Snowed in with the Doctor. Dara Girard
or a cousin because he knew she was single. Then Rappaport had turned with the same smug look Justin remembered, and he’d seen how Lora’s happiness had disappeared. Not because of Rappaport, but because of him. She’d never looked at him with any warmth or joy. He’d hoped to change that, but obviously that wouldn’t be today. It didn’t matter. This was good; he shouldn’t think of her that way anyway. He needed to remember that she was his competition.
He wasn’t concerned about working late in the office. There was no one at home worrying or waiting for him. He’d already fed and walked Louis, so he knew he’d be fine for the night.
A half hour later he sat in his lab and glanced over his notes. He’d hit a wall in his research, which was unusual for him. Some of what he was doing was more speculative than factual, and he needed to find and add more proof to back up his hypothesis. He knew it would be worth it in the end but, at that moment, he wasn’t sure which direction he wanted to go. He’d been working for almost an hour when he heard a knock on the door. “Come in.”
“This is not good.”
Justin smiled at the man who’d entered. He looked like a misplaced librarian who should be surrounded by books instead of lab equipment. He kept his glasses pushed up over his gray and thinning hair. Dr. Oliver Rollins, who also worked at Ventico, was a renowned scientist from the UK who was both a mentor and a friend, even though he was twenty years his senior. “Nice to see you, too.”
“You can’t push like this.”
“I have to.”
“You know your health is more important than a competition.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.” Oliver was one of the few people who knew all about him. At times it was a relief, but at times like this, it was a burden. Justin didn’t want anyone to use his health as a reason he shouldn’t do what he wanted to. He didn’t want pity or concern. As a child he was diagnosed with moderate to severe sickle cell anemia, and at nine, he’d had to have his spleen removed. It had been diseased from a shortage of oxygen during one of his many pain crises. In elementary school, although his parents were extremely worried and overprotective, he was determined to participate in sports. As a result, he experienced several pain crises and had to be put on strong pain pills. One of the side effects was that he fell asleep often, and by the time he was in high school, the few friends he had thought he was taking drugs. That’s what he hated most growing up— being extremely tired and in extreme pain. But he kept it hidden so no one ever saw him in agony.
The painful crises lasted from 7 to 10 days, and often took about a week for him to recuperate and get back his strength. The hardest part was wondering when another crisis would occur and realizing that, no matter what medication they gave him, the pain would always come back. It felt like being stabbed with a knife in the same place, over and over again. During one particularly brutal month, he had had more than three blood transfusions. As a result, he’d lost a lot of time from school and had to be tutored at home. Fortunately, he was swift and academically inclined and stayed on top of his courses. Being the only person in his whole family with the disease made him feel felt like an outsider.
“I know how to take care of myself,” he said.
Oliver tapped the table. “You haven’t in the past couple years. Your life has only been your work.”
“I’m a passionate man.”
“Who’s living a passionless life. When’s the last time you’ve been with a woman?”
Justin looked at him, stunned. “Oliver.”
His friend shrugged and tapped his chest. “I’m a man. You’re a man. This is not a hard question to answer.”
“I don’t have time for this kind of talk.”
“Justin, you won’t live forever. Make time. You need the soft feel of a woman’s touch. Her warm embrace.”
Justin laughed. “Do you have someone in mind?”
“No, but if you want...”
“I was joking.”
“This is not a joking matter. I am serious. You’re a good man. I don’t want to see you alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have my family.”
“I remember you once saying you wanted a family of your own.”
“That was when I was young and naive.”
“You’re still young.”
“Not young enough to be naive. Let’s talk about something more interesting.”
“What’s more interesting than this?”
“Actually—”
“That was a rhetorical question.”
“I tried a relationship, remember? It didn’t work out.”
Justin had been working at the Johns Hopkins University Medical School as a research fellow when he’d met Devina. She was of African-Mediterranean descent, and although not a great beauty, she was very bright. It was love at first sight. Because of his illness, he had never really dated in high school and college—which didn’t mean he hadn’t gone out with girls. Quite the opposite. The girls asked him out, and his sisters and parents were always fielding calls from one girl or another. But he had never fallen in love or anything even close. With Devina, it had been different.
On their first date he had taken her to see the Alvin Ailey dance troupe at the Kennedy Center. Before long, she was spending nights at his place and their relationship blossomed. Then it happened. He suffered a major crisis and spent two weeks in the hospital. Devina came to visit him the first day he was admitted, but after that she was gone. Oliver had never liked her and had told Justin to be careful, but he hadn’t listened. His sisters also didn’t take to her, but by the time he realized the kind of person she was, she’d left. He never saw her again.
Six months later, he saw an article in a newspaper announcing the appointment of Dr. Devina Davis as director of research at Abbot Labs. It was then Justin realized she had conned him. They had been extremely close, and he’d shared some of his research with her, including the white paper he hadn’t submitted yet for publication. The article mentioned Dr. Davis’s research: stem-cell theory and the cellular manifestation of abnormal hemoglobin. It was the title of his research project. She had stolen his work. No, Devina had been enough of an experience. “This is the best life for me,” he said.
Oliver brushed the thought aside with a quick flick of his wrist. “She was nothing. I told you she was a user and wrong for you, but you didn’t listen. She said things that were not true. I don’t know everything, but I do know this.” He pointed at Justin. “There is a woman out there for you, and I plan to dance at your wedding.”
Justin grinned. “That I’d like to see.”
“And you will. I love you like a son. I want to see you happy.”
“I am happy. I will be happier when I win the fellowship.”
“You’ve already won it twice.”
“I want it again.”
Oliver threw up his hands. “Why? Your reputation is stellar. You could work in any lab you choose. You’ve been quoted and printed in all the leading science journals, and you serve on the board of two nationally recognized science organizations. You sold a science patent to Siesmen for nearly a million dollars, and even though you gave the proceeds to research I know you still get royalties. You’ve achieved more than most men do in their entire lifetime. You don’t need another trophy.”
“I like to win.”
“Even if you win, it won’t be enough. It will be a hollow victory. You need a life.”
“I have a life—my family and my work. It suits me. It always has, and it always will.”
“You’ve