The Big Bang Symphony: A Novel of Antarctica

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87 15 Alice sat on the edge of her bed holding the lump of tissue that allegedly wrapped a vase from the Dalai Lama. She was considering walking it down the hall to the bathroom where she could deposit it in the trash bin. But what if Jennifer lived on this same floor in this same dorm? She might see that Alice had just dumped it. Instead, she would take it over to Crary Lab, where only scientists were allowed, and dispose of it there. The dorm room door flew open and slammed against the wall. The entering woman let out a hushed, “Fuuuck.” Then, startled at seeing Alice, “Jesus. Who are you?” “I’m Alice Neilson.” The woman ran a hand through her hair and again breathed, “Fuck.” She peeled off her outerwear and flung herself on the other bed with a loud groan. Confused, Alice said, “Am I in the wrong room?” “Oh, probably not. I mean, I knew I was getting a roommate eventually, just not . . .” This wasn’t right. Rasmussen said he’d picked Rosie Moore specifically because she was knowledgeable and skilled. This woman appeared distraught and whacked. Maybe she was in the wrong room. “My advisor, Dean Rasmussen, said I’d be rooming with Rosie Moore.” “That’s me, I’m afraid.” The woman’s face finally softened and she propped up on an elbow. “I’m sorry. What a poor excuse for a welcome. Please, make yourself at home. And welcome, really. I’m sorry you caught me at a very, very bad moment. I just did something really stupid.” “What did you do?” Alice wanted to take back the words. You weren’t supposed to ask direct questions when you first met someone. But Rosie’s sudden, big, generous smile was evidence that she didn’t mind the question. She looked like someone who played hard. The kind of person who, as a child, would have intimidated Alice on the playground. She could see her commanding squadrons of other girls, not because she was overly pretty or clever but because she had the most vigor. Alice liked her. Rosie spread out her hands, looked at the backs of them, and then flipped them over and looked at her palms. She said, “I just kissed a married man. Can you think of anything more stupid?” Alice shook her head slowly. Rosie barked a surprised laugh at Alice’s agreement. Alice hugged the wrapped Dalai Lama vase. Should she have said that kissing a married man wasn’t stupid? That would have been dishonest. “Look. I gotta sleep. I work from five in the morning until two, so I usually take a nap in the afternoon.” Alice nodded but couldn’t stop staring at Rosie. She was beautifully feral, the kind of woman who did exactly what she wanted to do. Rosie shoved into her sleeping bag and turned her back. “Good night. Please do make yourself comfortable. I promise I’ll be more civil when I recover.” “Good night,” Alice said and reached for her notebook. On the top of a fresh page, she wrote, “Rosie of the Antarctic.” Below that she made a list of observations. Deep chestnut hair. Totally comfortable in her body. 88 Very big smile. Musical laugh. Kissed married man. Survivor. 89 ...