A New Day, a New Life
I awoke to banging sounds coming from the kitchen. The clamor that broke my sleep was immediately followed by an acute pang in my stomach—starving again. Had I even used the bathroom yet? Couldn’t remember. These sensations served to remind me yesterday wasn’t a dream. I really was cured.
“Oh good, you’re up. Did we get robbed or something? I know we ate some last night, but there doesn't seem to be any food left in this place,” Tom said as he poked his head through my bedroom doorway.
I just sat up and shrugged.
He shook his head and returned to the kitchen to continue his search. A few more cupboards slammed, and the fridge must have opened and closed at least five times. I wandered out just in time to see him give up.
“I guess I’ll just go shopping with the twins later,” he stated.
My face gave me away, and he burst out laughing.
“Nah man, they’re not really twins, just sisters,” he confessed.
I shook my head.
“Sorority sisters, you sicko. Man, get your head outta the gutter. Not that I wouldn’t…” he mused.
“Don’t think the disclaimer was necessary. Everyone knows you’re a disgusting old man,” I retorted.
“I’m not really that old,” he countered.
“The disgusting part stands though!” I declared.
“Ha! Fair enough. Want to go get some food? I’m starving,” he said.
“Yeah, let me just go change quick,” I answered.
I was still in the clothes from last night. I gave myself a quick sniff as I walked down the hall. I could use a shower too, later.
“Speaking of disgusting!” he called after me.
A flashing light caught my eye as I entered my room. My phone was fully charged on my nightstand. I picked it up and contemplated calling home. I still needed to tell my parents about everything. At least tell them something. My stomach rumbled and chased away thoughts of anything other than food.
But then the time caught my eye—school! It was Monday and I was going to be late to class! I threw on a clean shirt with some fresh deodorant and called it good enough. I’d seen other people come to class worse. I was hurrying back, book bag in hand, when Tom caught me.
“What’s the rush?” he asked.
“Class! You know, that whole reason we pay money to be here? That thing you generally avoid?” I answered.
His blasé attitude was one I wished I could afford. But now that I was going to live through fall finals, I actually felt an urgency to study.
“Relax, man.” He placed a hand on my chest. “Are you really going to be able to concentrate on class if you don’t get some food in you first?”
He did have a point.
“I’m starving. Come get some breakfast with me first? I’ll pay,” he offered.
My stomach growled again. Sold.
“Yeah, ok. But something quick,” I acquiesced.
“What’s your excuse for missing class all the time?” I asked Tom as we headed to his car.
“Star athlete,” he replied.
“Does it ever bother you that you’re the living embodiment of a student athlete cliché?” “Not while it benefits me!” he replied with a short laugh.
“Whatever happened to your twins? They coming?” I hadn’t seen them leave the house.
“Despite what they’d have you believe from last night, they were a bit uptight about missing class. They actually left early this morning to get ready.”
I just rolled my eyes in response.
Tom’s car was a Jeep Wrangler. If I hadn’t known him personally I would have thought he had walked straight out of a nineties sitcom. All he was missing was long, slicked-back hair and a leather jacket.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
My stomach rumbled in response. Somewhere calorie dense for little money. My wallet wasn’t going to be able to keep up with my new eating habits.
“McDonald's is fine,” I replied.
There I could eat a lot without drawing attention to my new caloric intake. In fact, I would now probably fit in better with the regular patronage than before. Besides, the closest one was also on the way to school.
While I didn’t mind being a little late, I was not doing so well as to begin skipping classes entirely, especially if the cancer really was gone. The chemistry test this afternoon loomed large in my mind.
We drove on, listening to the old school rock station with the wind whipping past the soft top. The loud music and poor insulation made for difficult conversation, so I took the time to take stock of my symptoms. My vision and hearing were still wonky, but my body didn’t feel nearly as sore. Maybe by the time my appointment arrived on Friday things would be completely normal. I had a momentary feeling of regret I wouldn’t have more reason to be under Holly’s care. What if she needed to study me and these side effects in greater detail for later trials? I shook my head at the silliness of it all. Was I really hoping for lingering symptoms from an experimental treatment just so I would get to see a cute doctor some more?
The drive didn’t take long, and soon we were pulling up to the drive-through. Tom ordered and looked to me expectantly. I ordered half the menu. He raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t comment. I just mumbled I was planning on skipping lunch. Hopefully he didn’t think I was taking advantage of him.
I tried to justify it to myself. Twenty dollars of fast food had to be worth two girls, right? He probably wouldn’t have been able to close the deal if he’d taken them home to the disastrous state it was in before I cleaned everything. Conscience cleared, I finished half of my food before he had even parked at the school.
