The Odds of Human Nature
Chapter Three: How a Mathematician Equates Fun
Don held his arm over his ears, trying to block out Charlie's mumblings as his brother walked in and out of the dining room, up and down the stairs, to and from the garage. He should have just sucked it up and driven home last night instead of crashing on the couch, but the slow week at work had meant spending more time with his family, and he was kind of loathe to give that up. However, if he'd known that Charlie was going to be waking him up at the crack of dawn, he'd have just slept in the car.
Charlie made another pass through the room and he groaned, lowering his arm. "Charlie, what the hell are you doing?"
His brother didn't respond. Not a surprise. He sounded just as distracted as when he was working on his equations. "Charlie!" he snapped grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him.
Charlie came to an abrupt halt, blinking quizzically at the pillow, then looked over at his scowling brother. "Oh, good morning, Donny. You're awake?"
"Yes, thanks to you. What are you doing?"
"Packing."
"Packing?"
"For the trip today. I'm trying to figure out what to bring. Don, what would you bring on a boat trip?"
"A towel, plenty of sunscreen, and a cooler full of beer. What are you bringing?"
Instead of answering, he hefted his bag over the sofa and onto Don, where it landed with a resulting "Oomph!"
"Sorry."
"Sure you are," his brother muttered, moving the bag to a less painful position so he could glance inside. "Charlie, what've you got in here?"
"My laptop, a couple of books, three notebooks, a package of pens, a folder of research I downloaded from the library, and an extra battery for the laptop. Oh, and a baseball cap you left behind a few weeks ago."
Don looked between the bag and his brother and sighed. "Charlie, let me tell you something about boats. First, you're going to be in the middle of the ocean under the burning sun. Second, there's going to be a constant wind around you. You'll be fighting with the wind to keep your pages down, and you'll be fighting with the sun in order to be able to see the screen of your laptop. You're going to hate me for saying this, but would it kill you to just take a day off?"
"Donny," Charlie said with an amused smile, "I couldn't take a day off even if I wanted to."
"Yeah, I know," Don said, lugging the bag onto the floor--there was no way he wanted to be the one dragging that thing around all day, "but don't you ever wish you could?"
When there was no answer, Don turned to find his brother staring at him, his eyes filled with consternation.
"You know," Charlie finally said, emerging from his careful consideration of the question, "I don't know. I've never really thought about it. I would have to find a way to turn off my brain and stop thinking, which I'm pretty sure I can't do. I don't think there was ever a time when I've lived without numbers. I don't even know who I am without math."
"Well, I don't want you becoming someone else, so here," Don said, removing one book and one notebook, the cap and the bag of pens from the bag, "take these--only these--and give yourself a mini-vacation."
"But Donny--"
"Charlie, let me put it this way--it wouldn't be logical for you to take this entire bag. Just take the bare minimum of what you need--"
"This is the bare minimum of what I need," he interrupted with a grumble that Don chose to ignore.
"--because there's a good chance you won't even touch what you do bring. You've never been on a boat before and the trip is for a class, right? Maybe you'll find they're working on something that will completely grab your attention. Or maybe your mind will just become so absorbed with the experience that you won't have time to think of math." Which is what he sincerely hoped would happen. Don had always wondered if it was possible, and he worried about his brother burning out, especially with all the extra work he and the Bureau had been piling on him lately. It would be nice if Charlie could take a vacation from his mind. "Spend this time having fun, Charlie. You might find that you'll like it."
His younger brother sighed and slumped down into a chair. Closing his eyes, he thought quietly for a few minutes, then nodded. "Maybe you're right."
Don grinned. "I know I am."
"Do we even have any sunscreen?"
"I'm sure there will be plenty on the boat."
"Can I at least trade books?" Charlie asked, a teasing note to his voice. "That one was just for back-up research."
"I suppose so," he chuckled, emptying the bag's contents onto the coffee table and repacking it with his three approved items, four counting the baseball cap. "And now you can carry it without having to worry about breaking your back."
