Day 6.

[happychemist]

15,776 / 50,000 (31.6%)

Words: 3,822
Morale: 9/10

---

“I can’t believe you snuck into his office and stole his pie!”

“I didn’t even get a full bite! I only broke off a bit of the crust!”

Catherine laughed. “There are some things about you that never change. No matter how many reactions you’ve run, papers you’ve published, degrees you’ve accumulated. It’s reassuring.”

Carrie continued to dry the dishes in contemplative silence.

They continued in their easy silence and as Carrie dried and put away the last dish, she turned to her sister. “Wonderful dinner. Thanks for having Dad and me over.”

“No problem,” Catherine returned. “It’s nice to have you around. Harry and Kenny love to see you. They don’t see you enough...” she began, immediately taking back the words.

She hadn’t meant them in a critical way, and she hoped that Carrie would take the words as what they were: a compliment to Carrie’s ability with her nephews.

Carrie paused in her closing the cabinet door, and then shut it, turning to her sister. And smiled.

Catherine gave an inward sigh of relief.

“I don’t know how you manage to do all of this. I can barely take care of my fish.”

“You have fish?” Catherine wondered.

“Yep. Entropy and Enthalpy.”

Catherine rolled her eyes. “Trust my nerdy sister to name her fish after her favorite scientific values. Who’s taking care of them while you’re staying here?”

“Albert.”

Carrie wasn’t sure, but she assumed that Claire would pass on news of the developments of Carrie’s love life onto the rest of the family.

“That’s good.” Catherine replied.

That’s good? Carrie asked herself as she and her sister moved into the family room. That’s it?

But then again, she didn’t really set it up well. What else was Catherine really going to say: “I’m so glad you have such a trustworthy boyfriend that you can leave your $2 fish in his care for the next two months and not worry about them.”

The truth was, she didn’t know if Albert was really that responsible. He was quite absentminded when it came to the details of every day life.

Fish weren’t whiny and mewling like dogs and cats. They’d simply suffer their starvation in silence.

She’d called daily and left messages on his machine reminding him to feed her fish...only a pinch, she reminded, as overfeeding wasn’t good either. She had planned to demonstrate the feeding to him before she’d left, but they could never coordinate their schedules those last few days; she was busy packing and running some last-minute reactions. He was busy with a visiting professor with whom Albert’s lab was corroborating on a few projects.

She hoped her fish were all right. They were $2, but they were hers.

Albert had called once or twice and they’d spoken briefly. Thus far, he had been good at feeding them, but Carrie knew how quickly every-day routine things like eating, showering and feeding fish slipped away when Albert was on a roll with his research.

Not that she wanted him to have complications in his research. She just wanted him to remember to feed her fish.

She stared at the TV absently as she wondered to what extent of her fishing woes she would have confided in her sister had Catherine asked/said the right thing. They were fish. Not children.

The knock on the front door startled her out of her reverie.

Catherine was reprimanding Harry for jumping on the sofa, and Kenny was asleep in his father’s lap, her father was asleep in the Lazyboy, so Carrie volunteered to get the door.

At the door’s opening, Harry broke past his mother and aunt to fling himself against the guests’ legs. “Uncle Josh!”

Carrie met eyes with Uncle Josh who smiled warmly at the boy and then at her. And when her gaze settled on the still uneaten apple pie in his hands, her heart soared.

“You didn’t eat any...”

“I share,” he smiled.

She laughed. “I wouldn’t.”

“Then it’s a good thing it’s my pie and not yours.”

Kevin waved from the sofa. “Hey Josh.”

“Kevin,” Josh nodded, moving past Carrie into the family room. Carrie followed, taking a seat on the couch. “What’s up?”

Kevin, a man of few words (because his wife was of so many) shrugged. “How are you for basketball on Saturday?”

“I’m good.”

“One?”

“Fine with me.”

“I’ll call Greg and Tom.”

“Great. Catherine, just the woman I wanted to see...”

“No, Josh. Absolutely not. I know why you’re here and no.”