“Damn man, packing it away for winter?” He gave me a light gut-shot.
“Wow, working out too,” he said with a shake of his hand.
I laughed nervously and thanked him for the food and driving. A quick goodbye and on my way to class. I packed the leftovers into my backpack, to be eaten out of sight of him. I wasn’t about to actually save any for later and have cold McDonald's. Not sure even my newfound hunger was enough for that experience.
The sun shone down warmly on the short walk from the parking lot to my building. I basked in it for a moment, before realizing the few people around me seemed to be huddled into their jackets. The weather app on my phone revealed that it was actually quite a bit cooler today than it had been last week. A cold front had blown in over the weekend.
Maybe my body was better able to deal with the cold? I mentally chalked this up as another side effect. I needed to start writing down every abnormal feeling. A part of me realized I just might be trying to trick myself. All in an attempt to create more reasons for Holly to have to study me. Perhaps all the food in my belly was the source of my warmth, and the other students were transfers from a milder climate. I was getting inside my own head about this. It was probably starting to cause me to feel placebo affects. Regardless, I was very interested in the Doctor’s test results. An explanation, any explanation really, would be greatly appreciated.
Our little foray meant I was late to math class for the first time all year. The teacher eyed me as I shuffled to my seat but didn’t break stride in his lesson. There was no reason any of my teachers would have known I was undergoing an experimental treatment that weekend, and therefore I had no excuses to be late. But enough students showed up tardy, or skipped entirely, that they didn’t seem to care. It was our money, after all.
I sat at my desk and cracked open my notebook for only the third time this semester. My notes from previous classes were sparse, at best. I had figured I wouldn’t need them. I tried to decipher the few doodles that had numbers in them. Compared to the board? I could determine no relation. Dang.
Normally I spent class imagining conversations I would never have with Melissa, or of heroic situations if a shooter burst through the door. How daring I would be, saving everyone. She would instantly love me; I would have the perfect clever quip. I never failed to get the girl in my mind. My attempts to pay attention to class quickly failed, and I fell back into my familiar routine. Only this time, instead of Melissa, Holly was the center of my mind’s desires.
“Ryan!”
I looked up. The teacher was staring at me.
“Mind joining the rest of us back down here on planet Earth and solving the problem on the board?” he asked.
Ah shit. I felt my cheeks begin to burn. This was a new experience for me. Most of my teachers left me alone. He must have actually been mad that I was late.
I looked up at the board in desperation, hoping to find my salvation from this embarrassing situation. The room seemed to drop out of focus around me. The numbers and letters swirled on the blackboard, arranging and rearranging again. I fought back a feeling of dizziness as I watched them move. Past lessons echoed through my mind, faint memories. Like conversations passed by in the halls, words coming and going, each one causing the board to advance its strange dance. Finally, it all came to a halt, and I was left with an answer clear as day. Mr. Herman raised his eyebrows and made as if to continue addressing the class.
“42!” I spit out.
My response was met with an incredulous look from him and dead silence from the rest of the class. Half of them probably weren’t even aware of the little confrontation going on in the front of the class. I wasn’t the only one who spent most of the time spaced out.
“Care to show your work?” he asked in response.
“No thanks!” I blurted out before I could help myself.
That received mild chuckles from those still paying attention. I hadn’t meant to be glib, but I don’t think I could have showed my work if I wanted too. I still wasn’t even sure how I had come to the answer.
The professor gave me a short glare but let it drop.
He began working his way through the problem, explaining as he went. As he talked, I began to recall in more detail some of the lessons from days past—things that had only been background noise to my daydreaming before.
Had I subconsciously been paying attention? That didn’t seem to make sense. I could even recall other details as the lessons came back, what days they were on, what the weather had been like, what Melissa had been wearing. Maybe my chemistry by osmosis had worked too, I hoped.
“It seems Mr. Cooper had been paying attention after all. I hope the rest of you are actually taking notes too, and not just doodling in your notebooks.” He gave me a gracious nod and left me alone for the rest of class.
Which was a relief, because soon I was again lost in my own mind.
I spent the rest of the class period attempting to recall days of the past. It wasn’t exact, but if I could remember a detail around a time, I could work forwards or backwards and relive entire days, recalling conversations, events, and even entire lessons from other classes. Lessons long forgotten. Or more likely, never truly learned in the first place.
Or so I had thought.
I moved through the rest of the day on auto-pilot.
