The Pull of Destiny

by Hotcheri

  I stared warily at the two of them as I walked to the bed and sat down. Dad did not look happy, but I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was go home, play with my little sister for a while, take a shower and sleep for 10 hours straight. I felt I deserved that much.

  Doctor Khan moved closer to me, his hand extended.

  “Lucas, I’m sorry I didn’t have better news for you,” he said, sincerity etched in his face. “But I’m glad we caught the aneurysm before it ruptured and I’m hopeful that the surgery will be a success. Please rest assured that we’ll do everything in our power to get you through this.”

  “With the money I’m paying you, you’d better,” dad growled behind him.

  I got to my feet, blinking away the double vision as I shook the doctor’s hand.

  “Thanks, Doctor,” I said, trying to offset dad’s rudeness. Doctor Khan pumped my hand vigorously, than gave me an imploring look.

  “Now, I realize I already broached this subject, but I feel obliged to press you with regards to counseling.” I bit back a groan. Not this again. “Not only does it help you get ready for surgery, it is also beneficial in you healing process after surgery.”

  I nodded again. “I understand that, but I’m cool,” I said patiently, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t want counseling. I’ll deal with this my own way.”

  Dad looked up at me, a frown on his face. Eavesdropper. “What counseling?” he asked shortly. Doctor Khan turned to him.

  “We offer counseling to help patients understand the ramifications of the illness and how serious it is. It’s useful for patients to have some idea of how they’ll get through the aftermath of surgery. Perhaps you can talk to Lucas about rethinking his stance on it,” he explained.

  Dad nodded, a grim look on his face. “Perhaps I will.”

  Oblivious to the rising tension in the room, Doctor Khan beamed at me again, almost as though he hadn’t just given me life threatening news. “Lucas, I’ll see you in a week for a checkup and we’ll discuss surgery options.” I nodded and he turned to dad. “Mr. Astor.”

  They shook hands and Doctor Khan left, his nurse in tow. Almost immediately, dad turned on me and I braced myself for a fight.

  “What’s this about you refusing counseling?” he asked, his hands clenched.

  As if he actually gave a damn.

  Practically swaying on my feet from drowsiness and pain, I gave him a level look and said “Dad. I’m exhausted and I just found out that I have some kind of tumor in my brain, so can you please hold the lecture till we get home?” I shrugged. “I just can’t listen to you right now.”

  Kick ass! Aneurysm immunity. If it had been any other day, dad would have laid into me for ‘back talking’ him, but today he just glared thoughtfully at me, nodded and growled, “Let’s go.”

  I honestly thought we were going home when we got into the car, but to my annoyance, dad told his chauffer to “Drive to NYU Medical Centre.”

  I groaned as the limo drove off. I seriously wasn’t in the mood to get poked and prodded by another doctor right now.

  “Why are we going to NYU Medical Centre?” I asked, leaning back till my head was touching the headrest and closing my eyes.

  “Getting you a second opinion,” dad said, as though I ought to have guessed that was his intention.

  “I’m sure that can wait,” I mumbled.

  “No, it can’t,” dad replied and I opened one eye. Did he care? I had to find out.

  “You know, I’m surprised you care so much about me to get a second opinion,” I said to him.

  He snorted, giving me a derisive look and said, “You’re my heir plus I want you to live long enough so that I can watch you screw up the family fortune.”

  He gave an evil laugh and I shook my head in disbelief. Even my own dad thought I was a screw-up. Then again, our relationship had been frosty ever since he divorced my mom back when I was a kid, so that was nothing new.

  We spent about two hours at NYU Medical Centre, with the doctors who pored over my scans and reports finally proclaiming them flawless and on point. You’d think dad would give it a rest, but that wasn’t the case. I felt sicker and more tired than ever when we left the hospital, but instead of listening to my complaints, dad just told me to man up and instructed his chauffer to drive us to La Guardia. Apparently he’d chartered a jet (at 8 grand a pop) and we were making the trip to John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore.

