One in a Million

by Adrianne Byrd

  "Hello."

  "Greg, what are you doing home?" Lenny shouted into the phone. "David Simmon's and his son are here to review their contracts with us. Everyone is waiting for you."

  Gregory had forgotten about the Simmon's accounts, and that fact struck him as odd. He had worked a month of long hours to win those contracts but now they didn't seem so important.

  "Are you still there?" Lenny asked.

  "Yeah," he answered into the phone, then turned to look at Whitney who attempted to devour her food with her hands. The sight made him laugh.

  She awarded him with a sheepish grin. "I guess I was hungrier than I thought."

  "Gregory, do you want us to proceed without you?" Lenny persisted.

  "Wait a minute." He accepted an offered strip of bacon, but she tried to shove the entire thing into his mouth. His laughter deepened when he stopped her attempt to choke him.

  "What do you want us to do?" Lenny asked.

  Gregory didn't miss the irritation in his friend's voice but damn if he could keep his attention focused on the conversation. "Go ahead with the meeting." He made a playful lunge at Whitney's fingers with his teeth and she released an exuberant yelp.

  "Is that who I think it is?" Lenny asked.

  Gregory turned back to the telephone. "Have Barbara leave copies of the contracts on my desk. I'll take a look at them first thing in the morning."

  Lenny huffed into the phone. "Tomorrow? Did you forget we are suppose to close two major deals today?"

  "I will take a look at them tomorrow," Gregory said in a slow, articulate monotone. "Tech Designs won't collapse because of one day without me. I believe those were your words."

  Silence.

  "I'll see you tomorrow." Gregory hung up pleased with himself, then focused on his breakfast and the lovely hands that fed him.

  "Playing hooky today?" She shook her head then flashed a conspiratorial grin.

  The phone rang again.

  "That's if they'll let me."

  She snickered when he picked up the telephone in exasperation.

  "Hello." His voice conveyed his displeasure.

  "Mr. Woods?"

  "Yes? This is Gregory Woods."

  Silence blanketed the room.

  Whitney watched with curiosity and concern at seeing his body stiffened beneath her hands.

  "Who is it?" she whispered, edging closer to him. She had an idea who it could be and tried to remain calm.

  He stood from the bed. His heart quickened its pace as he listened to Dr. Rothstein relay the HLA test results. Gregory paced through the preliminary speech of the technical version of the test. Out of nervousness, he sat down again and reached for Whitney's hands.

  As she tried to read his expression. It has to be bad news, she thought. A pain like no other stabbed her heart, she clutched his hand tighter, needing him to abolish her fears.

  "Yes, doctor. Thank you." He hung up and forced air into his lungs.

  "Tell me." She removed the tray to the other side of the bed. "Tell me. Whatever it is, I can handle it. Was that Dr. Rothstein?"

  Gregory nodded. He struggled to control the whirl of emotions inside of him.

  "What did he say? Gregory, please tell me."

  Gregory encased her hands and tried to soothe her worries. He hadn't meant to upset her. "I was accepted. They want us to come in for consultation and to schedule the transplant."

  * * *

  Weak, Demetrius sat on his bed and held the sketch he had created in the early hours of the morning. His portrait depicted the vision he had last night. It was a dream that engulfed his soul and something he wished with all his heart to come true. He titled the drawing; The Wedding. It was a picture of his parents.

  They were surrounded by angels and encircled with halos. Demetrius gave his parents smiles that sparkled and eyes that shined as they looked at each other. Posed before an altar, their fingers were entwined together, while a bright diamond twinkled on his mother's hand.

  Wouldn't it be great, he thought. This year Father's Day would be different. It was still a few months way, but the thought of actually having his father around to celebrate would be great. He rested the illustration beside him then lay back. While he stared up at the ceiling, he let the fantasy entertain him. Every holiday would be different now, including his birthday. They could go on hunting, camping and fishing trips together. They could even go to Disney World. This was the years his mother promised to take him. But because of his illness, the trip was cancels. He remembered telling his mother, that it was no big deal if they went, but deep inside, it was hurt.

  The soft knock on the door went unheard, but when it opened, a tall, lean figure monopolized the doorway. Demetrius sat up with genuine surprise.

  "Uncle Mike," he shouted.

  "Hey there, Sport." Michael Graham strolled into the room with his hands behind his back. "They told me there was a sick kid in this room, but you and I know better, right Sport?" He winked devilishly.

  The camaraderie they shared blinded them regardless of circumstances or distance. Michael was the Sega Genesis king, the Prince of Pinball, and the Duke of go-carts. As far as Demetrius was concerned, Mike would always be his confidante and friend, and he was the next best thing to a father. He was his uncle.

