Seph shifted from foot to foot, his toothbrush in his mouth as he idly flipped through listings of townhouses for sale in New Calathea. His fingers pausing over a photo of a modern building crafted from sleek metal and warm wood. Lush green forests covered the mountains, and he felt calmer just looking at them. Then his tablet alerted him that Antony was calling, and he fumbled for a towel to wipe his mouth before answering.
“Dude, are you in the bathroom?”
“Brushing my teeth.”
“Well, your bed head is amazing.”
Seph poked at the spectacular cowlicks, where his blond hair curled up toward the ceiling. “It looks like I’ve got a bird on my head.”
“I know,” Antony said, and he flashed Seph a brilliant grin.
“What’s up?” Seph asked, carrying the tablet from the bathroom and flopping back onto the hotel bed with its slightly scratchy comforter.
“I’m ‘graduating’ from my art therapy program today. Wanted to call you since we have a bunch of stuff going on and I won’t be free later.”
“Antony, that’s great! Did you like the program?”
He tilted his head, running his hand through his wavy hair. “Yeah, I feel like I got something out of it,” he said, and his expression brightened. “I got to use a pottery wheel—I needed help with it, but I made a vase that was fired in the kiln today.”
“I’d love to see it when I can.”
Antony rubbed the back of his head and smiled. “Sure. You’re spending time with Bria today, right?”
“Yeah, to help her with some paperwork, so she’ll take a break when it’s finished.” He sighed. “Bria and I haven’t really talked since I’ve been here. Only niceties. I know when we were on the expedition, she worried about her students who were away on their own trip. It seems she was trying to provide emotional support to a mutual colleague on Acinos as well.”
“Bria, offer emotional support?”
“Well, I think she may have a bit of a crush.” He crossed his arms. “Bria has never been one to share much with me, but I wish she would have been more forthcoming on the expedition, if only to admit that she was frustrated with being away from her lab. Instead, she was grumpy and pushy and closed off.”
“Do you resent her?” Antony asked. His tone was carefully neutral, and it sounded like an honest question.
Seph rubbed his fingers over the corners of his mouth. “I think I do. She’s deathly afraid of being perceived as having a personal life, as though being a scientist means there’s no room for anything but research. But it’s not like that was a common part of the academic culture at her university. It’s just Bria, and it bleeds through into how she runs her own lab.”
“Yeah, that sucks,” Antony said. “I don’t know her well, but I can imagine. Still, you checked on her, and it isn’t your responsibility to sort through her emotional issues.”
“I agree,” Seph said. “Even if she opened up to me, I don’t think I’m the right person to support her.” He paused, allowing some of the tension to drain out of him. “I’m not planning to stick around Acinos forever, and if it’s alright, I’d like to come see you once I’m done sorting this out.”
Antony smiled at him. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll still be here on this moon, and I’ll be happy to wait for ya.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Seph said.
Seph spent the morning and early afternoon in Bria’s office, hunched beside her as they finished the last pieces of paperwork documenting the expedition for the university.
“I appreciate your help with this, Seph,” she said. “It’s good to have you here to close out the paperwork, as I realize you did much of the prep for this expedition.”
“I wanted to lend a hand,” he said. And that was true—under better circumstances, he probably would have accompanied Bria directly back to Acinos and spent a week tying everything up. As if the expedition itself hadn’t been bad enough, their nightmarish experiences had generated another heap of paperwork. If he helped Bria with it, well, she told him she would rest, and that was all he could do for her.
Voices echoed through the lab, and Seph stepped out of the office, only to be stared at by three people in winter coats and scarves.
“Hey Seph, I didn’t expect to see you here,” the man said.
“How’s it going, Marc?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level. Instead, it came out sounding monotone and bland. Marc—who would be a fourth year graduate student—was accompanied by a short woman with cropped brown hair and a taller man who looked exhausted; he must have been at least a decade younger than Seph and looked even more burnt out already.
He was likely Bria’s new postdoctoral researcher, meaning the woman was Bria’s second year PhD student. Seph barely remembered the younger student, and he hadn’t met this postdoc before, only the previous postdoctoral researcher, who he remembered less than fondly. He wasn’t expecting to run into the rest of Bria’s lab, and his anxiety spiked. Bria followed Seph out of the office and hovered awkwardly in the lab.
