Chapter 18. Linked
So the next morning there we were in Nick's office. I for one was feeling more than a little tense about the whole thing, although I had actually slept amazingly well. Angel hadn't joined me for breakfast this time, and I hadn't eaten very much, just some cereal.
Dinner the night before had been really nice. I'd been afraid it would be formal and maybe kind of awkward, but it wasn't. Angel had collected us and taken us to a part of the TSA I hadn't seen yet, where there was a big beautiful house—a mansion, really—on what looked like about ten acres of lawn and park and woods.
We went around the house instead of in, and in back was a pond, maybe an acre and a half, and under the trees near the pond was a table, all set with a white tablecloth and real china and silverware and stuff, but the meal was fried chicken and coleslaw and corn on the cob and biscuits. The food was excellent. The chicken and coleslaw were just as good as my mom's, the biscuits almost. There was what tasted like homemade vanilla ice cream for dessert, with a big bowl of fresh strawberries to ladle over it. And there weren't any mosquitoes.
The conversation was good, too. It seems to me, from knowing Shep so well, that when parents only have one kid, they kind of treat him or her more like—well, not like an adult, but like another partner. You don't have that division like my family has, "the adults" over here, and "the children" over there. It's more of a unit. So conversation is maybe more general, from an earlier age, than it is with families that have more than one.
Not that my folks treat me like a child. I don't mean that. And not that I'm not really close to both my parents, because I am, and so is Cammie. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say, but there is a real distinction, and Angel with her folks was more like Shep with his, and Andrew and Heather were including us with her.
So there was a lot of interesting talk, and when Andrew asked me if I knew what I was planning to major in when I got to college, it was easy for me to answer, "That's kind of a dilemma, sir. I always thought I'd be a doctor, like my dad, so I was planning on pre-med, but now I'm not sure any more."
"Do you like the biology and chemistry and so on?" he asked.
"I do, a lot," I told him, "and I've worked at the hospital and at my dad's office during the vacations since I was old enough to have a summer job. So I knew what I'd be getting into, and I still wanted to. Only now..."
"Is it some specific course or teacher or something that set you thinking?" He was intent, not just asking me as a way of keeping the conversation going—I could tell he really wanted to know.
I thought about it. "Maybe some reading I've been doing," I finally said. "I got all interested in the"—I didn't want to say theological—"well, the metaphysical as opposed to the purely physical side of things."
"I wouldn't presume to give you advice," he said, "just a thought of mine, for you to consider if you want to. I believe very strongly that there aren't enough doctors concerned with their patients as people, with the ethical implications of the treatments they prescribe, with the effects of what are called 'extreme measures' on not just their patients' quality of life but their feelings about and approach to life—to their lives. So it seems to me that a doctor with a strong background in metaphysics, philosophy, ethics, and so on might be a very good thing.
"Anyway," he went on in a lighter tone, "you're still in high school. You have the luxury of time, of being able to explore philosophy, or whatever, and still take enough pre-med courses to keep your options open."
I had a sudden blinding revelation—hey, he was right! I realized that it was actually no big deal. I didn't have to decide the future course of my life between now and starting college. I had another year of high school, and at college I wouldn't even have to declare a major for at least another year. I could even take a year off at some point, or do something completely different and make up the pre-med courses in the summer or in a post-grad year. I couldn't believe I'd been so worried and hung up on the whole thing.
"You're right," I said, probably with a huge grin. "Thanks."
Angel walked us back to our building after dinner, and Shep very thoughtfully got far enough ahead that I could kiss her before going in. I went to bed feeling really good, really up, and now, as I said, I was a little tense, or more than a little, and sort of wishing I hadn't had the cereal.
"Let me see if they're ready for you," said Nick. He went to a door in the side wall of his office, not out to the hall.
"Mitch," said Shep softly. "Just so you know, I already have a pretty good idea how you feel about Angel," and he grinned at me.
I turned to him in surprise. I realized that he thought that that was what I'd been worried about the day before, when I'd initially refused the mind link, and I couldn't believe it. There wasn't time to sort it out, Nick was already turning to call us, so I just smiled and shrugged and gave him a thumbs-up.
"You can come through now," said Nick, and we went through the door and found ourselves in the lab from which we'd been reinserted. Jean was waiting for us.
"Just lie down again on the gurneys," she said. "You know the drill."