous. "You want to talk methodology." He eyed her critically. "How would you do it?"
"Obtain the medical records of the subjects?" Delphine clarified. She shook her head. "I don't know. I would have thought, perhaps, by poaching medical records?"
Aldous held up a finger. "But not all people pay frequent or regular visits to a doctor. In a scenario where every subject is given leeway to act on her own will, that's not only unreliable, it's not thorough or standardized."
Delphine's eyes narrowed. "You obtain samples directly?" She played back his words. "Regularly? How?"
"You tell me."
"You're not going to tell me?" fired back Delphine, midway blunting the sharpness of her voice.
"Imagine," Aldous said, giving no indication he'd detected her impatience, "that this is an experiment of your own design. Keep in mind that you don't have an existing model to follow. Your method of data collection must apply to various subjects in various environments, be uniform enough so as to provide comparable data, but also flexible enough to adapt to any changes across the lives of your subjects from conception to death, and standardized enough to eliminate researcher bias. And," Aldous took a breath, "it must be conducted in secret, at the very least done without the knowledge of the subject."
Delphine stared at him. "I don't suppose," she said slowly, "that you hacked all of their phones to record and transmit their activity twenty-four-seven."
Aldous grinned. "Not exactly. But that's not bad thinking for the modern age. What with smart phones, we could plug into their heart rates every minute of the day, couldn't we?"
A tingle sat in Delphine's spine. The weight of her phone dragged heavy in her pocket.
"You have similar medical data on all the other subjects?" Delphine asked.
Aldous shrugged. "Yes."
"They are being compared to Jennifer's?"
"Naturally."
"May I see the data on the others?" Delphine asked.
"It's a lot of data," cautioned Aldous. "But I'll see what I can do."
*
From Shay [16:37]: Celebratory drinks 2nite?
To Shay [22:03]: I just saw your message. Sorry it's so late. I was in a meeting.
From Shay [22:03]: Np. Want to celebrate tmrw?
To Shay [22:04]: To be honest, feeling a little restless.
From Shay [22:05]: Oh? Want to go somewhere?
To Shay [22:05]: I don't know. It is very late.
From Shay [22:06]: Confession: I'm in PJs.
To Shay [22:06]: We could have a night in. I can pick up wine.
From Shay [22:08]: U r suggesting that u come over to my place?
To Shay [22:08]: It would save you the trouble of getting out of your pyjamas to come to mine.
To Shay [22:10]: Sorry. Just teasing.
To Shay [22:10]: Do you know of any establishment that won't close as soon as we arrive?
From Shay [22:11]: Who said I would change out of pjs to go to ur place? But ur right. It is late.
From Shay [22:11]: Come over.
To Shay [22:13]: Are you sure?
From Shay [22:13]: 494 Claremont St, #2
*
The knock at the door stilled the descent of the knife. Shay tilted an ear toward the sound, then carefully set aside the sharp instrument and called, "Coming!" She hastily ran water over her hands, dried them on a dishtowel, and hurried over to the door. Flipping the deadbolt and swinging the door open, she angled herself behind it like a shield.
"Hey," she greeted Delphine. "Come in."
Delphine smiled, her mouth caught between taut and warm, but lingered on the other side of the threshold, tall and still.
The question of right lurked in Delphine's body language. Shay urged her inside with a flick of her head. "Come in, come in."
Delphine creaked into movement like an automaton receiving instructions. To her credit, as she stepped inside Delphine fixed her focus on Shay--assessing but not remarking upon Shay's very un-pajama-like attire of blouse and jeans--and greeted her host with a press first to one cheek, then the other. Only when she stepped back and Shay divested her of the paper bag she toted did Delphine cast her eyes about the space. Shay identified the course of her inspection in the slight craning of Delphine's neck to scan the vaulted ceiling, the furtive turn left to right of her head.
Shay let her look and carried the bag of wine bottles--plural, to Shay's surprise--into the kitchen to ferret out the bottle opener.
"Make yourself at home," Shay invited. "The couch is comfy--but be careful. The back isn't attached."
"What?" Delphine said, twisting to broadcast her confusion directly at Shay.
Shay grinned. "Sit down. You'll see."
Delphine carried the warning over to the cluster of furniture where she eyed the couch warily. She nudged the back with her fingertips, too little to budge it. A second, bolder effort yielded a shift. Delphine glanced at Shay over her shoulder. "This doesn't seem practical or safe."
"It's sturdy," Shay assured her. "Do you want the merlot or the malbec?"
"You choose," Delphine responded in a distracted air. After some consideration she bypassed the couch, apparently deemed too dangerous to test its comfort, and lowered herself into the single seater.
Merlot sounded more familiar to Shay. She worked out the cork and let the contents breathe as she fetched down wine glasses and finished arranging plates, one bearing a limited selection of cheeses and crackers, dried cranberries, and nuts, the other sliced fruits, melon and apple and a halved avocado Shay'd considered that morning to have hit ripe a day or two before. Fishing out forks and butter knives, she conveyed the plates to a tray rack she positioned between the couch and the single seater to serve as side table.
