The flight went smoothly, there was never even a hint of turbulence during the nearly four and a half hours, which anyone would appreciate while being in a pressurized tube at over thirty thousand feet altitude.
Over the skies of Boston, just minutes before landing, I could see almost everything was covered in snow.
After landing, inside the airport, trying to retain as much body heat as possible in the thick jacket mom had unpacked from one of the PJ boxes, before going to retrieve my luggage from the conveyor belts, I found a payphone which I used to call home.
"Hello?" on the other end of the line, Gabe's voice sounded disinterested.
"Shorty, it's PJ," feeling increasingly cold inside the airport terminal, I said to my brother on the phone.
"PJ?" Gabe asked incredulously, "I thought you were on a plane," still surprised, Gabe said, "can you make calls from the plane? cool," the kid affirmed, not giving me time to respond.
"No, Gabe—" I was saying, but the kid interrupted me again, "wait, are you in the sky right now? Can you touch the clouds?" suddenly interested, I could even imagine the kid completely focusing on the phone pressed against his face.
"Yeah sure," I replied amused, "they're extremely cold," I continued.
"Incredible," Gabe slowly affirmed, "hey!" he exclaimed a moment later, making me have to move the phone away from my ear.
"PJ?" whom I recognized as Teddy spoke a moment later.
"No, this is Ryan McCarthy," I jokingly exaggerated my voice in response.
"Not funny," Teddy said seriously, "you have to bring gifts from Boston," she continued, while I could hear movement and Gabe talking annoyed in the background.
"Sure, what do you prefer, a magnet or a keychain?" jokingly, I asked, tucking my free hand into one of the jacket pockets.
"I prefer something nice, clothes and shoes," my sister responded curtly.
"Don't they sell clothes and shoes at home?" I asked intrigued.
"You're in Boston, a capital city, we live in Medford," Teddy responded with irony as if it were completely obvious, there were more than enough high-quality clothing stores in the Medford mall, what could possibly be wrong with those stores?
"Okay, Teddy Bear," deciding not to dwell on the topic more than necessary, I agreed, "some clothes and shoes, I don't promise much, mom filled my suitcase and I don't know if I can add more stuff," I continued.
"Thanks PJ," excitedly Teddy said, "I want gifts too," Teddy apparently handed the phone back to Gabe who immediately exclaimed.
"Okay, then more clothes and shoes," I immediately affirmed, hearing a sigh from Gabe on the other end of the line.
"No, not clothes or shoes, I want something cool," apparently not really knowing for himself what he wanted, Gabe said.
"Something cool," I repeated slowly as if taking note, "got it, don't you also want something amazing?" I asked sarcastically, suddenly hearing the payphone making warning sounds indicating the end of the call, "Gabe, I have to go, let mom and dad know I've arrived in Boston, I'll call again when I have more change," I quickly said, managing to hear a confirmation from the kid before the call ended.
With the call ended, along with other people I recognized from the plane, I waited a few minutes for my suitcase to appear on the conveyor belt before walking to the terminal exit.
Walking among a bunch of people who also arrived from other flights, dragging my suitcase with me, I reached where families and friends of people eagerly awaited their loved ones, the place was too close to one of the airport's exit doors causing the cold to increase exponentially.
Among a small group of people holding signs, an older man, whom I recognized from photographs, had a sign with my name written on it.
"Doctor Thomas," approaching the man trying to maintain a friendly smile despite the extreme cold I felt at the moment, I said.
"You really are a teenager," the doctor said, laughing cheerfully with excitement as he quickly moved his sign aside offering a handshake, "I still had doubts if it was all an extravagant joke from Gregory," shaking my hand with surprising vigor for a man of his age, the doctor continued.
"Yeah, that could be the idea of a joke from Doctor House," understanding the older doctor, I said completely agreeing with him, "but I assure you the last time I checked I'm completely real," I continued, "by the way, congratulations are in order, doctor," I added.
"Oh, thank you very much," patting my shoulder, the man said.
Apparently, I was doing a poor job of pretending the cold I was feeling.
"You're freezing, there are some shops here, you'd better buy gloves and thermal clothes, we're at twenty degrees," putting his hand on my shoulder, the doctor guided me towards the shops inside the airport.
"How was your flight?" the older man asked, starting a trivial conversation as we visited the shops.
After buying some extra warm clothes along with a pair of gloves, I also entered a convenient store where they had suits on display, choosing without much thought a suitable black suit for my new size, I was ready to leave the airport.
