Chasing Wishes (31 page)

It's a schematic of the human eye and all the implanted components of our new invention.

"You're awfully quiet for such a big day," Marcus comments, following right behind me in my slow pacing. "Something on your mind?"

"No, I'm just nervous," I lie.

"Come on," he says, prodding me in the back with one finger. "I know you better than that. Tell me."

"Anyone else here right now?" fr, " he sI ask, stopping my slow meander and leaning in against the table. I didn't hear anyone else come in, but it wouldn't be the first time I was wrong.

"Not a soul."

"It's a sort of personal problem," I tell him. "Irene is... well..."

I trail off as my thoughts all jumble up in my brain and refuse to form coherent sentences. Marcus chuckles, and then I hear the coffee maker start. He's expecting a difficult talk, and he's probably right as usual.

"Make me one too, will you?"

"Sure thing," he replies, and then a few minutes later returns with my steaming hot Styrofoam cup.

"Black with no sugar," he tells me. "Delightfully bitter, much like you until recently, I might add."

I ignore his jab and sip my coffee in silence as I try to collect my thoughts. I know what's bothering me—why is it so hard for me to say it?

"Terrence... I've known you a long time," says Marcus quietly. "I have a pretty good guess what you're going to say. Want me to lead into it for you?"

I nod silently.

"Irene's wonderful, isn't she? What's bothering you about her?" he asks, and suddenly all the words fall right into line and find their way to my tongue.

"She's wonderful, Marcus. I haven't been so happy in years," I tell him. "The problem is... well, I feel like I'm cheating on Nina when I'm with Irene."

"And?" I swear I can hear Marcus raising his eyebrow at me.

"It goes the other way too. I feel guilty that I'm still thinking about Nina now. I'm being unfair to Irene by holding onto Nina, too. I feel like I can't have both, and I don't know what to do."

God, that sounded pathetic,
I think.
Who'd have thought I'd grow up to live in a soap opera?

Marcus remains silent for a long time, and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead and the quiet thrum of the lab ventilation system fill my ears.

"I'm going to need a second coffee," he finally says, and then he returns with another cup for me as well. Good—it's something to occupy my mouth so I don't keep blathering on like an idiot.

"So, want my advice?" asks Marcus, smacking his lips contentedly as he drinks his coffee. For probably the first time in my life, the answer is an unequivocal yes.

"Forget Nina," whispers Marcus. His answer is blunt and painful, but impossible or not, I know it's true in the back of my mind.

"I can't do that," I tell him. "Irene reminds me so strongly of her that—"

"No," Marcus interrupts. "She reminds you of a decade-old memory of a teenage girl you're never going see again."

I turn away from him as a quick wave of unjustified anger and frustration washes over me. I asked for his advice, and it's exactly what I expected it to be. Of course he was going to say that—it's not his job to feed my irrational love for a girl who, as far as I know, only exists on a cassette in my bedroom now.

"Listen to me," he says, putting his hand gently but firmly on my shoulder and turning me back around to face him again. "Irene is a gorgeous, wonderful woman and reminds you of everything you loved about Nina. She absolutely adores you, Terrence—I see it in her face every time you two are toget tw is a gorher. What are you still missing? What more do you need?"

I sigh and shake my head, but when I try to turn away, Marcus tightens his grip and holds me in place.

"Terrence... every time you think about Nina, you
are
cheating on Irene," he tells me, his tone low and stern now. "You're holding back part of yourself and saving yourself for a girl you barely even remember. You need to stop it or you're going to lose them both. You're never going to find another girl like Irene—she's one of a kind."

"But—"

"You asked for my advice," he interrupts, "and I'm giving it. You need to accept Irene for who she is and not just for how similar she is to Nina, or you're going to lose her. You know that just as well as I do."

I run a hand through my hair in agitation and just as I'm about to fire back at Marcus, Chen arrives and interrupts our conversation

"The study results are in," he calls out, his footsteps echoing as he hurries down the glass hallway. "I'm holding them hostage for a cup of coffee, though, so pay up."

"We don't negotiate with terrorists, Chen!" Marcus cries out in mock horror. "Well, not unless they're okay with decaf."

"Throw in a half-and-half and you've got a deal," he counters, and Marcus laughs and runs off to the coffee pot.

"So, what's the update?" I ask as nervous excitement swells inside me. "Did it work? How'd the tests go?"

"Hang on one second while I find the summary," Chen answers, and Marcus and I wait in agonizing silence as he shuffles through stacks of paper.

"Sorry, I know it's in here somewhere," he apologizes, his tone marked with embarrassment. "I saw it like five minutes ago, I swear."

Marcus grumbles impatiently and the table creaks beneath his weight as he leans in beside me.

"Found it!" calls out Chen triumphantly. "Everything came back clean both in the optical nerve interface and the eye as well. There was no inflammatory response in any of the in vitro or animal studies. This baby is good to go, Terrence."

My pulse quickens and a thrill runs through me at Chen's good news. It's too good to be true, though. There must be something else wrong—there always is.

"And what about the optical sensors?" I ask. "Did they retain functionality during the studies?"

"All of them. Every single test came back perfect, no matter what temperature or acidity conditions we used," he answers proudly, and I can see his beaming smile in my mind even though I've never seen him in my life.

"Chen, one last, serious question for you," I ask. "Pretend your son needed the implant... do you trust it enough to give it to him?"

