Beautiful to the Bone (The Enuis Trilogy #1) Page 13

  “Eunis, please take off your sunglasses.”

  “It’s the light.”

  “Yes, I know.” Warring closed the blinds. “Does it affect your writing?”

  “Excuse me? No.”

  She motioned to me again, with more impatience. “Your glasses, please.”

  “Sorry.” I removed them clumsily and the cedar box fell off my lap with a clatter to the floor. I dropped to the ground, all fours. The box hadn’t opened. Thank god.

  Warring dwelled on my face, the split lip, my swollen cheek, then studied my filthy chipped fingernails. “Please sit.” Her irritation filled the air.

  I sat, leaving the box at my feet. Breathe.

  “Okay, well let’s get to the point.” Warring remained standing. She patrolled, then anchored herself, a straight arm on her thick oak desk, the same type of desk my teachers perched on in elementary school as they lectured, the same sort from which Harold threw himself off. “There are anomalies in your lab’s results.”

  “Anomalies?”

  “Yes, a number of irregularities.” She opened a small drawer and shuffled through it, then gave up and slid it closed.

  It unsettled me, perhaps because the teacher’s desk was wrong in this room. Incongruous. Annoying. “Enzyme reports? Hormones skewed?” I asked.

  “I’d rather not say until the Lab Supervisor finishes his investigation. Is there any way you can explain what happened here?”

  “Well, if I knew what —”

  “I told you that’s not possible. I just thought you might remember having trouble reading data correctly — perhaps because of your eyesight or —”

  “No, no. My eyes are okay. It’s only the light. I see up close.”

  “Yes, we’ve already gone over that.”

  “None of the rats have gained weight. I haven’t seen any itching.” I nudged the cedar box at my feet.

  “Hmm.”

  “Could be valid data shifts.”

  “Could be, but doubtful. You’re using clean syringes? Sure of the doses?”

  “Of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I understand that you’ve been overseeing some of Elizabeth’s colonies.”

  “Yes.” Elizabeth!

  “Do you treat them with the same care as your own colonies?”

  “Of course.”

  “Of course.” Warring studied my bruised purple face. “You know you’re still on probation for another two months or so.”

  “I love this job,” I said. But I wasn’t sure that was still true.

  “But you have other goals, I understand. Lab work is merely a beginning.”

  “Well, I—”

  “What happened to your face?”

  My first reaction was to cover myself but I let my hand drop. “Slipped outside of Macy’s.”

  Warring gazed at the ceiling; didn’t appear convinced. “Are there any colleagues you might suspect of being sloppy?”

  “No.”

  “No drugs?” Warring stood her ground. “No one drinking or otherwise compromised?”

  Elizabeth’s warped, drunken face. “No.”

  “No. Well, let’s let the investigation play out. Just be mindful of the details, okay?”

  “Always.”

  “That’ll be all. Thanks for coming in.”

  I walked to the door.

  “Don’t forget your box,” said Warring picking it up off the floor as the lid began to open.

  I turned in terror and grabbed it from her with both hands, sealing it shut. “Thank you.”

  Suddenly I was bone dry and suffocating.

  “You’re welcome.” Warring’s gaze was suggestive of Dr. Saverino’s at the hospital. Dubious.

  ***

  At that mid-morning hour, quite a few more people filled the streets. The sun lingered for the first time in days, peeking from behind skinny stratus clouds. Even with my new gray sunglasses I attracted a few stares before heading into the subway, only to find that I’d have to route through Times Square due to a stalled train.

  A litany of Elizabeth’s potential remarks to Warring filled my head. I knew then I couldn’t poll my lab mates; too risky. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I couldn’t afford to change apartments. And I couldn’t trust Elizabeth. Lacking control, a straightjacket of options. I slammed the red cedar box, then felt guilty for battering Sam’s lifeless body.

  “Are you getting off or not?” asked the large black woman shoving past me. “Let’s go.”

