Disclaimers:
We don't own any characters although it would be nice to borrow them sometime.
This is not really a science fiction, so the effects of any future technological advances are minimized - for all we know, Katie could have cloned Jessie
Rating: A couple of love scenes, but nothing really smutty
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CHAPTER 3: Go For It
NEW YORK, NY
That Same Day
Katie hung up the phone and looked out at the East River from her office at the UN Economic Council on 42nd street. Eli said that Jessie would be back at work that day, and she should have gotten the flowers she sent by now.
As she looked out her window, she wondered why she was feeling the same adolescent anxiety that she did 20 years ago when she asked Grace to give Jessie that letter after their English class. She knew that Jessie was not with anyone; Eli told her. She also had lunch with Grace, who gave her Karen's home phone number and told her that Jessie was staying with her mother after the wedding.
She looked at all the numbers that Eli gave her – despite all the telecommunication means available to man – there was one thing Katie did not have: the strength to talk to Jessie.
So she turned off her videophone camera when she called Karen's house, and hung up when she heard Jessie's voice. She could not leave a message at the hospital because she could not bear it if Jessie never called her back.
She had gone so far and come so far and she knew she had hurt the only person she really ever loved. But Oxford was intoxicating and London was more so, and she had to numb the pain she felt being so far away from Jessie and not being able to do anything about it. So she did it the only way she knew how – she started going out with whomever caught her fancy. And she was never at a lost for girlfriends – she broke one heart after another, dumping this one for the next in a long line of successive girlfriends.
After being accepted as a fellow at All Soul's in Oxford, she decided she had played around long enough and concentrated on her doctoral dissertation. She worked like a maniac while at the same time taking the responsibility of advising a few undergraduates. She needed something to fill the gap in her life – after awhile, she did not even remember why there was this gap that never seemed to disappear. It was only when she stopped long enough that she remembered that the gap had a name – Jessie.
Her hard work paid off – her dissertation, titled "The Mid East Oil Oligopoly and the Economics of Terrorism" was picked up by Oxford for publication in its monthly review. She had to rewrite some chapters so each one could stand on its own, but her name had been added to the pantheon of the 21st century's most important economists.
Several job offers followed – some of them from American Universities – but she decided to stay in the UK. After only 2 years, the London School of Economics granted her tenure, and at 29, she was one of the youngest tenured professors in the prestigious institution.
She also held a seat at the European Economic Council and traveled regularly to Switzerland and Belgium for meetings. Along the way, she met several women, some of whom moved in with her in her 2-bedroom flat along the Thames. The first few months were blissful, she was in love, or so she thought, and then she would start drifting away… she did not know what was wrong with her, but she always felt so restless… always felt that something was missing from her life.
And then the call from the UN Economic Council came. She loved the world of academia, she loved teaching and then meeting her former students as equals in Economic Conventions all over the world. But she was also one of the world's leading experts on Middle East Economics and the UN needed her.
So, after 19 years in the UK, she came back to the US to stay. Her reputation preceded her and NYU was very grateful to grant her adjunct professorship. NYU just wanted some of her research work published with the NYU affiliation underneath. That was always good for more grant and alumni money. She had been in NY for 3 months now.
She kept her flat in London – she did not really consciously know why, but at the back of her mind, she always knew it was because she wanted Jessie to come and stay with her in London, as they planned 20 years ago.
She had a few friends who now lived in NYC, and they sometimes go to the Symphony whenever their schedules allowed. A week ago, she bumped into Eli Sammler – at Carnegie Hall, of all places! Eli's wife was playing Beethoven's 9th that night. They ditched the 2nd half of the concert and went to the Russian Tea Room next door to catch up. Of course she asked for Jessie's numbers, and Grace's, who also now lived in Manhattan.
"Dr. Singer? Ambassador Tarik from Saudi Arabia is here to see you," Helen, her secretary, interrupted her thoughts.
"Thank you, Helen. Please send him in," she said.
"No problem. Do you need anything else?" Helen asked.
"Can you please see if you can get me a room at the Ritz in Boston from tomorrow through Sunday?" Katie said while looking at her calendar.
"You're taking tomorrow and Friday off?" Helen inquired. She needed to know where her boss was all the time, in case the UN Secretary General or someone equally important needed her.
