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Chapter 20: March 1992

Rebecca and I had not slept together, although there was a lot of sexual tension at dinner. She was doing really well—she was regularly employed in a theatre group at home, in Chicago, so that if she wasn't acting in a play, she was still employed by a group of four theatres and she would help wherever help was needed. It made for a steady income, allowed her to move out of her mom's house, and meant that she never had to be far from what she loved. I was happy for her.

I told her about what we were working towards, in Vegas, and how much the lab had been improving, and she smiled brightly.

"What?"

"Oh, just you and your bugs again. But it's good. It's good that you have something you care about that much. You deserve to be happy."

I think that statement was the reason I didn't ask her home with me that night.

I did love the lab more than her. I was willing to give my whole life to the lab—but I had never been prepared to do that for her, even if she had been the most meaningful relationship I'd had in 35 years.

Seeing her dwindled my desire to actively date, but by the following January I was willing to let a guy from day shift set me up with his wife's friend. Jim had already offered to set me up a few times, but I knew Jim better, and I anticipated working with him for a long time. I didn't want things to go badly and have him upset, or things to go well and then, if we eventually broke up, put him in an awkward position. It was better to avoid it.

But Tom, from day shift, was planning to relocate to Arizona in under a year—his mother wasn't doing too well, and both he and his wife had a lot of family there, so it made sense. Worst case scenario, any conflict was minimal, and it had an expiration date. I'm definitely not a confrontational person by choice—the rare instances in my life that I've had to, it's been after considerable pushing on the part of the confronted.

So I started dating Karen, near the end of January. She was a business woman, and we'd both spent most of our adult lives married to our jobs, so she understood when an emergency call came during dinner on my night off, just like I understood if she had to break a lunch date in order to meet a deadline. Although we were a good match, in that regard, it meant that neither of us were too demanding of the others' time, and so we saw each other once or twice a week, if we were lucky.

As such, the relationship moved slowly—there was an easy attraction between us, certainly, but not a burning passion. And it was nice to have some companionship. By March, it was understood that we were exclusive, although I doubt either of us was seeing anyone else anyway—we didn't have time for more than one other person in our lives. By some miracle, I got a Saturday night off when a case broke earlier than expected, and I called her to see if she was free. I cooked dinner for her, at my townhouse, and we watched My Fair Lady, with Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn.

One would assume that after two adults had dated for well over a month, and they share a romantic evening curled up on the couch, that sex is likely to follow. Though we kissed a little, and both seemed to enjoy it, neither of us seemed all that interested in progressing the evening. We had wine and dessert, after the movie, and I drove her home, kissing her at her door.

I knew it then, though we wouldn't decide to end our still unconsummated relationship until the following May, that nothing would come of us. We both liked having a companion who understood our devotion to our jobs, but there just wasn't any passion. I had never realized just how important passion was, in a relationship, until I felt what it was like without it. And so I changed my mind, a little, about what I was looking for.

I didn't just want a relationship or a companion, someone to spend time with when I wasn't at work so I didn't have to be alone—I had gotten good at being alone, and I wanted someone to make me feel alive, and desirous, and wanted myself… and I had proven that I didn't need a woman to satisfy me. My work satisfied me. So I could wait, as long as it took.


Slacking

Having ended things with Michael, the extent to which I'd neglected my schooling became glaringly apparent. I was in my fifth year at Harvard, and nearing the end of both my psychics and chemistry majors. Psychics would be finished in May, and chem I could finish during the summer. I hadn't even thought about grad school. And I hadn't specialized, at all. I figured there was time for that, in grad school, but now it was upon me, and I didn't know what I wanted to do.

And so, with the extra time I had acquired, I buried myself in research about career fields with my majors and the best grad schools for my majors and started my applications early. My GPA was 3.975, so I only applied to the best schools in the country, confident that I would get accepted to most of them, and determining that I would make my decision after the fact.

Despite my renewed devotion to school and my future, I had a lot of empty time to fill without Michael. I loaded up my class schedule, adding literature classes, because I knew I was going to miss discussing books, now that he was gone. It might, in the end, push my chemistry major to the back burner, but I was fine with that. I no longer cared about being "ahead of the curve," I just wanted to figure out what I wanted to do with my life and start living it. I had been so distracted, with Michael, and I had lost all perspective. My past still haunted me, so much that I couldn't stay in relationship I'd been happy in, but in that happiness, I had lost the driving force my past had given me.

I just couldn't win. But I would press on. I had spent my life working up to this point, after all.

And by March, with spring finals fast approaching, I felt like I was back on track. Kelly teased me that I had been more fun when I was getting laid all the time, but I felt good about myself again. This was the Sara I knew—dedicated, driven, successful. I was smart, even if I didn't have anything else going for me, and I kept that as a talisman within me, whenever the nightmares came and I had no one to exhaust me or chase them away.