Lessons in Chemistry
- Автор: Garmus Bonnie
- Год: 2022
- Язык: английский
- Год: Doubleday Canada
- Жанр: Современная русская и зарубежная проза
Электронная книга - «Lessons in Chemistry». Краткое содержание книги:
But weathering is called weathering for a reason: it erodes. As the months went by, her fortitude was tested again and again. The only thing that gave her any respite at all was the theater, and even that sometimes disappointed.
—
It was a Saturday night, about two weeks after the beaker incident. She’d bought a ticket to The Mikado, a supposedly funny operetta. Although she had long looked forward to it, as the story unfolded, she realized she didn’t find it funny at all. The lyrics were racist, the actors were white, and it was blatantly obvious that the female lead was going to be blamed for everyone else’s misdeeds. The whole thing reminded her of work. She decided to cut her losses and leave at intermission.
As luck would have it, Calvin Evans was also there that night, and had he been able to pay attention, he might have shared all Elizabeth’s opinions. But instead he was on a first date with a secretary from the Biology Division, and he was sick to his stomach. The former was a mistake: the secretary had asked him to the operetta only because she believed his fame meant he was rich, and he, reacting to her eye-watering perfume, had blinked several times, which she thought meant “I’d love to.”
The queasiness started in act 1, but by the end of act 2, it had escalated to a roiling boil. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but I don’t feel well. I’m leaving.”
“What do you mean?” she said suspiciously. “You look fine to me.”
“Sick to my stomach,” he murmured.
“Well, excuse me, but I bought this dress special for tonight,” she said, “and I’m not leaving till I’ve worn it the full four hours.”
Calvin thrust some cab money in the general direction of her astonished face, then rushed himself out to the lobby, one hand on his abdomen as he headed straight toward the bathroom, careful not to jounce his hair-trigger stomach.
As luck would also have it, Elizabeth had reached the lobby at the same moment, and like Calvin, she too was making her way to the bathroom. But when she saw the long line, she whirled away in frustration, and in doing so, slammed directly into Calvin, who instantly vomited on her.
“Oh god,” he said, between retches, “oh Jesus.”
Stunned at first, Elizabeth gathered herself and, ignoring the mess he’d just made of her dress, put a comforting hand on the bent torso. “This man is sick,” Elizabeth called to the bathroom line, not yet realizing who it was. “Could someone call a doctor?”
But no one did. All the theater bathroom goers, reacting to the stench and the sound of violent illness, vacated the area immediately.
“Oh my god,” Calvin said over and over again, holding his stomach, “oh my god.”
“I’ll get you a paper towel,” Elizabeth said gently. “And a cab.” And then she took a good look at his face and said, “Say, don’t I know you?”
—
Twenty minutes later, she was helping him into his house. “I think we can rule out the aerosol dispersion of diphenylaminearsine,” she said. “Since no one else was affected.”
“Chemical warfare?” he gasped, holding his stomach. “I hope so.”
“It was probably just something you ate,” she said. “Food poisoning.”
“Oh,” he moaned. “I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry. Your dress. I’ll pay for the cleaning.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “It’s only a splatter.” She helped him onto his sofa, where he collapsed into a large heap.
“I…I can’t remember the last time I vomited. Much less in public.”
“It happens.”
“I was on a date,” he said. “Can you imagine? I left her there.”
“No,” she said, trying to remember the last time she’d even had a date.
They were silent for a few minutes, then he closed his eyes. She took this as her cue to leave.
“Again, so sorry,” he whispered, as he heard her make her way to the door.
“Please. There’s no need to apologize. It was a reaction, a chemical incompatibility. We’re scientists. We understand these things.”
“No, no,” he said weakly, wanting to clarify. “I mean about assuming you were a secretary that day — about telling you to have your boss call me,” he said. “I am so sorry.”
To this she had no response.
“We’ve never been formally introduced,” he said. “I’m Calvin Evans.”
“Elizabeth Zott,” she answered, gathering her things.
“Well, Elizabeth Zott,” he said, managing a small smile, “you’re a lifesaver.”
But it was clear she hadn’t heard.
—
“My DNA research focused on polyphosphoric acids as condensing agents,” she told Calvin over coffee in the cafeteria the following week. “And it’s been going well up until now. As of last month, I’ve been reassigned. To an amino acid study.”
“But why?”
“Donatti — don’t you work for him, too? Anyway, he decided my work was unnecessary.”
“But condensing agent research is critical to further understanding of DNA—”
“Yes, I know, I know,” she agreed. “It was what I’d planned to pursue in my doctorate. Although what I’m really interested in is abiogenesis.”
“Abiogenesis? The theory that life arose from simplistic, nonlife forms? Fascinating. But you’re not a PhD.”
“No.”
“But abiogenesis is PhD territory.”
“I have a master’s in chemistry. From UCLA.”
“Academia,” he nodded sympathetically. “It got old. You wanted out.”
“Not exactly.”
A long moment of uncomfortable silence followed.
“Look,” she started up again, taking a deep breath, “my hypothesis of polyphosphoric acids is as follows.”
Before she knew it, she’d talked to him for more than an hour, Calvin nodding as he made notes, occasionally interrupting with elaborate questions, which she easily fielded.
“I would be further,” she said, “but as I mentioned, I was ‘reallocated.’ And before that, getting the basic supplies to continue my real work proved nearly impossible.” That’s why, she explained, she’d been reduced to stealing equipment and supplies from other labs.
“But why was it so hard to get supplies?” Calvin asked. “Hastings has plenty of money.”
Elizabeth looked at him as if he’d just asked how, with all those rice paddies, there could possibly be starving children in China. “Sex discrimination,” she answered, taking the number-two pencil she always wore either behind her ear or in her hair and tapping it with emphasis on the table. “But also, politics, favoritism, inequality, and general unfairness.”
He chewed on his lips.
“But mostly sex discrimination,” she said.
“What sex discrimination?” he asked innocently. “Why wouldn’t we want women in science? That makes no sense. We need all the scientists we can get.”
Elizabeth looked at him, astonished. She had been under the impression that Calvin Evans was a smart man, but now she realized he was one of those people who might only be smart in one narrow way. She studied him more closely, as if assessing what it might take to get through. Gathering her hair in both hands, she wound it twice before placing it in a knot on top of her head. Then she secured it with her pencil. “When you were at Cambridge,” she said carefully, placing her hands back on the table, “how many women scientists did you know?”
“None. But my college was all-male.”
“Oh, I see,” she said. “But surely, women had the same opportunities elsewhere, correct? So how many women scientists do you know? Do not say Madame Curie.”
He looked back at her, sensing trouble.