My Wife Sent Me Away, So I Took the Whole Research Team

The screen lit up out of nowhere.

The frontier posting's been decided. Hand your project off to Silas Chavez and leave tomorrow.

The person sending it was my mentor. And my wife.

The Silas she meant had been in the group less than a month.

I stared at the screen in silence until it went dark, then lit up again.

Did you see it? Reply if you did.

I took a breath and typed back: I saw it. I'll go. But I want to bring a few people with me.

Fine, as long as they agree to go with you.

I replied: Done.

Since she said fine, I'd bring the entire group along.

"Andrew Dickerson, do you think the professor made a mistake?"

The lab juniors crowded around me.

"Yeah, Silas just got here. Putting him in charge of the project is just throwing research funding away."

"If you ask me, the professor's lost her head. She never does anything around here. This group would've fallen apart ages ago without you."

"I don't agree with you taking the frontier posting. I'm going to talk to her right now."

"I'll come too."

I was about to call them back when Silas appeared in the doorway.

"Andrew, the professor wants you in her office."

The words were polite enough, but the tone was all smug and looking-down-on-you.

"Sure."

I got up and headed for Winona Gilbert's office.

Behind me, Silas started giving orders.

"Don't you all have work to do?"

"This is a research group, not a gossip group. Get back to your stations."

I didn't look back the whole way. I pushed the door open without knocking and walked into Winona's office.

She sat behind the wide desk in a sharp women's suit, her hair pinned up.

We'd been married three years. Worried that a professor marrying her own student would look bad if it got out, we'd never made it public.

The whole group, no, the whole school, had no idea what we were to each other.

"Why didn't you knock?"

Winona looked up, frowning.

She didn't wait for an answer. She just waved a hand.

"Never mind. Sit."

She was always this forceful, in the group and at home alike.

I didn't sit.

Her frown deepened. "You're upset. Don't argue with me. I know you, that's exactly why I called you in."

She paused after that, as if choosing her words.

"You know the school's rules perfectly well. Every year someone gets sent to the frontier posting, and every mentor's group has to send at least one person"

"So you picked me?" I cut in.

Winona nodded. "Yes. You're the best fit."

"And what about Silas?" I asked.

She said nothing, but the look in her eyes turned colder and colder.

I understood.

Silas had been in the group less than a month, and he was already the favorite in front of Winona. More favored than me, her husband of three years.

No.

Maybe he was more than just a favorite.

Winona tapped the desk twice with a finger.

"The posting is a line on your rsum. It affects whether you can stay on staff here. You shouldn't be resisting it."

"As for Silas, first, he doesn't have your depth of project experience. He needs to stay by me and keep learning."

"Second, he's too young. The posting is far, and the climate is a real problem. I'm worried he wouldn't be able to adjust."

I laughed. For the first time since we married, I called her by her name.

"Winona. The second reason is the real one, isn't it?"

Winona's face darkened in an instant.

"Andrew, I want you to think for yourself. Don't just believe every rumor you hear."

"I chose you for the frontier posting because you're the best fit. Nothing more."

I nodded slowly.

Three years ago, when she decided we should marry in secret, she'd said the same thing.

Because I was a good fit.

"If that's all, you can go. I'm busy."

She picked up a data report.

I rose, but stopped at the door and turned back. "Two questions. First. Was the school's original plan to send Silas to the frontier, and you changed it to me because you didn't want him to go?"

Her hand paused mid-page. She didn't look up. "I already told you. Sending you is the best decision for the whole group. Nothing more."

"All right. Second question. If everyone in the group except Silas came with me, would you allow it?"

That finally brought her head up. She stared at me for a good ten seconds or more, then laughed.

It was the kind of laugh people give when they think you've said something absurd.

"Andrew, confidence is good. But don't let it turn into delusion."

"The school's minimum requirement is one person from each supervisor's research group. As long as they apply, the school won't refuse. But I can't think of a single reason the others would go with you."

"They can stay in the lab, keep running their projects, keep publishing papers. Their bonuses won't shrink, their opportunities won't shrink. Going to the frontier with you gains them nothing."

"Yes, you carried them through a lot of projects. And I'm sure they're grateful. But Andrew, grown-ups weigh costs and benefits. No one throws away the consequences on a hot-headed impulse just because they feel grateful."