  “It was ranked second in U.S.News & World Report’s annual Neurology and Neurosurgery rankings of American hospitals,” he told me once we were airborne.

  I sipped on my iced latte, wondering if this night would ever end. It was a two hour flight to Baltimore and the time was already fast approaching 8.30pm (we had a ‘quick’ pit stop at Daniel for food which turned into a photo-op for dad coz he just loves the spotlight). By the time we arrived it would be about 10.30pm and I foresaw another hour or so with the doctors. Was the guy trying to kill me with exhaustion? Didn’t he realize I had school tomorrow? Oh, well, maybe he would let me stay home from school. Again, I really deserved it. I was co-operating.

  “Really?” I said, just to make small talk. “What was the first hospital?”

  And who keeps such useless facts in their heads, anyway? Bet he probably just Googled it at the hospital.

  “Mayo Clinic, in Minnesota.”

  “Dad, I’m not going to Minnesota tonight. I don’t care if I die; I’m absolutely not going to Minnesota.”

  “You’ll go wherever I damn well say you’ll go,” dad growled. I didn’t bother arguing. He’d probably kick me out of the jet without a parachute.

  The only thing that the doctors at John Hopkins had to add was a warning. “While we aren’t quite sure what factors cause aneurysms to rupture, studies have shown that high blood pressure, blood thinners such as aspirin and other prescription drugs and stimulants can increase the risk of rupturing. Therefore, we would advise you not to lose your temper.”

  Amazing. I spent two hours in a plane with my dad to hear that?

  You can imagine how tired I was when we finally got home, at a record time of 1.30 am. And dad wouldn’t hear of me not going to school in the morning.

  “You’ve missed more than enough school already,” he hissed. We were standing in the living room and I kicked off my shoes, ready to head to bed. “You’re in danger of getting expelled! No Astor has ever gotten expelled before. You’re going to school tomorrow, young man.”

  Surprised he noticed that I’m close to getting expelled. And here I was thinking all he cared about was his iPhone and Blackberry. My bad.

  Finally, after a quick shower, I collapsed into bed but I didn’t get nearly enough sleep.

  And now, here I was, trying to hold on to my sanity while wondering why I hadn’t told my friends about my aneurysm. I’d had plenty of chances, but I just couldn’t go through with it. God knows I wanted to talk to someone about it but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that my friends were jerks. Sure, I was a jerk too, I own it, but Wendy, Ahmed and Joanna weren’t the people I would entrust my secret with. Wendy and her big mouth would spread it all over The Upper East Side; Ahmed would make stupid jokes about it but steer clear of me like I was contagious; Joanna would treat me like I was going to die that very minute. Because we were all severely limited when it came to personal tragedies. When Shane died, I remember how everyone treated me, giving me a wide berth as though they thought that I would collapse in tears the instant they talked to me. None of them knew what to say. And when they did talk to me, they sounded so patronizing that it drove me crazy. I didn’t want that happening again, which meant I couldn’t tell them.

  ‘Why did you tell CiCi, then?’ a small voice in my head said as I stared out of the window. ‘You don’t even know her!’

  “Because she was there and I wasn’t thinking straight,” I murmured to myself, causing people sitting near me to look at me.

  But even as I said that, I knew it was a lie.
Why had I told CiCi, and so willingly?

  Because she looked like she would understand more than my friends. Because she wasn’t as pampered and as spoilt as we were. Because, after I told her, she didn’t look at me like I was some dying patient. She didn’t look at me with pity in her eyes. Instead she offered me a shoulder to cry on, and I had laughed at her.

  I wasn’t laughing now. I needed a shoulder to cry on, which was why I approached Robyn in the canteen at lunch time to ask her where CiCi was. I hoped her offer was still valid, because if there was ever a time in my life when I needed to talk to someone who understood, it was now.

  “Hey, Robyn,” I said casually slipping into the seat next to her. Shazia wasn’t around and I was grateful. I didn’t relish getting into it with her today. Robyn smiled at me.

  “Hi, Luke,” she said brightly, then did a double take. “Wow. You look awful. Are you sick?”

