Monday Afternoon, February 9th
Who: Noah Browning, Mrs. Everett What: Discovery When: February 9, afternoon Where: The faculty lounge in Carrington Hall at UW Rating: G Status: COMPLETE
Noah's day began at four-thirty in the morning, an ungodly hour to leave the warmth of his bed and the comfort of his apartment. He'd grabbed a quick sandwich--leftover meatloaf--thrown on his clothes, and biked over to the labs at UW. By five-fifteen, he was immersed in research for his paper. Classes began at eight, so he was in lecture hall on time, and his normal day, complete with student office hours, began from there.
It wasn't until he emerged from his last class at four-thirty, messenger bag full of notes and materials slung over his shoulder and made for the faculty lounge, that he noticed people looking at him. He felt it at first, a quick touch on his back, his face, but when he looked up, it would be gone. A quick look down at his clothing showed them clean and neat, his clothes as somber and plain as usual; he hadn't managed to get half the contents of the lab on himself this time. Weird.
He was making tea and contemplating stealing two slices from Robertson's loaf of bread--the note on the package said Don't eat me so of course he was tempted--when the door to the lounge opened and he snatched his hand back quickly.
It was only Mrs. Everett. She smiled at him, stepped in, and closed the door behind her. He liked her short, silvery spiky hair, her bold makeup, her bright modern clothing. It might've overwhelmed anyone else approaching sixty-five, but she always managed to look cutting-edge and great.
"Hi, Mrs. Everett," he said, and held up the electric kettle in offering. "I'm getting ready to have tea. Would you like a mug?"
"Thank you, Dr. Browning. I just might at that." No one had ever been able to convince her to call them by first names; she insisted that they worked hard for their titles, and deserved to hear them. In return, she was always 'Mrs. Everett,' never Catharine. She folded her slim body into one of the chairs at the table, and Noah poured two mugs of hot water and tossed in tea bags before joining her, setting one mug in front of her.
His belly rumbled loudly, and he glanced up to see her looking at him disapprovingly, her you're too thin expression on her face. He hoped it didn't lead to more cookies. With an apologetic look, he reached into his bag and pulled out a breakfast bar he'd tossed in there last week. He'd been too busy earlier to eat, and his office hours had somehow bled into his lunch hour. They did that, sometimes.
Mrs. Everett took a sip of her tea. "I suppose congratulations are in order," she said. "I do hope that it turns out well for you, though I had hoped you might get an opportunity to meet with Angela first. I really think you two might've hit it off."
Noah blinked. "What? Congratulations for what?"
Color flushed her face. "Oh. Oh, then, you don't know?"
In spite of the hot tea he'd just sipped, Noah felt cold trickle down his chest to pool in his belly, and a mirroring streak down his spine. "Don't know what?"
"You don't. I'm sorry, Dr. Browning, I thought you knew."
Noah set down his tea carefully, his mind running quickly over her words. "Oh hell," he said, and reached for his bag. He pulled out his laptop and turned it on. His fingertips felt suddenly cold, his face and throat too warm. When he finally got to his email folder and opened it, he hesitated before clicking on the email from the SPO that sat seventh from the top.
His name had been chosen in the lottery.
For a moment he sat there, everything growing colder and smaller and tighter around him. Then he took a deep breath--difficult because his chest seemed suddenly constricted--and ran his hand over his face. A quick look back showed that no, nothing had changed in that few seconds. HIs name, paired with May Paik.
A warm hand covered his chill one. He looked up to see Mrs. Everett, looking sympathetic. "I'm very sorry you found out this way. It wasn't my intention."
Noah's hand turned beneath hers and squeezed gently. "It's fine, Mrs. Everett," he said, and then cleared his throat because his voice sounded a little high and thin. "You didn't know." There, his voice sounded normal again.
She squeezed his hand in return, then pulled away. She poured some sugar into his tea, then pushed it toward him again. "Drink. You look a little pale."
"I'm fine," Noah said automatically, but picked up the mug to drink anyway. It was hot and too sweet on his tongue. "I just didn't expect to see results until tonight. It's usually Monday night. I thought I'd have..." What, more time to prepare? Maybe. His eyes flicked to the screen again, to the time stamp on the email. "They sent this last night." Last night, while he'd been sharing dinner with Jae-Mi.
Jae-Mi's name was on there, paired with Dan Hoffman. And Jeff's name, paired with Grace Spencer. That name pinged insistently in his memory, and after a moment a face came up--the Grace from the bookstore he so often frequented.
These were all--with the exception of his partner, May Paik--people he knew, if only peripherally. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. The muscles had drawn as tight as piano wires.
"I look every week, hoping that my name won't show up. I'm always relieved when I've dodged the bullet one more time. And now that the lottery has finally rolled up my name, it doesn't feel quite real."
"It seems like such a cold-hearted way to do things," Mrs. Everett said disapprovingly. "There's no consideration for the feelings of the individuals involved, the disruption of their lives. Or for the children that come of the union. What if the parents hate one another and fight constantly? What sort of environment is that in which to raise children?"
"Children," Noah said softly. It wasn't as if he didn't know that this was the primary reasoning behind the arranged marriages, but still, children. He'd wanted children, he'd had a child, a little girl, they'd told him. But that had been he and Julia, and their relationship had been sound and loving, years of living and growing together. This was about having a child, as quickly as possible with no regard for establishing a relationship beforehand. About having as many children as possible, irregardless of anything else. He'd be expected to have sex with a stranger, all with the express purpose of having a child whether or not they wanted to do so. Christ.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, then leaned forward to look more closely at his laptop screen. May Paik. The email didn't give any information beyond how to contact her, and that in an attached file. He hoped to god she wasn't sixteen.
