Читать книгу The Apotheosis - Darrell Lee - Страница 10

I decided to write this journal as sort of an insurance policy. Living such a reclusive life on an island all by myself, should some unforeseen accident or sudden heart attack end my life, it could be months or perhaps over a year before I am found. At least this will be my one chance to tell my story. I have kept this leather-bound, loose-leaf binder hidden in my dresser drawer with my shorts. Not very imaginative, I know, but it serves its purpose. Out of sight, but a place that will be eventually discovered, most likely by the police. However, I hope it will find its way to the scientific community, along with all my other writings. This is my story, written as accurately as my memory allows and as eloquently as I’m able.

I didn’t have the understanding that I have today, but even then, I knew my family was wealthy. I remember my father, Sean Numen, as tall and muscular, as most boys see their dad. We spent at least one week in the summer on a deep-sea fishing trip in the Bahamas or Costa Rica and every Sunday afternoon we watched the Patriots play football on TV. My mother was a passing apparition, always off to a social event of one kind or the other. Most of my day-to-day caretaking was provided by the servants in the house. There was a definite upside: I learned how to cook from one of the best chefs on the East Coast.

My father had come far: medical school residency at John Hopkins in neurology and a move to Boston after residency, where he continued working on a new drug to treat depression. He formed his own company, found financial backing, and in five years had his new drug from “The Numen Company” on the market. That was the same year I was born.

In the first year, the company earned $300 million, more than anybody at that time expected. Sales continued to climb every year thereafter, as new drugs were developed and brought to the market—all of them the brainchild of my dad. The year of my tenth birthday party, sales exceeded $15.7 billon.

All stories, just as all lives, have a beginning. My life has two beginnings. There is the obvious one, the day I was born. The second was on my tenth birthday. There is a before and an after, with this day in between. I was very advanced academically for my age by this time. I had begun taking high school-level courses the year before. Everyone else in my classes was five to seven years older than me. Without friends at school, my birthday parties became more sparsely attended. My parents tried to fill the gap with children of couples they knew from work or social events. They meant well, but you can’t fake friendship. So, this celebration was like the one the year before—more routine tradition than a real party.

On a cloudless, warm September afternoon, under the shade of a large elm tree beside the pool, the table stretched out ten yards in front of me, half of its length covered with brightly wrapped presents. Everyone sang “Happy Birthday” and the gifts were opened. It was nice. But what I was waiting for was the annual football game.

“All right, let’s see how many players we have,” my father said as he stood by the table in his running shoes, blue jeans and t-shirt, holding a football in one hand. He counted out the children at the table. “Looks like ten. But I believe I can get Robert to join us, then I can play on the other team, giving us a decent six-man game.” He winked at me. My dad loved the chance to play a game of backyard football.

“What do you say, Robert? Want to join the game?” My father looked over his shoulder at my Uncle Robert, who stood by the bar in the cabana. He was my mother’s brother. Whatever maternal instincts she lacked he was gifted with.

Of course, I always played on my dad’s team. The game went on for an hour. Uncle Robert’s team was leading by a touchdown when the moment arrived. One of the boys on my team picked up the “kick-off” and started left. Heavily pursued, he could see his mistake, so he quickly tossed the ball backwards to me. I ran right, but two opposing players quickly converged on me, so in an instant I turned and threw the ball half the width of the field to my father, who was standing in the clear. He was as surprised as anybody to see the ball coming his way. Instinctively, he caught the ball and began running upfield. Uncle Robert stood behind all the other players. He was the only one who would be able to catch my dad and so he began his pursuit.

My dad ran hard to his right, trying to get around the angle of pursuit. Uncle Robert gave chase, adjusting his original bad angle to reach for the flag dangling from my father’s hip as he ran by, but he wasn’t able to grab it. Now it was a foot race to the far goal line. I ran behind them as fast as I could. Uncle Robert slowly gained ground and reached for the flag on my dad’s belt a second time, just as he crossed the goal line for the tying touchdown.

I cheered. All the kids on my team cheered. I was still running to him. Uncle Robert stopped and put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. I was almost to him. My dad walked slowly away from me, dropping the football from his hand. I stopped at his side. His hands came up to his chest and his shoulders hunched forward. He stumbled and pushed me out of the way as he fell. I watched his last breath go out of his body as I knelt in the grass beside him. My father was only forty-three.

