Living Proof, стр. 25
But to her disappointment, Megan would not be able to join them; she had opening-night theater tickets, a treat for successfully undergoing her egg-retrieval surgery the month before, despite a minor complication from the hormone injections. Trent seemed eager to keep their plans regardless. Anyway, she told herself, the presence of his friend implied that it was not a date, so he could not have any expectations.
Jed, a freelance reporter, and Trent were entertaining company, lively without being draining. They teased her about her low tolerance for alcohol (little did they know why she hardly drank), and after she asked them how they met, they amused her with anecdotes about their college fraternity, releasing tension from her mind, much like the joy she found in dancing, painting, and her own friends.
She wasn’t sure quite how Trent fit into her social life, but she knew that seeing him gave her a much-coveted escape to normal life, one in which dinner and drinks and skilled saxophonists were their own end, pleasure for the sake of pleasure, and not just a distraction from pain. Her frenzied week—keeping the group fully stocked with embryos, manipulating the records, scheduling new donations, and seeing her actual patients—began to recede in her mind. She noticed the dimple in Trent’s chin when he cracked a joke. He was the only person she socialized with who did not know about her condition, and so felt comfortable teasing her. “What’s the problem, slowpoke?” he had shouted once from the top of a hill they had biked up, relishing watching her huff in his wake. She had merely smiled, granting his victory with a thumbs-up.
Across the room, the drummer in the jazz band was playing a solo, and they turned to watch.
“He’s got amazing chops,” Trent said. Arianna nodded; she had lately regretted never learning an instrument.
Jed elbowed Trent’s arm, smiling at her. “This guy was a rock star in a different life.”
“What makes you think I’m not now?” He laughed, and in that moment, he seemed contentment personified; but rather than envy, Arianna felt drawn to his effortless smile. She recognized a mirror of her own nature in that smile—a pure delight in life and living that made her think, Suffering is only an interlude to this, and not the other way around. If only we had met sooner.
A woman’s shrill voice from a table nearby distracted her from her longing.
“No, Harry,” the woman was shrieking, “I will not allow our daughter to go on a field trip to a creationist museum!” She slapped the table, making their glasses quiver. “Does anyone even hear the illogic of those words together anymore?”
The man across from her looked mortified as diners at several other tables, including Trent and Jed, glanced over to them.
“Deb,” he coaxed, “it’s just a stupid field trip. Kids don’t pay attention to museums anyway.”
“But it’s a fucking public school!”
“Can’t you just relax—?”
“You want me to relax while Elizabeth buys straight into their goddamn propaganda?”
The man’s embarrassment flushed his face. “Okay, okay, we’ll pull her out of school that day, all right?”
The woman looked appeased and lowered her voice, blending back into the din of the restaurant. But her indignation was contagious; Arianna turned to Trent and Jed, eyes flashing.
“She’s right. That museum is crap, people are totally apathetic, and that’s why it’s gotten so bad.”
Trent and Jed said nothing, so she went on.
“I really think we are at a crucial fork in our history. The separation of church and state is breaking down all the time. First the line was blurring, and now it’s all but indistinct.”
She swallowed the words that dangled from her tongue, threatening to expose her fury toward the DEFP and the DEP. Don’t even go there, she steered herself. You barely know them.
“Remember when we were in college,” she said instead, “they called it the Information Age? Well, now we’re in another era altogether. I’d call it the Contemporary-Medieval Period, and who the hell knows how long it will last.” She laughed ruefully, feeling her blood pressure rise. “You’d think it would be a contradiction in terms.”
There was a silence, and her breath caught; had she gone too far?
“Don’t even get me started,” she said, flicking her wrist.
“No, it’s good to be passionate,” Jed said.
Trent seemed contemplative, rubbing the stem of his glass between his thumb and forefinger. Then he looked at her. “I wish I saw more people care, too.”
“Thank you, guys,” she replied, settling back into the leather booth. She didn’t realize she had been leaning forward, pressing her palms to the table.
Trent scooted out and stood up. “You scared me off,” he joked. “Restroom, be right back.”
As he walked away, Arianna took a deep breath and cast her full attention on Jed. She wondered if he would later offer an appraisal of her to Trent, even though that didn’t matter.
“So,” Jed said, “Trent tells me you are quite the cyclist.”
“Oh, really?” She chuckled, wondering what else he had said about her. “He’s faster than I am.”
“Sounds like you’re getting him into shape, then.”
“More the other way around.” She paused. “And it’s nice to have the company.”
“Sure. He’s a great guy.” Jed paused to sip his gin and tonic. “He’s been an incredible friend to me.”
He looked eager, almost proud, so she prompted him to go on. “How so?”
He proceeded to tell her about a time in college that Trent refused the advances