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The next week crawled by, despite a flurry of emotions—the first of which was monumental regret. Holly had booked an Uber to take me home. Only once I was back did I realize I had failed to get her number. I also had no idea what her address had been. No trace of her on social media. Even a thorough Google search brought up nothing. She was a ghost.
I figured it must have been because of the secretive nature of her work. This realization only served to drive home the point that I had been introduced to a secret world. One that I was technically now a part of, but I had no way back in. My only point of contact was Holly. I spent the next week hoping she would magically show up. That’s how it happened in all the stories. But she never did.
I was sitting on the couch trying to distract myself with video games. I felt like a person eating because they are bored, not hungry. I just wanted time to pass me by.
“Dude, you’ve been moping since last weekend,” Tom said.
He had just sat down with a plate of nachos. He reflectively pulled them away and put a hand around them defensively as I glanced over.
“I was hoping she would have contacted me by now,” I answered sullenly.
“Ah, your mystery girl from the club? I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.”
He’d attempted to casually bring the subject up a few times, but I had shot him down at every turn. I knew it must be killing him. He wanted to hear all about it, but my own failure to ensure a follow-up ruined my mood every time I thought about that night.
I sighed. No use trying to cover for my failure anymore. I might as well indulge him. But only for a price.
“Nachos for the story?” I offered.
“I just made these! Can’t you make your own?”
“I suppose I can.” I turned away from him and back to the game.
It was his turn to sigh.
“Here.” He offered me the plate.
I reached to take it, but he refused to let go.
“What? No! You can have a few, not the whole thing!” He jerked the plate out of my grasp.
“I think this story is worth the whole plate,” I countered.
I could see his curiosity warring with hunger (and perhaps pride, at the idea of giving up all the hard work he’d put into perfecting his snack).
“Besides, when I make food I usually make enough for you, too,” I said.
“Yeah, cause it’s the food that I bought!”
“Wow!” I mocked indignation at his accusation.
“Fine, sorry.” He handed me the plate in resignation.
I scooped a chip piled high with chili, jalapeños, and Queso cheese. I made sure to make copious eye contact with Tom as I crunched down onto the overlarge morsel. Delicious.
“What can I say? I make great nachos,” he said smugly.
“Tastes like victory,” I responded.
“Whatever, you owe me!”
That I did.
“I’m sure you noticed my absence the following morning,” I started off.
“Sure. Much like one misses a lamp, or some other ever-present fixture. So when it’s missing you know something’s off, but you can’t quite figure out what it is till you need it again.”
“Ouch. Tell me how you really feel.” This time I didn’t have to fake my offense.
“You stole my nachos.” He glared back.
My next bite was done in bitter defiance.
“Anyway,” I continued, “I went home with Holly.”
“Your doctor?” he asked me incredulously.
“Yeah.” It only now just struck me that this could be seen as inappropriate.
“Dude! Nice!” Tom punched my arm. “I didn’t get a good look at her. You guys were pretty far away and it was dark, but she definitely looked like a ten!” All moral implications were lost on him.
“Right. Well, that night…” I trailed off.
“That night?” He nodded encouragingly.
“You know.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Was that your first time?”
I nodded. I knew I was probably blushing, but I also couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear. I dug into the nachos to try to distract myself.
“You owe me details.” He stared pointedly at the plate in my hands.
“I don’t know man. It was good. No—great!”
“I’ll bet.”
“But I don’t really have anything to compare it too. Besides, I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”
“Right, right. A gentleman never kisses and tells. Whatever, I get it.” He waved away my justification. “Is that why you’ve been so depressed? Has she not answered your calls?”
“Yeah, that’s the thing. I sorta’ forgot to get her number,” I mumbled.
“What?” Tom stared at me dumbly. “How?”
“I don’t know, man. The next morning we talked about the virus. You know, source of my superpower thing? So I got distracted. I didn’t think about it until after I got back,” I answered defensively.
“Give me the nachos back.” He demanded.
“What?”
“You don’t deserve them.” He snatched the plate back. “Fails to get the number of the first woman he ever sleeps with,” he grumbled to himself.
I sighed and sat back into the couch. I contemplated telling Tom more about the virus itself. The nature of its origins. But no, that had been told to me in confidence. Besides, now I was craving nachos. I got up to make some more instead.
School was mostly busy-work, getting ready for Thanksgiving break. A few classes assigned homework over the break, much to the general grumbling of the masses. I didn’t object. It would give me something, however brief, to take my mind off Holly and the cure.
Finally I finished my last projects and took my last classes before Thanksgiving break. I really needed it. To take time away from school, Tom, my new abilities, even my feelings for Holly. Though, I was sure they would follow me home. Tom offered to drive me home, but I knew he was going to visit his family, and the airport was in the opposite direction. He was rather insistent, claiming I must be ashamed to have him as a friend as I’d never brought him home to meet the family.
Obviously, I’d never be ashamed to have Tom as a friend, but there was some small kernel of truth to his words. I knew my parents didn’t like him. He was the one who had agreed with me when I had refused treatment despite their pleading. They felt he was my ally in rebellion against them.
I was eventually able to dissuade him. My bus companions almost made me think I’d made the wrong decision. I sat in the back and spent the hour-and-a-half ride contemplating what I would say to my parents. I was allowed to share with them I had been part of an experimental cure, but not about what it had done to me. I figured it would be easier to do that in person than over the phone. I probably wouldn’t tell them I was cured completely, but maybe that I was well on the way. I debated what to say, running through hypothetical conversations.
The bus dropped me off over a mile away from my house. I quickly found an Uber from there to my childhood home. We pulled into my old neighborhood. All the trees had grown up much larger than when we had tried to climb them. The houses were also showing their age. Some had been repainted and had new roofs, but far more still needed them.
