Peter

  Peter was glad when he finally dropped Mac at his shop.

  He contemplated going to Ralph’s or Priscilla’s. The choice was easy. He headed in the direction of Priscilla’s house.

  He felt his phone ring In his pocket. He brought it out to see who it was. Surprisingly, it was his mom’s doctor. He gave her his contact during his mom’s days in the hospital for her to call him if there was an emergency when he was at school or home. He was bewildered. He never thought he would hear from her ever again.

  “Good afternoon, Dr. Ryan.”

  “Afternoon, Mr. Ben. I’m glad to hear your voice again. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I am fine.”

  “Can you come by my office today?”

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, surprised.

  “Not really. I have something quite important to show you.”

  “Okay, ma’am. I will be there soon enough.”

  “I will be expecting you.”

  He hung up the call and made a U-turn in the direction of the hospital. He had no idea what it was, but he was quite curious what it could be.

  He pulled up In the hospital parking lot and stepped out of the car. He walked to the entrance and waited there for a moment, trying to repel some memories he’d tried so hard to forget from flooding his brain again.

  He finally summoned the courage and walked in. He was hit with the familiar amalgam of smells which always tightened his stomach. It was déjà vu staring at the bright white walls, plug-ins for equipment, fluorescent lights. A big television set was playing in the corner of the waiting room to keep the awaiting patients’ minds off their pain while they waited.

  He already knew his way around the hospital, so he navigated his way to her office quite easily. Her old crone of a medical secretary still recognized him from the time he spent in the hospital.

  “Good morning, ma’am.”

  “Morning.”

  “I’m here to see Dr. Ryan.”

  “Go in. She asked me to send you in immediately. She’s been waiting for you.”

  He met her scribbling into a note when he walked into her office.

  She made a hand gesture for him to sit down, which he did. He watched her as she wrote in the note. She was a woman in her late forties, with a strict expression. Her flaxen hair was the most distinctive feature about her and a brow that always furrowed.

  She also received his fair share of hatred when his mom died, which subsidized with time and realization it was never her fault. Part of him still thought it was.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Ben,” she said in her rich baritone voice after closing the note she was scribbling in.

  “Afternoon, Dr. Ryan.”

  “It’s very important I get to the point immediately to prevent wasting your time.”

  She pulled out a folder from her drawer and handed it to him.

  “Do you remember the type of cancer I told you your mom had?”

  “No, you never did.”

  “That is because we never knew.”

  “What do you mean you never knew?”

  “That is your mom’s history of her annual medical checkup. She was very healthy. Perhaps the healthiest patient I had. There was never a detection of abnormal cell growth in her body. Some cancers can be present for months or years before they’re detected. Most commonly undetected cancers are slow-growing conditions, which gives doctors a better chance at successful treatment. It was quite the reverse in your mom’s case. Despite the annual medical checkup, we couldn’t detect anything. By the time we did, it was so rapid. I’ve never seen anything like that before. It scared me.”

  He stared at the folder she handed to him, but he couldn’t deduce much from the asemic writings of doctors, nor could he understand a bit from what she had said.

  “So, did you later discover what type of cancer it was?” he asked.

  “No, we didn’t. It showed almost all signs of cancer that exist. It was so hard to keep up with it,” she replied.

  He was getting impatient. What was she getting at?

  “You think it’s not cancer?” he asked.

  “Or what’s so important I had to know again after she’s dead?”

  “Calm down, Peter,” she said, staring at him under her spectacles.

  “I never said that.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  She sighed.

  “I think it’s either a new type of cancer or a poison. Some poisons are known to alter the DNA of the cell, hence giving off cancer-like symptoms.”

  Both sounded preposterous.

  “Poison, what do you mean poison? Who’d poison her?”

  “If you would just calm down and listen to me, Peter.”

  “And why didn’t I know this earlier? Why does it have to be now, when I was finally making peace with my reality? You had to drag me down here. You couldn’t make peace with the reality of failing your most trusted patient. You had to come up with a delusion to keep you at peace.”

  “I’m sorry I did not contact you earlier, and I admit my timing was bad. But it goes both ways. I couldn’t tell you this when you were still mourning. You have to try to see it from my perspective too. Besides, I had to be sure of what I wanted to tell you.”

  “So you are sure it’s poison or a new type of cancer?”

  “I’m not entirely sure.”

  “So why are you telling me?”

  “Because you deserve to know if it turns out to be true. If you would just trust me.”

  “Someone trusted you and ended up dead.”

  She sighed again.

  “After your mom died, I continued making research about what went wrong. With the help of my friend from India, Prof. Khan, I was able to make some progress. We came to a conclusion that it could be either one of the aforementioned two: a genetic-enhancing poison or a new type of cancer. Of course, the former seems a bit unlikely. There was no way your mom could be poisoned, so it’s likely the latter, which brings me back to you.”

  “Me?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Some cancers are genetic. And you could easily be exposed to whatever she was also exposed to.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Now he understood her.