"Do you have everything you need?" sitting on one of the benches at the airport, Doctor Thomas asked, smiling cheerfully.
"I do, doctor, thank you," I replied, showing the couple of shopping bags I was carring.
"Had I known you needed a suit, I would have taken you to my tailor, although it possibly wouldn't have been ready for tomorrow's party," the doctor Thomas said, looking strangely at the store where I had bought my suit moments ago.
"Is there any problem with the suit I chose?" I asked, not having much idea about formality or fashion, I might have chosen something inappropriate.
"Oh no, not at all, it's just that Michael has a great eye for everything, he would have tailored a suit for you," standing up from the bench, the doctor said with a calm smile, "if you have everything you need, it's better that we get going, Dottie was incredibly excited to meet you, my teenage friend," patting my shoulder, the older man said as he walked to one of the airport exits.
"This way," walking to a black car that remained running, the doctor said, guiding me, "this is Frank, Frank PJ Duncan, the amazing teenager I told you about," Doctor Thomas introduced a man who came out from the passenger side surprisingly dressed formally with white gloves and a black cap, who walked towards us.
"Frank Miller, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Duncan, allow me," giving a small and almost imperceptible bow, Frank introduced himself, taking the suitcase from my hand and walking to the back of the car to put it in the trunk.
"Frank has been my driver for just over fifteen years," Doctor Thomas explained, smiling amused, possibly seeing my surprised look.
"This Christmas will be sixteen years, doctor," returning to the side of the car, Frank said, lowering his head slightly before opening the back door.
"That's right, my old friend, that's right," nodding, Doctor Thomas said laughing before gesturing for me to go ahead.
After getting in and settling on the other side of the back seat, Doctor Thomas entered behind me, getting comfortable before Frank closed the door for him.
"Home, doctor?" upon entering the car and fastening his seatbelt, Frank asked.
"Home, my friend," the doctor said calmly.
The journey, apart from the instrumental classical music playing on the car speakers, was surprisingly silent. Frank had a great ability to drive smoothly, always keeping his back straight with both hands on the wheel making strangely formal movements for everything he did.
Several minutes later, we arrived at a neighborhood that, from the looks of the houses and parked cars outside, was upscale.
"We're about to arrive, I know you're possibly tired of sitting all day, but I'm sorry, you'll have to stay like this for a few more minutes, my young friend, we're just going to pick up Dottie and then we'll go out to dinner," the doctor apologized kindly as we passed several luxurious houses.
"Don't worry about it, doctor," I quickly replied, usually at this time, I would still be in the skills lab or helping House during his clinic hours, when there wasn't a case.
"I won't be long, and Alfred will take care of your luggage," with a friendly smile, Doctor Thomas said before his door was opened by another older man who seemed like a butler, allowing the doctor to exit the car.
"Alfred," when the car door was closed again, I said unconsciously amused. Among the many comics that Gabe had read and told me about, there was this butler who worked for one of the superheroes.
"Ed, Doctor Thomas's youngest son, also found the coincidence in the name Alfred with the comic character funny, in fact, I think he found it much more amusing to bother the man with that fact," amused, Frank in the driver's seat said, apparently hearing my amusement.
"Does Doctor Thomas have children?" I asked interested.
"Oh yes, three much older than you," calmly the driver said.
"So, I assume 'Dottie' is Mrs. Thomas?" absorbing the previous information, I asked again, I knew Dorothy Thomas, the mother of the bone marrow transplants.
"You assume correctly," Frank replied, nodding slightly.
Before I could continue with any other questions or conversation, the door opposite to me was opened again followed by an older woman wrapped up and carrying a big smile, "look at you, you really are as young as your letters say," getting into the car, the woman said as she made her way into a space inside the car followed by her husband.
When the car door was closed again, the car began to move out of the driveway.
"Mrs. Thomas, pleased to meet you," a little uncomfortable with the older woman's proximity inside the car, I greeted.
"Oh PJ dear, drop the 'Mrs.,' I know I'm an old lady, please call me Dottie," the woman said kindly, smiling, "I know all about you, at least what little your letters and Gregory's say," she continued, making a complicated expression when she spoke about Doctor House.
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"Well, besides your age, where you live and your extensive knowledge of medicine, we really don't know much about you," amused, Doctor Thomas said on the other side of his wife.
"But that's what dinner is for, we have to fix that. I hope you like Italian food, darling," decisively said Dottie, patting my hand kindly.
