Border formalities done, they picked up their luggage and queued up at the ATM machine to get króna. They made their way to the car rental place where Jonathan finalized the paperwork to rent a Mercedes.

“Mercedes, really?” asked Melissa. “I didn’t know they rented those.”

“Last minute choice was this, a teeny car that I would not fit in, or a big 4x4.”

“What do you drive at home?” she asked. They were waiting for their car to be brought up. The air was chilly but not unpleasantly so, and smelled of sulfur and AV gas, a combination most people who went to Iceland would forever associate with the airport.

“I don’t. I have a really nice bike, and an agreement that I can borrow one of Dad’s or Den’s cars if I need it. Especially since Den is off fishing part of the year.”

“Oh.”

“What about you?”

“One of those teeny cars you probably hate. I bought a purple Honda Fit a few years back and I’m holding onto it for dear life.”

“Because purple?”

“Because purple. Well, it is a good car. I take the bus to work most days, and, in the summer, I usually bike to and from the Park and Ride. If I’m by myself, the Fit is plenty big for my camping gear, and it’s easy to park.”

“Makes sense. Ah. Here is our ride!”

They got the keys, Jonathan signed off of the car, and put their luggage into the trunk. He walked around the car to open the door for her. She got in and he shut it. OK. It was nice, but that had to stop.

“I can open and close my own door,” she said.

“I’ll try to remember. My grandfather was really big on that, and so are Dad and Dennis.”

“You’re right, Martin does do that. OK, fine, in this car, but not the camper van or it’ll quickly become awkward!”

“I promise. Yell at me if I screw up. Also, I’ll add you as a driver for the camper, I didn’t for this because I already have a rental profile set up with the company and that kept the paperwork to a minimum. Do you drive a manual, or should I see about getting an automatic?”

The hotel was airy, modern, and, Melissa surmised, no doubt expensive. Jonathan got them checked in, handed her a key, and they followed the porter who was pushing the cart with their luggage up to their suite.

There was a decent sized sitting room with a couch the porter assured them was a pull out, then the main bedroom had two twin beds. Melissa looked around. It felt strangely intimate, but then she thought that they’d be sharing a much smaller space the next day.

She hoisted her suitcase onto the bed. The first order of business could be going through it and taking out what she could use camping, and getting anything she could washed, she hadn’t bothered doing that in London.

There was a knock at the door. Jonathan went to open it, and Melissa walked over. It was a young, tall, blonde woman (she was getting the feeling she was going to be looking UP at pretty much everyone over the age of 10), with a large clothing rack with a lot of clothes, a suitcase, and several bags.

“Melissa?” she asked.

“That’s me. You must be Embla.”

The purchases were rolled into the living area. Jonathan took a quick look, went to his suitcase to grab out trainers and running tights.

“I’m going for a run,” he said, heading towards the bathroom to change, while Embla started pulling clothes off racks and sorting them.

After Jonathan left, she looked at Melissa and said, with a smile: “He’s very cute, your boyfriend!”

She opened her mouth to correct her, then just nodded and smiled.

In short order she was trying on hiking pants, rain shells, warm jackets, fleece. There were several pairs of long underwear, two wool hats. Sizing was pretty close, only some of the gear meant for children was a bit tight across the chest, unfortunately including the purple warm jacket she’d picked out. Embla sorted, handed her gear, she tried it on and it went into a yay or nay pile. The jacket that ended up fitting best was a black one with hot pink accents. Ah well. It came with a black and hot pink woolen hat.

Embla chatted as Melissa put on and took off clothing and gear. She told her about various places in Iceland that were “not to miss”, gave her completely confusing directions to a fabulous coffee shop, and explained the details of swimming pool showering etiquette.

“How do you get your dry bathing suit on over your wet body?” Melissa asked.

Embla appeared to think for a moment. “You work hard and you pull a lot,” she said and they both laughed.

Finally, it was done. She was reasonably confident she had what gear she needed, it matched well to what Jonathan had suggested according to what he himself had packed. Embla gave her the second suitcase which she knew she was going to need.

Then out of one of the shopping bags, the other woman pulled out three big white boxes. She peaked and handed the top one to Melissa.

“France, she said for evenings when it’s cold in the van. Though warm body and duvet are better!”

Melissa blushed behind her mask, again, and opened the box. She touched the fabric, immediately sure it was a very heavy luxurious silk and cashmere blend. The shade was a deep blue purple, pretty much her favorite color. She took out pajamas, the bottoms with drawstring waist and cuffs at the ankles, and the top with a neckline that was more practical than sexy. They would be warm.

“There is a set for Jonathan. Green, France told me.” She pronounced Jonathan with a Y. It sounded nice when she said it.

“And she said you’d need something pretty for dinner tonight.” She handed Melissa the flatter of the two remaining boxes, and put the other one down, opening it just enough for Melissa to see the deep green pajamas intended for Jonathan.

She opened her own box. It was a top, all black, silver, deep blue and purple, shimmering. She lifted it out. It would fit perfectly. The neck was draped. She knew it would look good with her black trousers and jacket, though she’d been planning on wearing the pearl grey silk shell she’d worn to give her talk at the conference. This was… sparkling and pretty. She smiled, looking forward to putting it on.

“And I bought these. I noticed they were not on the list France gave me, but I thought you both would be going to our local swimming pools, you need towels.”

“Oh,” said Melissa, “Yes, we probably will.”

Embla put two big fluffy blue towels and some washcloths down. “I think you’ll enjoy our swimming pools. Remember what I told you!”

“Pull hard!” said Melissa and they started laughing again.

Jonathan opened the door to the suite and called out: “OK to come in?”

“Come on it, we’re about done here!” said Melissa. “I have so many tags to remove, and you have a box to open.”

Embla left, saying she’d return everything Melissa hadn’t wanted or needed, and wishing them a nice trip, and telling them to drive safely.

“How’d that go?” asked Jonathan.

“Perfectly well. Most of the things I picked out fit, Embla brought other items that were close in size in case they didn’t. I’ve got everything I need and best of all, they did have the same brand of hiking boots that I usually get so I know those will perfect. How was your run?”

“Great,” he said, “I am going to take a quick shower and dress for dinner. We’ll have about an hour to kill; would you like to do a short driving tour of the city?”

“That would be great.” She pointed at the box. “Open that, it’s for you, from France.”

He did. “Nice and warm, bless her. You have a set?”

“Yup. Purple. I feel totally spoiled.”

“Well, evenings do tend to get cold, and we both have computer work to do, right, so we’ll be all warm and cozy in our,” he checked the label, “cashmere and silk pajamas.”

He stood and stretched, and Melissa couldn’t help admiring the body in running tights. She felt a small knot of desire in her belly that she made a point of ignoring.

He got his suit out of his suitcase, sighed at the wrinkles, and called down to the front desk. Someone came to pick it up and assured him it would be ready in fifteen minutes. They took his shirt and tie too.

“Go ahead and get your shower,” said Melissa. “I’ll wait on the suit, drop my stuff in the laundry down the hall, and get dressed. Did you have anything you needed to get washed, like regular laundry?”

He did, and she left him to his shower and went down the hall to the area with washing machines she’d seen there. Jonathan had said they could get the hotel to do it, but she’d rolled her eyes at that. She’d have to remember to flip things from washer to dryer before they left for dinner.

She took her trousers and jacket out of her suitcase and gave them a shake. They’d be fine. She took off her jeans and sweater. She could hear the shower running in the bathroom. She glanced at herself in the mirror and sighed, wishing for a moment that she’d brought fancier underwear to London with her. Cate and Mags had too often persuaded her to purchase sexy silky underthings, that usually sat in her drawer, shoved to the back and used only for the few fancy occasions she attended each year. She wished – but this was so unexpected, there was no way she could have known. She’d be fine. She put on her knee-high stocking socks, pulled on the trousers. She took the pretty shimmery top out of its box and noted there was a matching mask, which made her smile. The top was sleeveless, and she put it on. It draped beautifully around the neckline, and she thought it looked nice. Then she took it off, removed her bra, tossed it in her case, and put the top back on. She felt a small shiver. Jonathan would not know, but she would. It was silly, but it made her feel sexy. Of course, she reflected, that was because her breasts didn’t really need a bra.

There was a knock at the door, and she opened it, and they gave her Jonathan’s clothing. She knocked at the bathroom door, and he opened it, steam escaping. She didn’t really look but caught a glimpse of chest and towel as he took the hanger.

She went back to the mirror, took out her ponytail and brushed her hair. She found her barrette in her bathroom bag and twisted her hair into one of those messy buns that Meghan Markle made famous but that she had been wearing since her early twenties. Mascara and a bit of pink lip gloss.

He came out of the bathroom, blond hair still damp, adjusting his tie. He looked at her and smiled: “Sparkly. You look wonderful.”

“Thank you. As do you.”

“Shall we?” he asked, slipping on his shoes.

She got into her heels. She put on her jacket and grabbed her raincoat. It was lined and what she’d worn in London. She noted that Jonathan had one as well. By the time she’d seen him, his official business had been over, and he’d been wearing a blue North Face® puffer jacket.

Their car was brought up to the front of the hotel and Jonathan, again, opened the door for her with a flourish and shut it once she was in.

“Sorry,” said Jonathan, once they were in the car and doing up seatbelts, “you’re all dressed up.”

She smiled. He did all those little polite things without it being performative at all, and as a result, it just felt nice. She’d noticed it in London, but also noticed that he was not the type to, say, rush to a door to make sure she didn’t open it or if she got there first and opened the door, he went through it. She remembered how aggressive Rafe had been about being chivalrous, as he’d called it. It had been awful, and this felt so vastly different.

They drove down to the Sæbraut, which was on the water, all the way to the Harpa music hall. It was lit, and the iridescent glass gleamed. “How beautiful,” said Jonathan, and Melissa nodded in agreement.

Jonathan parked the car, and they crossed the busy road to get over to the Sun Voyager sculpture. They walked around it, took some photos, then walked a bit further down the path to see it from further away. Then back to the car, again crossing the busy street.

“I’m impressed at how fast you can run in those heels!” said Jonathan as they got to the car.

“Practice!”

They drove up to the white Hallgrímskirkja church, parked but neither got out of the car.

Jonathan turned up the heater. “It’s getting chilly, isn’t it? Or is it just me?”

“It is a bit… Wow,” she said. “That’s so beautiful.”

“I visited when I came here with Dad and Den. We can make time for it, either tomorrow or when we’re back here, at the end of the trip. It’s soaring inside, and you can take an elevator up, with great views over the area.”