"I'm thinking about it," Katie said, still checking her calendar, and deciding that nothing important was really on the roster.
"Okay. Do you want the car service to drive you to Boston?" Helen asked. The UN provided limo car service to their most valued personnel.
"No, I can drive. I need to practice driving on the wrong side of the road anyway," Katie chuckled as Helen left her office. "Oh, and Helen, can you please call Grace Dimitri for me and tell her I can make it to dinner tonight? Thanks."
"Ah, Dr. Kathleen Singer, we meet again!" Ambassador Tarik fondly called out as he walked in and gave Katie a hug.
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DIMITRI'S CO-OP APARTMENT
East 72nd Street, New York, NY
That Same Night
"Say good-night to Aunt Katie," August admonished the kids, Emily, 7, and Ryan, 4 as they kissed Katie.
"Goodnight, Aunt Katie," the 2 kids said in unison. Katie looked at August Dimitri and thought that he actually looked decent without the long hair. But it had been 20 years, and this guy they used to call "Mr. Dimitri" was now a respected author and married to one of his former students. Twenty years could really change a lifetime, Katie thought.
"Night, Katie," August yelled out as he chased the 2 children to their bedrooms. They just finished dessert and Grace positioned herself by the balcony of their 15th floor, 3-bedroom co-op near Central Park. Katie put her blue blazer back on and sat next to Grace. Grace sipped her wine as she looked out to the park and the lights of the Upper West Side, while Katie looked out as well.
"So, did you call her?" Grace broke the silence and looked at Katie. Katie nodded then shook her head. "I hung up," she softly said. "I really did not know what to say… I mean… it's been 20 years! People change, Grace!"
Grace looked out again and smiled. She knew her stepsister, and she knew that Jessie never really forgot Katie. But she chose to keep silent at that moment, assessing the sincerity in Katie's voice. She did not want Jessie to get hurt again, because beneath that tough façade, Jessie remained as sensitive as ever.
"I sent her flowers today, though," Katie said later. "At the hospital."
And then the phone rang and Grace picked up the phone. She saw from the tiny video screen that it was Jessie and she motioned Katie to stay away from the range of the tiny camera.
"Hey, Jess. How was your flight?" Grace asked. Katie looked on as Grace nodded and smiled.
"Are you at the hospital?" Grace said while she held the phone. "Oh, she did?" Grace feigned surprise while throwing Katie a knowing smile. "Yeah, I know she's in NY. I met her for lunch before Zoe's wedding."
Katie walked back to the apartment while Grace continued her conversation with Jessie. She looked at the pictures on the piano, searching for that familiar smile and beautiful blue eyes, and there it was - a picture of Jessie in her blue scrubs. She picked up the picture and examined it more closely. Except for her hair, which was now shorter, Jessie hardly changed at all. Katie looked up and saw herself on the mirror – she was now wearing glasses and her hair pulled in a bun. With the navy blue suit and striped blue shirt underneath, she was a far cry from that lanky high school student who doted on Jessie. She actually looked all grown up, she thought.
"I didn't tell her you're here," Grace said as she walked back in from the balcony. "She kept asking what we talked about and how you look and, uhm, I swear, Dr. Sammler was 14 years old again! She was gabbing on and on about the flowers."
Katie looked at Grace and grinned, paused, before saying, "I'm going to Boston tomorrow, Grace. I'm going to see her. I need to know if she still loves me."
"Go for it," Grace told Katie. It was the same unsolicited advice she gave Jessie 20 years ago, during that bathroom fight. Grace thought that it was a turning point in their relationship, because she and Jessie, despite their simultaneous profession of hatred towards each other, actually had gotten closer after that incident.
Somehow, Grace validated the sincerity in Katie's voice, and protective as she was of her younger stepsister, she knew that Jessie never stopped loving Katie. And as she looked at Katie – this world-renowned economist – she saw the emptiness inside, the same emptiness that she always sensed in Jessie's smile. And looking at Katie, she realized that this was the other half of Jessie's puzzle, The Missing Piece that so many poets have written about through the ages.
"Go for it," Grace repeated, as Katie looked at her, confused and anxious and excited.
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