The clock on the wall has the loudest ticking noise Jeff's ever heard. He's been sitting in the conference room for ten minutes waiting for Dean Stockwell and Dr. Roslin to arrive. It's five minutes past the meeting start time, although it's not unusual for busy administrators to arrive late. He glances nervously at his phone hoping there might be an email notification to distract him and pass the time, but he has no such luck.
Finally, he hears two familiar voices outside the hallway chatting about a research conference and social function that will be held later in the week.
"I hope you haven't been waiting too long, Jeff," Dean Stockwell says, firmly shaking his hand when he stands from his chair.
"Not long at all."
"Congratulations on your acceptance to grad school." All three men take a seat at the table, the Dean opposite Jeff.
"Thank you, Dean Stockwell. I'm looking forward to starting my studies."
"I'll let you take over from here, Dave," the Dean says, staring at Jeff with a serious expression.
"Jeff, you've done a wonderful job working for me this year. There have been times I wouldn't have been able to meet deadlines if it wasn't for your help, so I'd like to thank you for that."
"You're welcome. I enjoy working with you."
"Good. But I can't help but wonder if you'd be better off doing something else next semester."
"Oh." Jeff's face falls flat at the possibility that Dr. Roslin no longer wants to be his mentor. He'd much rather spend afternoons filing and doing simple research for him than be stuck teaching freshman history or grading for an upper-level class. "Am I being fired?"
Dave seems amused by his question, then quickly explains. "Quite the opposite. I have a different position I'd like you to consider. This doesn't leave the room yet, since we won't make a formal announcement until the end of the semester. We received budget approval for a new graduate research assistantship to work under me starting this fall. It's renewable yearly, covers full tuition, fees, and books, and gives you a stipend that will cover your living expenses. You would help me with research for my books, writing some content for them which would earn you acknowledgment and eventually coauthor status, and you would attend research conferences with me. Your travel and hotel expenses will be covered under the assistantship. You won't be stuck doing filing or literature searches anymore."
The offer leaves Jeff speechless. The compensation is way more than other history graduate students receive, but the most intriguing aspects are working on Dr. Roslin's research and being involved in writing his books. "Are you sure you want to offer that to a first-year graduate student?" he asks, regretting the question as soon as it leaves his mouth and hoping they don't reconsider.
"You're not just any first-year graduate student, Jeff. You're the best student I've had in a long time and you're a pleasure to work with. You've been an amazing help to me, and I'd like for that to continue in an expanded role. You don't have to answer right now, but if you could let me know your decision by the end of the week, I'd appreciate it."
"No," he replies, still stunned by this excellent opportunity being offered to him.
"Oh," Dave says surprised. "Do you already have another offer?"
"No, that's not what I meant," Jeff says shaking his head at the second dumb thing to come out of his mouth in the past minute. "I mean I don't need the week to decide. I'll accept right now. Where do I sign?"
"You had me concerned there for a second," Dave says, relieved. "We don't have paperwork drawn up yet, but we'll let you know when we do. But please don't say anything about this until we make the announcement, alright?"
"Sure, I can keep my mouth shut. I'm good at that. Thank you, both of you! I'm flattered to receive this offer."
After speaking with Professor Caran at class on Monday, Sandra is given permission to work on her family portrait assignment from Bill and Laura's loft over the next two weeks, with a video chat being set up to show her teacher the progress she's making. Sandra is one of her favorite students, one she feels has immense talent, so it isn't difficult for her to allow her this convenience, especially when she found out she was watching after her pregnant sister.
This suits Laura just fine because after spending one day trying to nap on the sofa in the teacher's lounge, she decides that the lumpy cushions, stale cigarette smell, and surprising odor of whiskey on the sofa make her want to burn the ugly brown monstrosity. It does not offer a relaxing place to nap, especially for a pregnant woman whose back is beginning to hurt. She gladly accepts this change in plans in exchange for promising not to snoop at the portrait Sandra is drawing, which will only be revealed in class when it's finished.
Sandra makes lunch, then while Laura is napping, she spends time on the portrait in the guest room, which is now quite crowded with a crib, dresser, changing table, plus the usual furniture of Bill's desk and the guest bed. Her portable drawing desk barely fits, but after sliding the empty baby dresser a few feet to the side, she finds enough room to assemble it.
It's a different place to draw and one she finds somewhat inspiring. The brick walls and hardwood floor have a retro appeal to her, very different from the art room on campus and her bedroom at home. The room has high ceilings and other than the baby duck décor that has temporarily been placed around the space, likely to be rearranged a few more times, the only other artwork is the Montclair painting of the cylon war that Bill picked up at a starving artist fair that took place around the lake last summer. It's not Sandra's preference in artwork, although she will admit it's interesting to look at. The subject matter and dark tones set a somber mood and she hopes they move the painting out of the room before the baby is born.
