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Phillip doesn’t break eye contact with the computer screen in front of him, but I can hear the annoyance in his voice.
“Sorry.” I glance at the screen quickly before sending the call to voicemail. “It’s one of those scammy robot voices telling me there’s a warrant out for my arrest or something. I think that heating pad I ordered online last week sold my phone number to Big Data.”
Phillip goes back to his computer. I know I should return to my growing pile of work, but after almost forty-eight hours alone, I’m craving conversation.
“What’s new in your life, Phillip? Do you have any big plans for tonight?”
Phillip does turn away from his screen this time, his eyebrow arching as if he doesn’t understand why I’m asking the question. It’s an understandable reaction, as I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve ever asked it.
“I’m going to a bar with my girlfriend and her friends,” he replies. “Why do you want to know?”
My mouth drops open, not entirely sure I heard him right. “You go to bars?” I shake my head. “Wait! You have a girlfriend! Who is she? How long have you been dating her?”
Phillip thinks for a moment. “Her name is Dara Kim. She’s a PhD candidate in the biological engineering program at U of T. Apparently, we’ve been dating for three years, but I’ve only been aware of that fact for the last two.”
That answer makes the entire thing believable.
“Do I get to meet her?” I’m suddenly very much intrigued.
“You would want to do that?” he asks like the answer isn’t obvious.
The only reason I would say no is that my imagination is running absolutely wild right now, and I can’t see how the real woman would stack up to the elaborate fantasy forming in my head. “I absolutely want to do that. Ideally immediately.”
Phillip squints at something on his screen. “It’s the middle of the workday, Annalise. Immediately is not feasible, but you’re welcome to join us tonight. We’re meeting at the Rivoli at nine.”
The Rivoli is a bar and live music venue that I’m pretty sure has been around since the eighties. I cannot picture Phillip setting foot in the place.
“I still can’t believe you’re going to a bar on a work night. Who even are you?”
Phillip sighs and finally peels his eyes from his computer. “There’s a band she’s looking forward to seeing. Some sort of rock group. Not my cup of tea, but I indulge her.”
Phillip tilts his head, looking past me to the paperwork on my desk that I’m only halfway through logging.
“You might want to get a move on. The lab needs those files by five.”
The rest of the day flies by as I dream up the potential future Mrs. Button. Does she share his love for practical chinos and earth tones?
I am still thinking about her when I pack up my bag and nearly run into Phillip on his way back into our office.
“Whoa!” I teeter on my toes, but I manage to regain my balance and avoid an actual collision, which would be even more disastrous, as he has a urine sample cup in his hands.
“Please tell me that’s empty.”
Phillip holds it out to me. “It is for now, but I need you to fill it.”
I eye the cup, wondering if this is a joke. “For what purpose?”
He sets a manila folder down on the counter. “I sent your specimens in with my last batch, and the lab screwed up. They need another sample.”
I take the cup from his hands. It’s labeled with an anonymous patient number, Phillip’s name, and study information. “Do I need to do it now? I am not prepared to do what is required at this particular moment.”
Phillip shakes his head. “Tomorrow is fine. Just leave it in the fridge and make sure you use this cup. I want to make sure there aren’t any more mix-ups.”
I leave the cup on my desk for the morning and head home.
The streetcar is full when it hits my stop, so I decide to walk the rest of the way down Spadina. When I finally get to my apartment, I am tired and cold and a little worried about what is happening in our lab, so I almost step on the package sitting on the mat outside my door.
It’s a pie tin covered in silver foil with a pink Post-it on top. Scrawled in Harmony’s neat handwriting are the words, ’Tis the season for holiday mincemeat! Enjoy! I pick up what most closely resembles a pie and carry it inside. My stomach is grumbling from skipping lunch to finish my paperwork. In a momentary blip of low blood sugar, my hunger outweighs my good judgment, and I grab a fork and dig in before performing the proper sniff and poke protocols.