Delphine frowned at the sight, mostly with puzzlement. "What's this?"
"Your dinner, I'm guessing," Shay shot over her shoulder as she retrieved the glasses and wine.
Delphine chuckled. "You had all of this on hand?"
"I did," Shay said as she returned. "Would you like some salad? I could whip one up. I have some hummus and veggies, too."
"No, no," Delphine said quickly, "thank you. This is already more than I was planning."
Shay shook her head as she poured a glass. "Wine for dinner isn't good nutrition."
Delphine leaned over and accepted the glass, smiling to herself. "I ate throughout the day."
"Really?" Shay asked with indisguised doubt. She measured out a cautious portion of wine for herself. "Name everything you ate today."
"Is this a consultation?" Delphine wondered. "Will I be charged?"
"This one's a freebie," Shay promised. She curled up onto the couch under Delphine's dubious, watchful attention.
Delphine sipped at the wine, lowering her glass in front of a smile. She snatched a cracker and bit it decisively in half. Crunching away, she said, "Today I've eaten this cracker."
"Okay, so half a cracker," Shay enumerated.
"I had pizza for lunch."
"Really?"
"Not my idea," Delphine clarified. "But it wasn't bad."
"With toppings?"
"Cheese, sausage, mushrooms, and bell peppers. There was a little side of salad, too."
Shay nodded. "Okay. If that was your last meal, that seems to leave a lot of hours without fuel. When was lunch?"
"Late afternoon. I also had some kind of a--granola bar, maybe? Something like that."
"For breakfast?"
"No, some time after lunch."
"Did you have breakfast?" Shay prodded.
"Coffee. A croissant."
Shay waited a beat. "That's it?"
Delphine snagged a couple craisins and chewed on them thoughtfully--and silently. The muscles around her mouth pulled tight, as if in restraint.
"That's--" Shay began.
"No," Delphine cut her off, lips jerking at the corners. "It wasn't. But your worry is appreciated."
Shay frowned, glared because she'd been played, then simply shook her head, tucking her legs in tight beneath her. "I ask because I care."
"I know," Delphine said, softly, devoid of any teasing, jerking Shay's attention back. When their eyes met, Delphine smiled. "I ate the sandwich I brought for lunch, for dinner. I might have even had some fruit."
"Good," Shay said, trying for indignant huff, but sounding more as if capitulating to the truth.
Delphine's smile widened. Adjusting in the chair, leaning back so that the depths engulfed her, Delphine remarked, "Did you know that there is a bathtub in your living room?"
"No, really?" Shay gasped. She grinned. "Why do you think I took this studio?"
"You use it?" Delphine asked, a little incredulous.
"Of course," Shay declared.
Delphine twisted to look at the tub. "It's very . . . exposed."
"You say that like I throw open the shades and climb in when I have guests over."
Delphine turned to her with a sly smile. "No? Here I was thinking you simply enjoyed the public bathing experience." Delphine glanced back at the tub. "Maybe only with a very select public?"
Shay tried to stem a blush--and failed. Failed spectacularly, heat radiating up her neck and through her cheeks and into the tips of her ears. The general idea of public nudity (in such a scenario) didn't embarrass her. It was the immediate thought of being nude in front of one particular audience, present in her home, eyes at this moment serenely gauging her reaction.
Shay took a deep breath to quell her high color and said, "How'd the week go?"
The wind went out of Delphine's sails. With a cant of her wrist she tipped her glass to look into the swirling wine.
"It was okay," Delphine said, not despondent but far from excited.
"Yeah?" Shay asked softly. taken aback. "You wanna talk about it?"
Delphine shrugged. "I don't know if there's much to talk about."
"Because it's work?" Shay teased lightly.
A smile flickered across Delphine's lips. "Yes, because of that, but also--" She gazed off into a distance. "I think maybe it's just a lot to take in. A lot of changes, a lot of new faces. I don't know what to think about it yet."
Think, Shay noted, not feel. But she nodded in understanding. "It's only the first week."
Delphine nodded. Another smile tugged briefly at her lips. "I think this--transfer is supposed to be a reward of some kind, but sitting here right now feels more . . ." Delphine trailed off and left the rest of her thought unvoiced. She smiled at Shay. "Thank you, for inviting me over."
Shay waved a hand. Propping herself up on the end of the couch, she asked, "Is it everything you expected?"
"Your home?" Delphine asked. She conducted an open survey of the space. "I don't know if I expected anything, but it's very . . . you."
"Yeah? What does that mean?"
Delphine flashed an impish smile. "I walked in and thought, 'Ah, yes.'" She peered at Shay. "What would you say? It has the right vibe?"
Shay laughed. "Why does it have to be something I would say? Why can't you use your own words?"
