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60
MIA
I’m not usedto having hair this short.
I mess with it over the sink, making a face. Maybe I should tie it back. It’s at my shoulders now, six inches shorter than before and harder to tuck behind my ears. I don’t want it to fall into my face while I’m onstage.
Right about now, Sebastian is getting ready for his last-ever game.
And I’m across campus, about to enter the symposium’s auditorium.
Hair aside, I look okay. Skinny-fit black slacks, loafers, a light blue silk button-down shirt, and a black blazer. My hoops and gold chain are extra pieces of armor. I’m about to walk into a room crowded with scientists, most of them men, and being taken seriously means dressing the part. I fiddle with an earring, taking a deep breath.
Even if we were still dating, I wouldn’t have gone to today’s game. He wouldn’t have let me miss this moment, and truthfully, I wouldn’t have offered. If anything, he’d be in the audience, and it’d be yet another thing he gave up for me.
Every time it hurts so much, someone might as well be driving a rusty stake through my ribs, that’s what I have to remember.
Our stars don’t align.
We’re not even in the same galaxy.
“Mia?” Alice says as she opens the door. “Where the hell—oh, there you are. Good. You’re late.”
I finish adjusting my jacket before looking at her. She opted for a dress and flats today, and clearly at some point between when I last saw her and now, she went to the hairdresser. “Hi, Alice.”
“I still can’t believe Beatrice wants you to give such a big presentation.” She doesn’t bother hiding the envy in her voice. “Someone who’s an actual expert should be talking about this.”
“It’s always been the plan.”
“And you’re just an undergrad. This is my dissertation. You barely know what you’re talking about.”
“Good luck defending it,” I mutter as I brush past her.
She steps in front of the door to prevent me from leaving. “Excuse me?”
I could pretend that what I said was genuine. But she’s spent weeks doing nothing but denigrating me just because she’s insecure, and I’ve held my tongue for the sake of professionalism. She can think whatever she wants, but I earned the right to give this presentation. I’m jittery with nerves and lost in an ocean of heartbreak, and she doesn’t get to walk all over me. Not anymore. Not today.
I’ve hidden my claws until now, but she picked the wrong day to mess with me.
“I said, good luck defending it. Especially since I rewrote most of your code.”
She flushes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You know it’s the truth.” I take a step closer. “Alice, you’re smart, but not when it comes to the technical details. I tried to help you, but you didn’t want to work together.”
“It’s not like I asked Beatrice to bring you into the lab.”
“Look at the audience out there,” I say. “It’s almost all men. We could have been supporting each other this whole time as two women in a field that is still dominated by men, and instead, you acted like I was some idiot you had to put up with. I made the program better. Professor Santoro’s next paper will be better for it. Your dissertation will be better for it. I deserve to give this presentation.”
She flushes deeply, opening her mouth and closing it before finding her voice for a reply. “If you fuck it up, it’s going to come straight back to me.”
I reach around her for the door handle. “Good thing I’ve got this.”
Once I’m in the hallway, I don’t linger; I don’t want to get into an even bigger argument with her. I duck into a classroom and check the time.
I have ten minutes before I need to be in the auditorium.
Robert Meier will no doubt be in the front row, questions ready. There are videos online of how he approaches these events, and he always has a notebook open on his lap, full of observations and queries. Sometimes, he’ll interrupt the presentation to ask them, pressing for more information, more analysis. If I manage to make it into his program next spring, I’m going to be challenged like never before.