Charlie rolled his eyes as he grabbed his bag. "Maybe while I'm taking a break from my mind, you should be taking a break from your sense of humor."
"What is it with you and dad bugging me about my sense of humor?"
"Consider it constructive criticism," Alan said as he walked into the room. Both brothers' eyes widened in surprise to see their father in a fresh shirt, his hair carefully combed, his pants perfectly pressed, and their noses wrinkled as his entrance was followed by a cloud of cologne.
"Um. . . dad?" Don began. "Is there something you're not telling us?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're sort of dressed up," Charlie explained, and Alan smiled at him.
"Of course I am. I want to make a good impression on your girlfriend."
"Dad, she's not my girlfriend!"
"Charlie, you're dating her. She's your girlfriend."
"This will only be the second time we've gone out!"
Alan ignored Charlie's protest to cast a critical eye on his other son. "Don, get up and put some pants on. We don't want to scare her off."
"No, just smother her with cologne," he said under his breath as he stood up.
"What was that?"
"Just wondering what cologne you're wearing," Don said as he fastened his pants, Charlie shooting him an amused look.
"Oh, it's nothing," Alan said, looking flustered as he folded up the blanket Don had been using. "Something a friend got me."
"The same friend who gave you the recipe for goulash?" Dan asked coyly, trying to keep the grin off his face.
"That's none of your business," Alan answered, and Charlie chuckled.
"Sounds like you've got a girlfriend, dad."
"She's just a friend."
"Kind of like Alison and I are just friends?"
"Completely different. You and Alison are dating. This friend and I are just friends." Seeing the skeptical looks on his sons' faces, he struggled to think up a better explanation but was saved by the sound of the doorbell. "And here she is. Don, straighten your brother's hair."
"My hair's fine."
"Not to mention," Don said, taking a step out of Charlie's reach, "it would be pointless."
"Thanks," Charlie grumbled, but ran his hand through his hair anyway. "You're doing wonders for my self-esteem."
"You're a wunderkind. What do you need self-esteem for?"
"Boys!" Alan said sharply, then opened the door with a welcoming smile on his face. "Alison, come in! We've been looking forward to meeting you."
Don eyed his brother's date carefully as she walked in, a hesitant smile on her face until she saw Charlie. When she saw him, Don was stunned to see her smile grow warm, her entire being light up. He'd always thought such a transformation was the stuff of fiction, but seeing her now, he couldn't help feeling. . . well, annoyed. He appreciated that someone out there finally saw how special Charlie was, but wasn't it a little soon for them to be so attached to each other?
On the other hand, maybe she was just relieved to see a familiar face in this familial ambush.
"Dr. Strauss, come in," Charlie said, stepping forward. Don hid a smile to see him reach for her hand and then stop himself. Confidence, Charlie! he wanted to say to his brother. Women like confidence!
"This is my father, Alan Eppes," his brother said and their father reached out his hand.
"It's so nice to meet you, Dr. Strauss."
"Alison, please," she said, shaking his hand and finding hers quickly encompassed between both of his.
"Only so long as you call me Alan. Charlie didn't tell us how lovely you are." Charlie's face immediately turned a bright red whereas Alison's eyes took on an extra twinkle. "And so tan! You must spend a lot of time outside."
"I spend every spare minute I can in the water, and no amount of sunscreen seems to help."
"It doesn't hurt, either. Gives you a lovely glow, don't you think so, Don? Alison, this is my eldest, Don, the FBI agent."
"Agent Eppes," she nodded and Don gave her a thin-lipped smile.
"Just call me Don."
"Well, I think that about wraps up the introductions," Charlie said, shouldering his bag and edging Alison towards the door. "Shall we go?"
"Are you sure you don't want to stay for a cup of coffee or perhaps a little breakfast."
"That's sweet of you, Alan," Alison said, "but we really have to go. It wouldn't look right for the students to beat the teacher to the class trip."
"You're right, of course," he smiled, and Don could see he was completely charmed by her. "Charlie, do you have everything you need?"