"Oh, of course I do," I said, but besides pizza and homemade pasta, I had never tried Italian food.
"Perfect, then tell me about yourself, PJ. Besides being one of the brightest young minds in medicine I've had the pleasure of meeting, what other interests do you have?" completely focusing her attention on me, the woman asked.
"You see, Frank, that's why I didn't ask any questions on the way home," the doctor Thomas said, laughing joyfully and lightly tapping Frank's seat, who again, in a formal manner, sighed slightly.
During the ride to the restaurant, Mrs. Thomas, Dottie, guided a conversation about my life, leaving out medicine, focusing mainly on school and my other extracurricular activities.
In my past life, and even in this one, I hadn't met any of my grandparents, but I would like to think that if I had met them, and when I do, they'll be like this.
"That sounds so dangerous, martial arts," scoffing at the idea, Dottie said, shaking her head.
"Don't listen to her, PJ. A man has to know how to defend himself. In my time in the army, I was a boxing champion," putting his hands up in a guard position, Doctor Thomas said, smiling cunningly.
"Look what you did, PJ," lightly hitting her husband's shoulder, Dottie said, amused, "you've just awakened this old man's delusions."
"I was a boxing champion," offended, Doctor Thomas, looking at his wife, said.
"Yes, yes, and I was Miss Texas," sarcastically, Dottie said, shaking her head with a smile on her face.
"I can't imagine a world where that's a lie," taking his wife's hand, Doctor Thomas said affectionately, abruptly cutting off Dottie's mocking expression.
"Oh, Don, you're embarrassing me in front of Frank and PJ," waving her free hand in front of her face, Dottie said, smiling widely.
Seeing the streets of Boston through my window, feeling somewhat uncomfortable trying to give space and privacy to the elderly couple sharing the back seat with me, I noticed how the car progressively slowed down until it parked next to a curb.
"We've arrived," taking them out of the bubble in which the elderly couple was, Frank said calmly.
"Ah, Rosso's, they have the best Risotto this side of the planet, PJ, you'll see," Doctor Thomas said before stepping out through the door that Frank had previously opened.
The restaurant looked much more luxurious than anything I had ever stepped into before. At the entrance of the place, a wall filled with wine bottles greeted you along with an extremely well-dressed woman smiling kindly.
Seeing the other people inside the restaurant and how Doctor Thomas and Dottie were dressed, I felt somewhat out of place with my thick jacket and plain shirt underneath it.
"For the Thomas family, table for three," approaching the woman, Doctor Thomas said kindly.
"This way, doctor, ma'am," nodding slightly and taking three of what seemed to be menus from their small foyer, the woman said, guiding us into the restaurant.
If only the foyer seemed luxurious, the restaurant itself seemed like what could be the White House or something of similar importance. The floor was so shiny that I worried about dirtying it with my shoes, even though I knew they weren't nearly dirty enough to leave prints.
With incredible paintings on the ceiling accompanied by chandeliers and decorations along the walls, the woman led us to a table where other staff members were waiting. "Allow me," one of them approached me, raising his hand, it took me a few seconds and seeing Doctor Thomas hand over his jacket to understand what the man was asking for.
After handing over my thick jacket and being helped to sit down, I continued to look around the place, surprised.
"Reading your work, I'm sure you'll get used to all of this at some point," kindly, Dottie said, smiling slightly.
"It's just that everything looks so..." a bit embarrassed to show my surprise, I was saying, discreetly gesturing towards the place.
"Luxurious," Dottie finished.
"Yes, luxurious," I said, still looking around even the plates and cloth napkins on the table exuded a kind of luxury difficult to describe.
"Don, my friend," an Italian man dressed as a chef came to the table, opening his hands and speaking loudly with a hint of accent in his voice.
"Alessandro," standing up, Doctor Thomas said, matching the excitement of the other man as they gave each other a fraternal hug, and the Italian man kissed both sides of Doctor Thomas's face.
"The beautiful Dottie too," approaching Mrs. Thomas, Alessandro said, taking the woman's hand before bending down slightly to kiss the back of it, "it's always a pleasure."
"Always the flatterer," playfully hitting the man's hand, Dottie said, laughing.
"And who might this handsome young man here be?" focusing his attention on me, the man asked.
"This is PJ Duncan, a colleague," pointing at me with his open palm, Doctor Thomas said, smiling broadly.
