COVERT : Spencer Reid (II)

27

Having Bastien crashing on my couch is like having my own personal messy housecleaner. He's working out the discharge from the army still and so now he's climbing on my walls for things to do. So, I gave him my list of renovations. He's an engineer, so it's fine.

Of course, this gives Estelle more free time. Now she's having a dinner party, a fancy one. Spencer's invited, but she's having her friends from her program come along and they know Dr. Reid from guest lectures, and I just can't do it. Rachel and Bastien are free though, and so I'll have to juggle them between my hands.

Rachel helps me hang up the coats when all of her friends arrive.

"So, you two aren't talking," Rachel whispers as Estelle guides her friends away.

I look back over my shoulder, looking for any stragglers in the hallway. Then, I shrug, "no, we aren't."

"She's getting along well with me," Rachel whispers. "Magically."

"She's pissed off I'm not going galentine's day," I shove the last coat on the hanger.

It's true, but not the entire picture. Estelle has always been single around Valentine's Day. When she dated men in the past, none of them lasted very long. She's been single for the longest time now though, so this year it might be a sore subject. I'm trying not to take it personally that she's pissed I have plans with Spencer.

"I know," Rachel says. "We're making pizza and drinking wine. Your brother has even invited himself along."

I try not to groan.

Of course, Bastien is in the living room, chatting with the coursemates. He has nothing in common with most of them. At least he's wicked smart and is able to keep up with the conversation. A few of them ask me how PhD applications are going, and I tell them that I'm not applying anywhere. Most of them seem disappointed.

This is Estelle's third year of her four years. She could have condensed her study, but she's been attending more conferences, and she took a huge chunk of time off to figure herself out, or something. The recipe book she's made this year is probably three times as thick as her dissertation, and the recipe book isn't that big.

Making my way through dinner is easier than I had imagined, mostly because Estelle's food is delicious. I probably have a glass of wine too many, but then it becomes easier to talk to these people. I'm so out of my element, even among those I know. Huub is in town again, so I catch up with him. He's defending his thesis soon, and I can feel how my eyes widen as I listen to him talk.

I've missed academia. I've missed the person who I was supposed to be.

I am a woman of coulds. I could have been a woman of is, or a woman of does, or a woman of will be. But I'm not.

"It's a shame you're starting after most of us will be done," one of Estelle's other friends tries to make conversation with me.

"I'm undecided," I tell them. A promise to myself. I could have done joined a PhD programme. I could have decided to accept a spot. I could have.

"They say once you start making money you never come back," she agrees.

I shift a bit on my seat. Estelle maybe thinks I'm a sell-out. She's not exactly into the FBI, but we try not to talk about that kind of thing. I mean, I'm not pro-FBI exactly either. Just, it's nice to have money. There is a reason none of Estelle's friends could host a dinner party, and it's not because Estelle is the only one who knows how to cook. They live in cramped quarters, pinching pennies and asking their parents for money. Even Estelle gets money from her family.