― Tahereh Mafi
Paige
It was late when I finished up for the day and got ready to leave for home. I was just putting on my coat when Paige popped her head in the door.
"Sorry about lunch today, Cole, we had a minor department crisis and settled it over a working lunch."
"That's okay," I reassured her, "these things happen."
"I want to make it up to you. Can I take you out to dinner?"
"You don't have to do that," I laughed, "but I will go to dinner with you. Where do you have in mind?"
"I don't care as long as it's Italian. I'm in the mood for pasta."
We ended up at Sotto Sotto.
"Really?" she smiled, "When you said you'd pay, I expected McDonalds or Harvey's. Why such an upscale eatery? I mean, this is Drake's favourite restaurant."
"Look, you said you wanted Italian and I wanted someplace quiet where we could talk. I need your input on something."
"Oh, so this is payment for psychiatric counselling―is that it?"
"Naw, you're my mentor. I've always bounced things off you. Besides, I missed you today. I value your friendship."
She paused and stared at me with huge dark eyes. I was surprised to feel my stomach flip and a warmth spread through me.
"Anything I do for you requires no payback," she whispered.
I tried to shake off the feeling. "I know. I just realized I sometimes take you for granted. I never want to do that... But, you know what? I'm not sure any of this is making sense."
"Maybe I should be absent more often," she teased.
"No, don't do that," I croaked. I stared at her helplessly.
Maybe it was the subdued lighting and candlelit tables―maybe it was her absence at lunch. But in the soft glow of the room her beauty was heightened and I felt suddenly shy as if seeing her for the first time.
I looked up to see a waiter looking expectantly at me. "And for you, sir?"
I realized Paige had already ordered. I must have been completely absorbed in my thoughts.
"I'll have what the lady is having."
"Excellent choice," he smiled.
Paige looked at me bemused. "I know you'll like the pasta, but I don't think you like Caesar salad."
"I'm open to something new," I said, colouring.
"I can see that," she whispered again, her eyes dark and endless, so endless, I had to look away in case I fell in.
"So, what's on you mind?" she asked, taking a sip of wine.
"Nothing," I replied defensively.
"But I thought you wanted to ask my opinion on something?"
"I do." I felt totally stupid. "Can you excuse me for a moment? I'll be right back."
Paige nodded but looked confused or concerned―it was an expression I had never seen on her face and I'm sure she thought I was totally mad.
I went to the men's room and splashed water on my face. What is happening to me? I asked the man in the mirror, but all I saw was a dripping, blank face staring back at me.
Maybe the episode with Sylvie had totally eroded my confidence with women. I needed to get a grip. I resolved to go back and treat the dinner with Paige in a more business like manner. I needed her input on what Dean Atkinson and I discussed―end of the matter.
At least, I hoped it would be.
Back at the table our meals had arrived. The server was again waiting patiently for me,
"Would the gentleman like some fresh parmesan on the lasagne?"
"Thank you," I nodded. I couldn't wait until he left.
Paige had begun eating the lasagne."I know you'll love the pasta―it just melts in your mouth."
"It looks beautiful," I said, but was really thinking of her.
She giggled. "Don't think I ever hear lasagne referred to in that way."
I honestly had no appetite, but went through the motions of putting fork to mouth, trying not to stare at her, but it was hard―everything about her gleamed as if brushed with light
"So, what's on your mind, Cole?"
Everything she said seemed to have a double meaning and it all led back to her. I forced myself to redirect my focus.
"Dean Atkinson wanted to discuss my resigning from Sloane's research project. He told me Sloane was 'concerned' about losing my support for his project."
Paige's eyes flashed. I actually saw tiny sparks in them. "I told you Sloane Kettering would poison the wells to get back at you."
There was no doubt where her loyalty lay and I instantly felt support from her―it was intense, and passionate.
"I felt intimidated at first," I told her, "but when I told the Dean about my preliminary research results with Remnisivere, he was impressed I would pursue the study independently. He offered to talk to Howard Innis and get me a temporary grant from the funding committee so I could assemble a team."
"That's great news!" she beamed, grabbing my hand in excitement.
The warm touch of her hand set off a conflagration inside of me. I felt as if there was a fire blazing behind me, the heat passing over me in waves.
Her eyes registered a dark surprise and she immediately withdrew her hand as if were charged with static electricity.
The room suddenly went silent and we stared at each other helplessly. Finally, her whisper broke the silence, "Do you have any idea of who you'd select for your team?"
"I want you," I said. She stared at me trying to decide what I meant.
"Will you join the team?" I clarified.
"Of course, I will," she replied, "and one of my third year students, Nigel Fraser, would make an excellent research assistant―he's brilliant and a genius with computers."
It seemed as if all the pieces of my life had suddenly started to fall into place.
"I can't believe this is actually happening," I said, feeling a little dazed.
"On the plus side" she smiled," you won't have to worry about my being absent, since we'll be working side by side."
That fact reassured me more than anything else and probably more than she could ever realize.