[Just a side-note, I get carried away with creative writing assignments so my character study will be quite a bit longer than others, I think. And I worked on this part for a while.]
Aaron sits down on my roommate's chair while I take a seat on my bed. There is an awkward moment of silence while we both just stare at each other.
Finally he breaks the silence by asking, "So how have you been?"
"Good," I reply, a bit dishonestly. "Classes are a drag but everything is generally okay. I'm actually expecting a call from my mom in a little bit."
"Oh, did I come at a bad time?" he asks with a slight frown on his face.
"No, no," I reassure him. "It won't take that long. I should actually just call her right now. Can you wait for, like, two minutes?"
"No problem."
I dial my mom's cell phone number, and she picks up on the second ring.
"Hey, Mom," I greet her.
"Hi, honey," she replies. "How are you?"
"Okay. Classes are difficult but I'm doing my best to keep up with them."
"That's good. I know you'll do just fine."
I hesitate, not wanting to cause her stress, but I tell my mom about the difficulty I have when I'm studying, the fatigue, even insomnia.
My mom doesn't say anything for a minute, and I notice Aaron trying not to make it obvious that he's listening and concerned.
"Are you having problems with your fine motor skills? Or forgetting things more easily?" my mother asks quietly.
I pause to think. "Yes, actually. Now that I think about it, studying is becoming harder and longer for me. And I'm feeling more on-edge and anxious. Why? What does that mean?"
My mom is silent again, and I start getting worried.
"What does it mean, Mom?" I ask in a more urgent, clipped tone.
"It's just that... your father was the same way before he was diagnosed with Cruetzfeldt-Jakob Disease. He started losing memory, cognitive function, insomnia set in, fine motor skills were slowly lost," my mom says in a quiet voice.
I freeze when I hear her say this. My mind goes blank and shuts down. This can't be happening. I'm only nineteen! I'm too young to get this disease. After my father was diagnosed, I did as much research as I could. And I'm at least thirty years too young to get this disease.
"Melody?" my mother calls to me. "Are you still there?"
"Yeah," I reply faintly. "I'm still here."
"Look, we don't know anything for sure yet so don't freak out. This could all just be nothing. Schedule an appointment with a doctor as soon as you can, though, okay? You're not feeling well, so you should get yourself checked out. But this is all probably nothing."
"Yeah, okay," I whisper. I can't think straight, can't wrap my mind around what was just said.
"Honey, you'll be just fine, all right? Just call a doctor and schedule an appointment."
"Yeah, all right," my voice cracks. "Bye, Mom. I'll keep you updated." Then I hang up the phone. I sit for several moments, staring at the floor, trying to process what just happened.
"Is everything okay?" Aaron asks me.
I look up with a start. "Oh! I forgot you were here. Sorry. Um, I actually need to schedule an appointment with a doctor. I'm not feeling that great so my mom suggested that I get a check up."
"Oh, well I'm sure you'll be fine." Aaron smiles reassuringly at me. And I do my best to reciprocate.
The trip to the doctor's office was nerve-wracking and terrible. I told Dr. Peters about my symptoms and family history. And he made me take some tests. So now I await the phone call that ultimately decides my fate. I've paced back and forth in my room so many times I think I've left permanent tracks. Finally, the phone rings and I dive onto the bed for it.
"Hello?" I answer. I've lost the ability to breathe, I'm so anxious.
"Hello, Miss Spiros? This is Dr. Peters. Your test results came back." Dr. Peters paused. "You should probably sit down."
I close my eyes and hang my head, let the euphemism 'you should sit down' sink in.
Dr. Peters repeats, "Your test results came back and it appears that what your father had, Creutzfeldt- Jakob Disease, is hereditary. And... he passed it on to you. Now normally this affects middle-age and older, but it seems that the mutated gene mutated even more, causing you to get it at nineteen. And while, not much is known about this disease, I know some of the best doctors in the world that could help you. Are you still there, Miss Spiros?"
I'm silent for a second before I reply with a quiet, "Yes."
Dr. Peters continues, "Dr. Kelley Markley in Ireland is one of the best neurosurgeons in the world; I can make a call to her office. Or there's Dr. Richard Findly in New Zealand who has dealt with two other people in your position. I can also call him. Or both, I can call both, get their professional opinions."
"That sounds... fine." I'm in too much shock to pay close attention to what Dr. Peters is saying.
As soon as I get off the phone with Dr, Peters I race to my closet to pull out my suitcase and start throwing my clothes into it. I hear a knock on the door, and I rush over to open it, finding Aaron.
I wave him inside. "Look, I just found out that I have the same disease as my dad did but for some effing reason, that damn mutated gene decided to mutate even more causing me to get it at such a young age." I throw this all at him with no preface. "Dr. Peters says that he knows one Doctor Kelley Markley in Ireland which is closer than New Zealand. I made a split decision, and now I'm packing my suitcase so I can fly half way across the world to meet her. And I don't know what I'm doing from there but I have to go. This disease kills quickly, and if she can't cure me then I at least want to die having traveled to Europe for once in my life." I inform Aaron of my plan that I haven't even completely thought through yet. My mind is on automatic, feeling rather than thinking.
I leave Aaron to slowly sink down into the desk chair while I shove everything in my suitcase so I can close it. My need to neatly fold my clothes and pack them nicely is overridden by my urgency to get out of the country as quickly as possible. I rush over to my laptop on the desk to search for Dr, Markley's office, then I look up the next available flight to Ireland. I find the cheapest one for $950, book it, then print out my ticket.
Aaron stands up abruptly. "I'm going with you."
I stop what I'm doing and look at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
"I'm going with you," he repeats. "You just found out you have your dad's disease. You can't very well just pack up and go to Europe by yourself. I'll go with you to keep you company and make sure you're safe. And anyway, I've always wanted to visit the British Isles, especially Wales. You know, find out more about my heritage. And this is the perfect opportunity."
I look at him, shocked at what he just said. My eyes narrow. "Oh, I'm so glad that my developing a fatal disease has given way to the perfect opportunity for you to learn about your heritage!" My voice oozes sarcasm.
"No, I didn't mean it like that." Aaron quickly tries to backtrack. "I just mean that while we're there, we might as well... carpe diem, I guess." I can tell he chose his words as carefully as he could.
I stare at him for a moment, gauging what he's saying. "Fine. You can come. Hurry up and get on the internet to buy your ticket. There's a flight for $950 that leaves in three hours. It takes an hour to get to the airport, so you have 30 minutes at most to get all set." Aaron quickly jumps on the computer. "I'll drop you off at your dorm so you can pack. Then it's straight to the airport. We can call our parents on the way there."
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