  I grinned involuntarily. She had no idea. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Look, do you know where CiCi is?”

  Robyn scrunched up her cute nose, looking puzzled. “CiCi? You mean Celsi?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Celsi.”

  CiCi sounded better, in my opinion.

  “She told me you apologized, but she didn’t tell me you gave her a pet name!” Robyn looked highly interested, leaning in closer to me and putting her hand on my arm. “What do you want with her?” she breathed.

  I shrugged casually. “I just want to talk to her,” I said vaguely. Robyn rolled her eyes.

  “Luke, I know you. You’re not interested in a girl unless you view her as a challenge. This is the second time this week you’ve asked where Celsi is. What’s the deal?”

  “No deal. I just wanna talk to her.”

  “She’s in the music studio again, probably,” Robyn said, popping open her can of Diet Pepsi. I started to get to my feet, ready to leave, and she pulled me down by my sleeve. “I swear, if you do anything to hurt her, Shazia and I are gonna hunt you down and when we’re done with you...”

  She let her voice trail off as she glared at me. On anyone else it might have been intimidating, but coming from a girl who smelt of roses and looked more innocent than an angel, it didn’t quite work.

  And why was she threatening me? It wasn’t like I wanted to date CiCi! Just- talk to her. I kinda enjoyed talking to her. She made me laugh and God knows I needed that.

  “Robyn,” I started, prying her fingers from my t-shirt.

  She shook a finger in my face and I leaned back, sure that she wanted to poke out my eye.

  “Because you have no idea what Celsi goes through. I don’t want you hurting that girl, she’s got enough problems already at home. You know, with her cousin and the money and-.” She cut herself off in mid-sentence, clapping a hand to her mouth as I stared at her, my interest piqued. “God, please don’t tell her I said that.”

  “What do you mean, her cousin and-,” I started, curious.

  She shook her head, her blonde hair flying. “I’ve said too much. Don’t ask her about it. Please?” She gave me a beseeching look and I sighed.

  “Okay, I won’t,” I said finally. “But- do you have any headache meds?”

  Call it random, but I suddenly remembered that Robyn had insanely bad migraines. Once, when we were at one of those awfully boring social gala’s I was forced to attend with my family (come to think of it, one was coming up. Dammit) she had collapsed in the middle of dinner, screaming that her head was about to explode. If anyone had medicine, it would be her.

  Sure enough, she felt about in her huge pink bag and brought out a vial of medicine. “Do you have headaches?” she asked me, handing me two small capsules.

  I nodded. “Bad headaches.”

  “Triptan. You should ask your doctor to prescribe this to you. It works really well.” Robyn frowned at me. “But you look really pale, Luke. Are you sure it’s just a headache?”

  “Yeah,” I lied. I smiled at her, getting to my feet again as I gritted my teeth against the wave of pain and nausea that rushed through me. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  “Don’t tell Celsi I told you what I said!” she shouted after me as I walked out of the canteen.

  I made a beeline for the music studio and walked into ‘CiCi’s’ cubicle. It was empty.

  “Damn,” I muttered, wondering what to do now. Go get some water and drink the pills Robyn gave me? Call my driver and have him pick me up? I sat down at the piano stool to decide, just as the door opened and CiCi stepped in. She stopped in her tracks, staring at me with her mouth open in such a priceless manner that I would have laughed if I hadn’t felt so lousy.

  “This is seriously getting creepy,” she said slowly.

  CHAPTER 7

  that’s what friends are for.

  Celsi’s Point of View

  “This is getting seriously creepy.”

  My hand froze on the door handle as I eyeballed Luke, who was sitting casually at the piano like he had every right in the world to be there.

  He has the same right you do.

  Okay, maybe that was true. But the impractical part of me insisted that our random and peculiar meetings were all to do with fate. And even though I knew it was crazy, I was tempted to agree. There was no earthly reason why Luke and I kept running into each other, yet here we were. Alone in the same room. Again. Counting furiously in my head, I came to the conclusion that this was the fourth time this week! Pretty amazing for two people who don’t move in the same social circles, huh? Now what were you saying about fate? Was destiny trying to give me a message? If so, what the hell was the message? I had no clue.