“Hi Bria,” the tall man said. “We wanted to stop by and say hello since we got back into town. Marc picked us up at the spaceport.”
The woman stepped forward, clutching the straps of her backpack. “We’re so sorry about what happened on your expedition. If there’s anything we can do, let us know.”
Bria froze, staring blankly at her students for a moment. She clasped her hands. “Yes, ah, thank you. Your flight in was fine, then?”
The taller man nodded. “Yeah, pretty boring.”
“Um, so did you want us to send you our newest data from the expedition yet?” the other student asked.
Bria shook her head. “No, no, that’s alright. As I mentioned, I will be taking a leave of absence. I’ll be available if you have questions, but I will not be in the lab frequently,” she said. “Please take as much time as you need to rest.”
The woman stared back, eyes wide, as though she hadn’t expected Bria might actually take time off. “Oh, sure thing,” she said and glanced between Marc and the other man in surprise. They said brief goodbyes and filtered out of the lab, leaving Bria to lean heavily against the bench.
“I’m not sure your students believe that you’re going to rest,” Seph said. “It won’t help if you take time off, but stay plugged in the whole time.”
She frowned at him. “I want my students to know I am available to them. During the expedition, I made it clear that I did not expect constant updates from them, but that I would try to answer as soon as possible if they needed something.”
“And I’m saying that making yourself perpetually available is an easy way to overextend yourself. I know you were worried about having your students out on their own expedition, but I think constantly checking on them did little to calm their nerves or yours,” he said. “That can backfire and have them think you’re hounding them for data.”
Bria’s expression turned sharp. “My students were not the only ones I was trying to keep in contact with.”
“You mean Isabelle?”
“She is my colleague and my friend, and naturally I wished to speak with her.”
“Listen, Bria. It’s admirable that you wanted to support Isabelle. Anyone could understand that. But I wish I felt like your support extended beyond your tenure track colleagues.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It feels like you forget I had a lab, too, at one point. And maybe you don’t feel the same way I do, but I view the principal investigator as the one who safeguards the lab environment. Sure, supporting students and others in your lab ecosystem is different from supporting your colleagues. Students leave eventually, but tenure-track colleagues are around for a long time.”
“I’m not sure I understand the point of this lecture, Seph.”
“I mean that when I was here, the lab dynamics went bad thanks to your previous postdoc and her noxious personality. And even after she left, your younger graduate student may be afraid she can’t have time to rest.”
“I never told her not to rest. I told you, I made my expectations clear. Yes, I made mistakes with my last postdoc, but I haven’t in any way told my students that they can’t rest.”
“No, but half of it is leading by example. Showing your students that you’re a person and it’s okay to be a person and a scientist,” he said, gesturing between her and him. “You can rest and spend time with people you care about, like Isabelle.”
Bria’s mouth tightened into a hard line.
“I mean, it’s pretty apparent that you care for her both personally and professionally. You know her much better than I do, but it’s safe to say she considers you her friend,” he said. “Maybe more than that.”
“If she does, she has never said so outright,” Bria said shortly. “Besides, she has gone through a life-changing transition, and I’m sure she has more important things on her mind. The last thing I need to do is ruin my friendship with her.”
“What? Bria, why would you think that would happen?”
Her face grew red and contorted into a pained expression. “Because you’re right, Seph. I’m not good at being a person. I thought at least I could be a colleague, and I was a failure at that as well. Maybe I provided some meager emotional support to Isabelle while we were on our expedition, but I failed Kendra. I failed Antony, and I failed you long before any of this.”
Seph inhaled sharply and scrubbed his hands down his face. “I didn’t come here to tell you how to live your life.”
“Then what? Why are you here?”
“I don’t know, Bria. To process what happened—to clear the air between us. And maybe, to make sure that you were doing okay.”
“Well, I’m not.” She shook her head. “I can’t talk to you right now.”
He backed away and nodded, feeling his face heat with embarrassment. “Alright, Bria. Take care.”
