Page 1 of The Scientist
Chapter 1
Immediately crossing out long haul truck driver as a career option. After four and a half grueling days on the road with minimal stops, my ass was now completely numb and might never recover.I parked along the street and shut off the engine of my old Ford Cosworth, Marge, and I swear I heard her groan. She was in decent shape for being over thirty years old, but I knew I’d pushed her to the limit with this long journey. I couldn’t just leave her behind. Although admittedly, the cross-country trek would have been much easier without my senile companion. I was pretty sure even she forgot where I parked her sometimes.
As I made my way up the sidewalk, the reality of the situation slowly started to sink in. The urge to let myself fall to pieces as I stood on the front porch of my new home was overwhelming. But I fought the temptation, telling myself I would get through this.Wewould get through this. I took a deep breath and walked through the front door of my new home and my new life.
My best friend called not even two seconds after I walked through the door.
I picked up after the first ring. “Hey.”
“Did you finally make it?” she asked.
“You must be psychic,” I said, setting my things down. “I literally just walked through the door.”
“Actually, my psychic hotline rates are quite reasonable if you’re looking for a reading.”
“I think I’ll pass. I’ve already got a magic eight ball giving me some bad advice.”
She chuckled. “So how does it look?”
I glanced around at all the spacious room. 'Open floor plan' back in New York meant the hallway doubled as your bedroom.
“It’s much nicer than I expected,” I answered honestly. Not having to play a high stakes game of Tetris with my furniture where winning meant I had the ability to cram my life into a glorified shoebox would take some getting used to. Who knew basic living standards could feel so luxurious?
I was staying in the faculty housing units of Stanford University. They were a nice set of townhomes, all uniform in appearance. Each unit had its own bricked porch with some beautiful plants hanging from the rafters or sitting atop the walled-off sections.
The two blocks of homes were adjacent to one another, each configured in a U formation with only a walkway running up the center as a way of accessing each unit. The home came fully furnished in a tasteful design and was better than I could have hoped for, especially given the short time frame I’d had to look for anything.
All this room, though. I half expected to find Narnia in the walk-in closet.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” she gushed. “Isn’t the weather here absolutely beautiful?! I swear that’s one thing I won’t miss about New York.”
My best friend had already moved to California a week before I had and thankfully, managed to find a place that was close to her doctor.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” I said, not wanting to give California too many compliments just yet. But honestly, she was right. Not having to worry about choosing which rain or snow boots I'd be wearing for the day was definitely at the top of the pros column for Cali.
“Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I’m sure you’re exhausted. I just wanted to check to see that you made it. Do you want me to come over tomorrow and help you unpack?”
It dawned on me that her surgery was only a few days away, and I felt the nerves settle into the pit of my stomach. It was the whole reason we were here.
“No, you need to rest up before your procedure. Let’s have dinner Sunday night, and I can sleep at your place after. That way we can head to the hospital first thing in the morning.”
“Okay… See you then." She lingered on the phone for a few seconds longer as if she wanted to say something more, but eventually, the line clicked off.
I put the phone down and sighed. I could tell at this very moment she was doing the most useless thing possible—worrying about me.
It had been a month since she was diagnosed with cancer. One month of endless doctor’s appointments, running tests, drawing blood, worrying, and searching. Searching for a doctor to treat stage three triple negative sarcoma, a rare and deadly form of breast cancer. So rare that only a handful of doctors in the US even treat this type of cancer. But we found one, the best one. The only problem was the drive fromNew York to California was one hell of a commute, which is why I quit my job and said my goodbyes to the people I cared about.
Together, we decided to move to the San Jose area so that we could be close to her doctor, who was supposed to be the leading expert in this type of cancer. So even though she should have been focused on what lay ahead of her—surgery, chemo, and just generally kicking cancer’s ass—I knew she was sitting at home, worrying about me. I wished I wouldn’t have let her convince me to get a separate place. I thought it would be best and easiest if we just lived together. Butshe insisted that I needed to have my own space that way, my life, as she put it, “Wouldn’t revolve around her tits.”
I went upstairs and claimed the bedroom that got the most sunlight. I figured I should get better acquainted with Mr.Golden Sun since he’d be around a lot more on this side of the country. Afterward, I checked out the rest of my new home with an enthusiasm on par with Mr. Squidward Tentacles.
As I walked slowly from room to room, the silence seemed deafening. A pang of longing shot through me to hear the hum of idiosyncratic noises that defined New York City life… my life.I was born and raised in the city and still couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. I wouldn’t dwell on it too much though, because while I loved the city, it was nothing compared to the love I had for my best friend. After all, I’m the only person who has ever heard her heartbeat from the inside.
???
Ever since my mom’s diagnosis, I found myself in a toxic relationship with a temperamental jackass named sleep. Our biggest problem was that he was all over me during the day when he knew I was busy, but when nighttime came, he loved playing hard to get. That was when he wasn’t ghosting me completely. Maybe he was finally changing his fickle ways, because when I woke the next morning, I glanced over at the clock to find I had slept for fourteen hours straight. I wasn’t in the mood to analyze his motivations just yet.
My phone dinged with a notification that the moving van with the rest of my things was still a few days away. I guess the driver valued having feeling in his ass cheeks.Selfish bastard.