Desert Chemistry

David surprised me with a present after our first week of work. He gave me a little jewelry box with a pair of earrings. To most people, they just look like an odd clump of silver balls, but I recognized them instantly: part of the active site on catalyst A. There's an iron atom at one end, bigger than the other little balls, and everything else just flows from there. They're still my favorite earrings, and they will always be.

Our two lab techs, Sandra and Laurie, started when we moved into the new office. They were related, cousins, I think. They grew up together on the Navajo reservation and moved to Phoenix to go to technical school and find work. As I got to know them over our first few weeks together, I got very angry at the education system that they had to fight their way through. Sandra was as bright as some of the students I taught at MIT, and both she and Laurie worked harder than most. The reservation schools may be especially bad, but our schools are failing poor children all over the country, from the inner cities to the rural boondocks and everywhere in between. If we could fix that, this country would be much better off. Sandra and Laurie were the rare exceptions of at least partial success. I was an exception too, I guess, though I'd never thought about it that way before. I went to high school in a working class Boston neighborhood where most of the kids never made it to college, and many never even graduated.

The new office was in a big technology park in south Scottsdale. David told me later that there had been an old shopping mall there, and the area had sat vacant for years while they figured out what to do with it. At one point, it was a proposed site for the hockey arena. I still can't believe that Phoenix, of all places, has a professional hockey team. ASU finally managed to put the financing for the project together, and now there's a huge amount of office space as well as some apartments and other stuff. All in all, it was a pretty nice place to go to work every day. It didn't have the soul of an academic campus, but it worked for what we needed.

The lab, which took up about half our space, was wonderful. I felt like a kid in a candy store, except that we had already paid for all the candy. Everything was shiny and new, and once we set everything up, I could tell we were going to work much more efficiently. Our old lab on campus had evolved over decades, and it wasn't really optimal for anything anymore. It would always hold a special place in my heart, though, for what David and I did there together.

The other half, the regular office space, was awful. The floor was heavy-duty commercial carpet, laid down in big tiles just before we moved in, and the new carpet smell lingered for weeks. The main area was filled with a dozen cubicles, with walls just high enough to isolate people without providing any actual privacy. I felt like a rat in a maze the first time I saw it. The cubicles came down by the end of the week, and the open space was better, but it felt like an unused warehouse. David and I went shopping over the weekend for stuff to fill the emptiness, just to give it some personality. We wound up with a cheap couch, a few beanbag chairs, a lot of plants, and a bunch of posters. XKCD, Star Wars, and other geeky things covered one wall, and Arizona Highways photos another. Sandra and Laurie contributed four Navajo rugs, two beautiful, hand-made ones to hang on the wall and two worn, ordinary ones to go on the floor by the couch and beanbag chairs. Maggie brought in a foosball table that had been sitting in her garage for years. By the end of the second week, we had taken a suffocating piece of corporate America and made it our own.

~~~

David and I sat outside and ate lunch together most weekdays, even in the scorching summer heat. If you can find shade, it's really not so bad once you get used to it. "You know," I said one day as we munched on cold sesame noodles, "the company is eighty percent female. Not many of those around, especially technology companies."

"Yeah," David said with a smile. "We're the only majority female company in the tech park. I checked."

"I hadn't even thought about it until today," I said. "I don't suppose you mind at all."

"Spending my workday surrounded by women?" he asked. "I could get used to it."

"You're only supposed to be interested in one of them," I said, teasing.

"I don't think you mind either," he answered, teasing me back. "You always seem to notice when Laurie walks into the room."

"It's the hair," I said, getting a little dreamy-eyed. "She looks soooo pretty with that long black hair."

David just looked at me, arching an eyebrow.

"What?" I asked. "Are you jealous?"

"Not at all," he replied. "She's beautiful, and there's nothing wrong with looking. I was just wondering - a pretty girl will turn your head, but you don't ever really look at guys, except maybe me."

"I haven't really changed," I said. "I still like pretty girls, and men are still not interesting. Except for you, of course. You're special."

"Allison, love," he said, his voice turning serious, "when I fell in love with you, you were thoroughly, unquestionably gay. I knew I didn't have a chance, but I fell for you anyway. I couldn't help myself. I don't know what happened inside your head that let you fall in love with me, but I'm grateful for whatever it was."

I took his hand and squeezed it to reassure him, or maybe to reassure myself.

"I want to spend my life with you," he said, "but I won't force you into being something you're not. I love you too much for that."

"Oh, sweetie," I replied, "I do love you, and you really are all I need. I may still look at women, but I don't want them. I want you."

"I just don't know if I can give you everything you need," he said. "And I don't want to wake up in fifteen years with you hating me for not being female."

"Sweetie," I said, "the body parts don't matter to me. They really don't."

I put my hand on his chest, over his heart. "This is all that matters," I said.

"Just promise me you'll be honest with me, whatever you feel." he said. "As long as we love each other and we're honest, we'll make it work."

"I promise," I said. "We'll make it work."

For the rest of my life, I would only ever be with David, and that was okay. It was better than okay; it was wonderful. But it wouldn't keep my eyes and my mind from wandering. If he wanted honesty, he would get it. He would hear about my silly girl crushes, who I thought was cute, who I fantasized about. He would get to share in the wonderful confusion of loving a man but still being drawn to women, and he would have to deal with it. Knowing David and how much he loved me, he'd deal with it just fine. He would probably even think it was kinda hot.