"Yes, dad."
"It was good meeting you, Alison."
"You too, Alan."
"See you later," Charlie said and shut the door behind them before Alan could follow them out onto the porch.
"I think she'll do," Alan said with a satisfied nod and went into the kitchen for some coffee. Don just watched from the window as she and his brother climbed into her Wrangler, wondering what it would cost him to get an investigation started. Not that he thought there would be anything wrong with her, but he wanted to make sure Charlie would be safe. He had tickets to a Lakers' game he didn't really mind missing--maybe he could exchange them with Tony for a background check. He'd have to see about it first thing Monday.
"Sorry about that," Charlie said sheepishly as Alison drove away from his house.
"Are you kidding? I think we got off easy. My parents would have had you tied to a chair while my brothers interrogated you for at least an hour before letting us leave."
"Really?" he asked with wide eyes, and Alison chuckled.
"I wouldn't put it past them. I don't. . ." Charlie watched, curious, as her normally open face grew shuttered. "I don't have many long-term relationships. I rarely even manage second dates. Benji calls me picky, but Stephen says I'm just a wanderer and not ready to settle down."
"And what do you think?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe they're both right. But you can imagine it's been a while since I've brought anyone home to meet them."
"If it's any consolation, I haven't had any long-term relationships, or even really dated. Ever."
"Wanderer or picky?" she asked with a sidelong glance at him.
"Neither. Blind."
"Blind?"
Charlie didn't answer immediately. He wanted to explain to her what his life was like, hoping she would understand and not reject him, but that fear of rejection made him hesitate. Then she looked at him, smiling encouragingly, and he swallowed his fear, wondering just how much that smile was capable of making him do. "It's difficult for me to see anything outside of my numbers, even people. I get so wrapped up in my work that even if I wanted to see people, after a while, they stop wanting to see me. The sad part is that sometimes, I never really notice they're gone."
Alison reached over and took his hand in hers, giving it a comforting squeeze even as she said light-heartedly, "If it'll help, I'll come in wearing flashing lights and bells on my feet."
"Big bells?" he asked, reassured by her reaction.
"The biggest I can find and still lift my legs."
"That might work," he grinned, giving her hand a return squeeze.
She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it before returning it to him. "To be honest, you sound like Cameron when she gets absorbed in her work. I come equipped with a bullhorn when I visit her. At this point, I think she's either starting to lose her hearing, or she's ignoring me."
Charlie chuckled. "Is she the one who'll be on the trip today?"
"That's her. At least you'll have someone to talk to who won't be an insult to your intellect, unlike we lowly creatures with our inferior brains."
"Oh, I don't know about that. I'm rather fond of quite a few lowly creatures--fond enough to tolerate them, at least. They make for fascinating studies."
Laughing, Alison lightly backhanded him across the arm. "Nothing I love more than a man who makes me feel like a lab rat," she grinned as she dug into her pocket and pulled out her ringing cell phone. She handed it to Charlie. "Here, it's Cameron. Tell here we're about five minutes away."
"How do you know it's her?"
"E-Pro is her ring."
"Do I have a ring?"
"Yeah," she said, winking at him. "Collide."
Still chuckling, he answered the phone.
The students arrived almost at the same time he and Alison did, and the resulting flurry of action left little time for introductions or small talk. They piled themselves and their equipment onto the catamaran and took off for the deep blue sea. It turned out only ten of the students were divers and the other dozen were there as part of the seafloor mapping class. Alison was the only official school professor on board, meaning the students would pretty much be left to themselves.
The catamaran sailed until it was far away from the city's pollution and the sandbars so that when Charlie looked down over the side, the ocean's depth appeared endless. He loved staring back at the boat's wake, wondering absently about the ripples and how far out they went before being swallowed by the waves. Whenever the vessel seemed to bounce even more furiously on the ocean, he tried to calculate just how much the wind and water were affecting their speed, as well as the force of pressure they applied against the catamaran and the power being used by the engine to counter them.