  I closed my mouth (which had been gaping open for so long that I was sure a couple of flies had flew in there) just as Luke grinned cheerfully at me and said, “Hey, CiCi! I’m glad I ran into you.”

  Okay, so he’s here for you. Or something. At any rate, I could cross fate off the list.

  “You call this running into me?” I asked boldly, putting a hand on my hip and cocking my head to one side.

  He obviously knew that I was going to be here.

  Luke closed his eyes, managing to somehow look even more gorgeous, which I thought was slightly unfair. What gave him the right to look so attractive? “Well, if you prefer me to run into you literally, I can do that,” he mumbled, barely moving his lips. His amazingly lovely lips. I gave myself a mental slap. I needed to stop ogling over this boy and send him packing before I threw myself onto him. He shrugged. “But- I’d rather not.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, still staring at him, my hand still on the door handle. “Oh. That’s okay,” I heard myself saying. What was I supposed to reply to that odd little statement? Luke Astor may be one of the cutest guys at our school, but he was acting weirder every time we met. “So... why were you hoping to run into me?”

  Luke opened one eye and focused on me, hiding a long yawn behind one hand. “I look like a stalker right now, don’t I?” he asked, electing to answer my question with a question of his own.

  “Um, kinda.”

  “Actually, I think we’re even.” He opened his other eye and lazily stretched his arms over his head. I raised an eyebrow quizzically.

  “Even?” I repeated, not caring that I ran the risk of sounding like a parrot. If we were playing some sort of game, why hadn’t he notified me?

  “Yeah, even,” Luke said patiently. “Coz even though this is the second time I’ve come to this part of the school looking for you, let’s not forget that you came to the penthouse and you walked into my hospital room. 2-2, we’re even.”

  “What?” I exclaimed, my eyes widening. Was he trying to diminish his stalkerish vibe by labelling me a stalker too? Oh, no way! “I had valid reasons for being there each time! I brought you your homework at the penthouse and I told you, I was picking up a-.”

  Belatedly I realised that I was in danger of sounding like one of the kids I took care of at the daycare and I shut my mouth like a trap. Guys didn’t like whining girls, did they?
Why didn’t I pay more attention when Robyn was schooling me on how to attract guys? Wait, slow down there, Celsi. You do not want to attract Luke. Do you?

  Luckily, before I could further pursue this new and disturbing line of thought, Luke spoke.

  “Anyway, I’m not stalking you.”

  I snorted derisively. Someone up there must really hate me, because I couldn’t help myself. And I couldn’t stop myself from talking, either. “A likely story.”

  I need a mental filter.

  “Okay, maybe just a little.” Success! He admits it! Luke grinned, shrugging his shoulders in his blue Rolling Stones t-shirt. I wondered how many band t-shirts he owned. I also wondered whether rain outside was getting missed by him. He’s driven to school, stupid. Oh, yeah. Still, overload of band t-shirts or not, he looked infinitely edible, as usual. “I thought to myself, why should I be the only person being stalked? Let’s see if CiCi likes it, then I can be her own personal fan boy.”

  I scratched my chin. Luke Astor as my own personal fan boy. That was almost too hot to contemplate, yet my mind wanted to do nothing else. Was he trying to get himself jumped?

  “I’d rather you were,” I said hurriedly, hoping that what I was thinking wasn’t showing on my face, because if it was, I might as well just pack it in. Game over. But Luke was just looking at me with an interested expression on his face. Hey, at least he wasn’t laughing at me. “The only person being stalked, I mean. No offence, but it’s creepy how you knew where I would be.” A thought popped into my head and I gazed at him. “Hold on. How did you know where I would be?”

  He blushed slightly, tugging on his earlobe and avoiding my eyes. “I asked Robyn.”

  Okay, so he was definitely entering ‘creepy’ territory. Still, anyone would be lucky to have a stalker that looked like Luke, creepy or not.