Very important note at the end of the chapter. Please read it.
Enjoy :D
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After cleaning the gym, on the drive back home, Gabe was so exhausted that, unable to help it, he completely fell asleep in the passenger seat. Amused, I stayed silent, not even putting on music in the car, allowing my brother to sleep all the way.
After all, no matter how much my brother exercised, whether running in the mornings with me or when we lifted weights in the garage, he was still a little kid who, after a heavy day of physical exertion, needed to rest as much as possible.
Parking my car in front of the house, I lightly pushed Gabe's arm, causing the boy to wake up halfway. "What?" he asked in a groggy murmur, his eyes barely open.
Snorting amusedly. "We're home," I told the boy.
"Ok," my brother murmured back with complete disinterest, adjusting his body as if ready to fall asleep again.
I laughed softly, impressed. "Don't fall asleep, come on," I said, shaking his shoulder a bit roughly.
Opening his eyes with a frown, Gabe pushed my hand away from his shoulder. "Alright, alright, I'm awake," he said exasperated.
Without wasting much time, Gabe and I got out of the car, my brother ahead of me with a pace I deduced came only from wanting to get to bed.
Dragging his feet up the two steps of the porch, Gabe opened the door ready to head straight to our room, surely without even bothering to take a shower before collapsing on his bed, but before he could even take a step inside the house, or before I could order him to wash the sweat off his body...
"Surprise!" shouted a bunch of voices at the same time from inside the house, causing my tired brother to jump to his feet in shock, possibly making the sleep disappear from his system for a moment.
Arriving just a second after Gabe at the open door, I saw everyone who had been preparing the "surprise party" now waiting a few steps from the entrance, obviously already prepared for my arrival.
Amused. "Oh, what a surprise, but you shouldn't have," I said, pretending to be surprised, playing along.
With a frown, looking at the rest of the people in the house. "You already knew this was going to happen," said Sheldon, still sitting on the same couch in the living room where he was when I arrived unexpectedly earlier, "why is everyone acting like that's not the case?"
Smiling calmly. "Of course I didn't know. It's a 'surprise party,' Sheldon. Where would the surprise be if I already knew?" I asked with fake seriousness.
While the boy tilted his head slightly, surely trying to find some convoluted reason for what was happening, I greeted everyone again, receiving either hugs, handshakes, or fist bumps, and hearing practically the same congratulatory words as before.
Apparently unable to reach a satisfying conclusion, Sheldon shook his head while looking at everyone with concern. Surprisingly, he didn't say anything else, remaining silent.
Only for a couple of seconds.
"It's inefficient to congratulate a person twice in one day for the same achievement," said Sheldon exasperated, "in fact, it makes the achievement itself diminish, and considering that the achievement is a medical publication, there's not much left to diminish," he added, possibly unaware of how offensive that sounded.
"Sheldon!" Mrs. Cooper scolded, scandalized.
Rolling my eyes, I exhaled in resignation. Coming from Sheldon, it was hard to take anything seriously, but I still silently thanked Mrs. Cooper for not letting him continue.
With Sheldon severely warned by his mother, the "party" continued without further complications after Gabe, who had lost the drowsiness he brought from the car, had dinner, restoring all the energy he had burned during training, rewarding himself with a large snow cone.
Soon the days passed. At the gym, under Case's surprising recommendation, my brother, unlike me, would only train half the days of the week, giving his body time to develop properly.
At the hospital, as House had condemned me, I spent most of my time working in the free clinic, which, although tedious, I later appreciated since it kept me away from the tense atmosphere that usually filled the lounge or other parts of the hospital. During my free time, I continued studying the presentation, focusing mainly on the order of the slides and the content the students had chosen to add.
Without much trouble, I had memorized and planned what I would say during the presentation.
On Thursday, a day before we were to leave for Houston on buses paid for by the hospital and Vogler, House released me from going to the clinic, since apparently, the VIP patient, the senator running for president, had woken up.
Mentally rehearsing the presentation in House's empty office, I walked in small steps, pretending to present, even moving my hands as I remembered seeing hundreds of times from speakers at the many symposiums I had attended.
So focused was I on practicing my delivery that I didn't notice when the office door opened. "PJ?" said the recognizable voice of Dr. Wilson.