"You're not a child anymore. Grow up a little, would you?"

I looked at her.

And all at once the face I had loved for three years felt like a complete stranger's.

Grown-ups weigh costs and benefits.

So sending me to the frontier and keeping Silas was to her benefit. And the reverse, keeping me and sending Silas, would have been to her detriment.

So that was it.

Looking back over the past three years, I finally understood one thing.

She married me not because she loved me, but because I brought her benefit.

When her research group was first set up, funding was short and the equipment was old. It was me holed up in that lab day after day, finishing one project after another, publishing one paper after another, and putting her name down as first author.

It was me who burned through three years, over a thousand grinding days and nights, so that her group could stand where it did today, flush with funding and brand-new equipment.

And my reward was to be shipped off to the frontier.

"Heh."

The laugh slipped out of me.

Part of it mocked Winona's cold calculation, and part of it mocked my own stupidity, that it had taken me three years to see one person clearly.

"What are you laughing at?" Winona set the report down and frowned at me.

"Nothing. I just worked something out. My head's finally clear."

With that, I turned to leave.

"Wait."

She stood, came around the desk to stand in front of me, and reached up to fix my folded-over collar.

"Don't stay late in the lab tonight. Come home early. I'll make your favorite dishes."

"A candlelit dinner?" I caught her hand and gently lifted it away from my collar, smiling. "Is this my compensation?"

She looked at me, puzzled. "Andrew, you feel different today. You used to"

I cut her off. "It's been three years, after all. Feelings fade. Of course there's none of the passion we had when we first married."

And with that, I pulled the door open and walked out.

Silas was waiting for me in the hallway, a winner's smile on his face.

"So Andrew's done in there?"

I glanced at him and moved to leave without a word.

He stepped into my path.

"Andrew, the professor wants you to hand off your current projects to me. When are you free?"

He couldn't even wait.

I stopped and kept my face cold. "Whenever. As long as you've got the time."

"Oh, I've got nothing but time. The professor says I joined too late and still need to learn at her side, so she hasn't assigned me any work yet."

Silas beamed.

"Honestly, I'd love to work on projects with you and the other lab folks. But what can I do? When the professor speaks, you listen."

"Isn't that right, Andrew?"

On that last line, he suddenly leaned in close.

"Take you, for instance. Professor Gilbert says the two of you can't go public with your marriage, so you don't dare. She says you're going to the frontier posting, and even if you don't want to go, you go."

My hand curled hard into a fist.

He was flaunting it.

Just then Winona's voice came from inside the office.

"Silas, there's a data set in here. Come verify it for me."

"Coming."

Silas shot me a smug look, slammed his shoulder into mine as he passed, pushed the door open, and went in.

Click.

The office door shut, and something in me shut with it.

Before, I could still lie to myself, tell myself that when Winona called Silas into her office several times a day, she was actually teaching him.

But now.

Hah.

Verify data.

Silas had been in the group less than a month. He didn't even know which experiments the lab was running. What data could he possibly verify?

Winona had decided I either hadn't caught on, or had caught on and wouldn't dare say anything, and she was getting bolder by the day. Now she didn't even bother with a decent excuse.

I drew a breath and walked off with long strides.

The moment I got back to the lab, the junior researchers crowded around me.

"Andrew, what did Professor Gilbert say?"

"There's been some mistake, right?"

I looked at them and shook my head. "No mistake. Winona already put my name in. I leave for the frontier posting tomorrow."

That set them off at once.

"What is Professor Gilbert thinking? Doesn't she know the experiments we're running right now can't do without you?"

"Of course she knows. This is all that Silas. He must have said something to her."

"..."

They vented the anger in their chests, then turned and looked at me, all of them at once.

"Andrew, what do we do? We'll follow your lead."

"That's right. Whatever you say, that's what we'll do. These projects can't die in Silas's hands."

I had trained every one of them. From the day they joined, I'd taught them hands-on, step by step.

Winona carried the title of mentor and had never taught them a thing.

They were waiting for my answer. I looked at them one by one and asked, "Come with me to the frontier posting. Will you?"

No hesitation. One after another they spoke up.

"Yes. As long as we can keep doing research under you, so what if the conditions are rough?"

"Right. Staying behind to take Silas's crap would be worse than dying. Andrew, I'm going with you."