"A doctor so young?" surprised, Alessandro exclaimed, calling, if possible, even more attention to our table.
"I don't have any titles yet," standing up, I said, shaking the Italian man's hand.
"Well, I know nothing of that, I just have a modest restaurant in Boston," kindly, the man said, gesturing around, "but what I do know is that a friend of Don and Dottie is a friend of mine," shaking my hand and pulling me into a hug, the man said, imitating his actions with Doctor Thomas.
Pulling away after the somewhat uncomfortable moment for me, Alessandro with two pats on my shoulder walked to where a waiter had arrived, "I'll leave you, you know if you need anything just call," formally folding his hands, the man said.
"Thank you, Alessandro," nodding slightly, Doctor Thomas with a smile responded, causing the restaurant owner to bid farewell, greeting other people on his way to what I could see for a second was the kitchen of the place.
"Alessandro has always been a great friend of the family," Dottie explained as Doctor Thomas spoke with the waiter who stayed behind.
"Would you be interested in any wine from our cellar?" formally, the waiter asked Doctor Thomas, who for a moment looked at me before chuckling, "I forgot for a moment that you're not yet old enough to drink," he said.
"Water is perfect for me," I quickly said.
"And for us, your finest glass of Barolo," nodding to the waiter, Doctor Thomas said.
"Perfect, are you ready to order or do you need me to come back in a minute?" putting his hands behind his back, the waiter asked.
Doctor Thomas and Dottie took their menus, something I quickly imitated a moment later, almost choking when I saw the prices next to things I had never heard of. I had never paid more than twenty dollars for a meal, on the menu were things that went over a hundred dollars.
"We're treating you, PJ, order whatever you want," kindly, Dottie said, noticing my reaction.
For some reason, embarrassed, I hid
my gaze within the menu. In my wallet, I had a credit card with a limit of thousands of dollars and I had an investment account with hundreds of thousands of dollars, which made it easy to buy some comic books without looking at the price or pay for gas without worries every week, but seeing such exorbitant prices on food was something I was still not accustomed to.
"I'll have the Risotto," I said, leaving the menu on the table without intending to look at the price for such a dish, remembering how Doctor Thomas had recommended it when we arrived.
"Excellent choice," jotting it down in a small notepad, the waiter said professionally.
After Doctor Thomas and Dottie gave their orders, the waiter bid farewell to the table, following the same path that his boss had previously taken towards the kitchen.
"So, where were we?" Dottie asked kindly, folding her hands on the table.
What followed was the continuation of the 'interrogation' by the older woman.
"So, your mom is a nurse at the hospital where Gregory has his department, that's how they met," the woman said.
"I may have overheard about a case from Doctor House and accidentally had a discussion with him on the subject, since then he allowed me to come closer to his department and his team," I explained.
"Gregory says you have a special talent for diagnosing," smiled Doctor Thomas, adding, "and I can see it. Since you arrived in Boston, you've looked at least for a couple of seconds at every person you crossed paths with, studying them. It's like seeing Gregory in his youth again."
The fact that the doctor noticed my new acquired habit made me feel exposed for some reason.
"I've learned a lot from him," I said, ignoring the strange feeling, also storing the information that Doctor Thomas had just given away to eventually use it against House if necessary. Having a 'special talent for diagnosing,' that was almost a compliment coming from the sarcastic man.
"Yes, Gregory is possibly the best option anyone could have for learning medical diagnosis," Doctor Thomas nodded. "He's a unique genius in the field."
"As long as you don't learn his other... peculiarities," Dottie added seriously, pausing for a moment to find the perfect word.
"He's a special man, brilliant in his field, which is what I focus on learning from him," I said, understanding the implications of the woman's words, silently assuring her.
"Yes, he's a great mentor," Doctor Thomas repeated. "Speaking of mentors, have you thought about what you'll do after you graduate?" the man asked, receiving an immediate hit from his wife.
"Dinner hasn't even arrived yet, and you're already recruiting PJ for your talent hunt," Dottie exclaimed, exasperated.
"Oh, it's nothing bad, dear. It's just something Don does with people who catch his attention," apparently failing to hide the doubt on my face, Dottie immediately explained, "he seeks out brilliant minds," she continued, exaggerating her words.