Kevin looked between his wife and his friend. “What’s going on?”

“Josh is trying to get me to take charge of the high school Science Olympiad team again...”

“No offense, Josh, but...no,” Kevin stated matter-of-factly.

Carrie watched the exchange with interest.

“Clarissa Sanderson has graduated, so she and her parents won’t be an issue anymore. Beyond this, you guys could start earlier this year.”

“They’re teenagers, Josh. They procrastinate. It doesn’t matter if you tell them to get on schedule. It just doesn’t happen. I don’t want to stay up until three for five nights in a row in March just because they can’t seem to take directions in September,” Catherine explained.

“Someone has to take it. Linda, Sharon, Victor and Paul have both refused. You’re my last hope, Catherine.”

And that’s when Carrie noticed the diabolical light in her older sister’s eyes. The one that was always there when Catherine managed to get Carrie in trouble instead of her.

It’d been a long while since she’d last seen it but she recognized it nevertheless. And that same cold fear and dread still sank into the pit of her stomach. Oh NO.

“Look, I can’t make promises. I can buy you some time though...” Catherine began.

Carrie wanted to run for it. But that would have been absolutely humiliating.

“...Carrie, here. This is my sister Carrie, by the way. She’s the one in the middle. With the weakness in apple pies,” she gestured in Carrie’s direction, freezing the victim mid-action in her flight. “Carrie is a graduate student in chemistry at Stanford. She’s taking some time off to watch our dad recuperate from his operation. And I’m sure she’d have time to invest in the Science team.”

Carrie felt Josh’s eyes on her once more and shifted in her seat, uncomfortably. “I’m not staying in town very long, though. Two months, at most. It wouldn’t be fair to the kids to begin with me and not finish...”

“I could donate my classroom space afterschool,” Catherine went on, completely ignoring her sister.

Wretched, mean, evil woman.

“...and we could, in the meantime, investigate which parents we can guilt-trip into helping out...”

Josh listened with careful consideration.

Carrie shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

“...after all, she has nothing else to do with her time and it’s driving her crazy. She’s obsessive like that.”

Carrie opened her mouth to protest, but it was absolutely true. Why even try to deny it?

“...and who better to run the team than the girl who brought the team to Nationals in ’95 and ’96?”

Oooh that was low. A winner did not a good coach make.

“You were part of that team?” Josh turned to Carrie.

“She was the president of the club those two years.”

“Well, that’s more than enough qualification. But will she do it?” Josh asked.

Carrie felt everybody in the room (save for her father and Kenny, who were both still asleep) turn to her.

“It’s really hard to build a foundation for the club without an advisor who’s reliable. And who’s going to be there all the way,” she said.

“Well...” Catherine said, hesitantly. “Say you helped out now. And you came home to help out the week leading up to the regional meet, and (god willing) the state meet. Maybe then I’d pick up the team along the way...”

Carrie considered what her sister said.

Realistically, from what Josh was saying, Catherine really was Josh’s last hope. The team had to have a classroom in the school to base out of. A teacher was the ideal advisor because they were on-hand during school, afterschool. Parents had to work until five.

And she had time.

And it was her team. Sure, the team members would be completely different. But still...she felt that old competitive spirit. Imagine if she got that team working on those building events this early. And she was pretty sure the notes and texts she’d studied for the testing events were somewhere in her room...if they started studying them earlier...

“I think...” Carrie began.

“I’d toss in half a pie...” Josh joked.

“You would have had her without the pie, Josh, but I think she’s in!” Catherine laughed.

And just like that, Carrie got herself sucked back into Athens High School life.

Science Olympiad.

So it wasn’t as heroic as an All-State Quarterback coming back and bringing his hometown team to State Championships as coach.

But it did go a long way to making her feel less bored and a better person.

“Make it the whole pie and I’m yours,” Carrie replied.

And she colored at what she said. “Not that way...” she appended.

But it was too late; her sister and brother-in-law were laughing, and Josh was looking at her in consideration.

