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A scholar at heart, he’d obtained his doctorate eight years ago, in chemistry, nonetheless. Our shared interest in science led to the career decisions we’d both made. Though his interest derived from his fascination with the anatomy of pharmaceuticals, it pushed him into pursuing a life that didn’t appeal to officials. He was a threat to their government and a god on the streets.
“I wanted to update everyone on the status of Nature and I. Don’t hesitate to reinstate your gym membership if you need one. You’ll be getting fitted for suits soon.”
“Gym membership?” Makai questioned.
“I’m insulted,” Malachi scoffed.
“And to think, the gym is the smallest room in my quarters.”
“Ah. The flexing begins,” Mercer groaned.
“I don’t f—” Chem started.
“Nah. No flexing,” I told Mercer. “That’s my bad. I forgot who I had on the line. If she gives me the opportunity, I might walk out of the Stacks an engaged man, so power up your treadmills and whatever other unused equipment is in those home gyms y’all speak of. I love each and every one of you. Eyes open. Head to the sky.”
“One love.”
“One love.”
“One love.”
One after the other, their remarks piled in. When the call ended, I powered up the large display screen behind me and logged into my account to begin the meeting I was scheduled for.
“Dr. Domino,” Shelene greeted me.
“My apologies for my tardiness.”
“We still have one minute before we’re set to start the meeting,” she explained.
I took a peek at the clock. Satisfied with my timing, I rested my bones. Promptness was part of my genetic makeup, it seemed. If there was nothing else we hated more as a family, it was showing up tardy. It was a form of disrespect in our eyes. Time was precious and to be valued as such. It was the only thing in life that you couldn’t redeem.
“Good. Let’s begin.”
* * *
John B’svoice was eliminated from the equation and replaced with the loud, increasingly annoying sounds of my phone ringing. It was the second call to come through since starting my engine. The large screen in front of me forced me to withhold the thick, steamy air that was prepared to push forward and through my nostrils. Inclination replaced the budding frustration as I connected the call.
“Pops!”
“Mi. Mi. Mi.”
Three times, he repeated the nickname he’d given me as a very small child.
“Talk to me, old man.”
Hearing his voice was a pleasure of mine. With his increase in age, it wasn’t an unrecognized blessing that he was still around. Since teens and preteens, he’d raised four boys to be productive members of society, for the most part, and had done so gracefully. The creases in his eyes when he smiled, showed no evidence of the hardships we faced or the pain of losing his son to his daughter-in-law’s mental illness caused.
He paused briefly before replying, “I, uh, wanted to catch you before the day ends and remind you that it’s no ordinary day. It’s sort of a special one that I won’t let you forget as long as I’m breathing.”
“I know, Pop.”
“Well, I imagine you’ve already called to wish her a happy birthday?”
“I have. I texted, but yes.”
“Good. Did you get her something?”
“Of course. They were delivered this morning.”
