“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He always falls for distraction mixed with guilt. “The assistant from Senator Russo’s office emailed a minute ago. Apparently if I go right now to DC, I can meet him and someone from the NIH this afternoon.” His tone is dismissive as he shakes his head. “And this meeting is now a prerequisite before they’ll even consider my funding. And if I don’t go to this meeting I will now have to wait until September for anything to happen because the senator is off for summer recess. Feels like they’re trying to create a situation where I’m the one who can’t make it. I’m not even sure a senator is allowed to get involved in NIH funding.”

“There’s no way you can get there?” As much as I’ve been avoiding information myself, I don’t want his pride to be the reason he doesn’t find out something important.

He checks the time. “If I go right now to the airport, I guess I could be down there in time for a late afternoon meeting and then back home for bed.” He thinks doing this would be kind of absurd, though. I can feel it. Insulting to snap to it because they’ve told him to. But hesitation is also tugging at him like he is afraid of something slipping through his fingers.

“But maybe you should go?” I ask. Because that seems to be the way he feels.

“There are other ways to get the research funded, Wylie.” He frowns as he stares at the floor. Then he nods. “But I suppose I should go, yes. I’ve never been willing to play this politics game, which is probably why it’s taken me so long to get my research this far. But it’s too important now not to be willing to put up with some politics.”

And I know what he means by “now.” He means with me so directly involved.

I nod. “Then you should go.” Though I feel a deep pang of regret once I’ve said it out loud. I just wish I knew what it was exactly that I regretted.

“I don’t want to leave you here.” He motions to the box. “Doing this.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, and while this does not feel entirely true, it also does not feel like a complete lie. It’s a reason for him to go—a good one. He should take it. It’s bad enough that I’ve put him through this whole thing with the file when I’m not even entirely sure why I’m doing it. “I’m supposed to see Jasper when I’m done anyway. I promised him I’d come by his place. I can walk from here.”

“Oh,” my dad says, failing to hide his concern. “‘Promised’ sounds serious.”