Chapter 7

Jackie nearly fell off her chair when Carrie retold the events of the evening to her over lunch a few days later.

“You were always a sucker for pie. So tell me about Josh. Is he as handsome as he sounds?”

“Did you know him in high school?”

“No, never heard of him.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

That was neither here nor there, though. Unless you were class president, hot guy, quarterback, no one really stood out in their 2,000-person school.

“He’s...he’s good looking,” Carrie conceded as she took a sip of her iced tea.

Jackie waited patiently, but when her friend annoying reticent, she added, “...and?”

“And what? I mean, you know I don’t really notice these things.”

Liar.

He has soft brown hair that made her want to comb her fingers through it. Laughing blue eyes that made her feel so warm and gooey inside that she was too full to eat even apple pie after he looked at her. A fit trim body, made all the more sexy by his confidence.

It was her very first crush since Paul Weldon brutally rebuffed her romantic efforts in sixth grade and she’d renounced falling in love ever again.

But she wasn’t ready to tell anybody about the crush she had on the hot and handsome man that was out of her league. After all, she was safely taken. She had a boyfriend, she reminded herself. And hence was safe from feeling any sort of feeling other than admiration.

She told herself that.

He was sweet about the pie, though.

And God his hands were sexy.

But she’d already humiliated herself in front of him more than enough.

So all was good.

Jackie looked at her friend, then took another bite of salad. “I got roped into going to this thing with Greg tomorrow in Detroit. Do you want to come? Please?”

“Is this a double date or a protection from unwanted attentions thing?” Carrie asked, pausing before spearing another tomato with her fork.

Jackie laughed. “Neither. A friend of Greg’s got tickets to some gala thing at the Detroit Institute of Arts. I think my parents are trying to hook us up. Greg’s just laughing his ass off. Greg’s friend has an extra ticket and I figure you should come and buffer.”

Carrie didn’t really know much about Greg Bishop; she and Jackie had only talked about him once or twice in high school in the context of “Greg said the most annoying thing this morning”, the way they’d talk of an annoying older brother. But she figured, anything to get out for a bit. Next thing she knew, she’d be guilted into baking cupcakes for Harry’s preschool class and being a room-mom.

“This isn’t some strange fix-my-friend-up plot, is it? You’re not setting me up with Greg or his friend, are you?”

“No way. They’re not like us. You will be my date,” Jackie offered.

“Well, then, with so much beauty before me, how can I refuse?” Carrie replied wryly as the waiter brought their sandwiches and took away the empty salad bowls.

Chapter 8

Michael Pendleton III had double majored in opera and political science at U of M. He was now a lawyer in Chicago, but because the Pendletons were known to donate thousands every year to the DIA, he always felt compelled to grace the annual gala with his presence.

This year, beyond inviting a few of his fraternity brothers, he extended to one or two of his acquaintances in the area. Greg Bishop, his old buddy from Art History class, whose opinion was absolutely crucial in the synthesis of Michael’s papers in the class; he would not have passed without them.

Greg never thought much of Michael Pendleton III, but he did enjoy talking about art. And because he enjoyed art, he was more than willing to put up with Pendleton for one evening.

He told Michael they’d meet him at the gala so that he would not have to put up with Pendleton more than necessary.

Greg moved through his room with efficiency as his prepared for the evening.

He’d taken out the tuxedo out of the closet and laid it on the bed earlier, making sure he did not have to iron the shirt.

When was the last time he’d worn it? Kevin’s wedding?

He couldn’t remember.

After graduating, he’d moved to New York for a few years. After all, he loved art, and he figured that because New York was the capitol of culture and sophistication (as he’d been told several times by his neighbor) he figured he’d enjoy it.

And he had. He liked the Met. He loved the opera, the ballet, MoMA. He spent hours immersing himself in the beauty.

But with the beauty the city had to offer came a lot of ugliness. He didn’t like the tension he felt. The constant hurry. The unhappiness of the commute, the depressed faces of the people hurrying around him. The urbanity and small-mindedness of his peers annoyed and frustrated him.