Feeling strangely exposed, I slowly lowered my hands as I opened my eyes, embarrassed. "Doctor Wilson," I said, smiling awkwardly at the man, who instead smiled amusedly.
Pressing his jaw, in what was clearly a great effort not to laugh. "Where's House?" he asked me.
Trying to hide the embarrassment that consumed me. "The senator regained consciousness today," I replied, which, judging by Dr. Wilson's reaction, was answer enough.
With no one else speaking, Dr. Wilson still standing under the office doorway, and me in the middle of the room, we stayed in an awkward silence that lasted a few seconds.
Deciding to break the uncomfortable silence. "Were you practicing your presentation?" asked Dr. Wilson.
And seeing I had no choice, closing my eyes for a second, I took a deep breath. "Yeah," I replied, expecting the doctor's teasing.
Nodding slowly. "What do you have?" the doctor asked, interested.
"What?" I asked, surprised. Somehow I had forgotten that, aside from Cameron on the diagnostic team, Dr. Wilson was the only other doctor I spent most of my time with at the hospital who was truly a good person.
Smiling kindly. "Your presentation, show me what you've got," he said, motioning with his hand for me to continue what I was doing.
Slightly resigned. "Sure," I replied, preparing myself mentally.
Wilson remained standing under the doorway, arms crossed, observing without interrupting.
I breathed slowly and, almost naturally, my hands came to life. I had seen enough lecturers to imitate their movements without thinking: the open palm when introducing an idea, the slight circular motion when linking it to another, and the emphatic gesture, with fingers barely apart, when wanting to leave something engraved in the listener's mind.
"Good afternoon," I began, with a tone that balanced courtesy and firmness. "Today I'm going to talk about the cardiac benefits of the prophylactic use of acetylsalicylic acid."
My fingers marked the rhythm in the air.
"In recent years, we have seen a growing interest in the effect that low doses can have on the prevention of thrombotic events. The evidence, though still fragmentary, points to a significant reduction in the risk of myocardial infarction in patients with previous history or cardiovascular risk factors."
I made a brief pause, not out of insecurity, but to let the idea breathe.
"The principle is simple," I continued, slightly shifting my weight onto one leg and turning my torso just a bit, as if addressing an imaginary audience to my left. "Aspirin inhibits platelet aggregation, preventing the platelets from sticking to each other and forming clots that block the arteries. In other words," I added, in a more relaxed tone, "it reduces the likelihood that the heart has to pay the price for a bad biological miscalculation."
I couldn't help a slight smile; it was a bad joke that I was sure would work with the doctors at the conference, and that fortunately did work, making Dr. Wilson snort.
When I finished the idea, I slowly lowered my hands, as if the silence that followed was also part of the speech.
Wilson didn't say anything at first, only nodded slowly, then sighed deeply. "This is so unfair," he declared in frustration. "I had to take a class to be able to present like that, and you just show up and do it naturally," he added, rubbing his forehead.
Snorting softly. "I'm sorry?" I said, not really knowing what to say.
Waving his hands. "No, no," said Dr. Wilson, "it's not your fault," he quickly assured me. "It's just jealousy for your kind, the almost unbelievably talented people," he added a moment later, joking.
"Well, thanks," I murmured slightly embarrassed, "that means it's fine, right?" I asked, really interested in receiving any kind of feedback.
Waving his hand dismissively at my doubts. "Yes, if you keep the presentation that way, it's perfect, and since you clearly have the topic completely mastered, you have nothing to worry about," the doctor replied.
Unable to help but feel relieved. "Great," I said, nodding.
Not long after Dr. Wilson left the office, House came back, for some reason extremely serious.
Since several minutes passed without House making a bad joke or insulting me in some way, I asked, "Everything okay?" intrigued.
"About what?" asked House, raising one of his eyebrows, "the country's economic or political situation?" he added sarcastically.
"The patient," I replied exasperated.
"Oh yeah," House responded disinterestedly, "unfortunately, he's even already talking like only a politician can," he added with disgust, opening and closing his hand quickly as if it were a mouth.
Sighing, I shook my head, unwilling to dig further into it. If House didn't answer me directly, it would be very difficult to get more out of him without being attacked somehow, either by being mocked or something else.