A few quiet hours pass where she's so focused on her project that she barely registers the time, almost missing her video chat with her professor. Laura stirs from the bedroom at the same time Sandra places the call to check in, which takes only a couple of minutes. Afterwards, she covers her work and walks to the bedroom to check on her sister, who is stretching and yawning while she wakes up.
"Hey, you feeling alright?" Sandra asks, sitting on the bed next to her.
"Yeah, I must have really been out. What time is it?"
"3:30. I have some reading to do, but then I'm done for the day. Do you want a snack? I can bring you something."
"I'll get it. I think I'll relocate to the living room and do some reading of my own."
"Alright. Think about what you want for dinner tonight. I should be done in about 30 minutes, then we can talk."
Sandra watches Laura patter down the hallway to the kitchen where she grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator and a banana from a fruit bowl on the counter. Bill had told her to make sure Laura sits with her feet up, so once she sees her sprawl out on the sectional, she returns to the guest bedroom to work on her children's lit homework.
Without Jeff pestering her, she finishes in just under 20 minutes. She also realizes she misses their back and forth, although she will never admit it to him. Admitting it to herself is uncomfortable enough, although she's not sure why.
Since she finished her homework early, she pulls out her phone and sends a quick text to him.
"Have you survived the first few days, 3?"
Hearing a thud from the living room area, she rushes down the hallway to find Laura lying flat on her back on the sofa, awkwardly trying to reach under the coffee table for her bottle of water that fell and rolled underneath.
"I'll get it," Sandra offers, lying down on the floor and reaching where it has rolled. "What's this?" she asks, pulling a small jar out that was laying next to the bottle.
"That's some nipple balm that was in a gift Lily gave me, and I have no idea why it's underneath the coffee table," Laura says curiously. "Has it been opened?"
Sandra retrieves the water bottle, then sits next to Laura on the sectional, unscrewing the lid off the jar of balm. "Looks like Bill had some nipple irritation and decided to try it out," she snorts, showing her sister a large indentation in the balm where someone had removed a significant amount.
"What the frak?!" Laura says puzzled.
"I don't even wanna know about this," Sandra giggles.
"Seems my husband has some explaining to do," Laura states with a smirk. "Although I'm with you, I'm not sure I wanna know!"
Everyone else on the junior pyramid court is a whole head taller than Cheryl, which isn't surprising considering she's trying out for an age group two years older. Three-fourths are boys and at least half of them have made it clear they have no use for girls on their team, especially one as young as her.
She doesn't back down from them during warmups, grabbing at pyramid balls and refusing to share, knocking a few of them out of the way to let them know she's stronger than she looks. A boy who just arrived makes a beeline straight toward her as Dave watches, wondering if he should intervene. But when he gets to Cheryl, they smile and throw their arms around one other and, wait…was that a kiss on the cheek?
After her warmup, she joins hands with the young boy, walking to where her father is sitting. "Daddy, this is Finn. He's my boyfriend."
"Uh, oh, nice to meet you, Finn. What grade are you in?"
"I'm in first grade, Dr. Roslin. I've read your book and would like to discuss it with you sometime."
"That would be…nice," Dave replies, still in shock that his 4-year-old daughter has a boyfriend and didn't bother to mention it until now.
"Alright, Cher, you got this. Don't let 'em push you around. I've gotta go report to my age group. See you later, babe," Finn says, giving her a quick hug.
"Babe?" Dave mouths.
"Good luck, Finn. Kick some ass."
Dave doesn't bother to correct her choice of language, still too stunned at what he is witnessing. After Finn leaves, Cheryl turns to him. "Don't worry, daddy. We're not serious. It's just a thing."
Cheryl makes a solid impression in her tryout. Her skills testing goes very well, scoring the highest in five of the six categories, which makes many of the boys take notice. Some of them shrug it off as luck, others start to see her as the formidable pyramid player that she is. During team competition, she dominates, scoring the first half dozen goals of the scrimmage. Finally, some boys realize they need to defend better, and that is when her skill at distributing the ball and setting up plays comes in handy. As the tryout continues and the coaches make adjustments to the teams, in the end, Cheryl finds herself practicing with the top-level team. After a brief consultation among the coaches, they declare these as the final rosters for the season.
Rather than run to her father with the exciting news, Cheryl waits for Finn to receive his team assignment. When he makes the top roster in his age group, they celebrate with a high five, then hold hands as they walk toward her father.