"Hell yes," he answers without even the slightest hesitation. "Like I said, it's good to go. This baby's ready, Terrence."

That seals it for me. Chen's always been fairly risk-averse in my experience, and if he trusts it that strongly, I can trust it too. I brace myself against the table to fend off the dizzying feeling excitement spiraling upward through me

It works. Holy shit... it actually works!

"Chen, what is all this crap?" asks Marcus from off to my left, and I hear him shuffling through a pile of papers. "Consent signatures, waivers of damages... this thing's lthi, what ike a thousand pages long. I don't recall asking the micro labs for a copy of
War and Peace
, just the data from our inflammation assays."

By the time I realize what Marcus is talking about, it's too late to interject and change the subject. Chen's already answered him, and I can almost hear Marcus' jaw hitting the floor.

"It's the first-in-human surgical paperwork," he explains. "The hardest part for any new medical device is getting the official clinical patients lined up... and, well... we have a volunteer already."

I can feel Marcus' eyes drilling holes straight through me. My secret's out of the bag. He doesn't need to read that gargantuan document to know who the first volunteer was for our experimental artificial retina.

It's me.

"Terrence... you can't do this," he tells me, his voice low and serious.

"Sure I can. Name a better candidate."

"I won't let you do—"

"You can't actually stop me. I own the company," I interrupt him. "I've been praying for an opportunity like this for five fucking years, Marcus."

"Just let us test it in a general population first!" he argues. "You've been waiting five years—what's one more year just to make certain it works?"

I shake my head. Another year is more than I'm willing to wait, especially now that I know the cure is right here in my laboratory. As awful as the surgery will be, I'm getting that implant. If it works, it'll replace my deteriorated retinas and I'll finally be able to see again!

"Why is this so hard for you to understand?" I fire back at him. "Someone has to test it—why shouldn't it be me? Do you have any idea how hard it is to—"

Marcus interrupts me before I can finish my rant.

"Charlotte, for the love of God, help me talk some sense into him," Marcus pleads, and I spin on my heels in what I
think
is the direction of the doorway. I didn't even hear her come in – usually her heels give her away from a mile off.

"Terrence, we need to talk," she says, ignoring Marcus entirely. There’s an unusual tone in her voice, as if she’s attempting to be civil but only just barely holding back.

Her heels click loudly as she strides quickly to my side, and without waiting for me to answer, she loops her arm around mine and pulls me away from the table.

"I'm not changing my mind, Charlotte," I protest, yanking my arm free from her and anchoring myself on the edge of the table before I lose track of where I am.

"I don't care one bit about your decision regarding the implant," she says. "I can't stop you anyway. I need to talk about something else. It's urgent."

"Well, what is it?"

"We need to talk alone," she says impatiently, and she grabs me by the arm again.

I’m really not in the mood for one of Charlotte’s tirades—it's always a tirade with her, I've learned—but I let her guide me out of the labs and upstairs toward my room.

"If you want my two cents, I think you’re an idiot for wanting to do the surgical implant," she tells me as she impatiently drags me up the staircase. "It'd be much less risky to outsource the testing to developing nations, both from an economic and legal perspectiega implave."

"So you want me risk hurting other people instead of risking myself, purely to save money?" I fire back incredulously.

"Of
course
that's what I'm suggesting," she says, all but laughing as if it's the most obvious thing in the world to her."

"Do I even need to tell you what I think of that idea, Charlotte?"

In my mind, the prudish schoolteacher image I've always associated with Charlotte begins to change and deform. Charlotte's lack of concern for other people suddenly reminds me of my mother, and her piercing eyes have that same cruel, cold glint to them now. She looks old and evil, almost like some kind of fairy tale witch clinging to my arm, and I suddenly want nothing to do with her. I don't want her touching me, but pulling my arm back while halfway up the stairs would be suicide.

"Terrence... I know it sounds harsh, but remember that I have two conflicting priorities here," she tells me. "As your lawyer, I have the job of keeping your estate safe and doing what is right for your business..."

"And you've always done right by me there," I affirm. I'd never have gotten contracts with all the companies I stole from over the last five years without her, and I'd sure as hell never have figured out how to break all the patents. If not for Charlotte, my retinal implant would still be nothing more than a dream.

"It's very difficult to balance being both your lawyer and your friend," she continues, and for a moment, she almost sounds nervous. "It's very hard to protect both you and your business, Terrence."

"Well, I certainly appreciate you trying."

"Thank you. I try very, very hard to protect you," she quietly tells me as we reach the top of the stairs. She almost sounds as if she's ashamed to be telling me this, as if she's confessing some dark secret to me. Charlotte's never been one to open up to people, and her sudden change of behavior is a little unsettling.

"Have you seen Irene?" I ask, changing the subject as we arrive at my bedroom. "I haven't seen her since lunch."

"She's out for the day," answers Charlotte, bitterness creeping into her voice again as she opens the door and finally releases me from her clutches. "She's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"You just get comfortable in your chair and I'll explain, okay?" she says, her voice softening as she directs me toward my chair by the window. She knows how much I hate being treated as if I'm some sort of invalid, and fury rises inside me at her suddenly doting over me.

"Do we really need to keep having this conversation, Charlotte?" I snap. "She's not going away, so you'd better get used to her."

Her heels click against the marble floor in perfect synchrony with the ticking of my watch as she paces back and forth in front of my chair.