  My first reaction was to shove back but instead I welcomed the flow. “Ah, thanks.” 42nd Street.

  I tagged behind her, no choice as the crowd herded me up the stairs. At the top she disappeared into a mass of heaving bodies.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” a man behind me said, and before I knew it I’d been jettisoned into Times Square. I’d never been there, not above ground. I stood in awe as the crowds pummeled me left and right. The smell of burnt chestnuts, recycled steam, bus exhaust swirled the air, but it was the lights, everywhere! Huge images flashed all around me.

  “ . . . And it looks like quite a few days of in-and-out sunshine,” read the scrolling caption below the four-story high weatherman, identified below his waist as Gordon Mingle, Meteorologist.

  I squinted. It was the same Gordon Mingle. Not as geeky. Not as stiff. Taller. Well, much taller. I went to high school with him, as much as I’d gone to high school with anyone. Gordon Mingle. On TV, sixty feet tall.

  That’s when I got the idea.

  ***

  “Eunis?”

  “Couldn’t miss me, right?”

  Zoe was a young twenty-something, with large-rimmed glasses and a lazy eye. “What do you do to it?”

  “What?”

  “Your hair, it’s an incredible color, and so lustrous. I just love it.”

  “It’s just . . . me. Thanks. Please.” I offered her the seat, still unsure how she’d accept my proposal. “I took the liberty of ordering you that latte.” I blew across my cup, the size of a small swimming pool.

  “Thank you.” She took a sip and assessed me over the rim. She’d almost be attractive if not for that distracting amblyopia. Think Marty Feldman. Eyes going in different directions.

  I removed my shades for a moment, so she could see my eyes stutter, so she knew we had something in common. I’d requisitioned a table, thankfully, in the corner by the window so I could still sit mesmerized by Time’s Square’s vibrating lights and color, the magnitude of it exploding all around me.

  “You found me through Hunter College?”

  “Yes, through a series of inquiries and investigations, I hope that wasn’t too intrusive, and thanks for coming so quickly.”

  “I work round the corner. I take lunch early.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And intrusive, no, I’m intrigued. Besides, there’s no privacy anymore.”

  “Good. So what exactly is computer science?”

  “Anything we can now do or might do with computers in the future. Social media, of course, but also psychology, biology, geography.” She glanced out the window too, toward the kaleidoscope of light. “It’s something, isn’t it? Wallscapes, sky murals, LED ribbons.”

  “Branding.”

  “Yes.”

  “I gather you know quite a bit about this. Computers run most of those signs out there.”

  “They do.”

  On the sidewalk, despite all the movement, people pointed and stared at the overwhelming messages. “Four stories high.”

  “Ten thousand square feet or more on some, yup. Digital billboards, six square blocks of them, twenty-four hours a day. They’re called ‘spectaculars.’”

  “You’ve studied this.” I pointed to an undulating image of Kate Upton.

  “Yes.” She snickered. “I work it, part-time. Helps with tuition. I’m learning a lot. The psychology interests me.”

  “Well, that’s why I called you. These ‘spectaculars,’ do they run off basic video
files, like After Effects animations?”

  “They do, most of them.”

  “And roughly speaking, how many people see one of these messages a day?”

  “Up to one point five million.”

  “No,” I rephrased, running my fingers over Sammy’s cedar box, “a day.”

  “Yes, one point five million. A day.”

  “And tomorrow night, say for approximately an hour?”

  “Christmas Eve, that’s a lot of eyeballs. Maybe a hundred thousand.”

  A hundred thousand!

  ***

  At my stop I ascended the unusually long escalator. Opposite me, on the way down the other escalator, presumably coming from her night shift at the rehabilitation hospital, was the young tattooed orderly who assisted Dr. Saverino, the one who’d groped me. She recognized me, looked at me with those eyes. A thick, damp heat coated me.

  I turned away and, reaching the top of the escalator, walked into the sunlight. It’s what Momma and the teachers and even the doctors told me never to do. Sunlight will kill you. I stood there for an instant, experiencing it. I’d rarely been in the island’s daylight and never when the sun shone. My choice. My skin breathed. A fine day.