"Because in this case it feels more . . . accurate," Delphine reasoned. "Your home feels like you. Seeing it wasn't . . . a surprise." She paused. "Except for the bathtub. And that you have no television."
Shay gave a little start. "Do you have a TV?"
"Yes," Delphine replied. "You can come over and watch it."
Bottling the laugh that bubbled up, Shay flopped over the end of the couch. "What would we watch?"
"Movies?" Delphine suggested. With more confidence, she added, "TED talks. Documentaries."
Brilliance struck Shay. "I should get you some yoga DVDs."
"We won't be watching that if you come over," Delphine pronounced drolly.
"But I can show you the proper form. It would be good for you."
Amusement met her in Delphine's smile. "Probably. For now--" Delphine cast her eyes about. "This is pretty good for me, too." She raised her glass. "Santé."
//
Next
Prev: 1-5 (edited), 6-8, 9*
-- Part 2: Jennifer --
On a spring day Aldous Leekie summoned Delphine. Such office affairs had the air of ceremony, the request descending through channels via a call from his secretary, never by SMS or email, and Delphine's arrival, though punctual to the time designated, an intrusion interrupting whatever he was engaged in. Delphine rarely found Aldous Leekie an idle man. So her impression of him had ever been and so stemmed her admiration of his ambitions, of the restless questing of his mind, the breadth of imagination, stamina, and tenacity that encompassed and pursued so much at once.
When Delphine stepped onto the floor, the secretary offered her a perfunctory nod and waved her inside. Through the glass of the door and walls Delphine saw Aldous seated at a microscope, his back to them. She let herself inside.
"Ah, Delphine," Aldous acknowledged her arrival, eyes never straying from the eyepiece of the microscope. A monitor at hand projected an image of tissue suspended in an aqueous fluid.
In the privacy of being unobserved, Delphine's judgment conducted a brief debate on a form of address. "Hello, Aldous."
A smile stretched his mouth as he turned at last to face her. "It's good to see you."
Her chin dipped. "Likewise."
His eyes scanned her from head to toe, not unlike in the study of a specimen. "You look well. How are you feeling?"
"Much improved, thank you," Delphine assured him. It wasn't unlike him to ask after her health, but the subtext of his question triggered the realization that it had been quite some time since they'd seen and spoken to each other. The accident had been a disruption, yes, but Aldous Leekie was perpetually a busy man. With his book and his speaking engagements and the promotion of Neolutionism. With expanding his network of contacts and industry leaders and thinkers on the forefront. With his research side projects. With Project Leda. All these demands on his time bounced him around the globe. Success had rendered him a nomad, as much as it made him visible.
Delphine had contemplated his career as a possible model for her own, yet to see him now she couldn't have said she had missed--or envied--his presence.
"I'm glad to hear it,* Aldous said, warmly, "because I have a proposal for you."
Dinner, was Delphine's immediate thought, because sometimes Aldous enjoyed a grand gesture.
Very well. Delphine felt up to it.
Aldous continued, "How would you like to become more involved with the Project?"
Already halfway to accepting an imagined invitation unmade, Delphine's mind stuttered, stumbling on Aldous' pronunciation of "Project," the undeniable emphasis that transformed the word into a proper noun, which only ever meant one project, The Project: Project Leda.
"Yes," Delphine breathed. It was the only answer. Had ever been the only answer, whatever Aldous proposed.
Aldous nodded. "What I'm about to tell you is confidential and cannot be discussed with anyone below the highest security clearance. You understand?"
Delphine nodded. "Of course."
"There's been an unexpected development," Aldous said. His expression darkened. "It could be an isolated incident. It might not be. What we know is that one of the subjects has been exhibiting alarming symptoms. Of what, we haven't determined, but signs indicate some sort of illness. Our top priority, you understand, is to determine if this originates in a genetic predisposition. You know what that could mean."
Delphine nodded.
Aldous tapped the countertop with a finger. "We've brought her here for treatment and observation. Without revealing anything of her nature or our concerns to her, of course."
"Of course," Delphine echoed softly.
"Nealon is heading up the investigation," Aldous announced. "I know you haven't worked with him, but I suggested you for his team, in the capacity of an assistant, given your standing and experience. He approved. Now the decision is yours."
"Yes, I would be honored," said Delphine without hesitation. Of course. Of course.
"Excellent," Aldous said. The contentedness of his little smile conveyed that he'd expected nothing less. "Report to Nealon first thing Monday morning. He'll provide you the specifics of the case."
Delphine nodded, then stood in awkward silence.
Waiting. For another matter. For that invitation.
Aldous watched her, eyebrows slowly rising.
"Thank you for the opportunity," Delphine said at last.
Aldous nodded, dismissive, careless. As if radically changing someone's career was an act he performed all the time.
Delphine turned and sought the exit. Aldous's voice caught her at the door. "Delphine."
She swiveled, hand on the door handle.
"You'll keep me updated," he said, issuing a directive.
A flash of confusion jolted through Delphine, even as she automatically replied, "Yes."
