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Authors: Juliet C. Obodo

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BOOK: Written in the Sky* Rise of the Wadjet Witch
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Where was he getting his facts, and what gave him the right to make such grandiose statements? Memphis could easily brush off Jill’s attempts at debating the importance of knowing your astrological birth number to find the right career path, but something about the host unsettled her. He was just so confident about his proclamations.
She grabbed her laptop from her bag in the kitchen and quickly completed an internet search on the host, Virgil White. He had two PhDs: one in Archeoastrology and one in Egyptology. He matriculated at Oxford University, and he was considered an exceptional astro-scientist.
“
He completed a dissertation on comets just for fun?” She gaped at her computer screen. She was going to read about his awards, but her attention reverted back to the show. He was discussing birth dates and using the chart of a deceased actor as an example. Her attention was more drawn to the date he selected: October twentieth. That was Jonathan’s birth date.
“
Zodiac signs, or star signs, are the most well-known components of the horoscope, but they are simply the sign where the Sun was at the time of your birth,” he lectured. He described the actor as passionate and constantly in love.
“
His extroversion created a love life with stories that would fill a book; it was mobile and changing. He couldn’t be with just one woman. His need for freedom and independence was so strong that it was difficult for him to settle down. He had many breakups because he felt smothered and chose to run away. Because of his instability, he often returned to the relationship and behaved as though nothing had happened. And they would forgive him, because he was irresistible. They will finally settle down when they reach their forties or fifties. They will become devoted to their family and society, but they will always be their own worst enemy. I would advise them not to allow that ever-present darkness that rules their north node to shadow the potential light in their life and to be careful because their twelfth house—the ruler of secrets—will overcrowd, and secrets may spill out onto the streets.”
Memphis quickly completed a search for “twelfth house astrological chart.” There it was in big bold letters: The Twelfth House, the field of the subconscious, psychological issues, and secrets. It was described as the field of the subconscious mind, and problems stemming from unseen causes and limitations. This area related to behind the scenes maneuvering, emotional problems, secrets, deceptions, and problem areas to overcome.
Virgil’s chart on Chris…something, the dead actor, was pretty accurate. The actor led a dark and haunting existence before he ended it with a drug overdose. She wasn’t sure if he and Jonathan were born at the same time, but the day and year, along with the behavioral descriptions, were similar.
But Jonathan was so squeaky clean. He couldn’t keep any secrets from her when they were together. She knew his horrible middle name—Ezekiel—his Social Security number, even the pin number to his bank account.
She retired to bed, sure that there weren’t any skeletons in the closets of his twelfth house.
Chapter 3

 

