to let her decorate when we moved in years ago. But now the color brought me only sadness. I opened the blinds and looked out the window at the trees in the garden, and the leaves that needed raking.
There’d be time enough for that later. I was barely home as it was. I leaned back, placing my hand on the other side of the bed, the side that hadn’t been slept in, and took a deep breath. Gotta keep moving.
I took a quick shower and shaved, wiping the shaving cream and wincing as I nicked my chin, drawing blood.
Downstairs I heard Damien already fixing breakfast.
“Hey kiddo,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
He was lathering peanut butter on a toaster waffle.
“Easy with that syrup,”
“Yeah Dad, whatever.”
“Don’t forget, your mom gets home from treatment tonight. I thought we’d order out. How’s Thai sound?”
“Better than your cooking,” Damien smirked.
He was younger than I’d ever seen him, barely a teenager, but I recognize the green eyes, smooth cheeks, the dimple by the corner of his mouth when he smiled.
“Going into work today?” he asked.
“Yeah, maybe.” I said, feeling guilt squeeze my chest. For the past few weeks I’d been changing into a suit every morning before he left for school. Soon I’d have to tell him I already lost my job.
But it didn’t matter.
I was so close, I couldn’t quit now.
“Don’t forget your lunch,” I said, tossing him an apple.
“Nobody brings lunch to school anymore,” he said.
“Fine, then, here. Let me give you some lunch money at least.” I opened my wallet but frowned. I only had a ten left. I needed to go to the bank and get some more cash. I handed him the bill and put away my now empty wallet.
The fridge was empty again. Becky always complained that we’d starve ourselves if she wasn’t here. We’d been mostly living on takeout all week, but Damien hadn’t complained. I’d go to the store later and pick up all the foods she liked, so it looked like I was at least trying to keep us eating healthy.
But what was the point.
I took a cup of coffee and a strawberry poptart down into the office, stretching before loosening my tie and slipping on my slippers. Today was the day. I unlocked the medical cabinet, pulling out the laboratory equipment I’d stolen from the department of health supply closets after they’d let me go.
They thought I was crazy when I pitched them my research. Small minded idiots. This was going to change everything. I just needed more testing. I spent the morning making phone calls to potential supporters.
“No listen, Steve, this is a whole different ballgame. We’re not just talking about a cure for cancer. We’re talking cellular regeneration. Of course it’s possible. In my tests, I’ve seen rapid healing, increased speed and strength. The applications are limitless. Whoever gets control of this thing, they’re going to make billions. All I’m asking for is a small investment to begin clinical trials.”
I’d raised nearly half a million in the last week, but it wasn’t enough. Hell it barely paid for Rebecca’s treatments, which were a joke. Chemo therapy, using decades-old equipment.
I put on my lab coat and opened the sealed chamber in the back of the basement, letting myself into the makeshift clean room. It was the best I could do; more of a hobbyist set up after working with the cutting-edge tech at the lab, but it would have to do for now.
Cages of white rats were illuminated by the vials of glowing elixir. It was working, like I knew it would. It had to.
At noon I made a ham and mayonnaise sandwich and moved to my other list. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose, looking over the names, half of which were crossed out already.
I felt like a snake oil salesman, peddling hope, but I knew it could work. It just hadn’t been tested on humans yet. But there were plenty of wealthy families with a loved one in critical condition. I’d met some of them, in the terminal ward at the hospital. People just like me, desperate for a miracle, with nothing left to lose.
“No it hasn’t gone through clinical trials, and it’s not approved by the FDA. Frankly speaking, this is something new – you know how the bureaucracy works. It could be two or three years before a public trial phase is even available. Tommy doesn’t have that long and he’s not responding to treatment. All I’m saying