I ended up at a corner table, the table where they were putting the castoffs. Since I hadn’t exactly been invited to the kickoff meeting, it wasn’t surprising. There were three other people at my table – two men in dark pinstripe suits who immediately took out their blackberries and began typing away, and a woman doctor with short bleach blonde hair. The men didn’t acknowledge my existence but as soon as the woman sat down she looked me up and down. Then she sighed and looked away, obviously dismissing me as someone totally unimportant.
“I knew I’d end up at this table,” she complained loudly. “You rearrange your whole schedule just to get here, and this is how they repay you.” She blew out a big of breath, then pulled off the cropped jacket she was wearing over her suit. The blouse she had on was creamy and sleeveless, and her arms were cut and defined.
She picked up her orange juice and sniffed it. Then she turned and smiled at me magnanimously. “What’s your name?”
“Lindsay,” I said, letting out a sigh of relief that someone was going to talk to me.
“Lindsay Cramer. I’m -- ”
“Can you please take this orange juice away?” she asked. “And find me a Perrier?”
I started at her blankly. Was it possible she thought I worked here? I knew I wasn’t dressed as well as everyone else, but the waiters and waitresses were all wearing black pants and white shirts with silver vests.
“I’m Dr. Klaxton’s research assistant,” I said.
Her eyes flickered with slight interest at Dr. Klaxton’s name, but then she must have realized that if I was anyone important, I wouldn’t be sitting at this table. “That’s sweet,” she said. “And if you could get me a Perrier, I’ll be sure to tell him how helpful you’ve been.”
She turned away and began talking with the man who was sitting on her right.
What else could I do? I got up and went in search of Perrier.
The bar wasn’t open this early, so I followed one of the waitresses into the kitchen and begged her for a Perrier. As she handed me the bottle, I heard someone talking into a microphone in the ballroom, asking everyone to take their seats for breakfast and the opening speeches. I started to hurry back to my seat, but the kitchen floor was slippery, and before I knew what was happening, I’d slipped and fallen.
The bottle fell out of my hand and broke into a million pieces.
“Shit,” I swore. I stood up. I wasn’t hurt, thank God. But the water had soaked through my skirt and tights, leaving dark black spots all over my dress. I looked like I’d wet my pants.
Tears filled my eyes and threatened to spill down my cheeks.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” the waitress who’d helped me said, looking down at the mess.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just –“
She thrust another bottle of Perrier at me. “Here. Just go.”
So I did.
***
The day didn’t get any better.
What was supposed to be glamorous and exciting turned out to be cooperate and boring. I got a slight thrill when Dr. Klaxton presented his powerpoint, but it was short lived. Carter was busy taking care of Dr. Klaxton’s every whim, and most of the doctors were snobby -- no one seemed to care that the drug was actually going to help people.
All they could talk about was profit and how the drug getting approved was going to mean publication in some of the biggest journals.
All the doctors cared about was getting published and all the corporate bigwigs cared about was the stock price of the company once the drug got approved.
I hated it – the meetings, the cooperate bullshit, the networking, everything.
The whole time, all I could think about was the couple I’d seen on the subway the other day, the one sharing the same newspaper. At the time I’d wished me and Justin were like that. That we were both doctors, or that we were at least on the same path in life.
But now, all I could think of was how insignificant all of that was. Were the guys at this meeting the kind of guys I could see myself spending my life with? The kind of guys who worked twenty-four seven and got excited at the prospect of research not because they wanted to help people, but because it would allow them to make more money or have the most articles in big medical journals?
The whole day had been a huge dose of reality. It was like I was a kid again, realizing Santa didn’t exist. When the day was finally over, and they announced that cocktail hour was going to be starting in the adjoining ballroom, I couldn’t take it anymore.
My whole body felt like one bit knot of stress and anxiety.
I just wanted to forget about everything.
Everything except Justin.
So when everyone else got up and wandered toward the bar, grabbing drinks and making small talk while they tried to one up each other with stories about how important they were, I slipped out of the room and headed for the elevator.
***
I was at the room before I realized he might not even be there. He might have taken off again. The thought was too much to bear, and I slid my card into the door hastily and pushed it open. But he was there, sprawled on the bed, his legs a tangle in the sheets, the comforter in a ball on the floor.
I watched him sleep for a moment, his chest moving up and down as he breathed.
He was so beautiful I could hardly take it. It seemed inconceivable now that I’d thought science and school was the most important thing, the thing I wanted as my refuge.