"You make it sound so bad. I take under my wing those whom I recognize as valuable for the future. One of them was Gregory many years ago. I've always said, surround yourself with brilliant minds, and it's possible that some of it will rub off," Doctor Thomas explained calmly. "So, I was wondering what you were thinking of doing. Obviously, your goal is to study medicine, and I am part of the admissions committee at Harvard, and of course, I can make a recommendation for your admission," the doctor suggested, tilting his head slightly suggestively.
"Although with the background that you're building, I'm sure that every medical school in the country will be fighting over you to choose them. Just with your current achievements I think it's well enough, and you won't need anything that this old man is offering you," Dottie said, hitting her husband's shoulder again affectionately.
"It's okay, Harvard is one of my top choices, and when the time comes, I would be completely grateful for any letter of recommendation," I said immediately. I could remember how in my past life, I had to work so hard to get a scholarship and admission to Harvard. Now, I hadn't even finished the first year of high school, and my entry was basically a sure thing, and if all went well with the investments, no one in my family would ever need a scholarship again.
"You have to come to Harvard," Doctor Thomas said, immediately giving dozens of reasons why it was my best option until Dottie scolded him again, forcing him to stop.
Dinner arrived moments later, and Doctor Thomas was right to say that the Risotto was delicious. It was some kind of rice with a delicious sauce of some kind and mushrooms.
"Have you thought about your specialty?" during dinner, Doctor Thomas asked. "Gregory, if I remember correctly, finished his residency in pathology, but you don't have the makings of a lab doctor," Doctor Thomas continued, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry?" offended, Dottie, who herself was a hematologist, asked.
"It's something I can see. The kid has the qualifications to be an excellent doctor and work with patients. He even has surgeon's hands," shamelessly, the doctor said, pointing at my hands as I held my utensils, making me aware of the way I hold them.
"'Lab doctors' have a job as important as any other," still offended, Dottie said, shaking her head.
"I never said otherwise, my love. It's just that PJ doesn't seem to me like the type to sit in a lab studying a microscope all day long," innocently, Doctor Thomas said. The reality was that I had spent almost a hundred hours sitting in skills labs, although certainly not looking through a microscope.
"All right, PJ can choose whatever he wants to do, don't decide for him," hitting her husband's shoulder affectionately again, Dottie said.
"Of course, he can. I was just giving the picture that-" the doctor was saying when a shout at the table next to us interrupted him, "oh my God, he's choking," a woman sitting across from a rather robust man exclaimed.
The man had his hands on his neck while moving his mouth rapidly without any words coming out.
Before I realized it, I was standing up, quickly moving behind the man. "I need you to stand up; I'm going to help you," I said quickly, not waiting for a reaction from the man; I forcefully guided him to stand up before positioning myself to apply the Heimlich maneuver correctly, which was not easy at all due to the size of the man.
The man was, to put it kindly, robust, easily more than twice my body weight, which also didn't make it easy to keep the desperate man still enough to help him quickly.
Fortunately, I had a way to control him at least a little. If I had never started training with Case, the action would be monumentally more difficult, possibly impossible, but working with Tim, who was also several times heavier than me, had somewhat accustomed me to this kind of thing.
After pressing a few times forcefully under the man's diaphragm, a poorly chewed piece of food was expelled, causing the man to immediately start breathing deeply and erratically. "Thank you," as I separated from the man, he emphatically said between gasps, taking my hand and shaking it quickly.
"It's nothing," lightly patting the man's shoulder, I said, calming my somewhat agitated nerves, noticing thanks to this, how the people in the restaurant were applauding.
Uncomfortable again for receiving the attention of everyone present in the restaurant, I silently thanked them by raising my hand, managing to at least ease the attention on me a little before walking back to my table with the Thomases.
"Definitely not pathology," still sitting in his place with a great haughty smile, Doctor Thomas said to Dottie, who despite having her attention focused on me with a big smile and surprise, playfully hit her husband's shoulder once again.
---
Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American, not a doctor, and not a fighter.
So I read an interesting recommendation about how to take on the role of the MC coming from the future in the face of important events happening in the United States (even in the world, I don't know), but I really don't have a deep knowledge of these kinds of things. For example, I obviously know about the 9/11 attacks, the bombing at the Boston Marathon, and the 2007-2008 housing crisis.
The truth is, I don't plan for the MC to have an active role in stopping these events altogether (there's something, but it's for the future), but it made me realize that I don't have much idea about things that happen in contemporary United States history.
If you have any ideas for events that might be necessary/interesting for the development of the story, I would greatly appreciate it if you left them in the comments.
With that said,
I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.
Thank you for reading! :D
PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.