Chapter 7

Martin stood with Irene in one of the recitation rooms in the Science Center. The folding partition that separated it from the room next door had been opened, making for one large space. The desks had been moved and off to the side one of the food service workers stood behind a table with ice buckets containing wine bottles, beer and soda. Nearby was a folding table set up with trays of canapes, cheese and cold cut platters and plates of biscuits.

Martin regarded the name tag on a middle-aged man and approached him. “Ned Sommerfield -- thanks for flying in from California.” The two men shook hands. “This is my colleague Doctor Irene Wagner. She collaborated on our project. Irene -- this is the man who collected our specimen.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Irene said.

“When I learned Martin was to occupy my chair,” Ned replied, “I knew it was in good hands.”

“Or, a good butt,” Martin added.

“Who all was invited to this?” Irene asked.

“The faculty of Arts and Sciences plus their grad students, and college patrons. I think we have someone from the local news here, as well.”

Dean Barnes stepped to the podium and spoke into a microphone. “We’ll get started,” he announced. “Thank you all for attending this reception. We’re here to celebrate the conclusion of an important project -- one that will produce no fewer than four papers; plus, we have a patent pending. The success of this project -- brought in ahead of schedule and under budget -- is due in no small part to the incredible teamwork on the parts of everyone involved. It’s the sort of teamwork we often see here at Tech -- but not often enough. I wish all our projects ran as smoothly as this one. Now, I’ll turn the podium over to Doctor Martin Lang, the project lead.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Martin said as he stepped behind the podium. “We can’t go very deep into the details -- for that you’ll need to read the papers once they’re published. We have a handout that gives the titles, abstracts, journals and publication dates. All four papers have been peer reviewed. This work is important enough that the publications were fast-tracked.

“In a nutshell, we have isolated a new compound from a rain forest fungus that has the potential to be a new bio-agent against some of the antibiotic resistant bacteria plaguing hospitals and health providers. I’ll insert a public service announcement: This discovery is a prima facia example of why rain forest preservation is so critical. Plants and fungi are Nature’s chemical factories -- they’re incredibly adept at synthesizing complex molecules. The rain forest hosts the world’s greatest diversity of life. To date, our compound is available no where else. Like Ned, I’ve spent time in the rain forest and I’ve seen first-hand what damage encroaching civilization does. It’s quite possible even by now that encroachment has driven our fungus and its host plant to extinction. Once gone, a species can not be recovered.”

He paused and scanned the assembled crowd. “Now, I’d like to introduce the team that brought this to fruition. When I call your name, please identify yourself. First off, Doctor Ned Sommerfield, formerly of Tech, was the researcher who collected the specimen that started this whole thing.”

Ned Sommerfield stood and waved to the crowd.

“Until three years ago when he departed to follow his heart, Ned sat in the chair I now occupy. He left behind a backlog of specimens he had collected from years of working and living among rain forest natives, learning their ways and collecting the plants from which they make their brews and potions.” Martin held up a leaf. “This is a leaf that Ned learned native medicine men used to treat infections. Everyone, Ned Sommerfield.”

The assembled group applauded and Ned acknowledged with a nod and a wave.

“When we investigated, we discovered it’s not the leaf, but a fungus that grows on the leaf which is responsible for the medicinal effect. That brings us to Brenda Heeling and Doctor Steve Zorman.”

Steve Zorman stood and approached the podium. He was joined by a stocky woman in her late twenties. “Brenda is a budding mycologist who took time off from studying yeasts for this project.” Martin glanced toward her. “At least she got my joke ... Two papers, authored by Heeling and Zorman will be published in the journal, Transactions in Mycology. The first describes isolating and identifying the fungus, which appears to be not only an unknown species but a new genus as well, provisionally named Sommerfieldi Sommerfieldi, after the man who collected it. The second paper describes culturing the fungus in order to extract sufficient quantities of the active ingredient for further research. Brenda, Steve -- take a bow.”

Steve and his student acknowledged applause.

“Next is Geoff Valdez, my student who characterized the molecule -- or, molecules -- that make up the active ingredient.” Martin displayed a slide with a ball-and-stick model of a molecule. “Our paper will appear in Organic Letters in a few weeks. Geoff’s next project is to develop a synthesis for the molecule so that we won’t need to rely on growing the mold and extracting it. I know no one more capable than Geoff. He visualizes molecules as Tinker Toys and comes up with novel ways to assemble them.

“Finally, Shawna Livingston and Doctor Irene Wagner.” Irene stepped to the podium along with a young black woman with her hair in an Afro. “Look for a paper by Livingston and Wagner in the Journal of Microbiology that presents sensitivity and spectrum studies of this agent.” Martin brought up another slide. “This is the money shot -- a pair of petri dishes inoculated with MRSA, the antibiotic-resistant staph germ. The first dish contains the current arsenal of antibiotics, and you can see not one makes a dent. The second dish contains our new agent, and as you see, it has cleared more than half of the colony. I’m not going to mention the sensitivity threshold -- you’ll need to read the paper for that. Let’s show our appreciation for Shawna and Doctor Wagner.” Martin waited for the applause to diminish. “Shawna will be continuing her work with this agent to attempt to determine its mode of action. Now, we’ll entertain some questions and then enjoy the treats so generously provided by Dean Barnes. You’ll also have a chance for some one-on-one with our team members.”

Martin held Irene’s hand as they walked to his bungalow from the science center. “I think early spring is my favorite time of year,” she said. “It’s warm after winter and I like seeing the new leaves sprouting.”