“I’d like that, if it doesn’t disrupt your trip plans too much.”

He touched her forearm, quickly. “Melissa, it’s our trip now, ok?”

“I-Oh.”

“Let me guess: you hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“No. Just that I was a hanger-on to your trip.”

“Well, no! If there are things you want to do, let’s do them. We haven’t had much time to sit down and plan, so we can start out on my trip, but that doesn’t set anything in stone, ok?”

“All right,” she said. “But since I didn’t prepare for a trip to Iceland, and I’ve never been here before, I’m pretty ignorant.”

“I’ve got guidebooks and bookmarked websites; you can take a look.”

“Sounds good. And thank you. I feel… incredibly lucky.”

“So do I, which means we both are.”

They smiled at each other.

“It’s a Lutheran church,” he said, pointing again at the tall white structure. “You religious?”

She shook her head. “Not really. My dad is Catholic, of the good works type. My mother is Lutheran, Norwegian variety, and they each went to their own services happily, but left me alone beyond some basic teachings. I think they thought I’d just decide which religion was better and start going to services there, I don’t think they thought they’d end up with an agnostic with atheist leanings. You?”

“Dad’s Catholic, more or less lapsed. I was baptized, of course, but by the time First Communion rolled along, which was important to my grandparents, I refused, saying I was an atheist. Which I remain to this day. What do you see as the difference between agnostic and atheist?”

“For me it’s that you can’t prove a negative, but I have seen no evidence of the existence of a god. I don’t think we can ever know that there is or is not an afterlife or a divine being, but I also know that I don’t think there is. But I get that others can come to a different conclusion.”

“I see. I guess I feel more comfortable with a ‘no evidence of existence’ as an end point of my reasoning. Dennis is agnostic as well and says pretty much the same thing as you.”

As they drove towards the restaurant, he asked her about her parents.

“Yes, they’re both still alive. They have an apartment in an assisted living place not far from me. They’re a bit older, I mean, my mom was 40 when I was born, and my dad was 45. She was a pharmacy tech and a knitter; she still knits but pretty much just scarves at this point because arthritis. My dad had a landscaping company. When he retired, he sold it to his lead foreman, and one condition is that I get garden help for as long as Ramon owns the company, which is how I can manage an 8-acre property on my own. Anyhow, my dad at 83 still does landscaping design consulting on the side, and he still bikes on the River Trail, heaven help us.” They both laughed at that. “They have two cats with them in their apartment, Orion and Dante, and they take them on walks on leashes. They were good parents, though I think I was a bit of an afterthought, you know? I just showed up and they loved me, but I always felt like I was an intruder in the life they had planned. They were a lot older than most of my friends’ parents, and I saw how other families structured their lives around the kids, like visits to Disney, or trips to the pumpkin patch in the fall, stuff like that. My parents never did. Like we went to DC for a week one spring, and we visited all the monuments, the National Portrait gallery, Monticello, and places like that, never saw the National Zoo, or the Air and Space Museum, or even the Natural History Museum. My parents both biked, but I don’t think we ever did a bike ride as a family.”

“And you’re an only, right?”

“Oh yes. My parents never said, but I think I was an oops.” She laughed. “Our house tended to the quiet. I read a lot, my dad did his garden design, we played chess, and my mom listened to classical music while she knitted. Freshman year, I went to Phoenix with Mags to her place for Thanksgiving. She has two younger brothers, and her parents were raising three of her cousins, and I was shocked. It was like… chaos. Stuff all over the place, TV on, music blaring, someone playing the piano, and her mom made food with the kids in mind, you know, stuff they liked. I absolutely loved it.”

“That sounds closer to my childhood,” he said, “even if I was the only one creating the chaos.”

“You must have been a cute little handful for a single dad! I know Martin didn’t meet Dennis until you were… 7 or so, right? I was at their 15^th anniversary party last summer.”

They pulled in in front of the restaurant, immediately a valet came to take the car keys, and Jonathan again opened the car door for her.

He shook his head as they walked back towards their table. “The food will be good, but you can always trust France to find the fanciest place in any given city.”

“Oh?”

“She loves it. She loves dressing up and going out to dinner, she loves formal events. If I’m not crystal clear on where she books me, it’s going to be fancy. I’ve learned to roll with it, and to make my own reservations if I can.”

The maître d’ had taken their coats, and at their table looked on approvingly as Jonathan held her chair for her. He sat down across from her and rolled his eyes.

“All of which reminds me, we will have to take a selfie for her later, in full fig.”

They ordered wine as they looked at the choices. They ended up opting for the set tasting menu, it was easier than deciding.

Over a glass of wine, Jonathan continued. “Back to parents. Did Dad ever tell you how he and Den met?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I mean, that they were introduced by friends, but nothing more.”

He smiled. “I’m going to tell you a secret,” he said.

“I’m listening.”

“You know that Dad had me via surrogacy?”

“Yes, he was always very open about that.”

“I do not know the egg donor, beyond her medical history and that she was a UW graduate student. I do, however, know my surrogate. As do you.” He grinned.

“I do?”

“I know you met her at least at Dad and Den’s 10^th anniversary and my graduation.”

“All right?”

“Constance.”

She thought for barely half a second. “Constance? She’s Dennis’s sister-in-law, isn’t she?”

“Yup.”

“OK, spit out the full story.”

The first course arrived, with a glass of its paired wine. The food was exquisite, and Melissa ate, sipped, and listened.

“Dad found Constance through, I guess, some contact in the gay community. She already had two kids and had liked being pregnant but didn’t want a third. They got along well, Ray was good with it, so Dad found the egg donor, embryos were created, and there they were. Nine months later, me.” He took a few bites of dinner. “Damn this is good. I just hope there is a lot more of it or I’ll have to get a hotdog on the way back to the hotel. Anyhow, they agreed on a few things. Constance wanted to keep in touch, and since everyone got along, they decided she and her family would be invited to my birthday parties every year, or some such event, and that Dad would tell me who she was when I was old enough to understand. The other thing they agreed on was that I would be the one to hold the secret: as soon as I knew, I would be the only one who would tell anyone who didn’t already know that Constance was my surrogate mother. I can tell you, when I did finally get it, at about 6, that made me feel quite special. Anyhow, the year I turned 7, I guess, Constance called Dad before my party and confirmed that she, Ray, and the girls would be there, but wondered if it was ok to bring Ray’s brother Dennis who was in town while his boat was being repaired. Dad said sure.”

“Enter Dennis?”

“Enter Dennis. That’s how they met. I adored him right away, and I was quite sad when he went back to finish the fishing season. He moved in with us pretty quickly, and I remember one day asking him to take me to McDonald’s for lunch and sitting at a table across from him and telling him just how we knew Constance and Ray. I suspect he’d already guessed, because he must have known Constance had been doing a surrogate pregnancy, but he never let on. He accepted it as something I was sharing with him. It was one of the first bonds we created, independently of Dad, you know?”

“I think I understand.”

“Anyhow, it’s been great. He and Dad are happy together, Constance is beyond thrilled, and it all feels very happy-family-ish.”

She nodded. “Thank you for telling me.” She felt like she’d been given a gift, and she could tell that this wasn’t really something he’d shared often.

He nodded and held her eyes for a second longer than expected. She blushed and looked down at her wine.

The maître d’ ended up taking a photo of them. Melissa felt Jonathan’s hand on her back as he stood next to her, and she thrilled. It was a light touch, nothing truly intimate, but it felt nice, and she enjoyed it. The photo taken, he helped her with her coat, and they headed back to the hotel.

There, Melissa looked at the pile of clothing, all still with tags, on the couch. It all had to be packed. At least she had two bags.

“You’re so sparkly, I feel like I should take you dancing or something,” he said.

She shook her head. “I have packing to do, and I don’t dance.”

“Oh?”

“I suck at it,” she said, tossing her coat onto the dresser.

Jonathan did the same, and his suit jacket with it. He shoved the coffee table closer to the couch, creating a small space in the small room. He started some music on his cell phone, and turned to her, extending a hand. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?” he asked.

She shook her head but took his hand. “Your toes are going to regret this,” she said.

“We have a mirror, we have music, we don’t have a lot of room, we’ll be fine,” he said. “May I put a hand on your back?”

“Of course. Remember we also have heels, two left feet, three glasses of wine, and a complete inability to follow the music.”

“Don’t follow the music. Follow me. I’ve got this.”

He took her hand and placed it on his shoulder. She could feel the warmth of him through his dress shirt. She swallowed when he placed his hand on her back, and she knew without a doubt he could feel that she had nothing on underneath her top.

“OK,” he said, and his voice sounded a bit strangled, “come on, we’ve got this… One, two, step back then right then left, second foot should just glide, again…”

It was confusing as hell, she tripped a few times, he caught her once, they laughed a lot. The music played, and she realized that they’d shifted from the formal waltz to a slow dance, swaying gently to the music, and that his arms were around her, and hers were on his shoulders, her face close enough to his chest that she could smell soap and him. She also knew that she, at least, had had one more glass of wine than she was used to, and that the warm sensuality of the moment was leading her somewhere she wasn’t sure either of them were ready to be. Still it felt so nice to be held like this… She drifted to the warmth and the music.

“Melissa,” he whispered. She shivered at his voice, soft and low.

Oh god, she thought. He was feeling this too. She took a deep breath and pulled out of the -there was no other word for it- embrace.

“I have got to get these heels off,” she said, opting for the first thing that popped into her head, resolutely ignoring the fact that what she’d wanted to do was take his hand and lead him to the bed. “My feet are killing me.”

She didn’t look at him. The music stopped. She took off her shoes.

He cleared his throat. “Why the heels, then?” He was leaning against the desk.

She tried a laugh. It almost sounded natural. “Have you not noticed I’m short?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Seriously, though. I wear Danskos on a day-to-day basis, that’s an extra 2in every day, they’re comfortable enough for walking and lab work. But at conferences and events like that? The 4in heels come out. People pay more attention to someone taller. Otherwise, I swear, they ignore me. They’d pat me on the head if they could. Men, especially, but women as well.”

“Ah.”

“I was in grad school when I realized it. I bought heels and wore them constantly for a few weeks until I felt confident I wouldn’t fall flat on my face.” While she was talking, she was snipping tags off clothing with the scissors from her knitting bag. “It’s my armor, in some way. My you need to pay attention to me flag.”

“Do you think it’s a sexy thing or--?”

