“Duuude,” Garfield exclaimed. “How much money do you think we made?”
Max thought hard. “I placed orders for a short sell. One thousand shares at $4.72. So far—“ he did the math in his head, and smiled—“I’d calculate we’ve made $12,000 in profit.”
“Woo-hoo!” Garfield held up his hand in front of Max, slamming him a high five.
“I just wish I had a million dollars,” Max said. “That’s not really a big return, in the larger scheme of things.”
“Well, it’s a lot of money for two broke high school students!” Garfield looked at the TV, completely mesmerized and fascinated. He diverted his attention to the bottom of the screen. “These are cool captions. How do you get these?”
He pointed to two lines of text in white letters, with solid black background, appearing one sentence at a time at the bottom of the screen. The dialogue on the television set was being captured visually through these captions.
Max motioned to the brown electronic device on top of the TV. “I saw this in an electronics store. It’s a closed captioning device. It brings out the captions on TV.”
“So cool,” Garfield said, “For the hearing impaired. I can’t take my eyes off them.” He turned to Max, “One question, though.”
“Shoot.”
“Why do you need it?”
Max tried to invent an answer, but just said the first thing that came into his head. “I’m used to it and I miss it.”
Garfield shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “Dude, you’re weird.”
“I might be weird, but I’ve got a lot of money in my pocket.”
Chapter Fifteen
December 27, 1987 at 2:33
This is it, Max thought, climbing out of the car. Get ready, dude, for another major blast from the past.
Time in Life II had passed quickly. He’d been spending more time with Nathan Symes, and studying for medical school. Now it was already Christmas, and here he was dating Brigitta Dunst, leader of the most popular girls clique at the school—a girl he’d only brushed by once accidentally in Life I, during a basketball game.
Back into September, Max had confided into Nathan his obsession with Brigitta. The next day, Brigitta had sauntered over to Max’s locker, her hips swaying provocatively.
“Hey,” Brigitta had said, flirting with him.
Nathan had just that much influence within the cliques at school. As long as Brigitta wasn’t in his “little black book,” Nathan could make it happen for Max. Actually, she was, but Nathan had his eyes on other girls at the moment.
Back in Life I, Max would never have had the courage to ask a gorgeous girl like Brigitta out. He’d also never have dreamed he’d be bringing her on his arm to the annual Christmas family gathering at his grandparents’ place—a place where Max had always been bored to tears, in Life I. Sure, later on, when he had a family of his own, he’d learned to appreciate these gatherings. But by 2013, it had been years and years since many of the original family members congregated together.
“Come on, Brig,” Max said to Brigitta, tugging on her hand. “It’s time to meet my grandparents.”
Brigitta smiled. She brushed his hair using her long fingers and pressed her body against him in all the right places.
Max looked around at the festive decorating his grandmother had done—a Christmas tree overflowing with twinkling red and green lights, ornamental balls, and sparkling tinsel, applied one strand at a time. Several wreaths and garlands draped across windows and stair railings, festooned with shimmery red and gold bows.
“Now, now young lady, hands off our precious grandson!” Emily Brown, Max’s grandmother, jokingly teased Brigitta as she waded into their space.
Brigitta blushed, but Max wouldn’t let her pull away.
“Grandma,” Max said. “This is my girlfriend, Brigitta.”
“Brigitta?” Grandma Emily repeated. “What a lovely and unusual name!”
Brigitta’s cheeks reddened. She squeezed Max tighter. “Uh, excuse me a minute, would you Brig?” Max asked his date. She smiled, kissed the tip of his nose, and wandered off.
Max suddenly said to his grandma, “Can I speak with you alone?”
It astounded him that he was actually standing here talking to her again. She’d been gone so long… yet, not really in this life.
“Certainly, dear. Let’s go into the guest room where the coats are.”
He and Grandma Emily walked past a dozen chatting relatives, and into the guest bedroom.
“Grandma,” Max said, once they were alone in the room. “I just want to say how much I love you and how much I’ve missed you.” He reached out and gave her a tight hug that she graciously returned.