The next six months were a blur. Much to my mother’s surprise, I was to inherit 40 percent ownership of the company and a place on the board of directors upon my twenty-fifth birthday. She got 5 percent ownership. She took out her anger and shame on me at this revelation and numbed herself with alcohol. By the beginning of the next school year, I was living with Aunt Cathy and Uncle Robert. They didn’t even have to fight for legal custody. She let me go. And I was better off for it, I am sure. They didn’t have kids, so it was a good fit.

All my belongings were moved into an upstairs bedroom. That first day, I walked to the desk in front of the window that looked out to the large backyard. The yard was filled with trees, their leaves just starting to turn yellow and red. The afternoon sun came through and filled the room.

“All right, well, Robert and I will be downstairs if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Aunt Cathy.”

They didn’t know their voices carried upstairs from the living room.

“Are we really doing the right thing?” Cathy asked.

“No doubt. I don’t want him raised by their long-forgotten second cousin who lives in a God-knows-where little town in Iowa,” Robert said.

“I guess,” Cathy said. “But talk about a lot of changes for the poor child. I just hope we can get him through them all.”

“There’s a team of lawyers working it all out. He’ll get a healthy chunk of money just from the selling of the house and furniture, not to mention John has 40 percent ownership in the company.”

“I’m not talking about those changes! I mean living here, with us, in this house. The boy is going to feel like a stranger here. We’re going to have to work very hard to make him feel welcome and at home,” Cathy said. “I can only imagine how he feels basically losing both parents.”

“We will, honey, we will. We owe it to him, and it’s the least we can do for Sean.”

I could tell that Uncle Robert and Aunt Cathy had tried their best to comfort and help me through the previous few months. I didn’t feel bad about being there; I truly liked them and couldn’t think of a better place to be, given the circumstance.

The stable home life enabled my academic work to pick up speed. Early graduation from high school, then Harvard. Again, an early graduation with my Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees. I won’t take up space here listing my academic achievements; they can be found online easily enough. Just before I started on my Ph.D., I made a trip home. Aunt Cathy insisted. I assumed it was because I’d been away for such a long stretch and she wanted to make sure to get some time before the Ph.D. work started. It was on my second night home, once we were seated at one end of the long dark mahogany table in the dining room, when Uncle Robert broke the news.

“I’m retiring.”

I was stunned for a moment. “Well, well that is great! What are you now, forty-five? Still young, Aunt Cathy is even younger. You guys can travel the world, see some sights. God knows you have been working hard for the last twenty years. You’ve done well so you can do whatever you want. I have to say, though, I am surprised. A life-long workaholic like you, checking it in early.” I smiled at Uncle Robert, who didn’t smile, then at Aunt Cathy. She didn’t smile back either. “So how come I’m the only one who seems to be happy about this?”

“I really didn’t want to retire, but Cathy and I think it is the best decision considering…”

“Considering what?” I looked at Cathy, who was looking down at her plate.

“I went to the doctor a few months ago, had some tests run. And the results weren’t good news. They tell me I have cancer.”

“What kind of—”

“In my brain.”

I could feel a surge, something like fear and panic, but I could see no threat in front of me and my mind couldn’t reconcile it. “Did you get a second opinion?” I asked.

“Three of them. They all said the same thing.”

“What are they going to do? There must be something?”

“There is medication and radiation… because of where it’s located, surgery isn’t an option. We’re going to fight it, but the doctors did not sound too optimistic. So, we thought it was important for you to know. Cathy is going to need your help one day. But who knows, maybe some brilliant doctor like yourself will come along and find a cure.

“The board has already picked my replacement. His name is Dr. Phillip Jones. I think you should meet him. You’ll be on the board of directors soon enough, so I think it’s important to start introducing you around.”

“If you say so.”

“Good, we’ll go tomorrow.”

I remember the next day, looking up at the three-story red brick building. The parking lot for employees was across the street. At the very top of the building, in shiny metallic letters, was written “The Numen Company.” I hadn’t been there since my father died.

“A lot has changed inside. We have a much bigger lab and a lot more people,” Robert said.

The receptionist gave us a nod. Uncle Robert swiped his identification card over a gray pad next to a door on the left side of the lobby. He pulled the handle and we entered a hallway with doors to many offices. As I walked by each one, I saw one or two people seated at desks busily typing at the computer or talking on the phone. Near the end of the hall, where it made a right-hand turn, Robert opened a door with the nameplate “Dr. Phillip Jones.” To the right a blonde secretary was typing away at her computer.