  “So you think I could also be diagnosed with it in the future?”

  “If you don’t have it already lying dormant and asymptomatic.”

  “So what will you do?”

  “I’d suggest a genetic testing for cancer risk. It is useful for people with certain types of cancer that seem to run in their families, but these tests aren’t recommended for everyone. But in your case, it’s the only way to know.”

  “If you were unable to detect my mom’s for almost half a decade, what is the possibility for your success now? And you said it’s not recommended, which means it carries some certain risk. Why should I trust you and take that risk?”

  “It’s a valid question, but I assure you this time I know what I’m looking for with the help of Prof. Rohit.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “You wouldn’t understand. Step into the CT and let me worry about that.”

  “Can we do it today and get it over with?”

  “I would love to. Since we are scanning your whole body, take off some or all of your clothing and wear a hospital gown. Remove metal objects, such as a belt, jewelry, and dentures, which might interfere with image results.”

  He was shown to a changing room, which he swiftly changed into a hospital robe. He realized he grew more anxious with every minute that went by. He suddenly became cold and nauseous. He had been so angry he didn’t think of this. What if he was diagnosed with cancer?

  He entered the room to see the unmissable CT scanner with its big doughnut-like size. He was asked to lie on a table that slid into the doughnut hole the technologist called a gantry.

  A technologist positioned him lying on his back on the table, with pillows and straps to keep him in position and make him comfortable. A brace was also used to keep his head still.

  “During the actual scanning, motion will degrade the quality of the final images the same way that it affects photographs, so you will need to try and keep as still as you can,” the technologist said.

  “Your mom told me you often get claustrophobic. May I administer you with a mild sedative to help you tolerate the procedure?” Dr. Ryan asked.

  “Yes please,” he replied.

  He get claustrophobic rather easily too.

  He felt a slight pinprick as the needle was inserted into his vein. He felt a warm, flushed sensation during the injection from the contrast materials.

  He woke up back on the table but outside the machine. It didn’t feel like he had any sleep. The intern was removing straps he was tied with.

  “Are you done?” he said.

  “Erm… yeah, I am.”

  “Great,” he said, standing up.

  “Where is Dr. Ryan?” he asked.

  “In her office. She said you should come to her office when you are awake.”

  “I was also asked to tell you to take a lot of water to help wash the contrast materials out from your kidney.”

  He walked into the changing room to shed off the hospital gown and into his clothes. He headed to her office and stepped in with his heart in his mouth.

  “Have a seat, Peter,” she said with a worried voice.

  He sat down.

  “So what was the result?”

  She sighed.

  “You can tell me,” he said.

  “The result came back negative. You are not cancerous,” she said.

  He heaved a huge sigh of relief.

  “So why do you look worried?”

  “I discovered some strange apparition in your chromosomes which I couldn’t explain.”

  “What do you mean strange apparition?”

  “Your chromosomes are moving strangely.”

  He still had no idea what she was talking about, so he asked the all-important question.

  “Does it mean a possibility of cancer?” he asked.

  “Fortunately, no, it doesn’t.”

  “But I will have to keep tabs on you. I wouldn’t make the same mistake I did with your mom. Can you be here for a checkup every month interval?”

  “There’s no reason not to be here.”

  “What about your dad? Where is he? Shouldn’t he know?”

  “He is in Poland. There’s no need. I doubt he cares about that.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay.”

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  “Is there any particular drug or strange drug your mom uses I should know about?”

  “Are you accusing her of abusing drugs?”

  “Gosh, no!”

  “I didn’t mean it that way, Mr. Ben.”

  “I meant she could be using a drug she was unaware of its harm and side effects.”

  “I thought you prescribed all her drugs for her.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Dr. Ryan was silent, deep in thoughts.

  “I guess I can leave then.”

  “You drove here?” she asked.

  “Well, yeah,” he replied.

  “Then I’m afraid you can’t,” she said.

  “Why?” he asked, bewildered.

  “In circumstances where you were put under sedation, you can’t drive yourself. You have to be driven home. The sedating fluid most often than not causes drowsiness.”

  “I think I can do that myself.”

  “That is a risk I’m not willing to take.”

  “So how do you suggest I get home?” he asked, puzzled.

  “I would have Claire drive you home.”

  “Mrs. Ova, send Claire in,” she said to the intercom.

  “Who’s Claire?”

  “My intern.”

  The earlier girl walked in. She had packed her hair and he could see her face now. He was right. She was a bit taller than an average lady, and quite good looking.

  He sighed.

  “Sure. How bad can it be?” he muttered.

  They walked out to the parking lot. She had shed off her white lab coat. The clothes she was wearing were quite casual

  “How will you get back? My house is pretty far from here,” he said.

  “I will figure that out,” she replied gladly.

  He pressed a button on his key and the car beeped as it unlocked.

  “Cool ride!” she exclaimed. “Audi Q5?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  His mom bought it for him as a birthday gift when he turned 16. It was really special to him.