And as fascinating as his thoughts were, the best part of the voyage was that Alison spent the entire trip curled up at his side chatting with him, with Cameron, and with her students. He rather liked her students. They were a bright, funny group of people, not nearly as serious as his own. In fact, the whole trip was so different from his own teaching experience, he wasn't sure what to think. He was used to standing at the front of a classroom using his boards and the overhead to explain everything, his students throwing out questions as he went along.
The atmosphere on the boat was a lot more relaxed, with everyone talking and laughing, sodas and water being passed around, while only an occasional question was aimed at Alison. He knew that they probably did, indeed, have a classroom and that this was more of a field trip, but he'd sort of expected Alison to be teaching the whole time. Except for a few questions from those working on mapping, most asked had nothing to do with academics, but clubs they'd tried and if she'd been, or restaurants, or even ideal surfing spots. He was amazed at how she could stop mid-sentence, respond in detail to the question, and start right up again as if their conversation had never been interrupted.
"Scary, isn't she?" Cameron said when the boat came to a halt and Alison moved to speak to the captain.
"I was thinking 'remarkable' myself."
"She's that, too," the astronomer smiled.
"How did you two meet?"
"I was her tutor back in college--math, chemistry, physics."
It didn't take a genius to figure out what her problem areas were. "Subjects dealing with numbers."
"Yeah," Cameron answered, looking at him, gauging his reaction, but he supposed he wasn't really all that surprised. They had so little in common as it was, it almost made sense that she'd have trouble with math.
"She did well enough on her own," Cameron continued, "but in order to excel in her degree so she could go to any grad school she wanted, she hired me and we've been friends ever since. I got her through college, she got me through my disillusionment at NASA, we've been through good times and bad and worse, and then the completely insane times in between, but we're still here."
He smiled. "I'd ask for details about those insane times, but I think I'm afraid to."
"It can definitely wait until another time, one preferably involving spicy food and margaritas."
A hush fell over the boat and Charlie looked over to see Alison had taken hold of the students' attention.
"For those of you who are new here, this is Micah, our captain." A tall black man with braids down to the small of his back and an affable smile on his face stuck his head out of the cabin and waved. "He's not only our chauffer for today, but he also knows more about the equipment on here than I do, so all you mappers with questions, go to him."
"Greetings, everyone," Micah said with a hint of a Jamaican accent. "In addition to Ali's kind words, let me just say don't touch anything, and we'll get along just fine."
"He's very possessive about his boat," Alison said, swatting playfully at him. "Mappers, you know your assignment, right? We were all out here a month ago, and since then, we were lucky enough to have a few minor earthquakes that originated out in the ocean. They did little damage to the shore, though the waves that day. . ." Her eyes grew dewy with the memory. "Let me just say that if you surf and weren't there, you missed out."
"That's because we were all in class listening to your T.A. while you were out having fun!" one of the students yelled out, and she grinned unabashedly.
"Hey dude, surfing's surfing. There are times when the waves come first. Anyway, what this means is that it's up to you mappers to find out how the sea floor has changed because of the earthquakes. I know sonar is real primitive, basic stuff compared to what we get from satellites these days, but it will teach you how to interpret the data to map the sea floor. We've got last month's readings here in this book in case you forgot your own," she held up a book for the class, "and you've got the data we just collected and that these lovely machines are sending back to us for comparison. Remember, if you need help with any of this, see Micah.
"This next set of instructions is for all of you. You can go swimming, but you have to follow the rules--tell someone you're going, wear a lifejacket, and no swimming beyond ten feet of the boat. Break the rules, and you will be grounded for as long as I'm in charge of these little expeditions. You know what I always say--the ocean cannot be trusted. I love her with all my heart, but I would never turn my back on her, and neither should you. Got it? Good.
