Hope - Levy, Marc (web ebook reader .TXT) 📗

There were children there who needed him, a host of chicken pox and stomach-bug patients who could do with his expertise. His duty as a pediatrician was to them, she said. And she was no longer a child, after all.

Sam had no choice but to agree. If he spent any more time away, he might lose his coveted position at the hospital.

On the day Hope was discharged, she asked Josh to take her shopping. She needed to walk among the living, and she knew no better way of achieving this than by hitting the mall, where the stores heaved with crowds.

The first thing she asked him to do was to buy her a baseball cap, and when Josh placed it gently over her bandage, he thought she had never looked so beautiful. Her pale complexion contrasted with her bright and buoyant smile.

The day was a happy one, but walking around the mall had worn her out. Before the afternoon ended, Josh decided it was time to go home. Hope insisted they buy ice cream first, and there was no way of convincing her otherwise.

“We need to give it a name.”

“Give what a name?”

“My tumor. It’s hard to imagine fighting off a glioblastoma, but sucker punching a Martha or a Tom? That’s easy. Or at least, it’s more likely.”

“What have you got against Toms?”

“One in particular springs to mind, but I’d prefer a different name.”

“Who’s Tom?” Josh pressed.

“What would you say to Bartholomew?”

“Not bad. But why Bartholomew?”

“No reason. Except that it sounds dumb, and I’d rather do battle with a dummy.”

“There’s probably loads of smart Bartholomews. But okay, I hear you. Let’s go with Bartholomew.”

“Do you think our names impact our personalities?”

“No idea. Maybe. I think Hope suits you perfectly. I can’t think of a better name for you, actually.”

“Yeah, I guess it depends on your point of view. You have to admit that being called Hope at a time like this is somewhat ironic.”

“How do you define yourself?”

“Whoa! Now that’s a deep question,” Hope laughed. “I guess I’m just a girl with nice breasts and a brain tumor.”

“Stop it, Hope. What I mean is you’re not the sort of person to let yourself be defined by an illness.”

Hope considered Josh’s question. She bit down on her spoon and stared up at the mall’s ceiling. The light streaming in through the glass roof was blinding. Bartholomew made her easier to dazzle.

“I guess I’d describe myself as a short girl who’s kind of nice with a bit of a wild streak, who’s dating a guy much too handsome for her.”

“Come on, you’re more than that, and I know you know it. If you just relax, what springs to mind?”

“I never relax.”

“Hope, do you know how long we’ve been together?”

“Okay, okay! I can’t relax any more, because as soon as I do, I think about Bart. Bart.” She nodded. “That’s easier than Bartholomew.”

“What about before Bart arrived on the scene?”

“Before? I thought that one day I’d meet a man like you, although I didn’t imagine him to be like you. To be honest, I didn’t imagine him at all, but I definitely dreamed of moments like the ones we spend together.”

“I want to talk about you, Hope, not us. Tell me something you identify with. Something that feels like you.”

“Promise you won’t laugh? The ocean.”

“That makes sense. Now, tell me about Tom.”

“He was the first kiss that mattered.”

“Oh my God!” Josh cried.

“Oh, come on! Are you seriously jealous of the past?”

“Fine, I won’t say a word . . .”

“Josh, the past is the past.”

“Well, Tom isn’t fully in the past, is he? Otherwise you wouldn’t have mentioned him.”

“Which of us said that life’s little wounds are what let the light in?” Hope smiled. “I hope it was me, because it’s actually pretty good.”

“Screws, not wounds.”

“That’s a shame. My brain would have been ultra-enlightened. Anyway, I’m sure some girl broke your heart before you met me. You wouldn’t be as sensitive as you are if you hadn’t had a relationship that made you suffer. Guys usually have this muddled vision of life. I’m sure something happened to make you rethink it all.”

“Brenda . . . ,” Josh started.

“I don’t believe you!”

“I’m telling you . . .”

“Still not believing you.”

“Hope, didn’t I promise never to lie to you?”

“You said you would never lie to me again. And the ‘again’ is key here.”

“Okay, never again.”

“Did you really date a Brenda? For real?” She frowned.

“For real.”

“Damn. How could you do that? Tell me she was mind-blowingly smart, at least.”

“You’re not jealous of the past, are you?”

Hope began her treatment the following month. Sam traveled to see his daughter as her chemotherapy came to an end. She was thinner than he remembered, but Bart had lost weight, too, and Dr. Berger was feeling confident. All she needed was another two chemo sessions, and her chances of complete remission looked good.

In the spring, Hope started running with Josh again along the riverbank. Day after day, week after week, she regained a little of the strength that each new treatment had drained away. As soon as it was all over, she began taking morning strolls along the river, and it wasn’t long before she was back in class.

The weeks passed, and life was back to normal. Or at least, almost normal.

The moment Hope fell asleep in the evenings, Josh hurried to meet Luke at the Center. The two friends were more committed than ever before to their research, and their new team was helping the project to bear fruit. The team members got along well. Ideas abounded. The research was moving forward, and their progress was “remarkable,” according to Flinch. The recordings they had made of Josh had allowed them to save significant time in their brain modeling, and the Neurolink project saved even more time in developing the headset that Josh had in mind.

In early May, they used the 3D printer to produce the first prototype, and tests carried out on a monkey had the entire Center spellbound. In