Dave, feeling unusually old, overwhelmed that his youngest daughter has a boyfriend, and certain his hair has turned solidly grey, watches as they laugh between themselves.
"Daddy, can Finn and his parents come with us for ice cream?" Cheryl happily asks.
"Yeah," he replies, the surreal feeling of the last hour still making him feel slightly dizzy. "How did you do?"
"Top teams, both of us!" she proudly announces.
Finn's parents catch up with him and Cheryl, introducing themselves to Dave. They seem like nice people, amused at this little relationship their son is having with this girl.
"You look surprised," his mother whispers to Dave. "Don't worry, it's a harmless crush. They mostly play pyramid during recess and talk about cats and flying vipers."
"I guess there's no harm in that. I'm glad she has lots of friends," he replies, relaxing for the first time since he met the young boy.
The ice cream shop isn't very full, making it easy to push two tables together so they can all sit with each other. Cheryl and Finn have similar intellect, one minute speaking in detail about a science paper they both read, a conversation that would rival most adult conversations on the subject, and the next minute having a belching contest like children their age might have. Cheryl laughs so hard ice cream comes out her nose, prompting Finn to exclaim how weird and fascinating it is at the same time, theorizing what might cause that to happen.
On the drive home, Dave asks his youngest daughter why she didn't mention having a boyfriend until now.
"He's only been my boyfriend for a few weeks," she informs him. "And you've been gone a lot with work and with Larissa. Finn gets picked up from school before me, so I decided to wait and introduce you tonight."
"I want you to know that you can talk to me about things, you don't have to wait."
"But even when you're home, you're busy working or talking to Larissa on the phone. You don't have much time for me anymore."
Her words grip his heart, especially the way she spoke them so matter-of-factly. There isn't much he can do about his work obligations, but perhaps now is the time to bring Larissa home to meet Cheryl. He likes the idea of bringing Cheryl with to some of his conferences off-planet, but she and Larissa need to be comfortable with each other before that can happen.
"I can do something about that, sweetheart. Larissa will come over for dinner this Saturday so you can meet her. I'll invite Laurie and Sandra, too. Is that okay?" he asks, glancing in his rearview mirror at her. A concerned expression fills her face, and she looks into the mirror matching her father's gaze with her big green eyes. "Are you comfortable with that?" he asks softly.
"I suppose," she sighs, looking away.
"I'd like to know what you're concerned about," he replies, noticing she has dropped her head.
"I don't want you to be mad at me," she says quietly.
"I won't be mad at you, honey. Let me know what's on your mind."
"Well…what if I don't like her?"
"I think you will like her. Laurie and Sandra like her, I like her, so I think if you give her a chance, you might like her, too."
"But what if I don't?"
Sandra ignores the notifications on her phone while she cleans up the kitchen after dinner and starts the dishwasher. She joins Laura on the sofa where they sit every night talking like sisters, only now the topics include pregnancy, work, college classes, and their father's dating life.
"Your phone's been blowing up, shouldn't you check it?" Laura asks, nodding at the device on the coffee table.
"Oh!" Sandra exclaims, then breaks into a broad smile after viewing the first text which is from her father. "I have news I can share. Cheryl has a boyfriend."
"What?!"
"That's right, the littlest Roslin sister is probably headed to the altar soon. I'll be the old spinster living with a dozen cats and dogs, sketching portraits by the lake, begging for spare change, having long drawn-out conversations with myself. She told me about Finn a week ago and finally introduced him to daddy at tryouts tonight."
"Finn? Cheryl's boyfriend is named Finn?"
"Yup, they met at recess. She asked me not to say anything until she introduced him to daddy. But she says it's not serious, just a fling."
"I don't know if I'm more concerned that my 4-year-old sister has a boyfriend already or that she says it's just a fling. Then again, I met Bill when I was 4."
"And look at you now, all married and knocked up," Sandra chortles. "Don't worry, they hold hands, maybe kiss each other on the cheek, that's about it. Cheryl says kissing on the lips is gross and she will never do that," she smirks while Laura snickers and rolls her eyes. "I think they like each other because they're both good pyramid players. I'm sure she'll be dating someone else in a month. My little sister has a better social life than I do," she sighs. "What's this?" she asks, checking another text message that just arrived from her father. "Hmmm…we're being invited to dinner Saturday night at the house with daddy, Cheryl, and Larissa."
"That's a serious step introducing her to Cheryl, don't you think?"
"Yes, it is, sis," Sandra replies, still staring at the message.
"I liked her when daddy brought her over. I wasn't sure how it would go, but we got along really well and even went out once after that, just the two of us. What about you, what'd you think of her?"
"Mmh, she's okay," Sandra says, quickly shrugging her left shoulder and glancing away.
