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His eyes harden. “You think I want you to tell her to diminish your chances? You’re shitting on your chances all on your own, with the fainting around and the easily disprovable lies. I’m concerned about yourhealth.”
“I take full responsibility for my health, and it doesn’t affect my work. I’m not required to share my status to—”
“You almostpassed out.”
“My pumpmalfunctioned. It’s old and shitty and I need a new one. But they’re prohibitive without health insurance, so.”
Does he look guilty? Maybe. Maybe it’s just resting frown face. “Does Greg know about the diabetes?”
How socially acceptable would it be for me to burst into Greg’s corporate bonding retreat and drag him back to Boston by the ear? “He doesn’t need to know.”
Jack’s lips thin. “Is this part of your game?”
“My what?”
“This weird thing. Where you delete and remake yourself?”
“You areobsessed.” And disturbingly right. “Are you into conspiracy theories? Lizard people? Fictional Finland?” I take another sip. “God, this is bitter.” The label on the bottle is in a foreign language. “Whatisit?”
“Volkov’s favorite drink.”
“What?”
“He has his brother send a few cases over from Russia that he rations and cherishes like liquid gold. That’s the last bottle.”
I’d do a spit take if I could bear to drink another sip. “What?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll mention that youreallyneeded it, Elsie. He won’t mind much.”
“No. No, no, no. Don’t tell him. Donottell Volkov. I’m gonna find an import store. Buy a replacement. Where did you get this from? I can...”
I trail off. Jack’s dimple is back. He’s smiling.
Evilly.
“It’s not really Volkov’s, is it?”
He shakes his head.
“I hate you,” I say without heat.
“I know.” He grabs the bottle, takes a sip. Scrunches his nose in an almost cute way. Does he know my lips were right there? “Disgusting. I stole it from the student lounge. Only non-diet soda I could find.”
“You juststolefrom a grad student?” I laugh.
“Yeah. An unexpected low.”
I laugh harder—must be that sugar high. “How do you sleep at night?”
“I have a really firm mattress. Great for spinal health.”
Laughing again here. And so is Jack. I take the bottle back and sip again. I guess we’re both vaccinated. What’s the harm? “God, this tastes like paint thinner.”
“Or a plankton isopropyl alcohol smoothie.” Oh my God. I’m laughing evenmore. Do I have permanent brain damage? “Are you going to be okay?” His voice is suddenly softer. More intimate. He’s really standing closer than we need to be. At least he’ll catch me if I fall again.
“Yeah. I just need a second to recover.” Last sip. Is this compost juice growing on me? Maybe it’s just this place. The midafternoon sunlight warming the hardwood floor. The shelves waiting to be filled with my books. “And another second to marvel at the splendor of my future office.”
Jack shakes his head and smiles, almost wistful. “Sorry, Elsie. It won’t be your office.”