The next day, Friday, since the bus prepared by the hospital to take all of us attending the congress was scheduled to leave shortly before eight in the evening, I decided not to go to the hospital that day until the time came and instead spend the day with Diane.
After getting some ice cream and taking a walk through the park, almost instinctively we arrived at her dorm room at the university, a place that was still relatively empty thanks to summer break.
After a while, in Diane's bed, with her lying on my chest, I gently stroked her arm, feeling the smoothness of her skin. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the congress? We can take my car, and I can afford to pay for a better hotel room," I said, slightly worried.
During my 'surprise party' I had invited Diane to attend the congress; since she was also a co-author of the article, I was sure that neither the university nor the hospital would have a problem adding her to the expenses. But for some reason, she had easily declined, using the excuse of letting me experience a congress on my own.
Without moving her head from my chest, where I was sure she could hear my heartbeat, she said softly, "I'm pretty sure," Diane replied gently, "to be honest, I think I've been to enough congresses for the rest of my life," she added, "and no offense, but medicine is only interesting because you study it," she finally said, lifting her head and resting her chin on my chest, looking straight at me.
Sighing softly and looking into Diane's eyes, I said, "No offense taken," amused, making her smile faintly.
Before Diane could say anything else, with a quick movement I rolled over her, supporting my weight on the mattress, and with tender laughter that she couldn't hold back, we continued our visit to her dorm room.
Later that day, returning home after walking Diane to Meemaw's porch, I found, of course, Gabe watching television in the living room.
After greeting him and heading toward our room, "You don't want to go in there," Gabe said, making me stop.
"What?" I asked, puzzled.
Without taking his eyes off the cartoons he was watching, "I'm telling you," Gabe murmured, "she's scary," he added, surprisingly tearing his gaze from the TV for a few moments.
Closing my eyes tightly, I imagined what my brother meant. With music escaping through Teddy's closed bedroom door, there was only one possible answer.
Ignoring Gabe's warning, I walked to our room, where I could hear 'her' voice and a baby's laughter that, for some reason, sounded eerie. Pushing open the slightly ajar door, I saw it.
The giant suitcase almost completely full on the floor and a huge pile of what was possibly all my clothes scattered on my bed, leaving only a small space where Charlie was lying, raising her hands as high as her tiny arms allowed.
"Mom," I said, startled.
Showing Charlie a shirt, waiting for a reaction from my baby sister. "Oh honey, you're back, how was the movie?" Mom asked without bothering to turn around. A moment later, she nodded, folding the shirt and putting it into the suitcase, taking Charlie's babbling, which only she could understand as a response.
Moving closer until I was beside her, I immediately caught my baby sister's attention, who was now playing with her own foot, trying to put it in her mouth. "Really good," I answered at once, I hadn't really seen a movie with Diane, but Mom didn't need to know that. "What are you doing?" I asked calmly, tickling the sole of Charlie's foot softly, making her laugh loudly.
Pointing in front of her, "Charlie and I are helping you pack your suitcase," Mom replied matter-of-factly, and as if she truly understood, Charlie let out a small joyful squeal.
"I can see that, thank you very much," I said slowly, "but why does it look like I'm leaving home for a whole month?" I asked, keeping a calm smile on my face.
A bit offended, "You're just like your father," Mom replied exasperated, "you two never understand the importance of being prepared for a trip," she added seriously.
Nodding with the same seriousness, "Right right," I murmured, lowering my head slightly, "but I'm only going for three days, counting today, and since today I really don't need a change of clothes, and tomorrow and Sunday I'll be wearing my suit most of the day," I added, pointing to the suit hanging on the closet door, which I had prepared in advance so I wouldn't forget it, "how prepared do I really need to be?"
Stopping with a hint of embarrassment in her expression, Mom studied what she had done.
Relieved, since it actually looked like Mom was reconsidering, I got ready to help unpack and put my clothes back in the closet, but then, "You can never be too prepared," Mom declared, taking another shirt, folding it with practiced movement, and putting it into the suitcase.
Speechless, completely incredulous at Mom's attitude, I nodded in defeat; it would be impossible to change her mind.
With everything ready for my trip to the congress, Bob arrived just in time to take me to the hospital.
Lifting the suitcase with effort into the trunk of the car, "Your mom?" Bob asked, raising an eyebrow.