Grandma Emily’s eyes widened, and she closed her arms around Max. “Why, thank you, Max!” She stepped back, and looked into Max’s watering eyes. “I love you, too.”
Max recalled how she’d suffered through two years of Alzheimer’s, and then died in February of 1990. At the Christmas party in December 1989—the last she would attend—Max remembered her sitting in a chair in the kitchen, nodding and muttering to herself. Max’s relatives would briefly pay their respects, and then walk out, shaking their heads saying, “Oh, poor thing, poor thing.”
Max sighed, remembering. Grandma Emily spent her final Christmas in a nursing home. Holy shit, no one should spend their final anything in a nursing home. She should’ve been home, surrounded by her loved ones in a happy environment. But the disease had just gotten the best of her and no one could take care of her.
Max wanted her to know how much she meant to him and that as a doctor, he was going to do everything in his power to wipe these life-altering diseases off the face of the earth.
But right now, Max’s grandmother was still mentally sharp, and he seized the opportunity to let her know what she meant to him. He didn’t remember getting to do that in Life I.
“You’ve been a wonderful grandmother,” Max said. He wiped his nose. Like almost all guys, he never brought any tissue with him, and he didn’t care. He wiped his hand on his pants. “Every time we visit you, you always have that delicious lemon cake.”
“Oh, you know it!” she said.
“You got me my first air rocket when I was thirteen. Man, I totally loved that rocket!”
“What’s with the finality of your comments, Max? You and I have many more wonderful years together.”
Max kissed her on the forehead.
“I know, Grandma. I guess it’s the holidays or something. I just wanted you to know how much I love you.”
Max started toward the door, then suddenly stopped.
“Also, Grandma,” Max turned to her, “I wanted to thank you very much for that moose lamp you left me in your will. It’s really a family treasure for us.”
Before his grandmother could say anything, Max smacked himself on the head. You dummy! he told himself. Stop talking about the future!
“Shhh!” Grandma Emily whispered to Max. Her eyes darted around. “Yes, Max,” she confessed, “I specifically left it for you in my will. But I had no idea you knew about that.” Before Max could reply, she leaned in closer to him. “Max, what I am about to tell you, you must keep in strictest confidence.”
“Yes, Grandma, of course.”
“Grandpa Josh’s been aware of this for months now. We’ve also told your father and mother, but we asked them not to pass on the news. Max, I have Alzheimer’s. Do you know what that is?”
Max nodded. He’d seen the disease take its toll on Grandma Emily in Life I.
Her chest heaved. “I’m already starting to lose my memory of certain things and people in my life. There are some days when I find myself staring at something, and then the next second I realize Josh has been trying to talk to me. None of the other children know. But I wanted you to know, dear.”
“Grandma, I’m so sorry,” Max gently told her. Her eyes were filled with sadness, yet no tears. Wow, she already knows. “Grandma,” Max said, h
olding her hands, “can you do one more thing for me before we go back to the party? Can you show me that moose lamp?”
“Of course, Max.” She clasped Max’s hands. “I just hope I can find it. It’s somewhere in the basement.”
She led him past the crowd and down the narrow steps of the basement. She turned on the lights, and peered through a pile of furniture and boxes. “Here it is!” She pointed.
Sitting on a carved oak night table was a lamp with a lampshade of waxed paper sewn together by leather sinews. Superimposed on top were silhouettes of trees, a few birds, and moose.
Max walked over, hoping the light bulb was there and that it would work. He clicked the base.
Nothing happened.
Seeing the cord wasn’t plugged in, Max bent over to find an outlet. Then he clicked on the switch, and a glowing yellow light shone through the lampshade, highlighting the wilderness scene.
“It’s lovely,” Grandma Emily said. “I haven’t seen it lit for a few years.”
“Let’s go back upstairs,” Max said, admiring the moose lamp. “People are waiting for us.”
“All right,” Grandma Emily said. They began to climb the stairs. “Max, don’t worry about me. You have a lovely girl waiting for you. Pay attention to her. You’ll be looking at this lamp with me ten years from now, I promise you.”
