Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
It should be a dream come true.
It is a dream come true, especially given the unexpected rejection from Nova. It’s the sort of second chance that feels too good to be true.
So why am I not giddy?
“We have an unexpected opening within the theoretical astrophysics and cosmology arena, specifically on the graduate side,” Dr. Samuel says. “I know you’re on a much-earned sabbatical now, but since we’re looking for someone to teach a summer session as well, I’d love to put our conversation on the fast track. Would you have time for a couple of phone interviews over the next month? And assuming it feels like a good fit all around, an in-person meeting in April to discuss details?”
“Absolutely,” I hear myself say without really meaning to say it.
I have the strangest sense that it’s a different Miranda who’s replied from the Miranda who just a few moments ago was talking with Lillian about the Buzzes. A Miranda who doesn’t have time for a houseplant, much less a pet. Or a relationship. A Miranda who doesn’t drink whiskey on the roof with a sardonic artist until the wee hours of the morning, or have cake for breakfast at her horoscope’s behest…
“I’m thrilled to hear it,” Dr. Belmont says. “I’ve got to get to a meeting, but I’ll put my assistant in touch to start coordinating times.”
“That’s wonderful. Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to even be having this conversation,” Professor Miranda says.
“We’re excited here, too. It’ll be a new experience for us to have a celebrity in our midst.”
A silent whisper remarks that if Nova University didn’t want me because of my celebrity status, Stanford only wants me because of it. That nobody wants me for me.
I mentally shut it down and say goodbye to Dr. Belmont just as Lillian steps back out onto the patio with a tray. Apparently by iced tea she meant martinis, but at least from the look of them they’re the regular kind of martinis, and not some disgusting coconut-gin concoction.
“Everything good?” Lillian asks, setting the tray down. She presses a finger between my eyebrows. “You’ve got a line. Frownie.”
“No, no frown. That was Stanford.”
Her graying eyebrows wing upward. “Stanford! Fancy. What do they want?”
“To hire me. Tenure track,” I say, feeling a little guilty that I haven’t mentioned it to my aunt before now, though the slightly pinched look on her face reminds me why I didn’t.
My aunt says nothing for a moment as she stirs the martinis. “You must be thrilled. You said yes?”
“Of course. Well, to the interview process. It sounds like it’s more of a formality than anything, but… wow.” I set a hand to my fluttering stomach. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”
“And what about your sabbatical? Following your horoscope?”
“I’ll see it through,” I say, meaning it. “I have until April. Who knows, maybe my horoscope will provide me the exact guidance I need to navigate all of this.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do!”
She shakes her head and drops two olives into each glass. “You don’t. Ten minutes ago, you might have. Ten minutes ago, you actually let yourself believe in the power of the universe and destiny and human instincts.”
“And now?” I say defensively.
“And now”—she hands me a glass—“you’re ready to return to your old ways. Where this reigns supreme.” She taps my head. “And this is told to shut up.” She presses her finger to my heart.
“That isn’t…” I swallow, frustrated, and a little hurt by the lack of support. Lillian is my biggest cheerleader, and right now she seems almost disappointed in me. “Why are you so against this?”
My voice sounds desperate, and I realize it’s not that I’m worried that my aunt is against it. It’s that she’s right. I’m trying to block out my heart’s instincts because they’re saying something my brain doesn’t want to hear.
“Oh, honey.” She sighs and sits down in the chair. “I’m not against anything that you want.”
“Then be happy for me,” I plead. “This is what I’ve always wanted. An academic setting to thrive in and grow…” My voice trails off, because I can’t quite seem to think of all the reasons this is so important.
“Taking the same job you had before, on the same path, with the same goal, but in California—that’s thriving? And growing?”
“Don’t say it like that.” My voice is a touch sharper than I mean it to be. “This is my dream.”
She fishes an olive out of the glass, pops it into her mouth, and chews. “So you keep saying.”
“Because it’s true,” I say, trying to ignore the fact that even to my own ears it sounds desperate, as though I’m clinging to the idea. “My career is all I have. It’s who I am.”
Lillian looks directly into my eyes. “Listen to me closely, because I’m older, and believe it or not, much smarter about some things. You’re not a scientist, a person with two doctorates, or even a Gemini rising. You’re not your parents’ daughter or brothers’ sister, Daphne’s best friend, or even my favorite niece. Those are crucial parts of you, but they aren’t who you are.”