"Good," Aldous intoned simply. He turned back to the microscope.
Delphine took it as permission to leave.
*
Delphine sat exceptionally fixated on the liquid in her glass that Friday. So much so that Shay was pretty convinced that Delphine didn't hear a word she was saying.
So certain that, in as bland a narrative tone as she could muster, Shay said, "So my last client of today decided he would derive the most benefit from our session if he were naked. I don't mind. I put down towels for his modesty, I leave the room so he can undress and lie down, and I come back and I do my thing. But in the middle he says he really needs to go to the bathroom, and before I can do anything, he stands up. The towels fall away, we're standing in the room together, he's naked, and I notice he has these amazing, beautiful eyes. We stare at each other and before I know it, I'm in his arms, he's kissing me, I'm kissing him--
"We have sex right then and there and now I'm straight."
Silence. Not a batted eyelash.
Shay cleared her throat. "Aren't you happy for me?"
"Hm, what?" Delphine started, turning to her sharply.
Shay giggled. "Where are you?"
"I'm sorry," Delphine said on a sigh. She raised a hand and rested her fingertips on her forehead. "I'm just--I found out today I have a very big meeting on Monday and now I'm just--" She blew her breath out, lips blustering.
"Like a presentation?" Shay asked.
Delphine shook her head. "No. But an opportunity. A big one. For me."
Shay nodded. "And you're nervous. Anything you have to prepare?"
"No." Delphine frowned. "At least, not that I know."
"You'll do fine," Shay assured her.
Delphine sat back and crossed her arms. "I don't doubt my abilities. I'm unsure . . . where this may lead."
"Is it a promotion?"
"More like a transfer, I think. I'll be working with new people." Delphine shook her head, lips pressed together. "I don't know. I didn't see it coming."
"But you want it," Shay deduced.
"Yes," Delphine said faintly, head bobbing in a nod, "I do."
"Okay," Shay said, leaning forward, "then maybe we should do something this weekend to distract you from thinking about it too much."
"Hm?" Delphine's eyes cut over with interest. "Like what?"
"Want to see a movie?"
Delphine received the suggestion blankly. Her smile was slow in coming. "I have not seen a film in the cinema since I moved. I have no idea what is showing."
"Neither do I," confessed Shay. She plucked up her phone and held it aloft. "But we can find out in two seconds."
Delphine smiled. Tautly. But it was a smile.
*
Dr. Nealon surveyed Delphine with a look that optimistically read as disinterested, pessimistically as unimpressed, and realistically was likely only evaluative. Where Aldous was gregarious, charismatic, and reassuring by way of small talk, Nealon . . . was not.
They'd never met before. Delphine knew of him but if he had had even the smallest notion of her existence prior to this moment, he made no show of it. He peered at her as if peering over spectacles.
He wasn't wearing any.
"You know why you're here?" he asked flatly.
"One of the subjects has fallen ill," Delphine said evenly. "We are currently diagnosing and treating her."
Nealon cocked his head. "One of the subjects?"
"Of Project Leda," Delphine supplied.
Nealon nodded. "That'll do."
Delphine released the breath she'd held under Nealon's detached assessment. He slipped a pen from the front pocket of his lab coat, placed it atop a manila folder in front of him, and slid the package across the desk toward her. "You need to sign this confidentiality agreement."
His attention hovered expectant on Delphine as she slowly picked up the pen and opened the folder. Delphine got the distinct impression she shouldn't waste anyone's time reading it. Nonetheless, she took a moment to skim the pages. Nothing leapt out as surprising or unusual. She uncapped the pen, a fountain pen, and scribbled her signature beside the "x."
Nealon reclaimed the folder and pen promptly. "As a precaution, assume all the staff you see on assignment are unaware of the reality of the situation. Many of them are. We are, however, all on the same page: To diagnose and treat an as-of-yet unclassified illness."
Nealon slipped another folder before Delphine. She reached for it with a bit of hesitation. Nealon made no move or sound to stop her. With more self-assurance than she felt, Delphine took up the folder and revealed its contents.
"This is Jennifer Fitzsimmons," Nealon intoned as Delphine's eyes picked out corroborating information off the pages. "Age twenty-eight, an American citizen, and up until very recently one of the healthiest and fittest among the subjects. She's a teacher and swim coach, almost had a shot at the Olympics a few years ago, maintains a healthy diet and regular exercise regimen.
"About two or three months ago we began to notice changes in the numbers of her blood work. High lymphocyte count. High CPR and ESR. We weren't sure if we were seeing a serious trend and had no way to conduct more thorough examinations until Jennifer herself took further action. When she developed difficulty breathing, she consulted her physician. The tests found polyps in her lungs."
"Could they be tumors? Cancer?" Delphine hazarded.
Nealon shook his head. "No. The leading preliminary theory is that we're looking at something autoimmune. It may explain why, with how healthy and robust Jennifer was, her condition seems to be rapidly progressing."