“I sure hope so, Grandma,” Max said forlornly.
They returned to the festivities upstairs, and Max spotted Brigitta speaking with his parents. Brigitta smiled on cue, but her eyes were aiming for an exit.
“Mom.” Max knew he had to get one more thing out of the way. Something he might actually be able to help with. “Hey, Mom. Where’s Uncle Selwyn?”
“Uncle Selwyn?” Max’s mother responded. “I just saw him in the living room.”
“Thanks,” Max said. He felt guilty about abandoning Brigitta, but he had to find out more, and finish acting on all his instincts. He said to Brigitta, “C’mon, let’s meet my uncle Selwyn. He’s an engineer who also loves radio-controlled airplanes. Then we’ll be out of here.”
“You promise?” Brigitta said.
“Promise.”
“Max!” Suddenly Selwyn Brown came into view, with his wife Gladys in tow. “I heard you were looking for me.” He playfully rubbed Max’s head with the knuckles of his left hand. “How’s my favorite lacrosse player? Had any killer plays lately?”
For a moment, Max was overwhelmed. He stared at Selwyn as if he were a miracle, his mouth too dry to answer. Finally he gulped and replied, “Not so much, Uncle Selwyn.”
Although he was in his forties, and prematurely balding, Uncle Selwyn was still ruggedly handsome, sporting a goatee and round glasses. He walked and talked with an infectious level of boundless energy.
“Wow!” he gasped, not ashamed at looking Brigitta up and down, “What a beaut!” He winked at Max, and jostled his elbow into Max’s biceps.
Max did his best to hide his grimace. “Thanks, Uncle Selwyn. Uh, say, can I talk to you in private for a few minutes?” His heart was beating rapidly.
“Oh come on, Max,” his uncle laughed. “I’m an open guy. You can discuss anything with me. Right here.”
“I don’t think so.” Max gulped, walking away, and beckoning back to his uncle with his finger.
Selwyn shrugged, in an exaggerated way, then followed Max.
“What is it?” asked Selwyn, when they’d reached the middle landing of the staircase.
“Listen, don’t take this the wrong way.” Max hesitated. “Ummm...” But he couldn’t say it.
Selwyn looked puzzled.
“What’s wrong, Max?”
“Ummm. Listen, Uncle Selwyn…how often do you go see your doctor?”
Selwyn touched Max on the shoulder. Max had never seen his uncle look so serious before. “What do you mean?”
“Like, when’s the last time you saw your doctor?”
“Oh, I guess about three months ago. I had a nasty cold and it wouldn’t go away. Then I had a complete physical and the doc pronounced me fit.” Selwyn laughed as he stepped away from Max. He mimed a kickboxer, punching and kicking the air toward Max. “But why do you ask?”
Max was stunned. He was really going to look foolish now. He’d been hoping for an opener, but it looked like he was going to have to fly on his own.
“I know you probably won’t believe me,” Max blurted out. “But you really, really need to ask for a thorough cancer test.”
Selwyn’s face went blank. For once, he was at a loss for words.
Max continued, “Write it down on a piece of paper. I’ll look for one…”
“No need,” Selwyn said as he observed Max looking futilely about. “Go on.”
“It’s colorectal cancer.”
Selwyn looked at his nephew in disbelief.
“What the heck are you talking about? You think I have cancer in my… down there? What would make you think that?”
Max ignored his protests. “I really should write this down for you.”
Max dug around for a scrap of paper. The gaping hole left by Selwyn’s death—when Max was finishing high school—had created a lasting sadness for Max. Selwyn had died of cancer in 1989. Some people said Selwyn’s untimely death greatly accelerated his mother, Emily’s, own death a year later, although Max knew otherwise. But what if the cancer is not yet present? But that was a risk he had to take. No matter how often Max proved to be wrong, or how much Selwyn disbelieved him, Max was going to keep urging him to continue taking medical tests. As long as it took.
“Look,” he told his uncle, writing this all down, “have the doctor look for a polyp on your lower intestine.”
