Chapter 3

The pressure was so hard a tiny bead of blood welled up where the needle had gone in.

He opened the umbrella and shepherded Kathleen out into the rain.

I watched his back grow smaller and smaller.

It was the same as always.

He was always so final about it.

The last time we fought, it had been the same.

That day, the lab held a vote for the research placement.

The last vote belonged to Francis.

He cast it for Kathleen.

I waited until everyone else had gone before I asked him: "Why?"

"You know exactly how long I prepared for this. You know I'm more capable than she is!"

Francis laughed.

"Beryl, you really are ridiculous. The decision was mine to make, not yours."

I held back my tears. "Either we go public now, or we're done. Pick one."

Francis looked at me like I was a stranger throwing a tantrum.

"If you want to keep trapping yourself in this relationship, that's your problem."

"Don't act like you're the injured party."

That night, Kathleen boarded a flight to England.

And I got the call that my mother was critically ill.

I dialed Francis's number again and again. Fifty calls, every one of them hung up.

When someone finally picked up, it was Kathleen's voice on the line.

She asked softly, "Beryl, is something wrong?"

I gripped the phone, cold to the bone.

There was a faint rustle of fabric on the other end, then Francis's low, rough voice.

"Who is it?"

"Beryl."

"Hang up."

The call cut off.

That week, I lost my mother, and I lost Francis for good.

The sound of the rain dragged me out of the memory.

I had just stepped out of the hospital when I saw Francis holding a newly bought umbrella.

"Get in."

"You just finished an IV. You look like death, and you're still trying to tough it out?"

I didn't move.

"Are you still upset about that placement? I gave it to her because she needed the chance more than you did."

"She lost her parents when she was a kid. She had to work just to scrape together tuition. At least you still had your mother. And you had me."

I looked at him and asked quietly, "So all I wanted was for my boyfriend to stand by me, when it didn't cross any lines. Was that wrong?"

Francis let out a scornful snort.

"You always take feelings too seriously."

"And you always treat my feelings like they're worth nothing."

"Beryl, there's no point."

Those same words again.

Suddenly I didn't want to argue anymore.

"Give me back the prayer beads my mom gave you."

My mother had gone to the temple and gotten them herself, after she found out we were together.

All these years, Francis had worn them.

I'd thought they were proof he accepted me, that he accepted us.

Francis's face darkened.

"What? You really want to cut all ties with me?"

I said nothing.

Francis lifted his hand and yanked the beads off his wrist.

The next second, he hurled them at me, hard.

"Beryl, when will this end?!"

The beads struck my collarbone. The pain snatched the breath from me.

Francis turned and walked away.

I crouched in the rain and picked the scattered beads up off the ground, one by one.

The rain washed over the mud.

As if even the last bit of tenderness my mother had left me was being washed away too.

The next day, I went to the lab.

Before I'd gone abroad, I'd left a notebook in my locker, filled with experiment data and records of failures, along with formulas Francis had corrected for me.

When I pushed the door open, Francis was bent over, looking at the test tube in Kathleen's hand.

"The temperature's not high enough. Try again."

"How are you still so slow at this part, Miss Kathleen?"

His tone was patient, gentle.

I walked to the storage lockers and pulled mine open.