“Good morning, Elizabeth,” Robert said.

“Good morning, Mr. Edward. Dr. Jones is expecting you.”

Robert opened the oak door to the left of the secretary’s desk, and we stepped into the office.

Dr. Jones sat behind a large dark oak desk with papers in disarray on top. He was older than Robert, with almost totally white hair and a receding hairline. He had a barrel-shaped upper body and almost no neck. He wore a white long-sleeved dress shirt, whose buttons were under a bit of a strain just above the belt, with a blue tie and dark dress pants. In front of the desk sat a young man in jeans and a brown tweed jacket, who appeared to be in his late twenties. He had thick glasses on his nose and a kippah on top of his head. Both men stood when the door opened.

“Hello, Robert,” Dr. Jones said. “And this must be John Numen. It’s a pleasure.” Dr. Jones extended his meaty hand across the desk and I shook it. Dr. Jones nodded to the man in the thick glasses and said, “This is Dr. Ethan Shinwell. He’s our newest and brightest biochemist at the company.”

I felt like a teenager who had been set up on a blind date with his cousin.

“Dr. Shinwell has done some very interesting work at NYU. He has been with us about a year now and has really hit the ground running.” I shook Ethan’s hand. “Dr. Shinwell stopped by to talk about some matters with the lab. I suggested he stick around to meet you. I mean, after all, it won’t be long before John here will be on the board of directors. You and John will be working here together some day.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. Have you ever met someone and you can tell right away they don’t like you? That was what I felt from Ethan. I didn’t know then that he treated the whole world like that, with a constant air of moral and intellectual superiority. He was always sure either in one or both of those ways he was superior to everybody else. I’m sure he wanted to work his way up in the company; he knew about me before I’d ever heard about him. He thought I would be an obstacle to his advancement. He didn’t know how right he was.

“It was nice to meet you both, but I really need to get back to the lab. If you will excuse me.” He left the room and closed the door. Dr. Jones motioned for me to sit in the chair Ethan had vacated, and Robert sat in the other chair.

“I like that young man, but he has the social skills of a seventh grader,” Dr. Jones said.

“Not everybody can be as charming as you,” Robert said.

Dr. Jones smiled. “I sure am going to miss you blowing smoke up my ass around here. How old are you now, John?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Robert tells me you are doing well at Harvard,” Dr. Jones said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Looks like this nut didn’t fall far from the tree. Your dad was the same way, just as smart as could be. One helluva guy. You know you look a lot like your dad; tall, fit, same hair, but your eyes have the same shape as your mother’s.

“I wanted to spend time with you and show you around myself today, but I have an important meeting with some customers. I’m sure Robert knows more about this place than I do anyway, so you’ll be in good hands.”

“No problem, Phillip,” Robert replied. “I didn’t bring him here to put a crimp in your day. I’ll give him the tour. I just wanted you guys to meet face to face before John goes back to school next week.”

We walked around the whole building. Most of it was boring offices, but on the third floor was the laboratory. Stepping off the elevator, we walked down a long hallway. Halfway down the hall were gray metal doors on each side. We stopped at the doors, and Uncle Robert swiped his card at the door to the right. A buzzer sounded and we walked in. It was one large room with tables gathered in groups in different areas and desks lined against the wall next to the windows. Men were working at different tables with equipment or computers. Ethan was there but at the far end of the long room. What he was doing wasn’t very clear, but he looked focused on the task at hand.

“This is where all the real work gets done for the company. We don’t want to bother any of these guys; I just wanted you to see it.” Robert opened the door again and we walked out into the hall. I pointed to the other gray door across the hall.

“What’s in there?”

Uncle Robert swiped his card across the door’s pad and we stepped in. It was a large empty space, as large as half of the building, with a dirty, gray cement floor, unlike the white linoleum in the lab across the hall. It was dark and cold; a group of five narrow windows in the center of the far wall let in the only light.

“This is where we hope to expand one day.” Robert’s voice echoed. “If you come up with the right idea, it can be yours.” I looked around the large, hollow space. Uncle Robert didn’t know it, but I already had an idea for the space. That day I was introduced to two things that would change my life: the future home of my new lab and Ethan Shinwell.

There are a hundred things that make me think of her. Some don’t occur very often, but some do. Just the name Ethan Shinwell reminds me of the first time I saw her.