Selwyn seemed angry. “Have you been studying this stuff in school, and now you’re telling everyone to get their butts checked out?”
Some relatives at the bottom of the stairs heard Selwyn’s outburst and looked up at him. “Come on!” Max tugged at Selwyn’s sleeve and searched around. “Let’s go in the bathroom.”
Grandma Emily’s bathroom was a large one, with a dominant pink. The air within was infused with the fragrance of potpourri that Grandma had sprinkled into an ornamental dish.
Once they were both inside, Max closed the door.
“Dammit, Max,” Selwyn growled. “What the hell are you doing?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I don’t like this. You’re telling me that I’m going to die!”
“No, I’m not!” Max asserted. “I swear!”
“How can you possibly know this?”
Max had prepared for this question. “Look, it’s like this. I had this weird dream about you. You got cancer in the dream, and you died on May 14, 1989.”
Selwyn’s eyes widened. “Huh, that specific? Your dreams even tell you the date?” Once again, Selwyn didn’t wait for Max to respond. “Okay, so it’s a prophecy. Some people claim to have extra-sensory perception. Didn’t think it’d be you though, Max.” He chuckled.
“No,” Max asserted. “It’s not like that at all. I just know not to ignore this. There’s a reason this message was passed on to me. If I can help you, Uncle Selwyn, then what do you have to lose? A couple hours in the doctor’s waiting room?”
“Okay, so my nephew has no extra-sensory perception abilities, but he has this dream of me having cancer.” Selwyn mockingly clutched his own chest, pretending to have a heart attack, and then laughed out loud.
“If you remember, I also had a premonition that the stock market was gonna crash,” Max reminded him. “And that came true.”
Selwyn said nothing. He studied Max’s face, looking for a sign that he was joking. Finding nothing, he put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder and rubbed it gently.
“Okay, Max. I understand you’re concerned. And because you feel so certain that cancer is creeping around inside me, I’ll go have it checked.”
Relief cascaded off Max. His shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t a doctor yet, but he’d just intervened in the discovery, treatment, and prevention of canc
er in a beloved family member. “Thank you,” he sighed.
Selwyn looked upwards and made hand motions above his head, pretending to be a magician conjuring up tricks. “My nephew, off in Dreamland, thinking his poor, sick Uncle Selwyn is going to drop dead in… in… eighteen months.”
Max forced a laugh. Uncle Selwyn joined him.
“What’s so funny?” shouted a woman’s voice outside the bathroom.
“Nothing!” Max hollered through the door, still chuckling.
“It’s okay!” Selwyn yelled, holding his belly from the laughter.
There was a moment’s silence, and then the voice asked incredulously, “Why are you both in the bathroom?”
“Checking the plumbing!” laughed Max.
“Oh. Well. Okay,” said the disembodied voice. “But hurry up. People are waiting to use it.”
Max reached over and pushed the handle on the toilet. “Yup,” he said loudly, “it’s working!”
“Oh boy.” Selwyn was wiping tears from his face. “Time to go back.”
Still chuckling, the two walked downstairs. Max looked around for Brigitta. She came around the corner from the kitchen, looking glum.
“There you are,” she groaned, folding her arms over her chest to show her displeasure.
“There’s the prettiest girl in the room,” Max told her.
“Stop it, Max, I’m mad at you…”
“Come on,” he said cheerfully. A huge sense of accomplishment made his chest puff out. Not so much that he would get the credit—Max didn’t care about that. With his knowledge, he was working at keeping his family intact and protecting them. And that was worth more than any amount of money, to give each of their lives a happy ending.
“Let’s go somewhere where we can be alone,” he whispered to Brigitta. Then he sighed, looking around his grandmother’s house. “My job’s done.”
Chapter Sixteen
January 1, 1988 at 3:29 a.m.
Max tossed and turned and spun in bed. He’d been trying to get to sleep for the past ten minutes, having just arrived home from a private New Year’s Eve house party hosted by Susie, one of the girls in Brigitta’s clique. His new connections had landed Max the coveted invitation. Anyone who was anyone was there. Including Max.
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