~~~

Maggie, Leo, David and I had dinner together every Friday to go over the state of the company, but beyond that all I did was work on the chemistry. David was a little more involved, but he still spent most of his time in the lab with me.

Getting a reaction to happen for a few minutes in a little vial in the tightly controlled conditions of the lab is one thing. Getting it to happen continuously with the uncertainty of real-world inputs is something else. We spent the summer getting from the former to the latter.

The biggest technical problem we had to solve was catalyst recovery. The whole point of a catalyst is that it's not used up in the reaction, so a little bit can last a long time. In our early tests, though, we just dumped the catalyst in with everything and let it do its thing. For a real process, we would need a way of keeping the catalyst intact and getting it back out. We eventually settled on coating the surface of little plastic beads (David's idea) with a substrate that held onto the catalyst molecules, and that worked very well. By September, with the recovery problem solved, we had a continuous-feed system that could turn sawdust and other woody plant waste into a liquid feedstock for biofuel production. We used microbes to digest the cellulose, a new but fairly well-understood process, and our catalysts took care of the lignin.

That meant we were ready for the next stage, building a small demonstration reactor. For that, we'd need real money, more than the incubator fund would provide. We'd also need chemical engineers, experts on industrial-scale processes.

Maggie and Leo did most of the work on the financing. David and I met potential backers when Maggie or Leo told us to, but that was about it. We did get involved in hiring the ChemE's. The first was one of Jonsey's students, an bubbly, intense young woman from India named Aditi. When she was working, she reminded me a little of Xiaomei. Two others, Gretchen and Bob, were pulp and paper industry veterans. Gretchen had kids almost as old as Sandra and Laurie. The final two, Dale and another Bob, came from a failed biotech firm.

