At twenty-seven, YouTube sensation Ben Leonards is married to his work. If he's not whipping up lasagna with a side of science experiments, he's running statistical analysis of bitcoin during explosive behavior periods.
When a friend asks him to org...
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Two-thirds of the shelf space in my office is empty, waiting for the future books and trinkets to find their place there over the years. The alphabetical order by title was the system Tall insisted on, a replica of the one he employed and one I find most confusing. What do you do with a series? According to Tall, that's how you know which books to keep. If you love the book enough to keep it on your shelf and if you got a series of them, you have you know which book is next. It's how you pay your dues, remembering the next title, finding it because it mattered enough. Tall insisted I remove any book or series you couldn't do it with and either re-read or put away into a box, relegate it to the same level of importance as it occupies in your head. I struggled to agree with him, and blamed my memory and brought up how I read thousands of books, how I should get a leeway, how his system punished well-read people, but he overruled my attempts at keeping my long-established practice of alphabetizing by author. Time will tell if I can measure up to Tall's high standards as a reader.
Fingers rap on the open door of my office, and I turn to see Nicholas walk in.
"Skipping lunch today as well?" His long strides carry him to my desk in seconds. "Or can I still tempt you with the clam chowder they're serving today? It's the least bad lunch they have at the cafeteria. Would be a shame to miss it this week as well." His light tone is meant to cheer me up. My hunger disappeared with Tall and food is never on my mind. When I do remember, because my stomach cries out at me, I find the easiest thing I can throw into it, and move on with my day.
There's been no need for it today. "Not that hungry," I say.
"How about you keep me company? You next lecture is in an hour, and we haven't really talked since Tall died. I'll eat, you'll talk and maybe I'll persuade you to give something other than the cafeteria coffee a chance." He points at the paper cup with a bit of lukewarm coffee left in it and an empty one in my trash. "It's what friends are for. And I'm full of wisdom." He points at his gray temples and makes a face he first used on me when he asked me out several times in a row after seeing me around the University in Nante. My 'no' and excuses lasted for months until one day he pulled this look: big puppy eyes with an exaggerated eyebrow lift and a fake quivering lip. It clashed with his elegant aristocratic features, more at home on the face of my young half-brothers when they were begging me for something they knew they were not allowed to have. That face got me to say "yes" to having lunch with him then. It got him a lot more over the months we dated, it's what makes me say "yes" and go down to the cafeteria with him today.
"Mmm, it's warm, and the oyster crackers are wonderful." Nicholas swallows another spoonful of clam chowder and the smell of it makes me regret not getting a bowl for myself. "You want a taste?"
I know what it tastes like. I've had it before. It's nothing more than an excuse to get me to eat, and it's not like I'm against food. Food reminds me of the meatball subs Tall and I were supposed to eat, and throwing them out the day after Tall's death, cold and foul smelling. My stomach lurches again. "No, thanks, I'll stick with my tea." A fourth cup of coffee is too much, and the black tea I'm sipping has enough caffeine to get me through my last lecture of the day.