She sighed and shook her head. “No, in my case, I think it’s truly a tall thing. I need those extra inches.”

He still looked puzzled. She put down the pants she was holding and went to stand at a conversational distance from him.

“Dr Teague! I was listening to your talk the other day on the prognosis of atypical teratoid rhabdoid tumors in children when diagnosed before their first birthday and I have a few questions. Do you have a moment?” She was looking up at him. He was over a foot taller, she had to crane her neck, and he was very clearly looking down at her.

“Now wait!” She slipped back into her heels and repeated the question. She still had to look up at him but didn’t have to crane her neck and his gaze, too, was closer to level.

“See what I mean?”

“I do. Thank you. There are a few women at the hospital that are also very short, and I’ll make sure that I don’t overlook, or assume, or anything.”

“That’s good. Anyhow, that’s why I wear heels.” She resumed snipping tags. “That said, they are going in the ‘leave here in Reykjavik’ bag.”

“I promise to pay attention to you even if I have to look down from my lofty height,” he said.

They both laughed and Melissa breathed an internal sigh of relief. She didn’t want things to get… complicated. Well, she thought as she snipped the final tag, she did, but that wasn’t what this trip was about.

She put her two suitcases up on the bed and started sorting.

“Oh,” she said. “Could you go down the dryers and pick up our laundry?”

“On it!”

He folded it as well. She’d noted he wore boxers when she’d tossed in the laundry, and now he was folding her panties and bras, and suddenly the amount of intimacy that they were going to share over the next week and a half hit her. She bit her lip. She needed to get clear on this attraction business, or she was going to make a mess of what could be a really nice time with an awesome guy, even if there was no sex.

Her phone rang, startling them both. Cate.

“Hey sweetie,” she said.

“Mags is on too.”

“Hi Lissy! Where are you? How’s Reykjavik?”

Cate said, “Can you talk?”

“Yeah,” she said.

Jonathan touched her arm and said, very quietly “I’m going to scrounge up some food, I’m still hungry.” He smiled at her, and seconds later she heard the door shut, at the same time she heard Mags.

“Was that Jonathan? Tender nothings? Or what? Tell us what’s going on.”

She hadn’t taken the time to email them. So, she sat down on the bed, and started to talk.

“And we got back from dinner, and we danced a bit, and now he was folding laundry and I was packing my old stuff in one suitcase, to stay at the van rental place, and my new stuff in another suitcase to come with me.”

“Danced a bit? Details please.” asked Mags.

Of course she’d picked up on that.

“Uh, he tried to teach me to waltz. It did not go well; we all know I have two left feet.”

They were both silent for a few seconds. She tried waiting them out. It didn’t work. It never worked for either her or Cate. Mags could usually hold out a bit longer.

“OK, fine, we ended kinda slow dancing for a bit. It felt really nice.” She didn’t tell them about not wearing a bra. That would be a step too far.

“So you have the hots for him, he presumably does for you—”

“No.”

“Oh come on, Lissy,” said Mags. “You don’t ask someone to spend almost two weeks with you in a tiny camper van if they’re just a friend.”

“I’d think the same thing, but Ms, I’m not getting that vibe off of him at all. I mean, I feel like he really enjoys hanging out with me, but nothing indicates it’s anything more than that.”

“Slow dancing? In a hotel room?”

“It just happened. And it felt nice, and I felt buzzed, but I didn’t get the impression he wanted to take it any further, ok?”

They talked for a bit longer, then said good night. She promised to keep in touch, and that she’d send along the photo of them all dressed up. Jonathan came back, with a plate full of open-faced fish-based sandwiches. He finished folding the laundry, tossed his just folded clothing pell-mell into his suitcase. Then he sat down to eat, while she finished packing her case.

“Late night snack?” she asked.

“Dinner was great. It was delicious, beautiful, perfectly paired with the wine. It was also three bites,” he said. “You want some?”

“No, thank you,” she said. “I’m all packed. I’m going to get ready for bed.”

When she came out of the bathroom in her pajamas, Jonathan was shoving stuff around in the small sitting room to make room for the pull-out bed. She shook her head. “Just take the other bed, Jonathan. Think camper van!”

“You sure?”

“Yup. If you snore, I’ll throw pillows at you.”

He laughed and went to brush his teeth.

When he came back, he had on just dark green tartan pajama bottoms. He wandered over to his suitcase and started rummaging around.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll find a t-shirt.”

She made a non-committal noise. He looked good. Of course he did. He was 24 and a runner. She reluctantly returned her attention to her Kindle.

“Light off or on?”

“Off is fine. I’ve got my Kindle. Does the glow bother you?”

“Nope. If I’m going to sleep, I’ll sleep pretty much through anything… G’night, Melissa.”

“Good night, Jonathan.”

She saw him immediately when she walked into the dining room the next morning. He was in a corner, staring at his laptop. When he glanced up and saw her approaching, he smiled, and her morning felt so very bright. He stood up as she sat down across from him and took off her mask. She noted that he’d already ordered tea for her.

“Good morning,” he said.

“And good morning to you! Did you sleep or did you run?”

“I did both. Got a 10-mile run in and almost enough sleep. Did you sleep well?”

Both chose the Continental breakfast and ate quickly.

“Jonathan,” she said, stirring her tea, “you and France figured this all out. What do we do with our luggage? I mean, I know what I was going to do, but—”

“Don’t worry. We have a driver for the morning, she’ll be waiting for us out front at 8:15.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

He smiled. “I haven’t done much traveling with a friend as an adult. As in, none. This has been so much fun, having someone to do things with.”

They were just finishing up when a tall woman with long auburn hair and a designer mask came up to their table, calling out to Jonathan. He stood up and put on his mask. Melissa, more slowly, did the same.

“Jonathan! So good to see you!”

“Hello Ariana,” he said.  “It’s been a while.” They chatted for a bit. Melissa sat back down and checked her email on her phone.

“… Hey, since you’re here. I was going to Sydney for the Marathon next year. Did you want to train and then run it with me?” She glanced pointedly over at Melissa and clearly found her uninteresting and looked back to Jonathan. “I’ve not found anyone like you since you left Philly!”

Jonathan turned towards Melissa. “Melissa, this is Ariana Bosworth, she’s a lawyer with the city of Philadelphia and we were in the same running group when I was at Penn. Ariana, this is Doctor Melissa Maitland. She’s a friend of mine.”

Melissa didn’t know if it was intentional, but he’d certainly hinted at the contrast between their places in his life. She stood and nodded at the taller woman in greeting.

Ariana looked at Melissa again, though she clearly thought her short and insignificant. She opened her mouth, probably to press Jonathan on the marathon issue, when he smoothly checked the time. “Ariana, it was great to see you. We have to head out now, drop me an email when you have time. Melissa,” he said, “shall we?” and she felt the ghost of a hand on her back, perhaps not even touching, but the intent of the whole motion was clear.

In the elevator he sighed. “I am sorry. We were a group of 20 runners. Needless to say, there is always that one person or those two people, and Ariana was one of them.”

She nodded, noting that he’d pushed the button to her floor. “I know. The boathouse is the same way. Everyone is great, except the few who are not and make everyone miserable.”

“Boathouse? Do you row?”

“I do. Every weekday at 11 or noon, on Lake Union mostly.”

“I was wondering what you did for exercise, meant to ask”

He got off with her and walked towards her room with her.

“What made you think I did anything?”

She was all ready to go. She put her messenger bag over her shoulder and grabbed her suitcase.

Back in the hallway as they waited for the elevator, he said “When I was trying to get you to breathe deeply yesterday, I had my hand on your stomach. The abs.”

“Oh.” She felt her cheeks redden. At least the mask hid some of that.

Jonathan fell asleep the second they got into the car after the Victoria and Albert. It had been, Melissa felt, the best museum experience in her life. They hadn’t had a lot of time, but the curator had walked her through the glass and jewelry exhibits, pointing out items she might have otherwise missed, and giving her backstory on several of them.

Jonathan had seemed distracted during the visit, paying more attention to his phone than to the objects, and now he was asleep. She knitted, only looking up when the driver called her attention to some landmark or another. She’d checked in for the flight on her phone and found that yes, she’d gotten an upgrade from economy, and that she was seated next to Jonathan. A few more hours and this would all be over. She sighed and checked the progress of the socks. She probably would have them done by the end of the flight. Once she was home, on her own turf, with Cate, Mags, their kids, her cats, her work, she’d be on a more even keel and she was sure she’d be able to see this as a brief infatuation that could never be anything more.

She glanced over at Jonathan. He even managed to look good sleeping. No drool.

Eventually, they were at the gate. Melissa settled down with her knitting, they had almost half an hour before boarding. She’d decided she’d do her Cognac and chocolate shopping on the way out of Reykjavik: somehow the idea of being in a hotel room by herself and a bunch of chocolate didn’t sound like a good one if she wanted anything left for Mags and Cate. Plus none of them had tasted Icelandic chocolate before.

Jonathan sat down next to her. He’d suggested they go to the lounge that was available to them, but she’d declined. She was starting to feel uncomfortable because he clearly was. He was not speaking to her much and was much more aware of his cell phone when she tried to engage him. She felt a certain glum dullness. Maybe seeing Ariana had reminded him of what a beautiful woman paying attention to him could look like. She’d noted that Ariana was probably close to her own age, and yet hadn’t seemed at all concerned about subtly signaling her interest in the young man. Melissa sighed. She was too fucked up. Jonathan hopped up, distracting her, and walked towards the bank of windows, bringing his cell phone to his ear. She stared at him for a few seconds, then went back to her knitting. She noticed she’d dropped a stitch a dozen rows back, cursed under her breath, and started unravelling.

“Aren’t they supposed to get longer, not shorter?” he asked as he sat back down next to her.

“I screwed up.”

“Ah.” He tossed his cell phone in the air, caught it, put it in his pocket, worried at his lip. Took a deep breath.

“Melissa.”

“All right?”

“Are you going to be ok, flying?”

Ah. The fear of heights. No wonder he was nervous, he thought he was going to be trapped next to a panicking, sobbing old lady for 5 hours.

She shook her head. “I’m fine, flying. That’s not heights.”

“OK? Seems to me that 30 000 ft is a heck of a lot higher than the London Eye.”

“Flying truly isn’t a problem. No edges. And if you don’t want to sit next to me, that’s fine too. I mean, I won’t need any help.”

He looked at her, dismay on his face, even with the mask. “No. I do. I just wanted to know.”

She shrugged. She didn’t know why he was so jumpy.