The next morning, Memphis attempted to revive her cross-country runner’s lungs by running in Carl Schurz Park before her morning study group session at the university. She attended Columbia University’s School of Astronomy and Astrophysics, and she spent most of her working hours in front of a computer. Human contact in any form during the workday was welcomed, which was why she and Jonathan became close so quickly. Confined to a tight space for a number of hours can either drive two people insane or to the sheets.
In this case, it was turning out to be both.
She wheezed through two laps; the silver-haired women who flew by her were not impressed. She didn’t blame them. She showered and quickly dressed and ate after her walk of shame home. Her will to quit smoking was awakened by her injured pride.
She arrived on campus simply drained. A shot of espresso aided her through two and a half hours of questions and answers, and she was able to sit down at her desk before she crashed. She had collected data earlier in the week, so she would be able to spend the rest of the day manipulating and plotting the information and theoretical models.
She almost wished that she switched it up. Although most of her information was collected via satellite, she actually enjoyed going to the observatory and handling the telescopes. With grant money, the department was able to purchase the best instruments on the market. One of the telescopes could also be found in the MEarth laboratory, but the feeling of being under the night sky viewing millions of years of history was priceless.
Following the usual procrastinator’s schedule, she began the day going through her school e-mail account, though she wasn’t expecting anything important. She opened an email with the subject, “Important Announcement.”
“
Columbia University in the city of New York invites applications for the new Columbia Prize Postdoctoral Fellowship in the Natural Sciences,” she read aloud. “The program seeks to bring exceptional scientists of outstanding potential to Columbia University to produce high quality and visible research. In this inaugural year, the Faculty of Arts and Sciences is pleased to search for outstanding candidates from the fields of Astronomy/Astrophysics and Global Change Biology to begin the Fellowship the following academic year.”
It was a two-year fellowship, but would be renewable for a third year if the Fellow’s performance was satisfactory and funding was available.
“
The Fellow will hold the rank of postdoctoral research scientist in either the Department of Astronomy or the Department of Astrobiology. A competitive annual salary will be supplemented by funding to support travel and research!”
She would be able to travel and have a link to her website on her academic profile page. Jonathan told her about the fellowship a few months ago; his research brought in the funding. She had already prepared her application; she just needed his recommendation letter. She was supposed to pick it up from him the next day. Maybe she could check in on his progress now and wish him a happy birthday. The nice gesture may move him to sprinkle a bit of last minute sweetener on the letter.
She checked his calendar. He was at Pupin Hall preparing for the stargazing event he was hosting on Friday. Though he had only begun his position as head of the Department of Exoplanetary Science and Astrobiology that semester, he was already a board favorite and loved by the students. He was raised in New Jersey, but acquired a PhD and a slight British accent from Cambridge. With his ability to navigate political academia, he made for the perfect reference.
This fellowship would be her saving grace. Unlike most of her classmates, Memphis didn’t study physics or abstract mathematics; her undergraduate career was spent in biology labs. The ability to map and explain in detail the human nervous system didn’t make for good conversation at a table full of astronomers. The fact that it was the oldest science gave them cause to look down at lowly biologists; stars were much older than stinking humans. That was their attitude until she mentioned her position within the Exoplanetary Science and Astrobiology department. This turned more heads than Blake Lively in skinny jeans. Combining sciences made one a rock star in academia.
Only around 175 American universities offered astronomy as a degree on the undergraduate level, and around sixty offered study on the graduate level, so each university reaped a new crop of graduates, and competition increased for the few faculty and research positions available. A PhD was generally required to work in the field. Only those students with strong undergraduate backgrounds in physics, math, and computer science were usually able to cut it at the graduate level. Close associations with professors during undergraduate and graduate work were vital if one wanted to attain a position in the field. The hours were long, and there was a lot of number crunching and grading papers and tests, but she loved the work and the people she worked with.
Working in the Exoplanetary Science and Astrobiology department gave her a competitive edge, especially because it was run under a beloved and admired faculty member. His research alone brought in several million dollars in grants. Memphis was only happy to ride his coattails, at least until she could get a pair of her own. The research itself was extremely fascinating: discovering and characterizing planets around stars and their formations, histories, and properties; and finding planets that might have life and detecting it. She was responsible for making sure the other students knew the detection methods and properties of known exoplanets. They used gravitational microlensing to find the extrasolar planets. She and Jonathan recently published a paper on the formation and evolution of terrestrial planets in protoplanetary and debris disks.
She was now focusing on the constellations and the formation and habitability of extra solar planets in multiple star systems, exploring exoplanet habitats, and looking for life signs and if the life on the exoplanets was as affected by their moons as humans were on Earth.
Though fellow aspiring astronomers were grudgingly impressed by her work, laymen were simply blown away whenever she discussed her research, especially at bars. Her Orphan Annie/Mistress of the Universe vibe seemed to appeal to men.
Memphis grew up in foster care; her parents abandoned her at the age of six. She never knew why. Her foster mother often said it was because of her “ugly mug,” so Memphis stopped looking in the mirror and began looking into books instead. She became a star student and received a full scholarship to NYU, and now she might be able to benefit financially at Columbia. Any parent would be proud of a child like her; too bad she had none. But what she lacked in family, she made up for in admirers—though she was completely oblivious to the attention and often went home alone.
She had no idea that she fascinated them. She was smart and beautiful. Once they discovered her profession, they were hooked. They would ask her numerous questions, most of which were inane but some were insightful. She would spend most of her time telling them what astronomers didn’t do versus what they did: astronomers did not identify UFOs; they had not seen God; and no, sorry, no Martians as Facebook friends.
With each question, her dating pool dwindled, which was another reason she fell into bed with her professor. He was smart, handsome, and never looked at her like she was a charity case. He saw her for who she was. Maybe if he saw her again, he would remember the reason why they became involved. She reapplied her lip gloss and grabbed her purse before leaving to find him.
As nervous as an actress at a casting call, she recited her lines as she walked. She was determined not to look like a desperate ex-lover who pretended to be helpless in order to maintain contact. They worked together; they would be colleagues one day. This was a professional visit.
She walked into the empty and dark room. She glanced at her watch; Jonathan still had to be there. He’d blocked off two hours in his calendar; he was surgical when adding and deleting events in his calendar. She felt the pain as he deftly cut their weekly lunches out of his schedule.
God, she really could have used a cigarette. It had been acting as a pain medication since her removal from his bed and his daily activities. She suddenly felt a slight pressure in her temples. As she turned to leave, she noticed a light in the corner. She didn’t know the auditorium had a closet or backroom. She walked down the stairs, and the pressure in her temples increased with each step. She should have just gone back to her desk to take some aspirin, but the pain must have caused a disconnection from her body because she continued to walk to the door.
She heard a muffled moan. A man’s moan—more specifically, Jonathan’s. He loved his work, but she never heard him moan in ecstasy while searching for exoplanets. He did jump up and down a bit when the department received new equipment, but moaning was regulated to the bedroom and sometimes his office, if he was able to schedule it.
She did not want to catch him in the middle of whatever he was doing alone. She opened her mouth to call out to him, but another moan interrupted her. This time it wasn’t Jonathan’s, but it did sound like a man’s. Chills raced up her spine.
Please tell me he is having a nooner with a girl who has a cold.
The breaks on her feet didn’t seem to be working. Before she knew it, she was at the doorway watching a scene from a really bad gay porn movie. Jonathan was receiving a blowjob from an…angel? The worker had a golden mop of curls that spanned above his head like a halo.
“
Jonathan?” she managed to squeak.
“
Yes, baby,” he replied with his eyes closed.
The dirty celestial being stopped servicing Jonathan and turned to look at her. It was Troy, a transfer student from London. He took her prime mid-afternoon study sessions; now he was taking over her other…duties.
“
Um, that wasn’t me, sir. We seem to have an audience,” he drawled.
Jonathan’s eyes popped open and widened in shock when he saw Memphis standing at the door.
“
Memy! What—what are you doing here? I didn’t put you in my calendar this afternoon,” he stammered as he pulled up his pants and fumbled with his belt buckle.
“
Yes, and I see why. You have your hands full.” Full of Troy’s ringlets. She backed out of the room with her hands up like a newly released hostage.
BOOK: Written in the Sky* Rise of the Wadjet Witch
6.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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