"Divers, we'll be going out five at a time. Remember, this is just for practice. Don't expect to be going down there and finding Nemo. The purpose of today is for you to prove to me that you know what you're doing, that you know how to use the equipment, and that all our lessons were not in vain. This will also help me determine your readiness for the scuba trip to Belize this summer, so your fate is in my hands," she said with a flirtatious wink at her class as they all groaned good-naturedly. Charlie knew there was no way he could get away with that, being so open and friendly with his class. He wouldn't even know where to begin.
"As for today, we'll only be down there an hour at a time and if you start to feel the least bit squeamish, let me know. It's perfectly natural to feel a little uneasy out here in the open sea, and it may take some of you time to adjust. Nothing to be ashamed of--we're here surrounded by the unknown. It's enough to give anyone the willies."
"Except you," Charlie said under his breath, and Cameron chuckled.
"You wanna bet?"
He turned to look at her. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, Ali can handle the diving just fine. The ocean is her playground, except for one little thing."
"What's that?"
Cameron's smile took on a gleeful edge, the kind of glee only a friend can be entitled to feel for the suffering of another friend. "She gets seasick."
"Seasick?"
"Oh, yeah. In the worst possible way. Everything she's eaten in the past week finds its way back up. Ironic, isn't it?"
"But. . ." Charlie glanced over at Alison, who was zipping up her wetsuit, and suddenly he couldn't look away, "she seems fine." Extremely fine. He wondered if he could convince her to wear the wetsuit on a daily basis. Which she probably already did, but perhaps in a more private setting.
"Ginger and acupuncture," Cameron said, and it took an extreme amount of concentration for him to remember what they were talking about. "Ginger's been proven to work just as well as any manmade drugs for motion sickness, and the acupuncture acts as a back-up."
Charlie forced himself to look at the astronomer. "Acupuncture? That just amazes me. How can someone trust their health to something so. . . so. . ."
"Out there?" she asked with a grin, and he nodded. Not exactly what he was trying to say, but it worked. "Half the time, I think it's the belief that it will work that does the trick."
"That's putting a lot of faith in the intangible," he said, shaking his head.
"But faith is what a lot of people who aren't capable of finding the logic rely on."
"What do you think?" Charlie asked.
"Honestly, I think it's a bunch of hogwash, but if it works for them, I'm not going to argue. Let's just hope it keeps working for her," she said, her eyes focusing on the horizon ahead of them. "There's supposed to be a storm front coming through this evening, but it looks like Mother Nature might be fast-forwarding things a bit."
He felt a quiver of nerves in his stomach, his eyes searching the clouds that were a bare speck in the distance. Surrounded by sunshine as they were, it was nearly impossible to believe they might have to worry about rain, or worse. "Think we'll beat it?"
"I think we have a chance, but I'll be keeping an eye out all the same. Personally, I sort of hope it gets here early. Holding back Ali's hair while she vomits over the side of the boat will be the perfect way to end your date."
"You're a cruel woman," he said, and she grinned at him.
"Just wait and see. Ali's got her own cruel streak, though we only usually keep it between ourselves. The privilege of being friends."
"So are you going to be cruel about me?"
"Of course, but only to needle her. So far. . ." Cameron paused, looking over him with an appraising eye, and he suddenly felt like a bug under a microscope, but then she smiled. "So far, I think you're doing just fine."
The only thing that would have made him happier would have been if those words had come from Alison herself. "Thank you."
"Hey Cameron!" Alison yelled from where she was hanging onto the ladder over the side of the boat. "Catch!"
Cameron yelped and dove a good six feet away from the flying object, which landed with a 'splat' next to Charlie.
"ALI!" she shrieked, but Alison just laughed and fell back into the safety of the water. Charlie looked down at the sopping green mess, then over at Cameron, whose face was colored by a furious blush.
"I have a thing about seaweed," she muttered. "Would you mind?"
Laughing, Charlie picked up the seaweed and obliged by tossing it over the side of the boat. If this was the sort of unpredictable and erratic behavior he should expect from Alison. . . he rather thought he could get used to it. In fact, she would probably be good for him. It was like Donny had predicted--not once had he opened his bag of books. He was too busy having fun.
Completed May 3, 2005