He hopped up again, walked to the window, came to sit back down. He was about to flip his phone in the air again when he arrested the motion, took a deep breath, and said, “Melissa. Will you stay in Iceland with me?”

“Oh.”

“I mean, for the time I’m there. We’d have a blast! If you can take off, I mean. But it would be so cool.”

“I—”

“I mean, I don’t know if you can take off work, but if you can, I’m sure we’d get along fine, and the van is meant for two and you said you wanted to do that kind of trip and—”

She put her knitting down in her lap, her hands were shaking. It’s what Mags had suggested. She hadn’t thought it was a likely possibility and hadn’t thought more about it than “I wish.” She admitted to herself that she did wish but was suddenly overwhelmed with fear.

“Jonathan. I can’t. I don’t have any gear, not for camping, or even van camping, my cat sitter—"

“Gear is not a problem. France has a plan. I don’t know about cat sitters, but I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“Work—”

“That I can’t help you with.” His face fell. “I mean, if you can’t, I get it. But think about it. Please”

“I—"

“Oh shit.” He looked panicked suddenly. “Is there a significant other? I’m sorry, I never asked.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s not that.”  

“And it’s not fair for me to sit here and beg. I’ll leave you alone to decide, ok? We have to board now, and you know I’ll be asleep before takeoff. Wake me up if you want to talk.”

She could tell from his tone of voice that he expected her to refuse, and he just wanted to push hearing that back, didn’t want to deal with the disappointment right away. That touched her, in some way. She couldn’t figure it out. He clearly wanted to spend the time with her, but as far as she could tell he was giving out no signs of being sexually interested, which considering their age difference -and hotness difference she admitted to herself- wasn’t surprising. And yet, he seemed to always come back.

“Window or aisle?” he asked. He put her carryon in the overhead.

“Thank you. I always have to ask someone for help with that.  Aisle or window are both fine, but you’re tall enough that you probably prefer aisle even in first class.” He nodded.

They sat down. A flight attendant came right away with sparkling wine. They both declined.

True to his word, Jonathan was asleep almost immediately.

The plane took off. She peeked out the window. She tried to knit. She stared at her hands. She did all the things, she reflected, Jonathan had been doing all morning, only she was stuck in an airplane seat -admittedly a first class one-. She desperately wanted to stay and take this vacation with him. She was also deeply attracted to him, she admitted to herself, which complicated things. But then again, if it wasn’t reciprocal, did it truly matter if she allowed herself this small interlude to fantasize and dream? She’d only be hurting herself and she felt she was willing to take the risk of getting closer to someone she would never have if it meant this happy excitement for a while. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way. Rafe maybe. He’d swept her off her feet, literally knocking her over on the lawn of the Harvard Medical School quad, where she’d done her second post-doc. He was from a wealthy family from the Boston area, he said, and had grown up in all those places she’d only read about. He’d been suave, and performatively polite, insisting on holding her chair when she sat down and opening car doors for her. She never figured out what was truth and what was lies, with him. She had been far from her West Coast life and family and friends, and there had been nobody to tell her -remind her- that no man should ever hit a partner, especially not one he towered over and outweighed by about 100lbs. She’d hidden the bruises, not mentioned the slaps, withdrawn into herself and her work, avoiding making friends, in case someone found out about the beatings. Their relationship, if that what it had been, had lasted a bit over a year, about half her time at Boston. She’d been working in the lab, alone, the Sunday of Labor Day weekend. Her supervisor, Beth had headed to the beach, so reasonably confident that nobody would be in, she’d taken off the fleece she always wore, baring arms covered in bruises. A stomach bug, however, had sent Beth and her family home early and she’d decided to catch up on some work in the lab. She’d been horrified when she’d seen the bruises. She, her wife, and her stepson had been there when Melissa moved out of the apartment, and she’d helped Melissa negotiate with the landlord to get a smaller place in one of their other properties. She’d also loaned her the money to eat until the next paycheck, since Rafe had cleaned out her bank account. He’d been a jerk, an abuser, a serial liar, but he’d been a spectacular lover and especially at the beginning had made her feel special.

She was again offered Champagne, and this time she took a glass. Her dating history verged on the pathetic. She and Anthony had broken up after over four years together, just as she was finishing up her first post doc. There had been many reasons for the break-up, one of them being that he didn’t want to follow her to the East Coast, another that he’d been cheating on her, but things had been rocky since it had become clear that a family with 2.5 kids and a dog wasn’t going to be in the cards. She’d probably been on the rebound from Anthony when she’d met Rafe. After Rafe, back in Seattle, Steven. That hadn’t lasted, her fault, but at least they remained friends. Then there had been the weirdo twins, as Mags had dubbed them. She didn’t want to think about them. She’d stopped dating after them.

She took a sip of the wine and sighed. Jonathan seemed to want a friend to hang out with while traveling. She could be that friend. Heck, she truly liked the younger man, in addition to, well, the other stuff.

She bent over to retrieve her laptop and put her knitting away. She had wi-fi. She’d email Mags and Cate and see what they thought.

The first email in her inbox was from Brigitte, her cat sitter.

Mags gave me a call last night and said you might be staying in Yurp for an extra 10 days. Don’t sweat it, I love the cattos, would much rather come over to scoop poop and feed cats in the evening than put away dinner dishes. Plus, until I move out for college, parental allergies mean no cats and my life motto is Crazy Cat Lady Is Aspirational. I think they’re ok on food for at least then if not, I’ll stop by the vet. Also, Pip’s toe is pretty much healed. Check out my TikTok or my Insta, got one of Lilly climbing half-way up the wall after that stupid laser. Later-gator!

Other emails from Mags and Cate, saying much the same as they had the previous evening. Still sipping the Champagne, she checked her schedule to see if there was anything she’d forgotten she needed to be in Seattle for. She would miss a scrimmage with her rowing gals, the Witches (they had special oars that were painted to look like brooms and their boat was black), but they could find someone else for her seat, Stephanie was usually willing. She’d have to give one talk via Zoom, and she canceled, with relish, a dentist appointment.

She finished her wine, handed the glass back to the flight attendant and declined a refill. When he’d gone, she reached over and touched Jonathan gently on the forearm.

He was instantly awake. He didn’t startle awake, he was just… awake and alert, not appearing to need any time to reorient himself to the moment. He turned towards her, his mask hiding his expression.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“One hundred percent,” he said.

“Then, yes. I’d love to stay in Iceland and travel with you.”

His eyes crinkled in a smile, and he took her hand and squeezed it, then dropped it quickly “Sorry, I should have asked,” he said, and she shook her head, it was ok, it felt nice. “Oh, Melissa, we’re going to have a blast together!”

He asked for her email address and sent her an email, telling her she needed to email France, who had a plan to procure gear, and was she particularly attached to her hotel reservation, and this is the itinerary, we can go over it later and adapt it to what you want to do, we’ll hit Blue Lagoon for sure, he also sent her a copy of his packing list, to give her an idea of what she’d need, and while he was talking, she was smiling because he was excited.

She emailed France who got back to her within just a few minutes. Clearly, she’d been waiting for Melissa’s message.

She sent Melissa a link to a gear supplier in Iceland, telling her to order what she needed, and a personal shopper would meet her at the hotel with what she’d ordered, and some extra for sizing. She asked for details of the Blue Lagoon reservation so it could be rescheduled. Asked for details on Melissa’s hotel reservation and asked if she was ok staying elsewhere.

It was all very polite -she didn’t feel bullied or pressured- but clearly France had a plan, and everything would go better if Melissa abided by it.

“I suppose,” she asked Jonathan, “that it would do me no good to say that I can pay for my own gear?”

“No good at all. But. Have you been to Iceland before?”

“No, not beyond a few hours in transit in the airport on the way to London.”

“I have, I did the Golden Circle with my dad and Den when I was a teenager. Gas stations sell hot dogs that are great, much better than what we get, and fries with paprika salt. You can pay for those. How’s that?”

“Jonathan…”

“It’s my fault you’re ending up in Iceland in a camper rather than at home. I can at least make up for it by footing the bill for the extra gear.”

“You know—”

“Yes. But please. And I ate two hot dogs every day we were there.”

She shook her head and turned back to her computer and went to start selecting jackets, long underwear, hiking pants, shirts, hiking boots, hat, gloves…

Another email from France:

Favorite color? And your size? I’m getting you and J some warm pajamas/lounge wear for evenings in the van. I have J’s info.

She had pajamas, and had often slept in long underwear when camping, but it was just easier to comply.

Purple or blues, but I’m not picky. Yellow makes me look dead, though. Size is XS or S. I’m 5ft, 100lbs or I suppose 1.52m and about 45kg. Thank you!

The shopping didn’t take too long. It felt very strange to just order whatever she needed without looking at the price. She got an email from France saying that a young woman called Embla Jónsdóttir would meet her at the hotel with all the purchases.

Eventually it was all done, and she shut her computer just minutes before the flight attendant brought them a light meal.

“Jonathan,” she said, “I do have some work I’ll need to get done while I’m there. A Zoom meeting.”

“I have a paper to write too, I was planning on stopping relatively early, so I had time to work a bit in the evenings. Cell coverage is pretty good, but we can sit down with the trip plan and make sure we’re near some bigger town for the Zoom meeting.”

He fished his computer out of its bag, opened it. “Here’s our van!” he said.

It was a 4x4 Mercedes Sprinter van painted bright orange. “We won’t lose it,” he said. “They’re helpful that way!” and she laughed. He scrolled through the photos, the benches that became a bed, storage, fridge, two-burner stove. Curtains to keep light and chill out, the heater.

“Oh. There is a version with an optional potty and shower, but I opted against it. Because of the weather, all the overnights will be in campgrounds so with access to bathrooms. We can change and get one with a toilet and shower if you want.”

She shuddered at the thought. “No, I think I’m ok without.”

“Campgrounds usually have bathrooms and showers, and Iceland has an incredible system of public pools. Most campgrounds will have a communal kitchen or eating space. We can, and probably will, cook in the van, but the extra space to wash dishes might be nice.”

“One thing I should mention now that you’re stuck with me. I’m… not a great cook.”

“I figured.”

“Oh?”

“When we were talking about cooking the other evening, you listened, interjecting comments, but not your own experiences.”

She laughed. “I can bake reasonably well, if given a recipe. I’m hopeless at everything else. I eat lunch at the cafeteria at work, and cereal or ramen for dinner more often than not.”

“Well, Iceland isn’t a place you truly go for great food, it’s good serviceable stuff. We’ll be fine. Any dislikes?”