  I walked the mile to The Octagon, stopping occasionally to window shop — at a clothing boutique, a chocolate shop, though I’ve never liked chocolate, and a small art gallery — something I’d never done before.

  As I neared The Octagon, a familiar voice hailed me. “Eunis.” Jerrod sat on the bench at the bus stop.

  Suck it in and move past him.

  Not possible. He stood in front of me before I’d made it halfway to the Octagon steps.

  “Now what?” I said, keeping my head low.

  “Can we sit for a few minutes?” He motioned to the bench.

  “I’ve got a lot on my plate today.”

  “Maybe, but this is important.”

  “More important than my schedule?”

  “Please. Just five minutes.”

  “I thought you lived in New Jersey.”

  “I brought Syd back this morning. Please.” He ushered me to the bench in the soft morning shadow of The Octagon.

  “Jerrod— ”

  “Roddy. My friends call me Roddy.”

  “Okay.”

  “I — we — want to make it up to you, for what happened the other night.”

  “No need.”

  “How’s your face?” He touched my cheek again.

  Inappropriate! I looked up at him, fiercely. He was a bit taller than I’d remembered. Broad shoulders. Kind eyes. Symmetrical features? I’d lingered too long. I focused on the cold stone Octagon over his shoulder. I saw a lot more with my new shades. “I heal quickly.”

  “She has a problem,” he said.

  “Apparently.”

  “She knows it.”

  “Then she should do something about it.”

  “I agree. It’s one of the reasons she and I aren’t together anymore.”

  “Does she take it out on Sydney? Kids can get the worst of it.”

  “No. Not that I know of. Not that Syd has ever said. I’ve asked her.”

  “Good.”

  “You were very generous under the circumstances.”

  “Anyone would do that.”

  “They would not. Please look at me,” he said, his voice plaintive.

  The Octagon’s shadow couldn’t prevent the brush of wild blue sky, the unseasonable warmth of the sun or the benevolence of his mouth, which seemed to smile without actually doing so, a crooked smile. Like he bit down too hard on a sweet cherry and met the pit. Rugged without knowing.

  “I’m a lawyer, I see people acting out all the time. It’s not pretty. What you did was kind.”

  “They’re hurt. People hurt.” And your soon-to-be ex-wife is among them.

  His face became soft and generous. His eyebrows and cheeks met midway, folding his eyes into miniature pocket smiles. “Exactly,” he said. “You understand. Would you take off your sunglasses?”

  “No. Are we done?”

  “No, we are not. I insist that you let me do something for you.”

  “You insist? I don’t need anything.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” I evaded his scrutiny. Along the path that led behind the rehabilitation hospital to the lighthouse, the tattooed orderly leaned on the railing. Watching us?

  I turned back.

  Roddy studied me, appeared to deliberate. “Then dinner?” He handed me his business card.

  “What?”

  “Dinner. It’s the least I can do.”

  “I’ve got a busy day.” I stood and walked away. In my hand, his business card and Sam in the cedar box, rigid. But it was the sun that preoccupied me, anchored on my cheek where Roddy’s finger left an imprint.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Entering the lab I measured my steps, quietly, defensively. I held the door, sensed stillness, a hushed conversation, and with it, fatigue and the urge to walk right out.

  I heard Elizabeth, around the corner behind a set of cages. Whispering like Harold on the phone. A low tremor began in my chest.

  “She may be a problem, maybe she’s not. We can handle her.”

  The main door slipped out of my hand, clicked shut. The conversation stopped. For a static eternity it felt like the electron cloud prepared to rupture. Elizabeth and Ruchika emerged from behind the cages, headed in different directions. Elizabeth barely made eye contact and moved to the other lab. Just as well.

