Beyond the Ivory Tower (10 page)

He removed the glass from her slack fingers and set it beside his own on the table. His movements were slow, deliberate. With a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face up to meet his. Their lips brushed softly, once, twice, before his mouth settled over hers in a kiss that went on and on, warming her by degrees.

“Anna,” he whispered, pulling back slightly, brushing his thumb across her cheek.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go upstairs.”

“So are you, like, competing with the Kardashians?”

Anna had hoped that yesterday’s tabloid coverage would bypass her sister. But Klara’s question blasted that wishful thinking to bits.

“Not by choice,” Anna said.

They sat at a patio table in a Mission District café, soaking in the rare mid-morning sun while sipping soy lattes and waiting for their orders of vegan tofu scramble.

“I still can’t believe you hooked up with Ethan Talbot,” Klara said. “Considering how you dissed him before.”

Anna frowned. “This isn’t a hook-up.”

“Yeah, right. What is it, then?”

“We had dinner together,” Anna said. “And I’m using his office to meet with the Talbot Fellows I’m mentoring.”

“That’s it?”

No, but she wasn’t about to tell her sister that. The arrival of their food saved her from having to lie.

She should have known Klara wouldn’t be so easily put off. Barely two bites in, Anna nearly choked when her sister said, “So you’re not, you know, doing him?”

The coughing fit that ensued bought her time to think of a more appropriate response than her instinctive “None of your business.”

“Sorry,” she finally wheezed, gulping the water Klara shoved in her hand.

“Hey, it’s okay if you are,” Klara said. “Just don’t be stupid about it. The guy gets around, you know? Use condoms.”

Anna set down the glass. “Shouldn’t I be giving you the safe sex talk?”

“Puh-leeze,” Klara rolled her eyes. “I’m not the one who’s been living under a rock all her life.”

That stung. Especially since much of her non-existent social life for the past nine-plus years could be directly attributed to the fact that she’d had a young, impressionable sister to raise.

“Thanks, Klara,” she said.

Klara shrugged and went back to eating. “What should I tell the reporters?”

“What reporters?”

“I got a whole bunch of messages last night and this morning. And then there’s the guy who’s been calling for weeks, ever since your blog hit the big time.”

Anna set down her fork, appetite gone. “What have you said so far?”

Another eye-roll. “Nothing. I wanted to check with you first.”

“Thank you.” Anna hated being the center of attention, except when she was talking about math. Put her in a lecture hall full of eager students or like-minded colleagues, and she was happy to take the stage. But standing in the spotlight for any other reason made her feel supremely awkward and self-conscious. It was amazing she could string two words together in Ethan’s presence. Typically it took her much longer to warm up to people—and there were many with whom she never got to the point of feeling completely comfortable. With Ethan, she’d sailed past her usual anxiety on a tide of anger and determination to do something about the Talbot Fellowship. But at some point, that anger had segued into physical desire, and reluctant admiration. Maybe even…

“Earth to Anna.” Klara snapped her fingers in front of Anna’s face. “About those reporters…?”

“No comment.” Anna said, shoving aside her disturbing thoughts. “If any of them call again, that’s what you should say.”

“No comment. Seriously, you can’t come up with something more original than that?” At Anna’s frown, she shrugged. “Whatevs. No comment. Got it.”

“Moving on…” Anna picked up the now-cold latte. “How’s your new internship going?”

She breathed a sigh of relief as Klara started talking, describing the computer whizzes and marketing people she’d met, waxing enthusiastic about the amazing things she was learning.

In all the years she’d acted as Klara’s surrogate parent, Anna had somehow failed to see her sister’s true passion. It made her wonder now what other things she may have missed along the way.

~

After returning to LA, Anna rattled around her apartment, feeling restless. Without her sister’s boundless energy and mercurial moods, the place seemed too quiet. She turned on some music, but it didn’t help. Maybe she needed to get out. Go biking, or run on the beach.

The fall quarter didn’t start for another couple months. One of Anna’s post-docs had just accepted a position in Boston, and the other was on maternity leave. For once, there were no visiting researchers from other universities to work with or entertain. She did have two grad students who had stayed on campus to TA during summer session, but her meetings with them took up no more than a few hours a week.

In the past, she would have been happy to fill the empty space on her calendar with work. So much uninterrupted time to pursue research was a rarity, and she should have been thrilled.

Like the mathematician who, when asked if he’d rather have a mistress or a wife, said he’d prefer having both—because when the mistress thought he was with his wife, and the wife thought he was with his mistress, he could have some peace and quiet to do mathematics.

Except that these days, even math couldn’t lift her spirits.

“Maybe you’re having a mid-life crisis,” her friend Becca suggested, as they jogged side by side on the sand, dodging weekend tourists.

Anna snorted. “I’m thirty-two. A bit young for a mid-life crisis, don’t you think?”

“Not at all,” Becca disagreed. “Professional athletes peak in their twenties. By the time they get to their thirties, they’re over-the-hill.”

“Thanks, Bec. You’re making me feel a whole lot better.”

Anna hated to admit it, but maybe her friend was onto something. Just like those athletes, Anna had peaked too young. Done with college by nineteen and grad school by twenty-three, she went straight into academia, where by twenty-nine she’d attained tenure. This year’s Fermat Prize was the culminating achievement of her career.

Sure, there were still plenty of important unsolved problems in mathematics worth working on. Other awards, like the Fields Medal and Abel Prize, worth winning. Additional tokens of success, like election to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, worth attaining. If she continued along her current trajectory, all of that was within reach.

The question was: why bother? What was the point?