Delphine raised her head. "Rapidly?"
"Considering the time between when we first detected anomalies in Jennifer's blood tests and the extent to which the tumors have affected multiple tissues, it looks to be very aggressive."
Delphine frowned. "The tumors have spread from the lungs?"
"From what we can tell, they didn't originate in the lungs."
Delphine processed the implication. "But they are already in her lungs."
Nealon nodded and pointed at the folder in Delphine's hand with a finger. "Bring yourself up to speed. Miguel will help."
"Miguel?"
"Dr. Miguel Estrada. The primary physician who will be attending to Jennifer's case. You'll be assisting him."
"Not you, Dr. Nealon?" Delphine asked, carefully.
"I will be supervising and keeping apprised of the developments, but I have numerous other duties to see to, as well." Nealon eyed her. "Any other questions?"
Delphine shook her head. "No."
Nealon nodded briskly. "Then I'll introduce you to Miguel."
*
Dr. Miguel Estrada gave Delphine the instant impression of an affable uncle filled with good cheer. He smiled. A lot.
As strange as it was to think, he didn't feel like a likely candidate to be a highly placed DYAD employee.
After making introductions, Dr. Nealon promptly abandoned them, but Delphine was almost glad of it. Estrada exuded a comfortable air that put her far more at ease than Nealon's distance. He shooed her into a chair and was quick to provide and review with her all the information they had amassed so far in terms of medical tests and analyses.
"Have you begun a course of treatment?" Delphine asked.
"Not yet. There is some debate as to how we should proceed."
"What are you thinking?" Delphine asked.
Estrada rubbed the stubble dotting his chin. "I want to lead with immunosuppressants and see how her system responds. As you can see, the spreading is very aggressive. I think our first priority should be to inhibit and contain the extent, if we can. If that course is successful, we might be able to reverse it as well."
Delphine nodded. "The patient is here?"
"Right now?" Estrada asked, which made Delphine straighten up. "No. She's scheduled to come in this afternoon for an MRI."
"Scheduled to come in? She's not admitted to our care ward?"
"We thought it would be more comfortable to settle her outside of our facilities. We provided her and Greg, her partner, with housing nearby." Estrada smiled. "I hope the arrangement is more encouraging. Being here all day might dampen her spirits. She's very positive, but every little bit can help."
"Was it your suggestion?" Delphine wondered.
"Greg's. He's shown a lot of care and concern. He's understandably anxious but he's doing what he can."
Delphine nodded slowly.
"You're anxious to meet her?" Estrada asked, kindly.
Delphine nodded. "I am."
"Her appointment is at two. I'll leave those with you and see you there?"
*
There was little in the way of personal information among the files that Estrada left with her. Delphine wasn't much surprised. Project Leda was very carefully compartmentalized in a manner that rendered it difficult for any single technician or researcher to assemble the full picture and was even more difficult and uncertain for employees to share and collect aggregate pieces. Aldous was one of the privileged overseers, Nealon most likely another. She and Estrada were cogs, slotted together now, but uncertain as to the other's shape and size.
Jennifer Fitzsimmons was an easier read, medically. Delphine reviewed a history that dated back several years. It spoke of up-to-date vaccinations, no major illnesses, and a shoulder injury that though reoccurring had not incurred surgery. She'd had her tonsils and wisdom teeth removed and had regularly undergone annual physicals. Fitzsimmons had been a picture of health.
Until she wasn't.
To Jennifer that meant the first pangs of difficulty breathing. To her doctor that translated to the discovery of the growth of polyps on her lungs.
DYAD had had evidence of the numbers changing sooner than that.
Delphine frowned.
*
She was short.
The realization hit Delphine belatedly, when she at last stood before the self-contained form radiating energy and uncertainty. Technically Delphine knew exactly how tall the woman was--163 cm--and she wasn't unused to her height being emphasized (and remarked upon), but technically Delphine knew a lot and technically Jennifer Fitzsimmons was a miracle of science and had no right to be real and standing in front of her.
"Hi," the woman said brightly, smiling widely and enthusiastically thrusting out a hand. "I'm Jennifer."
"Dr. Cormier," Delphine introduced herself, slipping her hand into Jennifer's. Jennifer's grip was strong and firm, a quick squeeze that seized Delphine in her grasp. "Enchantée."
"It's, um, nice to meet you, too," Jennifer stammered slightly. She appeared a little startled. Not as startled and preoccupied as Delphine digesting the marvel of genetic blessings that had formed the wondrous reality of the chipper, fair-faced, broad-smiled, curly-haired woman. "Are you French . . . Canadian?"
"Oh, no," Delphine said. "I'm from Paris."
"Oh. Wow," Jennifer breathed, impressed. "Oh! This is Greg," she added, indicating the nervous-looking, young, attractively scruffy man beside her. "My boyfriend."
He and Delphine shook hands. His handshake was perfunctory. Delphine was more struck by the way he eyed her, the constant shifting of his gaze around the space.
