“It’s a great picture, as you know. I’ve seen it in magazines, next to interviews of you. But I was hoping for something a little more candid.”
“Candid? I can do that.” The offer was made too quickly, which made me suspicious.
“Let me be clear. No pictures of you in a lab coat or at work. Or at school. Or doing anything for your charities.”
She made a sound between a huff and a growl. “Those are the only pictures I have of myself.”
I bit back a laugh, covering my eyes with my free hand. “God, Mona. I mean candid like, send me a photo of you, taken right that minute.”
“Right that minute?”
“Yes. What are you doing now?”
“Uh, about to take a shower.”
My smile vanished. I opened my eyes, my brain stuttered, and the hoarseness of my words had nothing to do with needing to rest my voice. “That’ll do.”
“Abram.” She made another growling sound. “I can’t send you those kinds of photos.”
“What kind?”
“You know, me in just a towel.”
“I don’t need you to be in just a towel. If you don’t feel comfortable sending a particular photo, definitely don’t send it. I’m not trying to get you to do something you don’t want to do. I want to see your smile, your real smile, not something your graduate program uses for promotional purposes.”
“Fine. Then candid pictures of me. I can’t send those.” Her tone had me straightening, she sounded almost hostile.
“Why?” I asked softly, wanting her to know that I wasn’t trying to push her, I just honestly wanted to know. “What am I missing?”
Mona sucked in an audible breath. “I’ve worked hard for my reputation. I’ve been so careful. I’ve never done anything that might jeopardize me being taken seriously.”
She was solemn, severe. She sounded like a different person. Her voice was deeper, held a hint of dry antagonism, like she dared me to challenge her. I wasn’t put off, but I was confused. It was a side of Mona I’d never seen in person, but one I’d witnessed last year when she’d given her testimony to congress. Basically, she sounded superior and aloof.
I waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, I asked, “Am I asking you to do something that might jeopardize you being taken seriously?”
“Yes.” Now sadness entered her voice, unmistakable melancholy, and my throat tightened in response. “Abram, this world I live in, it is an intellectual world, but it is not enlightened. Women are not seen as equals, young women in particular. And if you’re at all attractive, it’s an impediment. I’ve been called a distraction. Do you know what that’s like? I’ve been called emotional when I raised my voice to match that of my male colleagues, I’ve been called bitchy and conceited and judgmental for recognizing my own intelligence, and not just by men.”