The ChemE's were all supposed to start work on the first of October, contingent on our financing coming through. Leo had lined up several backers he knew, and he was putting in a big chunk of his own money, so things were looking good.

~~~

"Just one more investor to lock down," David said one Wednesday in early September. "Can you come to dinner tonight?"

"Sure," I replied. "Should I wear the usual?"

"Not tonight," he replied. "We're going somewhere fancy, so you should wear a nice dress. Whichever one you want is fine, but I think you look really good in that long, dark blue one."

I knew the one he was talking about. I only had maybe three nice dresses, and not many occasions to wear them. It was straight, midnight-blue linen, and it was the only piece of clothing in my wardrobe that made me feel like an actual grown up. I wondered what was going on. Whoever this investor was, it was not going to be a typical meeting.

We went home after work to change clothes. David put on his gray suit, his uniform for business meetings, and I put on my dress, along with a strand of pearls and the catalyst earrings. He drove to dinner in the Arcadia neighborhood in Scottsdale. We pulled into an inconspicuous driveway along Camelback road, and a lovely resort came into view behind the thick oleander hedges along the street. It was understated and elegant, beautiful Mediterranean architecture with fountains in little courtyards, arched walkways, and red ceramic tile. The place nestled comfortably into the south side of Camelback mountain as if it belonged there, but it would have been equally at home in Tuscany or the French Riviera.

I took David's arm after he dropped the car off with the valet, and he led me through the resort to the restaurant where we were eating dinner. When we were seated at a table for two, all by ourselves in a little courtyard in the back, I knew something wasn't right.

"I thought we were meeting an investor," I said.

"We are," he replied. "I'm the investor."

"Okay, then," I said. "Why are we here? It's not like you need any more information before you invest. It's your company."

"I promise I will answer that question," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "but only after dinner."

I raised an eyebrow, but I didn't say anything. I knew from that look that he wouldn't budge, and I certainly wasn't going to ruin a romantic dinner in such a beautiful spot by pestering him.

I was quiet, so David did most of the talking. He told me stories of family trips to the Chihuahua dessert near Tucson over our salads, roasted beets for me and shaved vegetables for him. When the soups came, white corn bisque and chilled tomato, the stories were about Boy Scout hikes in the Superstition Mountains. I was impressed at his ability to keep spinning light and amusing tales without giving away whatever secret he was hiding. By the time the entrees arrived, buttery scallops and a luscious piece of lamb, I was bursting, but he just kept talking, this time about the trouble he and Eddie got into together in high school. There wasn't even a trace of bitterness in his voice at Eddie's name, and I was impressed. I don't know if I would have been able to forgive Eddie if I had been in David's place.

"I guess you want to know why I asked you to dinner," David finally said after we polished off the strawberry rhubarb crisp that finished the meal, then took a sip of his coffee.

"Yes," I said. "I think I've been patient."

"Well," he said, "when my grandparents died, they left most of their money to my mom, but they also left some to me and Joan."

"Yeah," I said, "you told me. So?"

"I want to invest most of my inheritance, five hundred thousand dollars, into Palo Verde," he said.

It took me a while to process that. I knew he had money, but I hadn't realized he had quite that much.

"Okay," I said. "I think that's great, but it's your money. You don't need my permission."

"It's important to me that you approve," he said. "It's going to affect you, as more than just a business partner."

I just looked at him, not understanding. Why was it so important to him, and how else did it affect me? And then I noticed that he had reached across the table to take my hand, and he was holding something in his other hand.

He set a little box down on the table in front of me, lid raised to display a ring that must have been at least sixty years old. There was a small, perfect diamond in the center, surrounded by a circle of smaller diamonds, all set in platinum. It was beautiful.

"Allison Kendall," he said, "will you marry me?"

"Oh, David," I said, not quite believing what I had heard. "Yes! God yes!"

He took the ring out of the box and put it on my trembling hand, and then he swept me up into a passionate kiss and a tender embrace.

"The ring was my grandmother's," he whispered in my ear. "She would be so happy to know I gave it to you. I love you, Allison."

I held him tighter, not even trying to hold back the happy tears. "I love you too, David," I said. "I love you so much."

~~~

David drove to work the next morning. It was my turn, but I was still giddy from the proposal, and from what we did in bed afterward. I barely had time to set my stuff down on my desk before Maggie noticed what was on my finger.

"Wow!" she said. "Congratulations, both of you!"

Sandra and Laurie looked confused until Laurie spotted the ring, and then both of them joined in with congratulations of their own. David sat at his desk and pretended to ignore all the female silliness, but I could tell he was as pleased as I was. The ring came off an hour later when I went into the lab to work, and it stayed at home most work days after that. I was sad about it, but the ring didn't fit inside the latex gloves I wore when working in the lab. Occupational hazard.

We both decided that I wouldn't take David's last name, partly because I'd published under my maiden name, but mostly because I would have been Allison Allison, which was just silly. I answer to Allison, alone or preceded by Mrs., Dr., or anything else, but my driver's license still says Allison Kendall.

David and I talked over the next few days about picking a date, maybe sometime in the spring, but one day stood out. The fifth of December would be a Saturday, one year to the day after our discovery and our first kiss. It was less than two months away, which was crazy, but we decided to do it anyway.