Jennifer studied Delphine, hesitant confusion on her face.
"Yes?" Delphine prompted gently.
"I'm sorry," Jennifer rushed to apologize, a faint blush lending pink to her cheeks. She wrung her hands. "I . . . I've been meeting or hearing about a lot of doctors since I got here, but I understand that a lot of them aren't . . . medical . . . doctors."
Delphine nodded in understanding. "Ah. Right. Yes. Many of the doctors at the DYAD are research scientists. Some, like myself, are also licensed to practice medicine. I will be working with Dr. Estrada."
"So . . . two doctors. For just me. That sounds pretty . . ." Jennifer's expression cracked, betraying the effort of cheeriness. ". . . serious."
"What is it they say?" Delphine offered. "Two minds are better than one?"
She smiled at Jennifer, as openly as she could, the way she pictured Shay did. After a moment, Jennifer attempted a tentative smile in return.
*
Monday night, Delphine received an SMS: How'd it go?
Delphine replied: Fine. I think.
Shay's answer arrived prompt: (:
//
Aldous requested to see Delphine at the end of the week. Delphine welcomed the summons.
She had questions.
So did Aldous. They traded quickly through the niceties, Aldous keeping them locked in the script despite all parties' lack of interest in the pleasantries, before Aldous opened the floor, saying, "How was your week?"
"Informative," Delphine replied succinctly.
Aldous smiled. "I take it Dr. Estrada has been very forthcoming?"
Dr. Estrada's name had never passed between herself and Aldous, but Delphine wasn't surprised. "He answers my questions." She faltered a beat. "Those I venture to ask. I'm unsure whether or not he and I can . . . talk openly with one another."
"Generally speaking," Aldous drawled, "it's good practice to assume that you can't speak openly with anyone."
"Unless I'm speaking with you," Delphine tested.
Aldous smiled.
"How did you find Jennifer?" he asked, affording the comment no dignity.
"She's lovely," Delphine said, using the first word that came to mind, a bit surprised that it was that. Lovely. "Nice, polite, eager to cooperate. She's very . . ."
Aldous raised his eyebrows.
"Trusting," Delphine finished. She studied Aldous's features. "With me. With Dr. Estrada. With her boyfriend, Greg, especially. She seems very attached to him."
Aldous cocked his head. "You say that like the reverse isn't true."
"That's not what I meant to imply," Delphine said. "From what I've seen, Greg is very . . . devoted to her. They are never apart."
Aldous nodded.
Delphine pursed her lips in thought. "He is . . . overwhelmed, however. Not surprising. It is to his credit that he has remained beside her." Aldous's expression displayed no shift in the slightest as she carried on. Delphine wet her lips. "Have you met Greg?"
"Briefly," Aldous replied.
Delphine nodded slowly. "Jennifer told me that it was Greg who discovered the DYAD Institute and solicited our help. Your help, actually."
"Are you trying to get me to toot my own horn, Delphine?" Aldous teased, but there was a hard set to his mouth. "I'm not a very hard man to find. I dare say a quick Internet search would associate me with a number of cutting-edge science topics."
"Right," Delphine agreed. She offered a smile. "Greg was quite embarrassed to hear Jennifer tell it."
"Young love," crooned Aldous in a manner that sounded less like an exaltation and more akin to a lament. "But we're not here to talk about him. There's a much more interesting subject."
Delphine rubbed at the armrest. Greg was an interesting topic for her, insomuch that she was unsure at times how to navigate around him. He hovered and observed and attended like a nervous hummingbird, an energy that could send Delphine's nerves jangling, as if somehow his behavior reflected back at her the ulterior motives that put her in the same room as Jennifer Fitzsimmons. But the significant other read as insignificant marginalia to Aldous.
Delphine tacked to another question. "We have medical records for Jennifer going back years."
Aldous nodded.
"We knew she was ill before she or her doctors did," Delphine pointed out.
Aldous held up a hand to forestall her next observation. "We didn't know she was ill. We knew changes appeared in her blood work."
"Which means we had her blood tested before her own primary care physician did," Delphine wended to the point. She flipped a hand palm up, fingers splayed. "How?"
"Ah," intoned Aldous. "You want to talk methodology." He eyed her critically. "How would you do it?"
"Obtain the medical records of the subjects?" Delphine clarified. She shook her head. "I don't know. I would have thought, perhaps, by poaching medical records?"
Aldous held up a finger. "But not all people pay frequent or regular visits to a doctor. In a scenario where every subject is given leeway to act on her own will, that's not only unreliable, it's not thorough or standardized."
Delphine's eyes narrowed. "You obtain samples directly?" She played back his words. "Regularly? How?"
"You tell me."
"You're not going to tell me?" fired back Delphine, midway blunting the sharpness of her voice.