“And, it’s tax time,” he interjected.

“Oh, don’t be a killjoy. That was quite the shindig. I thought you did a good job as master of ceremonies.”

“Humph,” he retorted. “It really was a commercial for Dean Barnes’s school. It is good to have good research recognized, though.”

“Speaking of John Barnes,” she added, “he came to me afterward.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he wanted to tell me to my face that he was wrong and you were right.”

“About what?”

“About me! He told me he’s convinced the regents to re-negotiate my contract. Even though there’s another year to run, they want me on a five-year plan.”

“That tenured chair is getting within reach,” he replied. “If you and Shawna can figure out how that compound cripples that bacteria...”

“Oh, I know. This project is so juicy I can taste it.”

“Soon you’ll have to beat grad student candidates off with a stick.” They reached his front door and he stepped inside. “So, are you packed?”

“Nearly. You told me to bring a bathing suit. I told you I don’t have one and didn’t have time to buy one.”

Martin tossed a plastic bag to her. “You have one now.”

She withdrew a black, one-piece suit and held it up. “It is my size ... it’s cut a little high on the hips, don’t you think?”

“Not cut high enough.”

“Will you tell me where we’re going?”

“In due time. It’s the start of Spring Break. We can afford to get away for a few days to recharge and then hit the rest of the term running.”

“We’re not taking your SAAB are we?”

“Are you up for a drive?”

“Depends where.”

“Route 11 south.”

Martin sat in the passenger seat as Irene piloted her Prius. “Okay,” she said, “enough suspense. Where are we headed?”

“First stop is Syracuse. We’ll spend the night at the Airport Inn.” He opened his courier case. “We have an early-morning flight.”

“To where?” He showed her a boarding pass. “Miami?”

“It’s spring break,” Martin replied.

“I don’t want to spend spring break mingling with drunken and horny undergrads,” she retorted.

“And, you won’t need to. We’re renting a car for a little drive down Route 1 to...” He showed her a brochure.

“Key Conch?”

“Believe me, we’ll be off the beaten path.”

“How do you know about this place?”

“Julie and I went there for our babymoon.”

“Babymoon?”

“Yeah. She was seven months pregnant with Jenny and it was a chance for a getaway before the baby was born.”

“We’re not staying in the same place, are we?”

“That was nearly twenty years ago, and that place burned down not too long ago. No, this is a place where we’ll have our own little cottage right off the beach.”

“Ooh, I’m liking the sound of this,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like this.”

“We’ll be there until Friday when we fly back. We’ll have plenty of time to explore the middle Keys. Maybe we’ll see some Key deer.”

Martin lay facing Irene, suffused in mellow post-coital relaxation. They were in their Key Conch cottage, windows open with a gentle breeze and the sound of the surf a few dozen yards outside their door. He fingered a lock of her raven hair. “I like playing with your hair,” he remarked.

“As I’ve learned,” she replied.

“Happy?”

“I’m deliriously happy. I can’t believe we’re here. It’s so beautiful and romantic. This was such a good choice.”

“Irene -- I know I said lightning never strikes twice...”

“You said that regarding Julie.”

“Right. Since you’ve moved in I’ve been feeling more and more that it has struck a second time.”

“Oh, no,” she replied. “You’re not going to use the L-word. Tell me you aren’t.”

“I don’t like the L-word ... because I think it’s too ambiguous.”

“What do you mean?”

“For example, I can say, I love oranges. Then, what do I do with an orange? I rip its skin off, tear it apart and eat it bit by bit. I don’t have that kind of love for you.”

Irene giggled. “Good thing, too.”

“What about love as animal magnetism infatuation? The kind that triggers your brain to surge out whatever endorphin it is that makes you...”

“That makes me lose control of my common sense and judgment?”

“Right. We don’t have that kind of love.”

“Good thing for that, too,” she added.

“What about True Love? Do you know the film, Princess Bride?”

“Of course. It’s one of my favorites.”

“It was one of Julie’s favorites, also. True love saved the day in that movie. The ancient Greeks had four different words for love ... for the different facets of love. For example, philia which is best translated I think as, friendship.”

“Oh, we have friendship,” she replied. “I have never had so close, so good a friend as you, Martin. You’re my friend, my confidant and my mentor. You’re my safe place to land. I’ve grown so much both personally and professionally in the months I’ve known you.”

“I feel the same way. You’ve helped me, Irene. You helped me finally break out of my mourning for Julie and Jenny. You’ve made the world a brighter place for me.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He kissed her lips. “Another Greek word is eros. That describes what happens in bed. We have that, for sure.”

“For sure. I’m still tingly from our eros.”

“Then, there’s agape. This word has been expropriated by Christian theologians to represent the love of God for humankind. I’m not religious and I know you aren’t either, so I think in its purest form, agape really means unconditional love. That’s something I think we have, too.”

“I know I get that from you, Martin. It seems no matter how much shit I give you, it just bounces off and you keep coming back.”

“If you can’t give shit to someone you love, who can you give it to?” he asked. “I think each of us being a lightning rod for the other is an important facet of our relationship.”

“We can bounce ideas off each other, make mistakes ... even argue, but the connection remains,” she said. “That’s what gives me security -- I’m at peace with myself like I’ve never been.”

“The last Greek word is storge which refers to familial love -- the love of parents for their children or the love of two spouses or partners for each other. I think we have that, too.”