“Not really. I’m not overly fond of fish, but I can tolerate it.”

“If I want fish, I’ll go to a restaurant. We did a camper trip to Grand Teton a few years back with Dad and Den.  We tried fly fishing and actually caught some fish and decided to have it for dinner. Ugh. It smelled like fish for the rest of the trip!”

She’d resumed knitting. Somehow it went faster now. “I’ll have to make you a second pair,” she said. “I’ll have time.”

“I’ll have France check for a good place to buy Icelandic yarn if you want,” he said.

“Oh, that would be fun! France, by the way, is awesome. In an intimidating and impressive way.”

“I know. That said, she’s about as tall as you are, though a lot, um, bigger.”

“Oh. I’d pictured her as a statuesque 5ft10 blonde who doesn’t take shit from anyone. Especially not from pissant researchers free-loading on her boy’s vacation.”

He laughed.  “No, she’s actually thrilled for me, she didn’t like me going alone. And no, she’s tiny, round. Navajo. Always wears beautiful silver jewelry and colorful jackets to work.”

“Navajo?”

“Yeah, my grandfather was from New Mexico, my dad grew up in Santa Fe. Granddad hired France straight out of UNM, and she was with him for the last 25 years or so of his and my grandmother’s life. My grandmother died a few years before he did, I think France kept him together. They weren’t lovers or anything, but she had his life so regimented for as long as it took for him to get through the worse of it.” He looked down as his hands. “She tried with me, after Robin died. But I’d just started medical school, and I think she was frustrated that she couldn’t keep me from thinking. Not that I had the time in med school to do much else than study, but I didn’t have the time to do anything else, so grief just permeated everything.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Again, thank you. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop missing him. Anyhow, back to France. She’s still in New Mexico, and pretty much all the kids who work for her are Native kids attending UNM. She overpays them grossly, which is awesome, and gives them great references for wherever they want to go next. I try to get down to visit her once a year.”

“She seems very attached to you.”

“She is. When I’d go down to visit my grandparents, she was always the one to help out, and often took me to do things. My grandmother had congestive heart failure, so she couldn’t do much, but France took me hiking, brought me to visit her family in Navajo country, drove me down to White Sands and Carlsbad Caverns. And took me to Roswell. She believes.”

“In aliens?”

“Yup. It’s the only out-there thing about her, aside from that, she’s pragmatic, down to earth, and totally awesome.” He was silent for a moment. “When my grandmother got very sick, France was also the one who managed to get things patched up enough between my dad and my granddad that Dad was able to be there when Grandmama died. That meant a lot to Dad, and he and Granddad were able to talk a bit in the last years of his life. They weren’t estranged when Granddad died.” He grimaced. “Despite the will.”

“Was it pure homophobia?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It helped that Dad had me, and surprisingly, once he met him, he adored Dennis, but for some stupid reason my Granddad seemed to think that Dad being gay said something about him. It was one thing I really didn’t like about him.” He sighed. “I remember him asking me when I was small if I liked girls or boys.”

“What did y—” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, none of my business!”

Jonathan laughed. “I told him puppies. Oh, pretty young I figured out what he wanted to hear, but I always said puppies. Or kittens.”

“And now? Puppies or kittens?”

She loved that she would tell how wide his smiles were behind the mask by how his eyes looked.

“To be honest, I don’t know. Dad’s allergic to dogs, and Den to cats, so I’ve never lived with either. Dogs sound like fun for running and doing outdoors stuff. Cats? I’ve never really been around ‘em.”

“Cats,” she said softly, “are the soul of a home, I think. Mine are.”

“Tell me about them,” he said.

“I have Lilly and Pip, they’re three now. Mags’ twins found them next to a dumpster behind a supermarket. It was a litter of four, and mama was missing. Mags got the four kittens to the vet and went back to trap mama the next day. Two of the kittens, Tom and Jenny, didn’t make it. My two, Lilly and Pip, did. They were a bit young to wean, but their mama was in bad shape, so I raised them with teeny little bottles. Lilly is a wild child of a cat, in real life she’d have been a daredevil rock climber or skydiver. Pip is more laid back. She jumps over him and he just lays there.”

“Photos?”

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You are asking a crazy cat lady if she has photos of her cats? Really?”

They both laughed, and she took out of her phone, showing him photos of both cats. They were tabbies with white chests, faces, and paws, and Lilly had a white tip to her tail. She liked that he was interested, or at least feigned interest well.

“Have you always had cats?”

“Yup. My mother’s name is Freya, she came with her parents from Norway. Are you familiar with the myths about Freyja?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

“Norse goddess of love, beauty, and fertility, she gets half the souls of folks that die in battle, Odin gets the other half for his Valhalla. Freyja rides on a chariot pulled by two cats, some say the ancestors to Norwegian Forest cats. My mom has always loved cats, and she had cats my whole life. I love them. I lived in the dorms at Stanford for my first two years, but then got an apartment with Mags and Cate and they were willing to have cats, and I got my first two, another boy-girl sibling set, Jasper and Pearl. They died just a few months before I got Lilly and Pip, within months of each other.”

“Photos of them?”

“Ok, dude, what do you want out of me? Nobody asks for MOAR cat photos from a crazy cat lady.” He poked her and she laughed and showed him Jasper and Pearl, who had been creamy colored part Siamese.

“Pearl was OMG loud and talkative. Jasper was his mama’s boy, always wanting a cuddle.”

“Will I get to meet Lilly and Pip?”

She looked at him. “I hope so. They tend to like visitors.”

He nodded. “Good. And by the way, the answer is ‘girls’.”

She was, not for the first time, glad that the mask hid her blush. There was a little pinch as well. If he liked women, then, well, it was pretty clear to her that he didn’t feel anything special for her.

His phone buzzed and he checked it, reading an email quickly. “OK. France says all your purchases, plus a few extra things, are headed to the hotel with her shopper, and she said she’d booked us a suite, because, and I quote ‘if you can’t spend a night in a large hotel suite without killing each other, you’re not going to survive 12 days in a camper van together’. Also, she is making dinner reservations for us and wants to know if we have clothing. I do, suit and tie from the conference. You?”

“Same,” she said. “Nothing interesting, but suitable business attire.”

“I’ll tell her. And so you know, I do make decisions on my own much of the time.”

She laughed. “I get it. This situation is rather unprecedented, right? What would you have done for dinner without me?”

“Well, I was going to pick up the van tonight, and I’d have gone food shopping and just eaten bread and Nutella or some such. But, uh, so you know. If you hadn’t said yes to coming with me, I was going to ask if you minded if we at least spent the evening together. I pushed back my van pick up until tomorrow, on the off-chance.”

“Jonathan—”

“I enjoy spending time with you,” he said.

She nodded. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

 (c) 2022 Leila Belhadjali

Chapter 3

The dressing room was quiet, and she took a deep breath. She had three bathing suits to try on. She’d picked them out quickly, reasonably sure of her taste and size. Jonathan was sitting outside the dressing rooms, and she thought he might have fallen asleep.

The whole day was starting to feel surreal. Not enough sleep, she knew, but also this strange feeling of connecting with someone so very completely. And he was so very young.  She kept on vacillating between “I’m old enough to be his mother, why does he want to hang with me?” and “Oh god, this is good.”

Martin had used a surrogate; he’d always been open about that. Was Jonathan looking for a mother –

“How does that one look, luv?” asked the saleslady.

Melissa jumped and stared at herself. She’d put on the first suit, plain black, with just one strap and hadn’t really noticed.

“OK, I guess,” she answered.

“Well, come on out here and look in the better mirror!”

She stepped outside the dressing room. The suit looked ok. She didn’t care, it just had to fit.

“Shall I get your man? He might want to have a look-see?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. I mean, he’s not. He’s just a friend. And I think he’s fallen asleep anyhow.”

“Kept him up late, did you?” said the lady with a broad wink. “No, it’s all right! That one’s cute. I like the one shoulder style, it looks good on you. Let’s see the other one.”

She changed quickly, feeling a bit queasy. Did they think she was robbing the cradle? He was so much younger than she was. 14 years… or maybe 13?  She could be his mother. Not likely, but the age gap was almost just sufficient. If you squinted.

The second suit was a white bikini. She thought it made her pale skin look even paler.

“How’s that bikini?”

She pulled the curtain back. “Not my color, I don’t think,” she said.

“I see what you mean. Some pale girls look great with the white-on-white, but you could use a bit more color.”

The third suit was another one piece, in her favorite blue. It looked awful. She started taking it off. She’d probably go with the black.

The saleslady reached in through the curtain and handed her another bikini. It was shell pink, and the top had only one shoulder strap, which she’d liked in the one piece. What’s more it was decently sized, and not something she’d feel uncomfortable wearing to play in Cate’s pool with other people around.

She tried it on quickly and stepped to check herself in the mirror. She liked the color, and it felt good.

“Sure I can’t get the lad?”

“I think I can decide by myself,” she said with a smile. “And this one is perfect, great pick.”

She paid. The clerk took the bag and told her that it would be waiting for her at her hotel that evening, along with the rest of the things they’d purchased.

She checked her watch. 30 minutes. She smiled. Not bad for a bathing suit purchase. No matter what those were hard, and she didn’t have any major body image issues. Aside from being short, she reminded herself.

It was almost 7pm. They needed to make their way to the London Eye. She took a deep breath. She’d be fine. The pods, or whatever they were called were completely enclosed. They were planned for a few dozen people, though they’d be fewer because of the pandemic, so there was bound to be a spot where she didn’t have to see down. She swallowed hard.

Jonathan was asleep, sitting up, probably a trick he’d learned in medical school. She put a hand on his shoulder. His eyes popped open, instantly awake and aware.

“Oh. I must have fallen asleep.”

“You did. I’m done, so we can go whenever.”

“Did you find something?”

“I did. Thanks for being patient.”

He looked at his watch. “Not like that took a long time.”

She stared at the wheel. It didn’t even stop to let on passengers, you just had to, like, hop on. It did not even stop. She gulped. The other people in their group were a family of seven, parents, kids, grandparents. They walked on first, easily, even the grandparents.

Mere seconds, and she was going to have to get in that thing that was going to go up. Up was the problem. She shivered.

“Cold?”

“No,” she said.

To her surprise, he held out his hand, and she took it. It was warm, despite the chill of the autumn evening. They stepped on. The doors shut. She quelled a bubble of panic.