At each class, I attempted to re-create what had happened in math—minus being called out. Much to my surprise, it worked. What a relief! If I was truly cured, it would have sucked to subsequently fail every class and be forced to start all over.
Instead, I had no ground to make up. What’s more, learning new information seemed even easier than ever. In English class we were just supposed to read for the entire period—a major cop out on the teacher’s part, in my opinion. But I found I could read much faster, and more importantly retain much more than before. I even aced the chemistry test! I didn’t have to use my weekend at the doctor’s as an excuse.
What had that virus done to me? Relieved me of all stress from school, apparently.
After class I rushed home to change and head to work at the fitness center. I grabbed some more McDonald's on the way. If I hadn’t minded smelling like grease, I could have gotten a job there, since they were sponsoring my new, crazy-high calorie diet anyway.
The day grew brisker as the sun made its silent march across the sky. A cold breeze was just starting to cut through the campus as well. I saw other students pull their winter coats tight. I was still in jeans and a light jacket. The temperature still felt fine to me, maybe a little cool on my face. But it was more refreshing than it was biting. Perhaps there really was something to my earlier theory.
I shrugged and entered the gym.
The stench of humanity struck me as I walked through the doors. I was overwhelmed by the smell of sweat, and the sounds of grunting and slamming equipment. Had it always been like this? How had I managed to work here without noticing how loud and smelly it was? Maybe today was just a particularly bad day.
Despite the foul odor and constant clamor, my workday went by pretty quickly. I made my familiar circuit out of cleaning and re-racking weights all while getting my own light workout in.
Today’s workout felt easier than normal. I expected it to be a little harder, considering I had spent the weekend partying and subsequently in the hospital. Maybe my body had just needed a little time off. Or maybe being cancer free meant more energy for muscles.
Whatever the case, I was still feeling fresh by the end of shift. I told Mike I could close alone so he headed home early.
As the last stragglers left, I dimmed all the lights and made a final circuit around the gym. I made sure the lockers were relatively clean, mostly just picking up the towels and the little trash on the floor. The janitorial staff would hit them up in the morning. I re-racked the last of the weights and wiped down the few machines that smelled more than the others. With one last look around, I hit the lights and grabbed the keys to lock up and leave.
But I hesitated as I headed for the door. Maybe it was guilt for all the food I’d been eating, or maybe I wanted to develop better habits now that they would be with me longer, or maybe the memory of Holly stood stronger than I realized and I subconsciously wanted to get in better shape. Whatever the reason, I decided to stay for a minute.
I turned the lights back on their lowest setting and made my way to the bench press. Tom had always been trying to get me to work out more, and I currently had the place to myself. Why not now?
The few times I had come with Tom, I had lifted an embarrassing amount of weight compared to him. I hated watching him empty the bar every time it was my turn. I didn’t want to work out with him while I was so much weaker, but I also didn’t have anyone else to work out with so that I could make up some ground. Catch 22.
Then I had been diagnosed with cancer, and being weaker had ceased to matter because, well, everything had. No point in getting this body in great shape just to be put six feet under.
But now?
I reached for a smaller set of plates to adorn my empty bar. They felt light in my hands, far too light. I set them back down and grabbed two forty-five-pound plates. I put them on the bar and positioned myself under it. Embarrassingly, this had been pretty close to my max weight before.
I made sure my feet were set, fiddled with my hand positioning on the bar, took two deep breaths in, and lifted. The bar rose seemingly effortlessly. It hung above me for a moment before I lowered it and raised it again. Easy. Far too easy.
I set the bar back on its holder and stood up. It looked bare, with only a single plate on either side.
Those few times I had come with Tom this wasn’t even his warm-up, but it had been just about my whole workout.
I frowned. Double checked the plates. Both were indeed forty-five pounds.
Ok. No problem. Maybe I wasn’t embarrassingly weak anymore. That had been almost a year ago.
I placed another plate on each side and slid back under the bar. With even more hesitation and fidgeting, I regained my positioning.
One.
Two.
Three.
I pushed.
Again the bar moved easily upward. I held it above myself for a moment, before dropping it to my chest. Five times. The last being no harder than the first.
I replaced the bar and stood up. I looked at myself in the mirror. Did I look any different? Maybe. A little more muscle, perhaps? I had always been athletic looking. Which didn’t make up for my lack of any real athleticism. Leaner, perhaps? I lifted my shirt and was surprised to see defined muscle and veins under taunt skin. Any semblance of my freshman fifteen was long gone.
It looked as if my body had been burning off what little fat I had to… do whatever it had been doing.
I slowly turned back around and put two more plates on the bar. I resumed my position more quickly this time and did another rep.