Opening up the attachment, he saw her name, two phone numbers, presumably home and work, and two email addresses. He blinked. The work number had the UW prefix, and the second email address was from the UW server. He couldn't tell which department they originated from, but at they assured him that she wasn't sixteen. She worked somewhere on campus, which made her at least eighteen. He still wasn't happy about that--he didn't want to ruin a young life.
"Mrs. Everett, do you know a May Paik?" He wasn't sure he even pronounced it correctly; it looked unfamiliar and he couldn't discern a country of origin for it.
If anyone knew, it would most likely be Mrs. Everett. Though she was administrative assistant over Environmental Studies, she knew everyone and everything that went on. And Noah had no doubt that the rumor mill had been working during the course of the day. Thinking back, he could remember seeing speculative looks from many of his students. They'd known, when he hadn't. Oddly, he felt violated by that, uncomfortable. Nausea ran a tight little loop-de-loop in his belly.
"Yes. Well, I know very little, because there's not much to know," she said. Mrs. Everett never referred to it as gossip, but as taking advantage of network information. "Dr. Paik. She's been here a week or so, no more than that, an adjunct professor of music."
Doctor? Thank god. That meant she was at least a peer, someone in his own age range. He looked at the screen and didn't realize that he turned the wide gold band on his left ring finger around and around as he thought until Mrs. Everett's warm hand covered his again. She looked down at his restlessly-moving fingers. Noah realized what he was doing, and stopped, folding his hands together, lacing his fingers tightly.
"I haven't heard anything bad about her," Mrs. Everett said. "No one knows her well, but no one has anything ill to say, either. That's...promising. The temperamental ones show themselves right away, usually."
Less than a week meant that her profile most likely hadn't been loaded into the faculty section yet. He wondered if anyone had said anything about him to her, if she knew he worked at UW, if she'd looked up his profile.
"I don't want this," he said, "But neither do I want my brains scrambled in some re-education center and then be forced to comply anyway. I'd rather keep the personality I have now, such as it is."
He didn't want to marry again; he still loved Julia, and wasn't ready for a relationship yet. His knuckles stood out in sharp relief, skin stretched tightly over bone. He forced his hands to unclench. Trailing his long fingers around the edge of the laptop case, he said, "I guess I'm lucky, in a way. My name could have come up immediately after Julia's death. I was such a mess, then." At that point in time he would've ended up in re-education, and probably wouldn't have fought losing himself at all. He wouldn't have cared.
"Noah."
Noah looked up, surprised. In all the years she'd known him, Mrs. Everett had only called him by his given name once before.
She smiled at him, and it was gentle. "This isn't a good thing, but you've faced a lot worse. If anyone can make the best of the situation, it's most likely you. And I've always thought you'd make a wonderful father. That's why I'd hoped that you'd want someday to meet Angela." She shrugged, a little resigned movement. "This isn't necessarily a bad thing, either. You can't tell until you meet her. Maybe she'll be someone you click with right away. Give it a chance before you condemn it."
He didn't want to give it a chance, but his options were practically non-existent. Noah drummed his fingers on the laptop a moment, then pulled it closer. He brought up an outgoing mail window, and typed in both her personal and email address.
May Paik,
My name is Noah Browning. As you are most likely by now aware, I've been matched with you in the last lottery drawing. I'd like to meet with you at your convenience to discuss this. Would you care to meet me at
He looked up at Mrs. Everett. "What's your favorite restaurant?"
She thought a moment. "Giardino Fresco, over on Bower street. They have wonderful food."
Noah nodded and continued to type. Giardino Fresco? It's an Italian restaurant on Bower street. How does eight tonight sound? If this is not suitable, we can reschedule to your convenience. I'm looking forward to meeting you.
Noah Browning
The last wasn't the truth, but there was no point in being surly; she had no more choice in this than he did. He reread the email. It sounded cool and a little stiff to him, but it was the best he could manage. Before he could change anything, he hit send.
"All right," he said, and shut down his laptop. "We'll see how it goes from this point." He put the laptop back into his bag. He was suddenly very tired, as if someone had hollowed out his bones and filled them with lead. He'd planned on running the track since he'd missed his morning run, but dismissed the idea. Looking up, he offered a little smile to Mrs. Everett. "Thank you for your kindness," he said.
She stood, and picked up both mugs, taking them to the sink. When she returned, she leaned forward and pressed her cheek against his a moment, her hand folding over his shoulder and squeezing. "You're a good man, and she's lucky to get you."
"Perhaps" she replied crisply, "But I still think so. Go home, rest a little, then dress nicely and go meet her. Think positively. It will be fine."
"From your mouth to god's ear," Noah said, then stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. He offered his arm to her. "I'll walk you back to your office."
"And good manners. It is a pity you didn't get a chance to meet Angela," she said, taking his arm. "It would've been nice to call you family, though you might find the prospect terrifying."
"I'm pretty tough," Noah said. "I think I could've borne up under the strain."
"I suppose I can stop bringing in cookies," she said reflectively as they went out into the hallway. "Your skinniness is someone else's affair, now."
Thank god, one good thing out of this, Noah thought, amused in spite of everything. Instead he said, "I'm not skinny, Mrs. Everett."
"Pshaw," she said. Noah had never actually heard anyone but Mrs. Everett say that. "Why, my dear beloved Richard was easily two of you---"
And Noah nodded and listened and agreed as they walked down the hallway, his mind a million miles away.