He hated his job. Banking did not provide him with anything but lots of money.

So after five years, he came back to Michigan, bought a house a few doors down from his parents and went about starting his own furniture business...capitalizing on the talent and hobby that he enjoyed.

He was much happier now.

He wondered at what, exactly, Jackie was looking for.

He never could understand her. Crazy girl.

He shrugged into his tuxedo jacket.

Always obsessed with getting out. He wondered if she’d ever looked around her.

He always did. He didn’t always. But now he did. And he was thankful.

He checked to make sure he was presentable and didn’t miss-button in the mirror. Satisfied, he moved through his house and out the door.

---

Carrie was bored.

Standing with Gregory Bishop, awkwardly trying to keep up in conversation, she looked across the room at her supposed “date”.

Jackie Davenport had an expression on her face that Carrie had never seen before. It was a mix of her happy and enraptured faces.

She wondered if it was the “Jackie in Love” face.

Jackie and Greg’s friend the Lawyer hadn’t parted from the moment they’d been introduced. Upon introduction, they’d immediately discovered they’d both lived in Boston for the same four years and had never met. Imagine that!

Carrie wanted to roll her eyes. She saw Greg do so, and didn’t wish to be unoriginal so she simply kept her attitude to herself.

She liked Jackie, but some times...

She tried to focus on Greg’s soliloquy to the sculpture before them.

Greg was a nice guy. He was a fun guy. Until he got carried away on art.

Why did she come if her friend was going to abandon her for the slick lawyer.

Enraptured with the art, Greg was completely oblivious to their third party member’s defection.

She had to admit, she’d always been curious about Jackie’s “big brother”. After hearing so many terrible things about him, she expected a dumbass. Not Mr. I-Could-Be-Curator-of-MoMA.

She was surprised that Jackie thought so lowly of Greg. Greg’s taste in art coincided with Jackie’s. In fact, they both enjoyed the same strange and abstract paintings. His comments and observations didn’t differ much from Jackie’s: in fact, they added a lot to them.

The two probably never contemplated their common interests, preferring instead to dwell on the fact that they, in fact, hated each other’s views on certain issues.

What was she doing here in an art gallery? If she were back in lab...

She’d found herself starting that train of thought many times this evening. It was one thing to come back and be useful to her father, but it was another to just wait around and be completely bored.

Her father was undergoing his operation in two days.

Carrie was relieved.

She was meeting with the president of the Science Olympiad team, David Brooks, in tomorrow afternoon.

They were going to discuss tryouts, come up with a timetable.

David had called her a few days before, enthusiastic and excited. He sounded like a nice, harmless nerd. His enthusiasm was reassuring.

She didn’t want to admit that she was happy with the project, but she was.

“Carrie?”

Carrie turned to the man beside her. “Sorry. I was dwelling on something.”

“I didn’t mean to bore you. I know you’re more of the sciency type...” he said. “I just asked you if you’d like a glass of wine.”

“Um, sure.”

Greg moved across the room to the bar.

Gregory Bishop was certainly cuter than Jackie mentioned. Well, Jackie never mentioned his looks. His lack of sense of fashion, yes.

But he looked good in his tuxedo.

Greg came back with two glasses of champagne.

“Where did you meet the tool?” Carrie asked Greg, gesturing to the still-conversing couple across the room.

Michael Pendleton III, to be summarized quickly, was the Anti-Greg. Though Greg looked quite neat and handsome tonight, his hair was not as perfectly combed as Michael’s. Greg looked uncomfortable in his tuxedo; Michael looked like he’d been born in his. Michael had a perfect smile. She noted that Greg had a crooked one as he chucked now.

“For all you know, he could be a wonderful person.”

“He’s a tool. You know it, and I know it.”

“He cheated off of me in Art History in college.”

“Ah,” Carrie sipped her champagne with a thoughtful expression. “Were you setting them up?”