Clenching my jaw, "Yup," I replied.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Bob patted my shoulder gently.
After saying goodbye to my siblings and Mom, whom Bob had somehow convinced that it wasn't necessary for the entire family to come see me off, he and I headed to the hospital.
In the hospital parking lot, a tour bus was parked, and around it, several doctors were chatting with small suitcases by their sides.
There were just over half a dozen doctors, including the entire diagnostics team, Dr. Cuddy, and Dr. Wilson.
Bob's truck, or perhaps the giant bug on top of it, immediately caught everyone's attention, making me, unavoidably, a bit embarrassed. Not because of Bob's job, but because of his truck, I got out of the car greeting everyone with a tense smile.
House, who had been completely serious, listening to a conversation between Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Wilson, immediately smiled mischievously; I could see the jokes forming in his head.
In general, putting up with House's jokes for a few hours wasn't much of a problem, but knowing we'd be in the same building for two whole days, which meant the time I'd have to endure his jokes would increase exponentially, started to give me a small migraine.
Noticing, like me, that everyone was staring at his truck, "That's why I put the ant on it," Bob declared proudly.
Certainly, making his car as eye-catching as possible wasn't the best aesthetic decision, but it was an excellent marketing strategy, given that he was an exterminator.
Without wasting much time, Bob and I took my suitcase out of the car, which gave Dr. Cuddy enough time to approach us.
Looking for a fraction of a second in surprise at my suitcase, "Mr. Duncan," the woman said, offering her hand.
Smiling kindly, "Dr. Cuddy, long time no see?" Bob said, taking her offered hand.
"Face to face, it must be since PJ was mentioned in Dr. Thomas's article," Dr. Cuddy replied.
What followed was a plethora of praises toward me, disguised as if they were directed toward my parents, something Bob clearly accepted with a wide smile on his face.
When the time came, the bus driver opened the compartments to start loading the luggage, making Dr. Cuddy check her watch. "Well, it was a pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Duncan. I'll leave you two to say goodbye comfortably," the woman said, taking Bob's hand again in a polite handshake.
"I say the same, doctor, see you later," Bob replied, "what a great woman," he declared once the doctor was far enough away.
"Yeah," I said amused, "all right dad, I'd better go now," I added, wanting to put my suitcase at the back of the compartment so it would be less likely for my heavy luggage to crush everyone else's.
"Yeah, I don't know what medical congresses are like, but if they're anything like exterminator ones... well, have fun?" Bob said, not entirely sure.
"Unfortunately, I don't think they're as fun as national exterminator congresses," I said amused, "but I'll do what I can," I added.
Patting my shoulder, "That's my boy," Bob said proudly.
After receiving a hug from the affectionate man, we moved away from each other, Bob climbing into his truck and me walking toward the bus.
Without wasting a second, House, carrying only a backpack on his shoulders, stood with Dr. Wilson. "Oh, not a single tear?" he asked, falsely surprised, "oh! you're trying to act tough so daddy doesn't see you cry," he added, making an unpleasant pout.
Rolling my eyes exasperated, "Shut up," I said, stopping next to them, "Dr. Wilson," I added, greeting the kind doctor beside House.
With a calm smile on his face, "Was that an ant?" Dr. Wilson asked me.
"Yes," I replied.
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I've read several comments about the direction the novel is taking and the pacing of the chapters, and I'd like to sincerely apologize to those who feel the story hasn't had a clear direction lately. This is the final arc of the first volume, and I admit it's been difficult to keep a faster pace. Without trying to make cheap excuses, I simply needed some time to properly organize my ideas.
The first volume will conclude shortly after the Vogler arc ends. After that, I'll add a few more chapters, which will include some time skips to smoothly transition into the second volume of the story.
That's all I wanted to explain for now.
Thank you so much for continuing to read and support the story. See you on Wednesday with more!
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Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, not a fighter, not Magnus Carlsen, not Michael Phelps, not Arsene Lupin, not McLovin, not Elliot, not Capone and not Tiger Woods.
Another chapter has passed, so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:
11332223
RandomPasserby96
Victor_Venegas
I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.
Thank you for reading! :D
PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.
PS2: By the way, at the end of volume 1 there will be news that at least I see exciting.