Page 48 of Engineering a Love Story

“Sorry.” We slide in and I start the car. “You asked.”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Well, we’re no good at politics, you don’t want ex-boyfriends, and work is out. I think we’re back to having nothing to talk about.”

“Baseball on the radio it is then.” Seth brushes the back of his hand against mine. “Challenge accepted.”

Twenty-Seven

When I wake in the morning, my bed is empty. In the living room, I find Seth sitting on the floor wearing only khakis, his back against the sofa, his head hunched over his laptop.

“Sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t sleep and it’s basically criminal I haven’t been on my email since Friday.”

Out the window behind him, I see blue sky. “No problem. You keep working. I’m going out for a quick ride.”

“No, wait. I want to come.” Seth snaps his laptop shut. “You promised to show me.”

“But I only have one bike.”

“You’ll ride slow. I’ll run fast. We can make it work. Give me a minute.” He hops to standing and goes into the bedroom, kissing me as he passes. He carries my bike down and a few minutes later, we’re winding our way toward the river.

It’s delightful outside with a bright sun that doesn’t carry tremendous heat. A September day that could make anyone fall in love with Boston and the elusive idea you can live here surrounded by bookstores, cafés, the hallowed halls of learning, the beauty of the skyline, the river, and leaves just starting to turn. You can forget all about the sticky summer, traffic, high rents, and the winter that looms.

We cross Harvard Square, go to the river, and meander along the footpath. I get off my bike and we walk onto the Weeks Bridge and pause to watch the rowers, the river almost crisp on this perfect day. When we begin again, Boston shimmers in front of us, the gold dome pasted like a decal on the blue sky.

It’s personal, sharing this with Seth, a way of inviting him into my space. I know having memories of being here with him will change my own emotions about it, just as I sense that the dusty lobby of my building and even my beloved apartment feel more vivid, more interesting with Seth here. I worry how it will all pale when he leaves.

Back in my living room, we’re restless.

“I should take you somewhere. You showed me Coit Tower and all those lovely apples at the museum. You haven’t seen anything but this apartment,” I say, gesturing to my bare walls.

“And Micro Center,” Seth says with an approving nod.

I run through touristy ideas in my head. “Do you want to see the Bloody Angle?”

We drive west, and at the park, we set off walking on the dirt track. Seth takes my hand and we pass the Hartwell Tavern, now only a monument to its former use, and we head toward the farms in Concord.

I tell him more about Wade and what little contact we have now. “He almost never comes home, and I miss him. He’s the reason I got into computer science in the first place.”

“Was it a thing you loved, when you decided to study it?”

“Computers were fun in school, when you could poke around with those silly text-based games. Wade figured out how to write those on the clunky home computer he’d pieced together out of spare parts he stole from our school’s computer lab. So of course I had to learn how to make those games too.”

“Do you miss coding?” Seth stops to read a historical placard.

“Not really. Some days it seems like a waste, that I spent all that time earning a degree I’m not even using. But I like what I do now.” I tell him how Gilroy has more women in leadership positions, and about Howard, who has been so encouraging.

“And you’re good,” Seth says, releasing my hand to bend and assess a stone that marks the grave of British soldiers. “Manish says, and he doesn’t typically say nice things about analysts. He hates that guy at GlobalTech, the heavy dude? What’s his name?”

“Greg Kielty.”

“Right. Him.” Seth stands and we continue walking.

We reach a fork in the path and I explain that looping east will take us to Paul Revere’s capture site. As we head in that direction, I ask him to tell me more about his sister.

“Lisa went to work at this spa in Tucson after college and she’s still there,” he says, noting that he thinks this is beneath her. “And she dates these perfidious losers. Drives me nuts.”

“Wait. What was that one? Perfidious?”