For nearly a decade, her ambition was fueled by a combination of intellectual curiosity and the pressure to be a good role model. Not just for her students, but also for her sister. She’d structured the last nine years of her life around raising Klara. Now that Klara was gone, having essentially rejected the example that Anna had struggled so hard to set, Anna felt the fabric of her life unraveling.

She didn’t know what to do with herself anymore. Didn’t know what she wanted. She felt like a boat that had suddenly lost its rudder and ended up floating aimlessly on a vast expanse of water, not a single speck of land as far as the eye could see.

Breath hitching, she continued to run alongside Becca. Around them, the beach started to fill up. Surfers in skin suits, lugging colorful boards. Teens playing beach volleyball. Families with young kids who laughed and yelled and splashed in the shallows. So much color and noise and life—and she felt completely detached from it all, as if seeing everything from a great distance.

The only time she felt fully alive these days, an active participant rather than a disinterested observer, was in Ethan’s company.

It wasn’t just physical, either. She enjoyed listening to him. He was charming, funny, brimming with energy and enthusiasm. In a world where expedience too often trumped integrity, Anna couldn’t help but appreciate Ethan’s passionate defense of the principles he believed in—even when she disagreed with the argument itself.

“So,” Becca said, as they reached their usual turn-around alongside Muscle Beach. “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know.” Anna slowed to a walk, barely glancing at the hard male bodies pumping iron nearby. The blatant display of machismo did nothing for her, especially when she could close her eyes and picture Ethan, his perfectly sculpted naked body sprawled across her bed, eyes closed, chest rising slightly with each breath. Now
there
was an image she could happily wake up to for the rest of her life.

She stopped abruptly.
Damn
. When had that happened?

Becca glanced back at her. “Are you coming?”

Anna forced herself to take a step forward. And then another, and another, until she caught up to Becca and they were running again.

They were nearly back to the Santa Monica Pier when Becca said, “Drinks tonight?”

Anna swiped the back of her forearm across her brow. “I thought you and John had a date.”

“He’s on call this weekend,” Becca said.

“What, again?” Something in her friend’s expression made Anna pause. Apparently she wasn’t the only one having problems. And while alcohol might not be the answer to anyone’s existential crisis, it might provide some lubrication for an evening’s worth of joint commiseration.

“Sure,” she agreed. “Drinks tonight.”

~

“I think John’s seeing someone,” Becca said.

They were nursing watery margaritas in a hole-in-the-wall bar several blocks from Anna’s apartment.

Anna fingered the stem of her glass. “Why do you say that?”

“I stopped by the hospital yesterday. He was supposed to be in surgery all day. I figured I’d bring some cookies for the staff, maybe get to see him between cases.”

Becca was known for her cookies. As well as her brownies, muffins, cupcakes, or whatever other baked goods she happened to be making that particular day. She might work as a computer programmer, but her true love was baking. Every time she experimented with a new recipe, she dropped samples off at the hospital. The nursing staff adored her.

Anna nodded. “And…?”

“He wasn’t there.”

“At the hospital?”

“Or his office,” Becca said. “Leo was there, seeing patients. Said he didn’t know where John was.”

No question about it, this sounded bad. Not that Anna was surprised. She’d always thought John was a jerk. Despite four years of medical school and five years of orthopedic residency training, he behaved like a frat boy—making crass jokes, ogling women even when Becca was right beside him, acting as if his opinion was the only one that mattered. Though Becca was always quick to make excuses, Anna thought she deserved better.

She even had the perfect replacement in mind: Leo Kogan, who happened to be one of John’s colleagues, as well as the closest thing to a brother that Anna had. Back in Russia, their parents had been good friends. Several years after Anna’s family immigrated to the U.S., Leo’s family followed. And when Anna’s parents died, Leo’s mother was the one who helped Anna make funeral arrangements, pack up and sell the house, and ease Klara’s transition to Los Angeles.

But Becca was as blind to other men as she was to John’s faults. And Leo didn’t remain unattached for long. Within weeks of moving to L.A. to join the university’s orthopedic surgery department, he was dating one of the nurses. It was the first in a long string of casual relationships that had his mother despairing. “
On takoi babnik
,” she’d complain to Anna by phone
. “
How am I ever going to get grandchildren out of him?”

Anna kept her mouth shut. She’d seen how Leo watched Becca whenever they all got together. But Becca was taken, and Leo was a good guy, so that was as far as it went.

Anna took another sip of her drink. “What did John say when he got home?”

Becca looked away.

“He
did
come home, right?”

“Yes,” Becca said. “Around midnight. He said there was an emergency surgery that ran over.”

Anna sighed. Saying
I told you so
at this point wouldn’t help. “Maybe there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,” she suggested instead. “Have you talked with him?”

“Not yet.” Becca downed the rest of her drink. “He left early today. With the new residents and all, he said he’ll get called in anyway, so might as well stay at the hospital.”

Anna gestured to their waitress for refills.

“What am I going to do?” Becca whispered.

Rather than offer the usual platitudes, Anna reached across the table to clasp her hand.

Later that night, after tucking her weepy and very drunk friend into Klara’s old bed, Anna lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

She had no doubt that Becca’s fears were justified. With a man like John, it was inevitable—not a matter of
if
, but
when.
All Anna could do was try to help her friend get past the heartache. And hope that maybe this time, Becca would finally open her eyes to what—and who—was right in front of her.

Her thoughts drifted to Ethan. Thank God she didn’t have to worry about him cheating. Sure, most women probably thought the same about their partners, until all evidence pointed to the contrary. But the fact was that at the most basic level, cheating was a choice. A man could choose to cheat, just as he could choose to be honest and faithful.