Since they were still holding hands, they walked over to the window. She let go, so she could grab on to the railing. He was next to her, staring out as slowly, so very slowly, they started to ascend.

At first, she thought she’d be alright. She could keep her eyes shut, and not look out the vast expanse of glass that showed the empty underneath her.

He was standing next to her and pointing out landmarks as they became visible. The kids were doing much the same on the other side of the pod, loud and exuberant.

She opened an eye. Oh god. She shut it.

“Jonathan,” she said, her voice tight, but, she thought, controlled, not panicky at all. At all.

“Mmm?”

“I suppose this is a bad time to tell you I’m terrified of heights.”

Her eyes were squeezed shut and she had started to shake. She wanted to cry. She had a death grip on the balustrade. At least that. At least. That. It was getting hard to breathe behind the mask, she wanted to take it off. Dizzy. Not enough air. Breathe faster.

“Melissa,” he said. His voice was very soft and very calm. “I’m going to move to stand behind you, ok?”

Her response was a bit of a squeak.

“Is it ok if I put my arms around you? I’m going to hold you very tight.”

Still with that same soothing voice. She nodded. His arms came around her, strong, and he pulled her close, against his body. She didn’t relax.

“It’s all good. I won’t let go of you. I won’t let you fall. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” It was a litany of reassuring words, and they were somehow comforting. She could feel her shaking abate just a tiny bit.

“I’ve got my hand on your stomach. I want to feel you breathe, ok? Deep slow breaths. I want to feel you breathe. You can do that. No, don’t worry, I’m not letting go, I’ve got you…”

Breathing slowly helped.

She let go of the railing and turned around, putting her arms around him, hiding her face in his chest, hating herself for it, but needing the reassurance, the solidity of him. He kept on holding her. She felt tears in her eyes, and she knew she was crying.

“It’s ok. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. It’s ok. I’ve got you, ok, I won’t let you go, I’m here…” One of his hands was on the back of her head, and she felt his fingers in her hair. He rearranged his grip to hold her even tighter, and suddenly, she felt safe. Nothing had changed. She was still somewhere up in the sky above London, but she felt safe. She wasn’t going to shatter into a thousand pieces or collapse in a puddle of screams. He had her. He’d keep her together until she could keep herself together. She knew that. She felt safe.

Very slowly, she pulled away, letting go of him so she could look at him. His smile was gentle, and his hand moved from the back of her head to her cheek, and he wiped away a tear with his thumb. She felt safe. She turned around again, but closed her eyes, and pressed herself to him. She felt safe. His arms were still around her, so she knew without a doubt that she was safe. Slowly, she opened one eye. So high. So very high. She took a deep breath and opened the other. She was safe. Jonathan had her.

She knew he was leaning over, so he could speak quietly. “Look, the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. See the boat down on the Thames? I love how pretty the lights are, someday we should come back and do this during the day—”

She snorted at that. His grip tightened. She felt her shaking abate. But it had been a laugh. She was ok.

He didn’t let go until they had to walk out of the pod, and even then, he held her hand.

Solid ground under her feet. She felt herself wobble a bit, her knees a bit weak, still. Deep breath. They walked a bit away, and she finally let go of his hand, missing the connection immediately.

“Thank you,” she said, quickly. “I’m so sorry-“

“No. I’m sorry. I should have seen you weren’t enthusiastic about the idea and asked why.”

“I thought I could do it.”

He smiled. “You did do it.”

“Not without some significant help.”

“That was, to use the hackneyed old phrase, what friends are for.”

She nodded. “Again, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and held out his hand again. “Come on. Let’s get dinner and I want to know how you managed to hike the Enchantments solo while afraid of heights.”

The hotel staff had piled their shopping bags on her counter, and she moved them to the bed. They started sorting. Melissa pulled her suitcase out and opened it onto the bed. In the mesh to one side, instead of whatever the makers intended, she’d packed yarn.

“See anything you like?” she asked. “This is sock yarn. We’ll deal with sweater yarn when you get back. If I can start tomorrow, I might be able to finish by the time we get to Reykjavik.”

She bit the inside of her mouth. Before we each go our separate ways, she thought, but did not say.

“I have a latex allergy,” he said.

“Oh. Was that always the case?”

“No, it developed during medical school. It isn’t too hard to manage but I try to be careful because it can get worse.”

“Of course. These are all 100% wool that’s been treated so it’s washable, but there should be no other fibers. Pick away!”

While he was looking at the yarn, she packed the other side of the suitcase. They’d had a nice dinner, and then a drive around London. It was late and they’d need to be up early the next day.

As she tossed her new bathing suit into the case, Jonathan commented. “Is that the new bathing suit? It’s a pretty color.”

“Yes, it is. I hadn’t seen it when I was shopping, the saleslady found it for me. Are you finding colors you like? And any thoughts on a pattern? I can do a variegated wool,” she pointed to one of shifting shades from brown to gold, “or one color easily. I can also do stripes, or heels and toes in one color, body of the sock in the other. Anything with a more serious pattern, I won’t be able to finish before tomorrow.”

“I often wear Crocs at work, and the kids will get a kick out of anything obnoxious,” he said.

“Not much like that here, sorry, but at home, I’ve got some pretty frightening stuff. Finn, that’s Mags’ son, wanted a lime green and purple pair for Christmas last year.”

She looked at the yarn. She grabbed the peach, orange, and pink variegated yarn she’d used to make the socks she’d finished the night before, and a ball of a bright electric blue. “These?”

“I like that!” he said. “That’s bright, and just the right amount of obnoxious that I won’t feel embarrassed if a real adult looks too closely.”

“Jonathan. You’re a pediatrician, doing a fellowship in pediatric oncology. And you don’t count yourself among the real adults of the world?”

“Nope. Not until I get sleep regularly. Real adults sleep regular hours and don’t fall asleep standing up waiting for their Lyft ride.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “I see. Well, yes, then. I am happily part of the real adults group then. I do like those colors. Stripes or heels and toes?”

He thought about it for a few seconds. “Heels and toes.”

“K. I’ll get them started. What size shoe?”

“11.”

“One last thing. Don’t take this wrong, ok, but can I see your feet and ankles?”

“OK?”

She laughed. “Just pull up the cuffs of your jeans a bit and take off shoes and socks. I want to see the shape of your ankles and lower calves. It’ll help with fit.”

“Do you need to measure?”

“No, not really. I could probably guess and be pretty close, but seeing as you’re here...”

“Not a foot fetish then?”

He took off his shoes and socks, and pulled up his jeans. “Oh, I should not have done that. I do not want to put these back on. Ah well. Nor do I want to be wandering around a London hotel in my bare feet. Back on they go.”

“Yeah,” she said. The hair on his legs was golden, a bit darker than the hair on his head. She shook her head to dispel that whole train of thought.

They were both quiet for a few moments, then he looked down at his hands, and bent over to pick up his shopping bags. His voice was a bit muffled when he spoke. “I don’t want to say goodnight,” he said, “It’s been such a wonderful day.”

“It has. Thank you so much for everything. Especially the not letting me panic on a Ferris wheel part.”

“I’ve held more than my fair share of upset kids,” he said. “And to be honest, more than a few upset adults. It helps, being held.”

“It does. It did.”

“7:30 tomorrow?” he said. “Downstairs?”

“Sure. See you then.”

He nodded. “Yup. G’night.”

She watched him walk down the hallway. Before opening the door to the stairwell, he turned around and waved at her. She waved back, and he was gone.

Melissa blinked slowly, and slowly closed her door. She got ready for bed. She took up her sock needles and the yarn and, counting quickly, cast on the socks. She’d knit them both at the same time. She took a few minutes to arrange the yarn in her “current project” bag. She sat in bed. It was just past midnight, so it would be just past 5pm at home. She reached over to her computer bag and found her Bluetooth headphones with the mic and called Mags.

“Hey, sweetie, what’s up?”

“Hey. Can you loop Cate in?”

“One sec.”

While she waited, she got herself a glass of water. She needed to tell Mags and Cate everything. They’d help her understand and tell her what to do. She knew they—

“Liss my love! How is London treating you?”

“Hi Cate.”

“What’s up? You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

Melissa took a deep breath and started. “I met someone,” she said.

The squeals were immediate. They both knew how long it had been since she’d last dated.

“Oh wow. Is he there? Taking a shower after an evening of wild sex?” asked Mags.

“No, it’s not like that. We went to the British Museum. And on the London Eye.”

“Wait, he got you on a FERRIS WHEEL?” asked Cate.

“No, I went on by myself. What he did was get me off the Ferris wheel alive and not as a puddle of panic drenched sweat.”

“This guy sounds like a gem,” opined Mags.

“Oh he is,” she said. “I didn’t realize what was happening until it happened.”

“That’s all good,” said Cate. “Why are you calling, then? You don’t sound peachy excited like you should be.”

“There are… issues.”

“Long distance relationships—”

“No, he’s local.”

“To us?”

“Yeah.”

“At least that. How did you meet him?”

“I kinda didn’t. I already knew him.”

“Oh. Let me guess. This is part of the issue.”

“Yes.”

“Is he married?” asked Mags.

“No, not that. Oh god this is hard. I’m ashamed to even talk about this.”

“Do we know him?”

“I think so.”

“Oh,” said Mags.

Cate, as usual, took charge of the questioning. “Tell us everything, ok? Start with the start. Don’t interject the problem until the end, once we have a better picture. Call him Fred for now so we can focus on the events, not on how we know him or when we last saw him.”

“We’re listening,” said Mags. “And remember, we’re here for you, babe, no matter.”

She put down her knitting, took a deep breath. “Last night as I got back to the hotel after dinner, Fred called out to me….”

She almost tripped up a few times, calling him Jonathan rather than Fred, but in the end, the details were given.

She heard Cate take a deep breath. “And how do you feel?”

She started to cry, surprising herself. “Ms, it’s never been like this. I feel the half of a whole, like I completely fit in with him. It was never this way, not even with Anthony.” Anthony. The man she’d been engaged to, had lived with for four years. The man she’d once thought she’d spend the rest of her life with.

“Did you start feeling that way before or after he helped you out on the London Eye?” Cate asked.

She sniffled. “Before. It was really when he told me that he’d wanted to see me again. And I knew more when we were at the British Museum.”

“Oh?” That was Mags.

“He didn’t comment endlessly on things. We just walked together, almost silent, looking at all these artefacts of human civilization, and he didn’t feel the need to talk just to hear himself talk, and he didn’t expect me to. It felt like companionship, and I loved it.”