"Imagine," Aldous said, giving no indication he'd detected her impatience, "that this is an experiment of your own design. Keep in mind that you don't have an existing model to follow. Your method of data collection must apply to various subjects in various environments, be uniform enough so as to provide comparable data, but also flexible enough to adapt to any changes across the lives of your subjects from conception to death, and standardized enough to eliminate researcher bias. And," Aldous took a breath, "it must be conducted in secret, at the very least done without the knowledge of the subject."
Delphine stared at him. "I don't suppose," she said slowly, "that you hacked all of their phones to record and transmit their activity twenty-four-seven."
Aldous grinned. "Not exactly. But that's not bad thinking for the modern age. What with smart phones, we could plug into their heart rates every minute of the day, couldn't we?"
A tingle sat in Delphine's spine. The weight of her phone dragged heavy in her pocket.
"You have similar medical data on all the other subjects?" Delphine asked.
Aldous shrugged. "Yes."
"They are being compared to Jennifer's?"
"Naturally."
"May I see the data on the others?" Delphine asked.
"It's a lot of data," cautioned Aldous. "But I'll see what I can do."
*
From Shay [16:37]: Celebratory drinks 2nite?
To Shay [22:03]: I just saw your message. Sorry it's so late. I was in a meeting.
From Shay [22:03]: Np. Want to celebrate tmrw?
To Shay [22:04]: To be honest, feeling a little restless.
From Shay [22:05]: Oh? Want to go somewhere?
To Shay [22:05]: I don't know. It is very late.
From Shay [22:06]: Confession: I'm in PJs.
To Shay [22:06]: We could have a night in. I can pick up wine.
From Shay [22:08]: U r suggesting that u come over to my place?
To Shay [22:08]: It would save you the trouble of getting out of your pyjamas to come to mine.
To Shay [22:10]: Sorry. Just teasing.
To Shay [22:10]: Do you know of any establishment that won't close as soon as we arrive?
From Shay [22:11]: Who said I would change out of pjs to go to ur place? But ur right. It is late.
From Shay [22:11]: Come over.
To Shay [22:13]: Are you sure?
From Shay [22:13]: 494 Claremont St, #2
*
The knock at the door stilled the descent of the knife. Shay tilted an ear toward the sound, then carefully set aside the sharp instrument and called, "Coming!" She hastily ran water over her hands, dried them on a dishtowel, and hurried over to the door. Flipping the deadbolt and swinging the door open, she angled herself behind it like a shield.
"Hey," she greeted Delphine. "Come in."
Delphine smiled, her mouth caught between taut and warm, but lingered on the other side of the threshold, tall and still.
The question of right lurked in Delphine's body language. Shay urged her inside with a flick of her head. "Come in, come in."
Delphine creaked into movement like an automaton receiving instructions. To her credit, as she stepped inside Delphine fixed her focus on Shay--assessing but not remarking upon Shay's very un-pajama-like attire of blouse and jeans--and greeted her host with a press first to one cheek, then the other. Only when she stepped back and Shay divested her of the paper bag she toted did Delphine cast her eyes about the space. Shay identified the course of her inspection in the slight craning of Delphine's neck to scan the vaulted ceiling, the furtive turn left to right of her head.
Shay let her look and carried the bag of wine bottles--plural, to Shay's surprise--into the kitchen to ferret out the bottle opener.
"Make yourself at home," Shay invited. "The couch is comfy--but be careful. The back isn't attached."
"What?" Delphine said, twisting to broadcast her confusion directly at Shay.
Shay grinned. "Sit down. You'll see."
Delphine carried the warning over to the cluster of furniture where she eyed the couch warily. She nudged the back with her fingertips, too little to budge it. A second, bolder effort yielded a shift. Delphine glanced at Shay over her shoulder. "This doesn't seem practical or safe."
"It's sturdy," Shay assured her. "Do you want the merlot or the malbec?"
"You choose," Delphine responded in a distracted air. After some consideration she bypassed the couch, apparently deemed too dangerous to test its comfort, and lowered herself into the single seater.
Merlot sounded more familiar to Shay. She worked out the cork and let the contents breathe as she fetched down wine glasses and finished arranging plates, one bearing a limited selection of cheeses and crackers, dried cranberries, and nuts, the other sliced fruits, melon and apple and a halved avocado Shay'd considered that morning to have hit ripe a day or two before. Fishing out forks and butter knives, she conveyed the plates to a tray rack she positioned between the couch and the single seater to serve as side table.
Delphine frowned at the sight, mostly with puzzlement. "What's this?"
"Your dinner, I'm guessing," Shay shot over her shoulder as she retrieved the glasses and wine.
Delphine chuckled. "You had all of this on hand?"
"I did," Shay said as she returned. "Would you like some salad? I could whip one up. I have some hummus and veggies, too."
"No, no," Delphine said quickly, "thank you. This is already more than I was planning."
Shay shook her head as she poured a glass. "Wine for dinner isn't good nutrition."
Delphine leaned over and accepted the glass, smiling to herself. "I ate throughout the day."