"I joined this group for you. Wherever you go, I go."

I looked at them, and the gloom inside me began to lift, bit by bit. I turned and looked toward Winona's office.

Winona, you were wrong.

Not every grown-up thinks only about costs and benefits.

That night I came home.

Silas's voice drifted out from the kitchen.

"Professor Gilbert, you're such a good cook. Andrew's a lucky man. I'm jealous, honestly."

"Stop it. Here, taste the fish, tell me how it turned out."

I reached the kitchen doorway just in time to see Winona lift a piece of fish with her chopsticks and hold it out to Silas's mouth.

The sight cut into me.

Three years of marriage, and Winona had never once been that tender with me.

Silas closed his eyes, chewed twice, then opened them and gushed, "It's incredible, Professor. You could go head to head with any five-star hotel chef."

Winona laughed, pleased. "Really? Let me try."

Without a second thought she picked up more fish with the same chopsticks and put it in her own mouth.

"See? I wasn't exaggerating. Professor, you're... oh. Andrew, you're back."

Only then did Silas seem to notice me.

Winona set her chopsticks down calmly and looked at me, her voice flat. "You're home. Go wash up, dinner's ready."

Silas came out of the kitchen carrying two dishes. As he passed me, his smile was all innocence.

"Andrew, the professor said tonight's basically your farewell dinner, so I begged to come along. You don't mind, do you?"

Before I could answer, Winona said, "What's there to mind? One more person for his send-off just makes it livelier. Otherwise it'd be too quiet with only the two of us."

Silas's smile spread wider at that, and the look he gave me was pure challenge.

I didn't so much as glance at him. I walked into the bathroom, my face blank.

Too quiet?

That wasn't what Winona said when she married me.

She said she didn't like crowds. She said a home was the small, warm harbor of a husband and wife, with no room to dock any other boat.

And now she'd contradicted every word of it herself.

When I came out of the bathroom, Winona and Silas were already seated, close together, closer than any teacher and student ever sat.

"Your seat's over there."

Winona pointed across from her.

I said nothing, walked over, and sat down.

She opened a bottle of red wine and poured for herself and Silas, forgetting me entirely.

It took Silas reminding her before she said, offhand, "Andrew doesn't care for red wine. It's just us."

I don't care for red wine. That doesn't mean I can't drink it.

I didn't say it out loud. There was no point.

Winona clinked glasses with Silas and took a sip, then lifted a piece of fish and dropped it into his bowl.

"If you like it, eat more."

Her tone was gentle, her eyes soft, like a wife doting on her husband.

Silas shot me a look, careless or not, and put on a show of shyness. "Professor, didn't you say this fish is Andrew's favorite? I couldn't take what he loves."

Winona waved it off. "He can't finish it all by himself. Sharing a little with you is nothing. Don't worry about it, just eat."

My chopsticks stopped. I looked at her for a few seconds, then said, my voice rough,

"So this is how you see love? Something that can be shared?"

Winona's brow creased at once. "It's one fish. How did that turn into love? If you've got nothing useful to say, just eat."

I smiled.

One fish doesn't stand for love, no. But your attitude does.

After another sip of wine, Winona turned to me. "Since you haven't handed the projects over to Silas yet, I've decided he'll stay the night. You can transfer everything to him before morning."

Silas's smile was all pretense. "Sorry to put you through it, Andrew. I really didn't want to intrude on your evening alone with the professor, but there's no choice. If the handover isn't finished and you leave tomorrow, the whole group grinds to a halt."

When he said "evening alone," he leaned hard on the words.

Seeing that I hadn't agreed, Winona frowned, then said, "I know those projects are your life's work. But you have to trust Silas."

"He came late, but he catches on well, and he's willing to put in the effort. With me overseeing things, none of your work will go to waste."

She paused, then added, "The frontier posting is hard enough. I don't want you worrying about the projects here on top of it."

Listen past the words.

Every syllable was for my own good, all concern for me, but strung together it meant one thing: stop clinging to the lab's projects and get out clean tomorrow.

I set down my chopsticks, pulled a tissue and wiped my mouth, and said evenly, "Worrying won't be a problem. Because I won't be handing over a single project."

"They're all my life's work. So I'm taking every one of them with me."