She sniffled again. “The worse is that tomorrow, we go to the airport, and go our separate ways and I’m already sad about it. He’s traveling around Iceland for, like, 10 days.”

“Will you see him when he gets back?” Cate.

“Probably, yes.”

“What does he do, in real life?” asked Mags.

She hesitated. She had to tell them eventually.

“Pediatric oncology.”

“One of mine?” asked Cate. She was a genetic counselor at the hospital where Jonathan worked. Melissa knew she was probably already checking out the directory as they spoke.

“Well, yes. But.”

“But?” Cate again.

“Fellow.”

 “So a bit younger. What, early 30s? Is that the problem?” Mags.

“Well…”

“Oh,” said Cate. “Jonathan Teague?”

She didn’t sound shocked, at least.

Melissa nodded then said “Yes. Jonathan. Martin’s son. Whom I’ve known since he was 12 or 13.”

She started to cry again.

“Mags, I’m emailing you a photo. Hot as fucking hell. Lissy, why are you crying?”

“I always thoughts it was those creeps who were the pedophile wanna-bes,” she said, “but what if it was because they sensed I was a weirdo too?”

“Melissa! Don’t be ridiculous. He’s at least in his mid-twenties, right?” Mags’ voice was gentle but firm.

“And I’m 40! And I knew him when he was a kid.”

“You are 38, not 40, first of all, and come on, Liss, he’s not a child NOW,” said Cate.

“Whoa. He is hot! Lissy, just because you knew him when he was underage doesn’t mean that finding him hot now means you’re weird. It means you have good taste.”

“But—”

“Did you find him sexy when he was 16?” Mags.

“God, no!”

“Well, what’s the problem then?” Mags.

“I’m too old.”

“You’re not too old,” said Cate. “And is the problem right now that you’re sad because you are going to miss him when he stays in Iceland and you go home or is it that you fear that there is no future for this, and you’re pre-emptively upset.”

“Ouch,” said Mags. “Cate, she’s clearly hurting!”

“I know. But I want to figure out why.”

Melissa spoke slowly. “I don’t know, Cate. I’m upset because I’m too old, and there were those creeps, and maybe it was me and not them. I’m upset because, yes, this interlude in London is coming to an end, we’re flying out together and then that’s it. I’m upset because we have some vaguely tentative plans for when he gets back, and I’m afraid he won’t call me, and I’m afraid he will. I’m afraid because I am totally falling for this guy, not just ‘oh I have the hots for him’ but ‘I want to spend time with him and just BE with him’ and he’s young and gorgeous and one of my best friend’s CHILD. And I have no idea how he feels or even if he feels anything. He seems to enjoy hanging with me, but I’m afraid I’ve gone past that, and I don’t know that I’m being fair to him.”

Mags fixed on the last thing she’d said. “Fair? How so?”

“Mags, I’m falling for him. He doesn’t know that. He’s probably just being nice? And how could it be anything else, I’m just an older woman who’s a friend of his father’s.”

Cate’s voice was amused. “Liss, my stepdad’s best friend came to town for a science fiction con a few years back. I had him over for dinner. And drove him back to his hotel, told him how nice it was to see him again, and to enjoy the con. He sent Gabs a con t-shirt to say thanks, and that was that.”

“Right,” said Mags. “You’ve been saying he’s been taking every opportunity to spend more time with you. I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t nothing, ok?”

“OK,” she said. “I guess.”

“Go to the airport tomorrow. Before time to say goodbye, make sure you have a solid plan to get together when he gets back. You’ll feel better. Enjoy your quick stay in Reykjavik, and we’ll be at the airport waiting for you,” said Cate.

“I was going to get ---”

“I know, but we’ll be there, and we’ll take you home and ply you with alcohol. Did you get any selfies with him?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Good. We’ll want to see them. Text or email them as soon as you’re off the call. We’re living vicariously here.”

“Melissa,” said Mags. “Your neighbor girl is watching Lilly and Pip, right?”

“Brigitte, yes. Why?”

“Just checking. Listen. If… something comes up, do not worry about cats, house, or bees. We’ll take care of anything or everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying that don’t let the thought of omg, Brigitte has already been feeding the cats for a week or some such to stop you if something comes up.”

“You think he’s going to ask her to stay with him in Iceland, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Mags, that ridiculous,” said Melissa, feeling her stomach do a funny little flip flop.

“No, I agree with Mags. I think he will. Can you take off work?”

“Yes, I could, I have writing to do and was planning on being at home, and Kelly, that’s my post-doc, is still on maternity leave, so no responsibilities there. But I don’t think—”

“If he does, we’re going to cocktails and luxe nuts at that new bar in Bellevue, and you’re paying.”

They said goodnight, and Melissa blew her nose. She texted a few of the photos they’d taken that day. She picked up her knitting, then decided that it would be better to get some sleep. It took her a while to drift off, and her sleep was restless.

Cate called Mags back later that evening, Pacific time. “So, what do you think?”

“She’s totally falling in love.”

“Good or bad?”

Mags sighed, “Hard to say. If he’s good, damn, she deserves a shot at something. After Anthony and Rafe, and whiny Steven, a decent man would be a change.”

“Don’t forget the weirdo twins.”

“Ugh.”

“Do you know I saw Joel the other day? Had to gall to come up to Trevor and me at Home Depot, to talk about how he missed hanging out with us, and that he was still sad that it didn’t work out with Melissa. In the meanwhile, she still secretly thinks she was the problem not him, AND he’s freaking married.”

“God, what a fuckup. I hope he doesn’t have kids.”

“New wife does, boys, thank goodness.”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t think he’s an actual pedophile, but certainly some fucked up sex fantasies.”

“To say the least. I still think he slipped her something. Anyhow, Trev, being an idiot, suggested we get together at some point, his steps are the same age at Gabs and the twins. Yeah, nope, nope, nope, not gonna happen.”

“Cate, taking any bets on what Jonathan does?”

Cate giggled. “Oh, he’s totally gonna ask her to stay with him. I’m going to check out the menu at The Nut and pick out my drink and exotic nut combo.”

“I think so too. God those selfies were so cute. I LOL’ed at the one in front of the London Eye sign. Lissy can now say she did it!”

“Oh. And before I forget… I didn’t want to ask Lissy, because she’d freak even worse, but do you remember how much he inherited? I know I heard rumors back when, because he was so young, and his dad was bypassed.”

“I’d have to ask my parents, it was big in the Albuquerque papers, but I seem to remember it was around 50 million?”

“Definitely let’s not remind Lissy of that.”

“Yup. I’ve got an early morning, I gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Night.”

Show off your WIP’s setting in 4 pictures 👀

— cass 🏳️‍⚧️ (@cassbeewrites) August 10, 2022

Melissa and Jonathan

By Aster Alison

Email: asteralinson@outlook.com

Twitter: @asteralison

Blog: https://asteralison.dreamwidth.org/

© 2022 Leila Belhadjali

Chapter 1

Starbucks London “You are here” mug for the cat sitter acquired. She ticked that off her mental checklist as she walked down the street to her hotel. Dinner with colleagues had been pleasant, but she’d opted not to stay for the after-dinner drinks and eventual bar hopping. If she had time, a new bathing suit for the stop at Blue Lagoon (her birthday gift from her best friends Mags and Cate) on the way home: hers was fine but she’d noticed it looked a bit worn when packing for the conference, the first one after the big Covid-19 epidemic had left everyone isolated for over a year. She’d like to get to that, but the next day’s priority would be the visit to see the Elgin Marbles. She hadn’t seen them since her first trip to London during high school, two decades earlier, and as she thought they’d be sent back to Greece where they belonged, she wanted to take them in again as an adult. The ginger biscuits for her dad, the marzipan for her mom, the Turkish Delight for Mags and Cate’s kids who shockingly liked it, and some treats for the office she could do the morning before her flight. She made a mental note to remind herself that she also needed to get Martin a tacky London souvenir mug, he loved those. Tea. Cate and Mags were easy, they always brought each other Cognac and chocolate from the Duty-Free Shop at the airport. That had started when they were in college together. That should be it, though she also wanted to check the Gift Shop at the British Museum for gifts for the kids. She wasn’t a fan of shopping most of the time but shopping for the kids was always fun.

It started to mist. The weather wasn’t bad for October, but she picked up her pace. She’d decided to walk back from the restaurant (so she could stop at the Starbucks to get the mug) and she didn’t think the hotel was much further.

The brightness and warmth that greeted her when she got into the lobby were welcome. She batted her eyelashes to dislodge the droplets of mist and walked toward the elevator. Her room, where she could take off her heels and her mask.

“Melissa?”

She stopped and turned towards the person who’d spoken. A tall -well, she was 5ft even, everyone was tall, but this guy was tall, at least 6ft2- young man, blond hair, blue eyes, a blue surgical mask. Eyes crinkled in what she was sure was a smile behind the mask, though there had been a clear question when he’d said her name.

It clicked. Jonathan. Martin’s son. She was sure, even though she hadn’t seen him in over four years. And well, mask.

“Jonathan!” she said with a smile. Harder now, that handshakes were out. They each put hand over heart and bowed slightly.

“I was only 98% sure it was you,” he said.

She laughed. “That was surer than I was. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Last time was probably about four years ago?”

He nodded. “I suspect so. I haven’t been back to Seattle much over the past few years. Well, until I moved back.”

“Your dad has kept me up to date.  Penn and pediatrics! Martin said you were now doing a fellowship?”

 “Pediatric oncology, yes. I was in London for a small meeting. You were here for the cancer metabolics one?”

“Yes. Done this afternoon. It’s been a bit exhausting, my first conference after the Year of Covid.”

“I hear you. How did you fare?”

“Well, all things considered. I’d just finished a gigantic experiment, so I spent the time with the data and writing the papers. A bit lonely, but eh, that’s nothing compared to many. Your dad said you’d been sick?”

He nodded. “Yes, right at the beginning, before we had enough PPE and before we really knew what was hitting us.

”Was it bad?”

He sighed. “Yes. It was. I was sick, and scared, and it took a long time for me to feel ready to get back to work. But getting back wasn’t optional, so back I went.”

“On the front lines, of course.”

“That is what I signed up for, right?” He smiled, but it was wry. “I will say, there was a small benefit!”

“Oh?”

“When I asked for time off, knowing that I’d been sick, and had worked the frontlines, they let me tack on another week of vacation. Which means that as of day after tomorrow, I have two whole weeks off. I can’t remember the last time that happened!”

