This love story has a long build-up before things get heated. Please be patient. I've always found that having a stronger sense of who the characters are makes for a more intimate experience when the fireworks finally happen. Enjoy.
Dissertation Offense/Defense
"This isn't a good idea. Stop smiling, Sanjit. I really don't think this is going to work. I could count on one hand the number of times that I've agreed with Ethan and on top of that, he's a class-A jerk. Three years of classes, another year of being a TA with him and..."
"Rachel. Insight and understanding are not vegetables harvested by a lazy farmer."
Rachel pursed her lips to suppress a sharp response. After almost a decade of working with Professor Rajagopalan, she no longer processed his mini allegories or endless analogies as words. She'd come to accept his speech patterns in a more fluid form of gestalt. Even the almost comical sing-songy, "veg-a-ta-bals" failed to soften her resolve. Had she been a bit less intense of an individual, Rachel would have long-since noticed that Sanjit would lean more heavily on his native accent with good-natured humor whenever her temper got the best of her. Sanjit continued, "Ethan most certainly sees the world with different eyes than you and that is exactly why you shall partner with him. I must be blessed to have the opportunity to watch a pair of strong minds as they strive for answers on questions that society must consider. Ah, my luck to be advising both of your dissertations and each on such similar topics. A nest full of eggs, but what kind of birds will hatch?"
"I wouldn't say that the topics are the same. In fact, they're antithetical. Ethan wants to package the world's data and sell it. He ignores the heart of the issue that people want their data to be private. He's dismissive of the essential historical context that demonstrates the need for constraining corporate actions in the present in order to avoid the inevitable wanton abuse by government regimes of the future." Rachel's eyes were bright with the passion of her argument.
The silver-haired professor looked fondly at the young woman whom he'd watch grow in so many ways. She had started in the MBA program as an ideological 23-year old and was now an equally ideological, if not significantly more informed, 29-year old about to start her doctoral dissertation. Were he her father, he would be both proud and so very interested in seeing such a girl find the right person to share her life with. Sanjit had a wry thought about how his own mother and father would have dealt with Rachel. He reached for his tea that had cooled enough to sip and looked out at the typical red brick buildings of the George Washington University campus in Georgetown. He said, "Yes, yes. But a girl who walks through the woods and only comments on the roots of the trees is not so much noticing the many-colored birds above her."
Rachel laughed. "Okay, that wasn't particularly subtle. I get it, but I don't have to like it."
**
Ethan stripped off his windbreaker and long-sleeved compression shirt. Now that he was back in his apartment, the exertion of his run was catching up to him without the early Spring, chill breeze from Lake Michigan. Sweat beaded on his forehead and a rivulet skirted his nose before plopping on the hardwood floor. His muscles felt loose rather than exhausted which was a sign that his workout had been lighter than usual.
After punching on the power of the espresso machine to let it warm up, he wandered over to his laptop and cracked the lid to bring the screen back to life. A pernicious addiction to email still lingered with him even though it had been a years since he'd been in the 'real world' as the academics called it. He could always tell which students hadn't spent time working prior to heading into business school. The angst expressed over twenty or thirty emails in an inbox was a pathetic clue about some student's lack of workplace experience.
The mail at the top of his queue was from his financial planner. Ethan had a number of decisions to make now that the final tranche of money from the acquisition had come through. One outstanding idea, a shealthy sprinkle of good luck, four years of horrifically rigorous work, the termination of a friendship that he'd imagined was unbreakable, subtract one fiancé and the result was that little Zenttara, Inc. sold for forty seven million. That gave his investors a 600% return on their money and left the three principals with enough to make sure that funding their retirement was never going to be a problem. There were no private jets or penthouse flats in New York for him, but Ethan had a beautiful condo and the freedom to choose how to spend his days. Going back to school after a windfall like that was not what most people would have done. His two partners had become serial entrepreneurs who were chain smoking start-ups. Paul could fall off a cliff as far as Ethan was concerned, but it was good to see that Liz was enjoying the thrill of the next fight. As for Selma, his ex-fiancé, she could go fuck herself.
Ethan unlaced his shoes and set them aside before sifting through the rest of the correspondence. When he got to Rajagopalan's mail, he blew a long-suffering sigh. The phraseology of the mail was pure Sanjit, but the implications were going to make life more difficult. "Liberal use of manure enriches soil..." was his favorite line from the mail as there was no shortage of bullshit he was going to have to put up with from Rachel. So much for pure independence as he worked on his dissertation.
The espresso machine emitted a satisfyingly industrial sound as it masticated the beans before applying pressurized hot water to extract the flavors that signaled the start of each day. The smell of the crushed beans lingered in the kitchen long after the grinding and hissing had ceased. Ethan grabbed the mug and wandered down the hall to get showered and changed.
He'd known Rachel Aberlieb during the three years of doctoral course work at the GWU Business School when he'd still been living in D.C. She'd already been at the school for a number of years having completed her MBA and directly matriculated into the PhD program. She was the classic academic, ivory tower, idealist that made him nutty. Crazy-bright, annoyingly well-informed, and had never had to worry about making payroll or managing cash flow to keep the lights on and the doors open for another month. She'd never put in the sweat equity to convince an investor to lay down a few million based solely on roughly estimated numbers and a belief that you have what it takes to make a business work. The two of them had been like oil on water and there had been endless conflict that he looked back on with some regret. She'd managed to bring out aspects of his personality that he didn't much care for. She was pretty, but so damn opinionated that he'd long-since given up on thinking about her as anything other than a source of near-constant debates.
Oh, well. At least the coffee was good.
**
"Symposium on Globalized Data" was printed in bold, blue print next to a stereotypical logo of a globe with the continents made up of binary code. The garish vinyl sign hung above two female undergrads who looked awkward in their attempt to wear "business formal" clothes. The young ladies were manning a registration table armed with highlighters, a list of attendees and an ironic stack of printed versions of the research being presented at the conference. Ethan was waiting in line, musing on a symposium about the management of electronic data that was producing unneeded paper when Rachel approached. The ever-present Nalgene water bottle in one hand, her phone in the other and an over-stuffed shoulder bag banging against her hip. Ethan's jaw clenched in anticipation of the conversation.