  Ruchika sauntered after me, but it was uneasy and false, releasing censorious particles in my head even before our eyes met. She was a young East Indian woman in her mid-twenties, younger than both Elizabeth and me, with a frenzied nest of russet hair and guarded eyes. “Did Warring call you in this morning?”

  It was exactly this kind of disingenuous nonsense that marked her from our very first meeting. “Well, if you talked to Elizabeth, you know she did.” I rested my hands on my hips.

  “What did she ask you?”

  “Probably the same things she asked you.”

  “Which were?”

  “If I’ve noticed anything . . .”

  “Anything . . .?” Ruchika poked fingers into her unkempt bramble.

  “Like drugs or alcohol or anything.”

  She squinted, indignant. “I don’t do those things.”

  “I didn’t say that you did.”

  “I haven’t noticed anything. I don’t know what the problem is.” She pressed against the counter waiting for me to respond, her lab coat improperly buttoned. So Ruchika.

  “I just do my job.” I started to turn away from her.

  “Yes, but you have bigger plans.”

  Elizabeth had been flapping her mouth. “Yes, I do. So what?” A rush of enmity welled up, surprised me.

  “This job’s important to me. I worked hard. My family expects me . . .” She let despair escape. “I can’t go back.”

  I could’ve slapped her. She wasn’t the only one who couldn’t go back. “You’ve got the most seniority. You’ll be fine.” I collected my ELN and pulled my lab coat off the hook. “The whole thing will probably blow over.”

  “Yeah, probably. I guess.” Ruchika hesitated, as if she’d ask something more, but all that came out was an unenthusiastic “Thanks.”

  Suddenly she was an unworthy opponent. And when had she become an adversary? We headed to our respective stations.

  ***

  Elizabeth avoided me most of the evening, which suited me fine, allowing me to concentrate on the unequivocal tasks, though the legions of rodents now seemed less comrades in research than marginalized flotsam. We’re all connected, I reminded myself. Think of what Sam taught you.

  Around eleven o’clock I snuck into the small computer closet where we housed the server and connected to the database with my ELN. I wasn’t about to breach security with my laptop. I copied my normative facial data to a disc —it was after all not classified—
then translated the data into 3D male and female images using the company software. My plan in motion.

  “Eunis!” Ruchika was almost upon me, startling me. But I’d frightened her too. “What’re you doing?”

  The disc went discreetly into my lab coat. “Just re-checking last week’s results off the server. Looking for anomalies in my reports.” Did she catch me? I tried to look sanguine.

  “Oh. Just your reports?”

  “Do I look like a cop? Yes, just my reports. And you?”

  She rotated around the small room, alighted on a charger; snatched it off the shelf. “Left my charger. My head must’ve been somewhere else.”

  We both forced smiles and almost tripped over each other leaving.

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  The whole process had taken me less than twenty minutes, and as far as I could tell no rules had been broken nor any trail for detection left. Except for Ruchika. If she went to Warring what would she say? How would I respond?

  I was relieved when the shift was over, but as I hung up my lab coat Elizabeth approached me.

  “Yes?” I did my best to exude a chill.

  “I’m sorry, really,” she said.

  “About what?” I pulled on my overcoat.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re sorry for what?”

  “My drinking. The bottle. I don’t remember, you know . . . “ She waved a hand at my bruised face. “We were having such a good time. Are you okay?”

  “Yes. You and Roddy can stop worrying.”

  “Roddy?”

  “Yes.” That wasn’t very smart.

  “You mean Jerrod? What does he have to do with this?”

  “I just thought, since he was there . . .”

  “I’m sure he’s moved on. He’s very pragmatic about my drinking, about most things.”

  “Okay, well, then I accept your apology. Let’s move on too.”

  “Would you have dinner with us on Christmas?”

  Warmth rose in my chest. I wanted to excuse her actions. But Elizabeth had left more than marks on my face. She’d left new doubt. Plus I had work to do, with Zoe set to meet me the following evening . . . too important. “You know what, no thanks.”

  “Please, it’s Christmas.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” I walked away.