“That sounds great. Are you staying in London?”

“Nope. I’m heading to Iceland day after tomorrow!”

She smiled. “Bet we’re on the same flight?”

“Oh?”

“I decided to spend the weekend in Reykjavik. I’m flying out day after tomorrow via IcelandAir. The 1pm flight.”

“Me too. Want to share a ride to the airport?”

“That would be great!” She hesitated. She was tired, her feet hurt, and she wanted to get back to her room. That was one hand. On the other, she’d always liked Jonathan, ever since she’d met him as a serious young pre-teen, before he’d started university at not quite 14, she had a bottle of hard apple cider in her room, and it already felt good to talk to someone friendly and not involved in cancer research.

In the end, he ended up asking first. “Do you want to get a drink? The hotel bar is still open.”

She shook her head. “Yes on the drink, but I have a bottle of cider in my room. If that’s ok?”

“Sounds great!”

They walked towards the elevator, got in.

“What floor?”

“I’m on seven.”

He pressed the button and leaned back against the wall as they started upwards. His eyes were closed.

“Tired?” she asked.

“A bit. It’s been a long few days. I ended up consulting on a case with a colleague at Great Ormand Street Hospital.”

He was at the beginning of his career, and already people were asking him for consults. It seemed Martin was too discreet about his son’s accomplishments. She shook her head with a smile.

“What?” he asked.

“Your father doesn’t brag enough about you, I think.”

To her surprise, he blushed and mumbled something about it was not a big deal, just a friend asking. She said nothing.

Once in her room, she turned on the lights, and motioned him to come in. She got out of her shoes, and found her comfortable slippers where she’d left them, and sighed at the relief. She was 5ft even. She wore heels for events, if not in every day.

“The new discussion when bringing someone into your space,” she said, smiling behind her mask, knowing her eyes were crinkled, “is not ‘do you have condoms, and have you been tested recently?’ but ‘think it’s safe to remove masks?” She suddenly blushed. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean to imply sex or anything, just that it was the new ‘first topic’!”

“No, I get it. I hear you.”

“And now you probably think I have people in my room for safer sex every evening. I’m shutting up now.”

“Don’t shut up, it was just getting interesting!” he said. “I get it, though. And to answer your questions. I’ve been in London for a week, masked in public. Vaccinated in February, good antibodies this summer, booster last month. I don’t have condoms, and I’ve been tested—” He stopped with a grin. “Oh wait, you didn’t need to know about that, right?”

She took a deep breath. “Not unless you have very different ideas about this evening than I do!  I’ve been here five days. Vaccination wasn’t until last spring, booster due next month, no idea on antibody status. I also have no condoms, but I do have a bottle of Welsh Apple County Cider in the fridge.”

“Cider sounds good.”

He took off his mask and shoved it in his pocket, she dropped hers on the dresser. She went over to the small fridge, and pulled out a bottle, found the glasses and sighed. “Of course. Why the heck would I remember that I need a bottle opener?”

“Got one in my room. I’ll be back in a flash.”

He left and she looked around. The almost comfortable armchairs would work fine. She considered changing into pajamas, but decided against it, in case he came back faster than she expected. She cringed again at her condom comment. It was something she’d have said to Mags or Cate, not to Jonathan, who was not precisely a friend and was certainly not in her age group to even make friendship an assumption. She calculated quickly. He was probably close to 24 now. Or 25? She didn’t know. She picked up the bottle of cider and placed its coolness against her cheek for a moment. There was no reason for feel flustered. She was just having a drink with a friend’s kid. In a hotel room in London. She sighed and went to get her knitting.

He came back a few minutes later with a Swiss Army Knife. “Part of my standard hiking gear,” he said. “And since I’ll be doing at least some hiking in Iceland, I packed my daypack.”

“Sounds like your time in Iceland is going to be different from mine.”

“What are you planning?”

“Well, nothing scheduled after we get in, it was too late for much though the hotel said something about doing Northern Lights tours on a show up and if we have numbers and conditions, we’ll go basis. Day tour of the Golden Circle the next day, and the day I leave I have a visit to the Blue Lagoon, they drop me off at the airport after. Early evening flight back to Seattle. Nothing earth shattering or exciting, the spa day is my birthday present from my best friends, and I’m looking forward to seeing what I can see. You, on the other hand, have more planned.”

“I do, and I’m very much looking forward to it… Thanks,” he added, taking the glass of cider from her, “Cheers!”

They clinked glasses and each took a sip. Melissa put down her glass and picked up her knitting. “So?” she prodded.

“Our flight gets in at three, I’ll head straight to pick up a rental Sprinter Van. And away I go. I’m planning on checking out the Golden Circle, of course, but the real plan is to drive the Ring Road around the island.  I have 11 days planned, then back to Reykjavik. Volcano hike, maybe. I might try Blue Lagoon and I want to visit the city as well. I will have to skip the fjords to the northwest, I just can’t fit it in. I’ve got some hiking days, maybe some boating. And I’m bragging. Sorry.”

“No, I’m listening. To be honest, I don’t tend to take many vacations away, and I’m a complete sucker for vacation stories. I’ll also sit and listen when you get back if you want to share photos—Ugh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…”

“If you’re willing to sit through my photos, you’re on for dinner once we’re back in Seattle. I’ll buy or cook, whichever you prefer.”

“Do you enjoy cooking?”

“I do. I—”

He started talking about cooking and she listened, interested. Her idea of cooking was pouring milk on cereal or scrambling a few eggs. A successful meal was when nothing burned.

“And remind me,” he said, “You keep bees, right? Do you still have them?”

She nodded. “I do. I have 10 hives. I collect a lot of honey.”

“Have you been terribly impacted by colony collapse disorder?”

“No, I’ve been pretty lucky. I hope it continues.”

“Murder hornets?”

She laughed. “No. Seriously not. At least not yet, but the Natural Resources seem to think they may have gotten them. I hope.”

He pointed at her knitting. She was almost done with the second sock of a pair, in pinks and peaches and oranges. “Sheep?”

“Oh god no. That is one rabbit hole I have not gone down!”

She offered him more cider and poured them both a second glass.

The conversation drifted and ranged far and wide, from bees to cider to anecdotes from his years in med school. Science and her research, and his specializing in pediatric oncology, maybe with a focus on neurological cancers. Politics and that they both read science fiction and fantasy.  Nothing much personal and they both noticed that neither spoke of significant others in their lives, but at that point, it was just idle curiosity, not a need to know for any reason.

Jonathan went back to his room to change into jeans, and Melissa took the opportunity to put on her pajamas, which were sweatpants and a t-shirt. She stared at herself in the mirror. Short, small boned, black hair caught up in a messy bun. Deep blue eyes, which she thought were her best feature. Pale skin that burned and did not tan, and a smattering of freckles on her nose. She sighed. Cute. Never beautiful. But cute. She bit her lip. Why did she care?

Jonathan had a bottle of wine with him, they’d long since finished the cider.

“Wine?”

She shook her head. “I’m a lightweight, sorry. If I have a glass of wine, after a half bottle of cider, I’ll be either maudlin-weepy or passed out asleep in about 15 minutes. You go ahead.”

“Would eating help?”

“Possibly, but all I’ve got is two pretty awful cookies from the meeting today… Oh. Room service. If they’re open this late?” She looked at the time. “It’s 1:30AM,” she said, surprised.

“Perfect time for a burger and fries!”

She gaped at that. “At 1:30 in the morning?!”

He laughed. “You develop strange eating patterns when you’re a resident. Burger and fries are a perfectly good meal about 20 hours of the day. Pizza is a great meal at any time of the day, but I’m not about to do room service pizza.”

She shook her head and went to grab the room service menu that was on the desk.

Burger and fries, a cheese plate, and two desserts ordered, Jonathan poured her a glass of wine.

“Here’s to room service at 2am and chance encounters!” he said.

Despite her protests he had them put the bill and tip on his tab. “Oh come on Melissa! You’ve known my dad for long enough to know that I’m not hurting.”

“I do know that, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t pay my fair share.”

“Of course you could. But… I—Look, I’ve not told pretty much anyone in my life who doesn’t know me from back when about my grandad’s legacy. I’ve lived off my salary, and when I have time, I’m going to start a foundation with the money or just get bored and donate to the Gates Foundation. But it’s there, and I like being able to do stuff like this and usually don’t do it too much because I don’t want to stand out.”

“Which is why you’re staying here rather than a top-notch hotel, I assume?”

“Yes.  The hospital put everyone here. I wasn’t about to single myself out and go elsewhere. Plus this place is fine. I’d probably have stayed here or someplace similar anyhow.”

She was quiet for a bit. He’d inherited a lot of money as a tween when his grandfather had died, leaving him the bulk of his estate, bypassing his father, though she knew Martin had gotten some money through his mother.

“If it makes you feel better, I always pay for Dad and Den, and Dad always tells me ‘You go ahead and pay, you’ve got money, I am a poorly paid academic researcher, woe is me, woe is me, and the catch was crappy in Alaska last time so Den has no money either. And I think I’ll have another Negroni.’”

They both laughed. Martin had worked through any bitterness at being left out of his father’s will in favor of his son, and any excuse for another Negroni was always good in his book.

“Well, thank you, then.”

She finished the second sock of the pair she’d been working on since she’d gotten to London. She always knit socks while traveling. She put away her knitting and sat back down. Without a drink, or knitting to occupy her fingers, she felt somehow vulnerable. They talked about this and that, nothing really, while they waited.

Their food came and they set it on the small table between their armchairs. Melissa yawned as he handed her her glass of wine.

 “Food, then bed! …. Oh god. Now I’m doing it. Let’s have dinner and then go to bed, each in our own beds.”

Melissa laughed and stole one of his French fries. “In retribution I am stealing a French fry. I knew what you meant.”

They ate and talked and shared the desserts, agreeing that while the toffee pudding was delicious, it was almost too sweet.

They piled the dishes back on the tray, Melissa eyeing with a bit of dismay the empty wine bottle. She was feeling it and hoped the hangover the next morning wouldn’t be too epic. She got herself a glass of water and gulped it down.

“Any doctor tips for hangovers that I should know about but don’t?” she asked.

“Breakfast,” he answered, and she sighed.

He carried the tray to the door and put it down in the hallway. Her turned to her, she was leaning against the door jamb.

“Good night,” he said. “That was a wonderful evening, thank you.”

She nodded. “It was great,” she agreed.

He turned around three steps down the hallway, but she’d already closed her door. He hesitated then continued towards the stairs.