  “I don’t know how well you can drive and wouldn’t want a single scratch on it. Its bodywork is quite expensive. How about we pretend you drove, but I will actually drive?”

  “Ryan wasn’t joking when she said you would be drowsy. I can drive really well, I’m sure I can manage yours.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He threw her the keys.

  She caught them mid-air.

  She reversed so smoothly out of the parking lot he knew she really did know how to drive. He was a bit relieved. He didn’t want her to damage the car body, despite knowing he would make Dr. Ryan pay for the damages if she did.

  “Are you from here?” she asked.

  “Obviously,” he replied.

  “Where do you go to school?”

  “A senior at Forcados High School.”

  “You are a high schooler?” she asked, surprised.

  “Yeah. What about you?” he asked.

  “Are you from here?”

  “I graduated from Gangslow High School but went upstate for med school. I recently started my internship.”

  “What level?”

  “Second year,” she replied.

  “Hmmm.”

  “You can pull up over there,” he said.

  She pulled up in front of his house.

  “My name is Claire Wellington,” she said.

  He knew what she was doing.

  “My name is Peter Ben.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Do you know a perfect coffee spot?”

  Campus café was for students only. He couldn’t recommend it.

  “I have never been to Iliac Café, but I heard it’s a cool and calm spot to grab a cup of hot coffee.”

  “Will you accompany me there?”

  “Don’t push your luck,” he said, stepping out of the car.

  “It was worth a try,” she replied, also stepping out.

  “Rejecting an offer of coffee from someone you just met is a bit rude.”

  “I’m a busy man.”

  “You are in high school.”

  He rolled his eyes but didn’t answer her.

  “Have you yet figured out how you will get back?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied, apparently glad he was showing interest in how she would get back.

  She handed him the keys to his car and brought out her phone.

  “I need you to come and pick me up.

  “Are you far from here?”

  “Just a bit?”

  “Okay, I will wait. Please hurry up.”

  “I will text you the address again to avoid mixup.”

  She hung up.

  “Got a ride already?” Peter asked.

  “Our family driver. He’s coming to pick me up.”

  “How long will it take your driver to get here?”

  “Probably twenty minutes or more.”

  “Do you plan to wait for him?”

  “Yeah.”

  He stared at her. He knew he would probably regret this, but he couldn’t have her wait outside when she went out of her way to drive him here.

  “Why don’t you join me inside? You can have the coffee you wanted while you wait.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Sure, why not?” he replied.

  “Wouldn’t I be pushing my luck too far?”

  “Yeah, very funny,” he replied.

  He headed inside as she tagged along behind him. He unlocked the door and walked inside as she did the same.

  “Wow. You have such a lovely home.”

  “Thanks.”

  She settled on the couch not so far from slumbering Lucy and crossed her legs. He sat on another a bit far from her. He checked the time to calculate the estimated time she would spend here.

  “The coffee,” she said.

  “Oh yeah,” he said.

  He trotted to the kitchen to make her a cup of coffee. He came back sooner rather than later holding two cups of coffee. He handed her a cup and held on to one as he settled down beside her.

  He watched her take a sip.

  “Hmmm.”

  “How does it taste?” he asked.

  “I’ve had worse,” she replied.

  “Fair enough.”

  “Come on, I was joking. You are so uptight,” she said with a smile.

  “I’d like to keep it that way,” he replied.

  “Turn on the TV. We can watch something on Netflix to while away the time,” she said.

  “Don’t get too comfortable. Your driver will be here soon,” he replied.

  “What type of host tells his guest not to be comfortable?” she said as she tried to stroke Lucy, who rebuffed her.

  He ignored her rhetorical question.

  He was taken aback at her sudden jerk . All it took was to see Lucy running away and her bleeding finger to know what happened.

  “She scratched me,” she said, holding her finger out to him as blood trickled down her hand.

  “Because you wouldn’t let her be,” he replied.

  “I wanted to play with her.”

  “She’s not a toy. She clearly wasn’t interested in playing with you.”

  “It hurts.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby. It’s just a little scratch,” he replied, examining her finger.

  He went in to grab the first aid kit and came back holding a bottle of methylated spirit and some cotton wool.

  “This might sting a bit,” he said before applying the spirit-soaked cotton to her finger.

  She held on to him and flinched in pain.

  “Next time let a sleeping cat lie,” he said, applying a little bandage on her finger.

  He finished dressing up her finger. There was a moment of silence between them.

  “There is a car honking outside,” he said.

  She looked a bit disappointed but stood up after taking a few seconds to recover herself.

  He walked her outside the door.

  “Thank you for allowing me to wait inside your house.”

  “Thanks for driving me home. I very much appreciate it.”

  “You are welcome,” she replied. She was back to her ebullient self.

  She walked to the car waiting for her outside. A middle-aged man was waiting by it. He could hear her talking to him about taking so long. She waved at him, which he returned before the car drove away.

  He walked back Inside, bolting the door behind him before going to clean the earlier mess.