"Really?" Shay asked with indisguised doubt. She measured out a cautious portion of wine for herself. "Name everything you ate today."
"Is this a consultation?" Delphine wondered. "Will I be charged?"
"This one's a freebie," Shay promised. She curled up onto the couch under Delphine's dubious, watchful attention.
Delphine sipped at the wine, lowering her glass in front of a smile. She snatched a cracker and bit it decisively in half. Crunching away, she said, "Today I've eaten this cracker."
"Okay, so half a cracker," Shay enumerated.
"I had pizza for lunch."
"Really?"
"Not my idea," Delphine clarified. "But it wasn't bad."
"With toppings?"
"Cheese, sausage, mushrooms, and bell peppers. There was a little side of salad, too."
Shay nodded. "Okay. If that was your last meal, that seems to leave a lot of hours without fuel. When was lunch?"
"Late afternoon. I also had some kind of a--granola bar, maybe? Something like that."
"For breakfast?"
"No, some time after lunch."
"Did you have breakfast?" Shay prodded.
"Coffee. A croissant."
Shay waited a beat. "That's it?"
Delphine snagged a couple craisins and chewed on them thoughtfully--and silently. The muscles around her mouth pulled tight, as if in restraint.
"That's--" Shay began.
"No," Delphine cut her off, lips jerking at the corners. "It wasn't. But your worry is appreciated."
Shay frowned, glared because she'd been played, then simply shook her head, tucking her legs in tight beneath her. "I ask because I care."
"I know," Delphine said, softly, devoid of any teasing, jerking Shay's attention back. When their eyes met, Delphine smiled. "I ate the sandwich I brought for lunch, for dinner. I might have even had some fruit."
"Good," Shay said, trying for indignant huff, but sounding more as if capitulating to the truth.
Delphine's smile widened. Adjusting in the chair, leaning back so that the depths engulfed her, Delphine remarked, "Did you know that there is a bathtub in your living room?"
"No, really?" Shay gasped. She grinned. "Why do you think I took this studio?"
"You use it?" Delphine asked, a little incredulous.
"Of course," Shay declared.
Delphine twisted to look at the tub. "It's very . . . exposed."
"You say that like I throw open the shades and climb in when I have guests over."
Delphine turned to her with a sly smile. "No? Here I was thinking you simply enjoyed the public bathing experience." Delphine glanced back at the tub. "Maybe only with a very select public?"
Shay tried to stem a blush--and failed. Failed spectacularly, heat radiating up her neck and through her cheeks and into the tips of her ears. The general idea of public nudity (in such a scenario) didn't embarrass her. It was the immediate thought of being nude in front of one particular audience, present in her home, eyes at this moment serenely gauging her reaction.
Shay took a deep breath to quell her high color and said, "How'd the week go?"
The wind went out of Delphine's sails. With a cant of her wrist she tipped her glass to look into the swirling wine.
"It was okay," Delphine said, not despondent but far from excited.
"Yeah?" Shay asked softly. taken aback. "You wanna talk about it?"
Delphine shrugged. "I don't know if there's much to talk about."
"Because it's work?" Shay teased lightly.
A smile flickered across Delphine's lips. "Yes, because of that, but also--" She gazed off into a distance. "I think maybe it's just a lot to take in. A lot of changes, a lot of new faces. I don't know what to think about it yet."
Think, Shay noted, not feel. But she nodded in understanding. "It's only the first week."
Delphine nodded. Another smile tugged briefly at her lips. "I think this--transfer is supposed to be a reward of some kind, but sitting here right now feels more . . ." Delphine trailed off and left the rest of her thought unvoiced. She smiled at Shay. "Thank you, for inviting me over."
Shay waved a hand. Propping herself up on the end of the couch, she asked, "Is it everything you expected?"
"Your home?" Delphine asked. She conducted an open survey of the space. "I don't know if I expected anything, but it's very . . . you."
"Yeah? What does that mean?"
Delphine flashed an impish smile. "I walked in and thought, 'Ah, yes.'" She peered at Shay. "What would you say? It has the right vibe?"
Shay laughed. "Why does it have to be something I would say? Why can't you use your own words?"
"Because in this case it feels more . . . accurate," Delphine reasoned. "Your home feels like you. Seeing it wasn't . . . a surprise." She paused. "Except for the bathtub. And that you have no television."
Shay gave a little start. "Do you have a TV?"
"Yes," Delphine replied. "You can come over and watch it."
Bottling the laugh that bubbled up, Shay flopped over the end of the couch. "What would we watch?"
"Movies?" Delphine suggested. With more confidence, she added, "TED talks. Documentaries."
Brilliance struck Shay. "I should get you some yoga DVDs."
"We won't be watching that if you come over," Delphine pronounced drolly.
"But I can show you the proper form. It would be good for you."
Amusement met her in Delphine's smile. "Probably. For now--" Delphine cast her eyes about. "This is pretty good for me, too." She raised her glass. "Santé."
//
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