"What was that?"
"What?"
"What you just did," Laura states, mimicking her shoulder shrug and looking away.
"Nothing."
"Like hell. That was something."
"No, I wouldn't say that."
"Out with it."
"Damn, someone's maternal instincts have kicked in!"
"I know you, Sandra, and that thing you just did means you're not telling me something."
Realizing her body language disclosed her thoughts, she tries to downplay her response. "It's probably nothing. The day I met her, she was stressing about the start of her new series. She was late to lunch because her driver got lost, then the restaurant was kind of slow, she needed to get back to the studio…" her voice trails off, hoping that Laura will drop the subject.
"And?"
"Well…it just…sort of seemed like the place wasn't good enough for her. She complained about how slow they were and then she was complaining that there were water spots on her glass, then she was checking her silverware for spots. She told me she'd take me to a nice restaurant with good service and clean glassware next time. And she sorted her food."
"Sorted her food?"
"She picked out the tomatoes and cucumbers, then just ate the lettuce without dressing. And…"
"What?"
"She doesn't eat ice cream."
"What did daddy say about all of this?"
"He wasn't there when she was complaining about the service and the glassware. She stopped complaining when he came back."
"Oh."
"I just wonder if she's high maintenance but is hiding that from daddy, but then that part of her personality comes out when he's not around. I wasn't comfortable with her attitude toward the restaurant staff. And I don't like that she doesn't eat ice cream. I know that's silly, but I was disappointed. But like I said, she was stressed out about her series starting that night."
"Okay, here's what I'm going to tell you. You have very good instincts about people-"
"Mmm, not really-"
"Yes, you do," Laura firmly states. When her sister shakes her head, she repeats, "You do, Sandra. You just don't always follow them."
Sandra slowly nods her head while biting her lips together, knowing that Laura is right about not paying attention to her instincts.
"I'm not saying we should write Larissa off, but we need to communicate if something is bothering us. While you and I might be able to make it work with her, Cheryl may not be able to. I do think Larissa has some expensive tastes and she's used to living that way, but you and I both know daddy may not be comfortable living that high life for very long. He's getting along okay for now, but that may change," Laura explains.
"He's also getting laid on a regular basis, so that could be why he's so happy all the time. And a lot of their dates are social activities with the university or her tv station, so that makes her happy because she gets to play dress up and be waited on all night. I wonder what'll happen if he asks her to go to one of Cheryl's pyramid games, or they all go out to eat together? Do you think Larissa has ever been around a 4-year-old, especially one like our little sis?" Sandra wonders aloud.
"I think we'll learn a lot Saturday night."
"Yes, we will."
Another text notification draws Sandra's attention away from their conversation. This time it's a photo from Jeff. His head is on his desk with an unopened bottle of water nearby, and he's gazing at the camera with sad looking eyes. The caption reads "I'm a wreck."
"Aww, you poor thing," Sandra thinks to herself as she looks at his puppy dog gaze, her lips forming a pout. "UR always a wreck, but RU surviving?"
"Barely. My afternoons are empty without you."
She giggles and wrinkles her nose before sending her response. "UR the mayor of Cheese City."
"Don't U miss me?" he responds.
Strangely, she does, but she won't give him the satisfaction of telling him that. "Only cuz I have to fetch my own water."
"Miss U2."
"What's his name?" Laura asks, grinning at Sandra who hasn't stopped smiling and giggling softly since receiving the photo from Jeff.
"Hmmm?" she replies with her eyebrows raised, pretending she doesn't know what her older sister could possibly be talking about.
"Lemme see, who are you texting?" Laura asks, grabbing at her phone but missing.
"He's nobody, just an annoying presence in my life that will probably be gone and forgotten this fall."
"Can I see the photo he sent?"
"I suppose," she replies, bringing up the photo and showing it to her.
"Cute. Is that the guy that works for daddy?"
"Yeah, Jeff Buttkisser."
"That's not really his name, is it?"
"Might as well be, he kisses daddy's butt all the time."
"You do realize that's part of academia – kissing the faculty's butt and making them happy, right?"
"Jeff goes above and beyond. It's nauseating."
"Still, he is cute," Laura reminds her.
"Alright, he's cute," she admits, "but not for me."
"Why not? You've been sitting here giggling and smiling while texting him for the past few minutes. Must be something there."
Sandra sighs in irritation. "Daddy would LOVE for me and Jeff to date. Our sneaky father sends him over to the library with a bottle of water for me every afternoon. We talk for a while, then he goes back to work. He's sort of a buddy, but that's it."
"Hmpf. Okay, if you say so," she replies, unconvinced. "But I haven't seen you look this happy about someone in a long time."