  Demetrius removed the picture from the bed to make room. "What do you have behind your back?" He tried to look, but Michael moved his body to prevent him.

  "It's a surprise." Michael taunted as the child moved side to side desperate to see.

  "I like surprises," Demetrius exclaimed, trying to move faster than his uncle..

  "Then close your eyes."

  Demetrius stilted his movements, crossed his arms in a huff, but closed his eyes tight in anticipation of his gift. He loved this game they played, especially the times when he bought Mike a present.

  "Okay, you can open them now."

  Demetrius opened eyes, then shouted with excitement as he grabbed the new comic books and stared at the images of his favorite action heroes. "The X-Men." He flung his arm around his uncle and squeezed. "Thanks."

  "I called your mother. When she didn't answer, I assumed she would be here."

  Demetrius released him then flipped through the comic book pages as he answered, "My parents should be here soon, they called me a few minutes ago."

  Eyes wide with curiosity, Mike wanted to make sure he heard right. "Your parents?"

  "I forgot to tell you. I met my father." Demetrius bounced over to close the gap between them and leaned in like he had a secret to tell. "He's really big and strong. I'm going to grow up to be just like him. Just wait until you meet him. He's really nice."

  "Whoa, slow down. When did all this happen?" Mike pushed up his Luxottica wire-frame glasses.

  "Last week. Mamma waltzed right over to his office smack in the center of downtown. She was scared to go though. I could tell."

  Michael laughed.

  "And you were right, Uncle Mike she does still likes him. She acts all funny when he's around. I don't blame her, though. Wait until you see how big he is. I bet you he played professional football, probably for the Dallas Cowboys. All of them are really big. That's what I'm going to do, play football."

  "I thought you were going to play baseball." Michael stated in amusement laced in his voiced.

  "I'll play both. Deion Sanders plays both and..."

  "You're going to be just like him. I know." Michael pinched Demetrius' cheek.

  "Ah, don't do that, Uncle Mike." Demetrius twisted his face away. "Women do that to little girls."

  This time, Michael laughed until tears brimmed his eyes.

  The door opened and Demetrius looked up. Michael stood.

  "Michael." Whitney released Gregory's hand, then raced to embrace her best friend.

  Gregory admitted the man dressed to impress with an immaculate hairstyle that Michael wore short and tapered in the back. The designer glasses made him look like a scholar, while the smooth devilish tint of
his black eyes reminded Gregory of those models draped across romance books, not that he ever read one.

  Whitney pulled out of Michael's arms, then kissed him tenderly before she bubbled with questions. "When did you get into town?"

  "I arrived late last night. I called you but you weren't home."

  Gregory smiled at that remark then stuffed his hands into his pockets and teetered on the balls of his feet.

  "Is John with you?" she asked.

  "No. His team has a game in Montreal."

  When the greetings were over, Whitney, ashamed that she had forgotten her manners, led Michael over to meet Gregory. It felt great to encircle her loved ones together.

  The men needed no introduction. They had sized each other up within the first ten seconds of being in the same room. Though they had seen pictures of one another, in person, neither was what the other had expected.

  Whitney smiled sweetly as she gestured with her hands. "Michael, I would like for you to meet Gregory Woods." The men extended their hands and shook. "And Greg, this is my best friend, Michael Graham."

  "So you're the one who stole my fiancé?" Michael joked.

  The jovial remark broke the ice and Gregory widened his grin. "It seems I owe you a debt of gratitude that I may never be able repay."

  Michael caught the sly look Gregory directed toward Whitney. "I wouldn't say that. You can start by taking good care of my best friend here. If my hunch is right, you guys deserve each other."

  Whitney blushed at his blunt words.

  Gregory slid an arm around her shoulders. "I think I can handle that. And my hunch is: you're right."

  Everyone missed the sheepish smile Demetrius displayed before he called attention to himself. "Look, Dad. Uncle Mike brought me the latest X-Men issue."

  Gregory waltzed towards the bed. "I'm a devoted fan of those action heroes, myself." He kissed the top of his son's head and sat next to him.

  Whitney and Michael joined them by the bed when Gregory took the comic book and began to read in different animated voices.

  Demetrius loved it, he loved them, and loved being surrounded by his family.

  Chapter Seven

  Gregory and Whitney sat in Dr. Rothstein's office braced for the worse. After the doctor explained the procedure, they asked questions. They were not out of dangerous waters yet. There were possibilities of their son rejecting the new antigens, of being dependent on medication, and even suffering a relapse in the future. There were just no guarantees for anything, and that made them angry.