I remembered playing games outside all summer long with the other kids my age. We had epic snowball fights in the winter. Much simpler times. I couldn’t tell if everyone had grown up the same way and there just weren’t many young families around anymore, or if their kids just stayed inside and played videogames nowadays instead of the outdoor adventures we always had. Changing times.
The driver stopped in front of my house and wished me farewell. I put my backpack on and dragged my suitcase behind me, its wheels protesting the rough driveway that had never been repaved. What had once represented a looming fortress, my home base of operations, now stood as a modest, two-story house. The blue paint was fading and a few shingles were missing. I smirked at the dent in the garage door. My sister and I had crashed into it racing home on our bikes.
I knocked on the front door. I don’t know why; I should have just entered. But I wanted more time. I still wasn’t ready to confront my family, even though I was bringing them nothing but good news. Luckily, my younger sister opened the door. A moment of confusion, and then a smile lit her whole face.
“Ryan!” she exclaimed before leaping forward.
I caught her easily.
“Woah there!” I took a step back to keep her from slamming into me too hard.
“Sorry!” she apologized quickly before hugging me tight.
Emalee was a slight thing, over half a foot shorter than me, with auburn hair and a shy smile. I knew she must be starting to get attention from the boys, but to me she would always be my baby sister.
“Here, you’re looking bigger and stronger, why don’t you take my bag?” I swung my backpack off my shoulder and tossed it at her.
She caught it with a harrumph.
“Always putting me to work,” she grumbled.
“Ha! What else are little sisters good for?” I smiled back at her.
The entryway led directly into a small foyer connected to an informal dining room and tidy kitchen. To the left of the kitchen was the formal dining, but I didn’t see anyone else immediately on entering. We moved through the kitchen and turned right, Emalee ran eagerly ahead, likely trying to dump off my backpack as quickly as possible. I followed behind hesitantly, each room representing another opportunity for a parental ambush. Each empty room was a small victory but made the anticipation that much worse.
We moved through the living room, the master bedroom just beyond. I eyed the closed door.
“Mom and dad not here?” I asked hesitantly.
“No, they’re out doing some last minute-shopping. I guess we didn’t have enough parsley or rosemary or some such. We’re hosting this year, so mom wants everything to be perfect. You know how she is.” Emalee rolled her eyes as she bound up the stairs.
“Oh.” Relief quickly gave way to dismay.
I hadn’t been in contact with the family, so I hadn’t known it was our turn to host Thanksgiving this year. Instead of facing my immediate family, everyone would be here. There would be no easy escape, no leaving early for homework or whatever excuse I could come up with. Trapped in my own house.
“Don’t worry,” Emalee reassured me, “they’ll just be happy you are here.”
My face betrayed me. She knew the relationship was strained, but I didn’t know how much she knew. It appeared our parents had wanted to spare her from the extent of our arguing.
Upstairs we walked past the office and bathroom and, down the hall—my room was on the right and hers on the left. I felt like a giant walking the halls that had once allowed room for running free. I knew my old room and bed would feel much more cramped than I remembered growing up.
“I made your bed in case you were coming!” Emalee exclaimed excitedly.
I couldn’t help but smile, until she tossed my backpack onto my newly made bed and it bounced off the edge onto the floor.
“Hey! My laptop is in there!”
I rescued the poor thing and set it on the bed. I propped my suitcase next to it.
“Sorry!” She didn’t sound sorry at all that time.
“You’ll never guess what dad got!” She stood in the doorway practically bouncing from one foot to the other.
“What?” I had no idea.
“Follow me!” She grinned mischievously before taking off back through the house, her job as pack mule done.
She ran down the hall, back downstairs, and to the sliding glass door that led to our backyard. I followed more slowly, trying to figure out what new object our dad had gotten that would have her so worked up.
“Did he put a fence in?” I mused aloud.
It seemed like everyone had a fence now. Growing up we had run freely through everyone’s backyard. Most of our games wouldn’t even be possible anymore with how fenced off the world was now. Everyone in their neat little boxes, only interacting with the outside world through smaller, electronic ones.
Emalee had ignored me and opened the door; a chill gust blew through the opening.
“Rusty!” she called.
A golden retriever came trotting through the opening, perked ears and tail wagging prominently.
“What?! Seriously? We had to fight for years just to get a cat!”
Watching that golden-coated dog come through the door, into our house, was like watching an alien walk in and having the family greet it nonchalantly.
My sister and Rusty had engaged in a display of affection that would put most people to shame. She looked up at me with an impish smile.
“Guess they already replaced you,” she stated.
“Ouch. Wow. My own baby sister.” I placed a hand over my heart and stepped back.
Remorse immediately recolored her face.
“No…” I held a hand up. “Since you shared this, quite frankly unbelievable revelation with me, I have something for you too.” I hesitated a second, unsure how to proceed.
“What?”
Emalee cocked her head quizzically. Her hands stopped their vigorous petting, fingers interlocked in Rusty’s fur.
“I… am in a trial… for an experimental cure. And all signs are positive, so far,” I slowly stated.
I still wasn’t sure what to say to my family, or how the conversation would go, but I figured this would be the best way. Build up a little hope, let them get excited. I would be around for a while now—no need to drop the “cure bomb” on them right away and have to answer questions for which I had no good explanation. At least, none I was allowed to give. Better for them to think I was being treated, that it was a process. Then, maybe for Christmas, my cancer could be in remission. By summer, completely cured. All normal progression.
“Ryan!” she practically squealed and jumped up from petting Rusty.
She threw herself at me. Rusty danced around both of us excitedly, undoubtedly unsure of what was happening but just happy to be a part of it.