I could feel the bar pressing into my hands, the weight transferring into my arms and shoulders, the muscles of my pecs flexing against the gravitational resistance, even the slight transfer through my core and into my legs. All like a smooth stream of energy through my body.
But an almost inconsequential amount.
I set the bar back down and grabbed the rest of the weights from the station I was at, and then the one next to it as well.
The bar bent slightly under all of the plates on either side.
I again slid under the bar, but this time I paused. What if all this weight crashed down onto me?
No. I wouldn’t be able to lift it if that were going to happen.
I reached up and slid my hands along the bar, back into position.
I pressed.
The flow of energy through my body was much more intense than before, but again, the bar rose upward. Only now it was bending dangerously to either side, the plated ends each dipping down under the weight.
I slowly lowered it to my chest. I could feel the energy change its concentration, moving from my chest to my arms and back again, as the bar lowered and then retraced its path back to its starting point. It was an odd feeling though. Not exactly like the burning sensation when muscles are worked. It almost felt like something else inside me was doing most of the work.
I set it back on the stand and sat up. I could feel heat emanating through my body, a slow burning that faded quickly.
I was convinced: there was something wrong with me.
“Daaaammmmnnnn!”
I jumped up and spun around.
“I was going to ask if you need a spotter, but I’m not sure I’d actually be of any help.”
Tom stood at the entrance to the gym. He watched me, his expression unreadable.
“I-I… What are you doing here?” I asked stupidly.
“Was just on my way home from practice. Figured I’d stop by and see if you needed a ride and wanted to grab some food,” he answered slowly.
“I am famished,” I admitted.
I felt the hunger pang sharply in my stomach, a bite stronger than the weights had been.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between us.
“You explain this,” he gestured at the weight rack, “and I’ll cover dinner.”
Sounded like a good deal to me.
Besides, I felt relieved I could talk to someone else about this. I knew this must also be a side effect related to the cancer-curing virus, but I had no idea how or why. Talking it all over with Tom would make it feel more real, less like a dream. And since he had found me out himself that had to be ok, right? I felt another twinge of guilt. This time I felt like I was betraying the doctors. But what did I owe them over my closest friend? Oh yeah, my life… When I had my appointment with Dr. Stone, I would tell her everything.
I nodded in response to his proposition.
He stepped up to help me put everything away.
“So… been lifting without me, have you?” he casually inquired.
“Actually no,” I answered.
“Reeeaallly?”
“No really, I have no idea what this is,” I responded.
“So, what? Just decided out of the blue to see if you could lift every weight in the gym? And low-and-behold, instead of breaking in half, you could?” he asked skeptically.
“Ummm yeah actually, that’s pretty much what happened.” I laughed in response.
“Bullshit!” he declared.
“Ok, ok. If there’s any explanation, it has to be that virus cure,” I mused.
“Virus?” He took a step back.
“Yeah. I don’t think I’m contagious.” I looked down at my hands.
That’s something they should have covered. They would have if I was contagious, right? There’s no way they would have let me walk free if I could have passed this on to someone else. Just another detail Dr. Stone would have to explain.
I tried to give him a reassuring smile. He didn’t look reassured.
“Besides, isn’t this something you wouldn’t mind catching?” I accusingly pointed at the weights.
He shrugged, then grinned and resumed helping stack the weights.
“So. What about a virus?” he asked once we were done.
“Remember that experimental cancer treatment I was telling you about? Apparently there’s more to it,” I said.
“You mean the experimental treatment you literally told me about last night? The one you weren’t sure you were even going to pursue?” he asked accusingly.
“Yeah. That one.” I shrugged.
“Mind explaining?”
“Well…” I sighed. Where to begin? What to divulge? “So earlier this week I was approached by a new doctor. She told me I might qualify for an experimental cure. I did some tests and everything came back positive. It was a virus that they infect you with and it kills the cancer. At least that’s what they told me. But afterwards I felt different. I haven’t been able to stop eating, my whole body has been kind of sore, stuff like that.” I waved it away as if it were nothing.
He took a minute to process everything while I finished locking up the gym.
“So, basically you got a magical cancer cure that also gave you super powers or some shit?” he asked.
“I guess,” I answered.
“Then I just have one question,” he said.
“Shoot,” I replied.
“Any chance you can get some more?” he asked.
“Ha! Right!” I laughed.
“Well, congratulations! Looks like you’re all better!” Tom grabbed me in a tight hug.
“Better than better.” I allowed myself a small smile.
“Good to see it didn’t go to your head,” he said as he pushed me back.