David called St. Augustine's the next morning and got us on the calendar. That was the Episcopal church where he went growing up, and where Joan's family still went most Sundays. David was no more of a believer than I was - very few scientists are - but his family had gone there since the sanctuary opened in 1964. I wouldn't get married in a Catholic church after years of being told I was a terrible sinner just for being me, not even for my mother. The Episcopal church is more welcoming. It's very close to the Catholic church in tradition, but without the elaborate hierarchy and the emphasis on guilt and shame. Catholic Lite, some people call it, and I think it fits.

Work had slowed down until the ChemE's started in October, which was good since David and I were crazy with wedding stuff. David hired a wedding planner, and I reluctantly agreed, mostly because of the short timeline. We paid more than we should have for a few things, but it was worth it. We planned to have the reception at the house, which was just big enough for the hundred or so people after most of the furniture was taken out. We hired Los Olivos to cater the food, and we got some yummy desserts as well as the wedding cake from David's favorite bakery.

Maggie rained on our parade in the middle of everything. She apologized profusely, but she insisted that we do the most unromantic thing in the world - sign a pre-nup. It was necessary to protect the company and the upcoming financing deal. I wasn't bothered, and I don't think David was either. My lawyer Wayne hammered out the agreement with David's lawyer, with Maggie representing the company and Leo approving it. David and I just signed what they put in front of us.

The most stressful part of planning was choosing the maid of honor and the best man. I wanted to ask Anne, but I wasn't sure David would be okay with that. Who has her ex-girlfriend as her maid of honor? One morning over breakfast, I brought it up with David.

"I've been having a hard time," I said. "I want Anne to be my maid of honor. Is that weird?"

"It's a little weird," he said, "but if that's what you want, I'm happy. I know how much she means to you."

"Besides," he added with a wicked little smile, "I have a weird idea of my own."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Up until a couple years ago, I'd have asked Eddie to be my best man," he said, "but after what he pulled, there's no way."

"Yeah," I agreed with a disgusted laugh.

"I could ask Leo or Jonsey," he said. "I'm sure either one would do it, but I have somebody else in mind."

"Okay," I said. "Who?"

"After you, you know who's been the most important person in my life?" he asked, and I did know.

"You want your sister as best man, don't you?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "A female best man and a lesbian ex-lover for maid of honor. It'll certainly be interesting."

"I'm fine with it if you are," I replied. I wasn't exactly a traditional girl anyway. "I can ask my little brother to be a bridesmaid to balance things out a little."

"Perfect," he said.

~~~

With most of the logistics planned, we turned our attention to clothes.

David didn't really want to wear a tuxedo, and I thought he looked so handsome in his gray business suit that I quickly agreed. He wore my favorite tie, silvery silk with black stick diagrams of organic molecules. Jonsey and Leo also wore gray suits, Jonsey with a striped blue tie and Leo with a leather bolo tie and a beautiful Hopi silver clasp. We expected Joan would wear a dress of some sort, but she surprised us. She took her role as best man very seriously and wore a gray wool suit with a straight skirt, and put her hair up in a bun. She even wore a tie, pale blue and gray. I thought she was adorable. She also planned the bachelor party the Saturday before the wedding, one of the best man's traditional duties. I don't know what they did, but they had fun whatever it was.

My side was a little harder because of Alex. "Of course I'll stand up for you," he said when I called and asked him. "Just don't call me a bridesmaid, okay."

"Deal," I replied. "Thank you, Alex."

"I'm really proud of you, sis," he said. "I can't wait to meet David."

Alex wore a navy blue suit, and he looked quite handsome. He towered over everyone else at the wedding, even David, which looked a little strange, but nobody seemed to mind. I didn't want to be one of those brides who saddles her friends with a hideous dress they could never wear again, so I told Anne and Maggie to wear what they liked. They got together and agreed to match Alex in color. Anne wore a full-length strapless dress in midnight blue that looked fabulous. My commitment to David didn't waver in the slightest, but I did get a little hot and bothered when I first saw her in it. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world in my eyes. Maggie wore a matching suit-dress and blazer, and I was impressed, as always, at how she could be so strong and so feminine at the same time.