“No. Actually, I guess it should have occurred to me that they were perfect for each other,” he said derisively.

“Jackie’s not...” Carrie began, defensively. “I think she’d surprise you. I think she’d surprise herself,” she said, weakly. “Are you jealous?” she asked bluntly.

Greg turned to Carrie and laughed. “No. Why would I be?”

Carrie again replied meekly. “I don’t know. Don’t mind me. I’m socially inept...” she shrugged.

Greg laughed. “You’re not as inept as you think. I’ve been completely entertained for the last five minutes.”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “Only because you find my thoughts and ideas amusing and stupid.”

“Come on. Tell me what you think of this piece,” he presented Carrie with the next painting.

---

Jackie Davenport was in love. Or, at least, halfway there. It wouldn’t do to fall in love so quickly. These things had to be relished.

She’d never fallen in love before, but this really was it, she concluded that night as she let down her hair.

Michael was so absolutely perfect! He had the same opinions and tastes as her. They agreed on almost everything she’d brought up in the last hour: politics, religion, art, Michigan...

He worked at Miller, Leigh, and Garwood in Chicago and was expected to make partner soon.

He lived in one of the high-rises in Chicago, on the twenty-fifth floor, where, he said, he had a beautiful view of downtown.

He went jogging every day to keep his excellent physique. He didn’t read literature, but that was because in his scant spare time, he read the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and The Economist.

One had to keep up with current events, after all, even at the expense of literature.

He waxed on poetically on how bereft he felt that he could not read literature as often as he wished. He had a large, long list of books he’d hoped to read at some point, but with his imminent promotion, he feared that the chances of him gaining the time to read in the near future were stark indeed.

So he had one fault.

Even the best of us had faults, Jackie conceded as she brushed her hair.

He was staying at his parents’ only for the weekend, but he was determined to return next weekend to take her to the Opera.

The Opera! Jackie’s heart soared.

Oh he was so perfect.

She had been silent raptures over him on the way home. Carrie and Greg had been in intense discussion over their differing opinions on one of the paintings they’d seen.

Now, sitting back in her bed, she hoped Greg wasn’t forming an attachment for her friend.

Carrie was not going to move back Michigan, so this attachment was only going to result in disappointment.

Carrie also wasn’t really into dating. Oh, Jackie knew that Carrie had a boyfriend, but well...more like a science partner.

She wondered if her friend was aware of how pretty she could be when she was obsessed with her work.

Carrie had never been one for any sort of companionship more than bitch partner. In fact, Jackie was more than sure that this boyfriend back at Stanford was a nice, safe and boring boyfriend.

But she didn’t fault her friend for that. If that was what Carrie wanted, then there it was.

Greg knew how to take care of himself, but she could save Carrie some time and awkwardness.

Why was she thinking about this anyhow? Jackie frowned. She was falling in love!

Of all things to think about the night she finally fell halfway in love, she’d never pictured thinking about Greg and his love life.

And yet, there he was.

Did Greg ever date? He’d never mentioned anyone before.

She hadn’t really noticed before, to tell the truth. She had marginal interest in teasing him about the woman if she had interesting faults.

The idea of Greg really seriously dating and marrying anyone was weird, because she didn’t know anyone who would suit his strange and contrary nature. Every time they spoke, it was if he deliberately set out to annoy her.

And it appeared, he’d taken to annoying her even when he wasn’t around!

She was going to sleep, she concluded. And ignore all this.

Gregory Bishop in love. Ha.

---

Progress! Nearly a third of the way there!

I kind of wished that I had written more today, but I got to read this morning! Read! Oh how I've missed reading.

Today, I worked 5 half-hour spurts with ten minutes in between, making a variation of something Chris suggests in his book. It worked fairly well.

I am relieved that I get to spend my evening away from my computer; LA Philharmonic does take precedence over writing, I'm afraid. :p

i'm starting to have apprehensions that this story may be over in less than 50,000 words. I'm going to ignore them, though. I think that the story is less than a third of the way through, so that's good.