  Gregory took Whitney's hands and asked if she was alright. He knew it was a crazy question the moment he said it. The pain reflected in her face stabbed his heart.

  Whitney responded with a weak nod but she lied. She had to, to get through the pain. Despite Gregory's stony expression, she could tell he experienced the same heartache by the slight tremble of his hands.

  Gregory absorbed the information and dealt with the turmoil that raged inside of him. The medical terminology the doctor used sent him on a wild roller coaster ride of emotions. The one thing he knew was they would do whatever it took to cure their son, and that knowledge gave him hope.

  When the doctor finished, he looked at the grave couple. "I'll give you some time alone."

  "I'm scared," Whitney confessed.

  Gregory wanted to respond with words of comfort but instead declared his own insecurities. "I am, too."

  She closed her eyes and pressed her quivering lips together. "I just want this nightmare to end. Every time I think that we're close to a cure, my hopes are snatched like a rug from beneath me. First, they thought the chemotherapy would work, then the transplant. Now they're telling us to prepare ourselves should this fail. I can't stand this," she sobbed, cupping her face in the palms of her hands.

  Gregory jumped from his chair and knelt in front of her. His concern showed in his face and in his actions as he embraced her from the chair and she laid her head on his shoulder.

  "I wish I knew what to say," he began. "I wished I knew what the future holds for all of us." He stroked her hair. "I just know that we need to be strong, if not for ourselves, then for our son. We have to pray and believe this will work. If we have nothing else, we have to have faith."

  Her arms encircled him and squeezed with enough force to bring his own tears to the surface. He pulled her back and made her look up at him so he could gently wipe the moisture from her eyes.

  "This will work," he said.

  The power behind his words struck a cord in her being and she believed him. Hope flourished in her heart. She pulled away to look at him.

  "You have every reason to hate me for not telling you about Demetrius. I wonder how we made it this far without you. I'm just so glad that you're a part of our lives."

  Gregory leaned up and kissed her before he responded. "I could never hate you. I love you. And you and Demetrius have brought so much into my life in just these few days that I wonder how I made it without the two of you."

  Her arms flew around him again. She kissed him long and hard until she felt sure their bodies had merged into one. When they surfaced for air, she laid her head back on his shoulder.

  "You're right. This will work."

  * * *

  A week later, Gregory watched a kaleidoscope of earth colors dance across the evening sky. Its radiant beauty captivated him. A sense of peace settled within him as he leaned against his office window. Why he had never noticed this magnificent view before?

  It was the end of a long day and the end of a tedious week. With his sleeves rolled up, his tie crooked, and his hands jammed into his pockets, he reluctantly turned from the window. The transplant was just three days away. In the past week, he had submerged himself in his work during the days, spent the evenings with his son, and made love with Whitney through the nights.

  He collapsed on the couch and laid back. There were plenty of nights he had slept in the serenity of this office. He was tempted to do so now. The rumble in his stomach reminded him that he needed to eat, but that simple task seemed impossible.

  When he closed his eyes, Demetrius and Whitney dominated his thoughts. It amazed him of the happiness they had brought into his life; a life he had once foolishly filled with impractical and material things. Those possessions meant nothing to him now. Everything now boiled down to a matter of priority; and his family came first.

  His uncharted thoughts traveled to Monday's transplant. A lot balanced on this, and he knew it. The procedure had to work. He didn't want the responsibility of telling his son that he would never play sports again.

  The image of Demetrius formed an instant smile on his face. In such a short time, they seemed to have bridged the gap between them. His son astonished him with his vast knowledge and constant humor. But Gregory knew Demetrius was trying to be strong for his mother. At times, Whitney seemed so fragile.

  There was a knock on the door, then it flew open before he could invite in his guest.

  "An associate of yours told me that I could probably find you in here." Michael entered and closed the door behind him.

  He wore a pair of jeans and a Braves’ t-shirt, and Gregory concluded that Michael had been at the hospital with Demetrius. His son loved to talk about baseball and his uncle shared Demetrius' passion for the sport. And that made Michael okay by him.

  "Did I interrupt anything?"

  "No. Come on in." Gregory got up and went to greet Michael with a firm handshake. "I guess I just needed to rest a bit." Gregory released his grip then pushed both hands back into his pockets. "What brings you here?"

  "I thought that we could head out for a couple of drinks. I figured we were overdue for a little talk."

  Gregory hid his curiosity. "Sure." He strolled to his desk, then turned off a few things, snatched his jacket and joined Michael at the door.

  "How about Fat Tuesdays?" Gregory suggested as they left the office.

  "Sounds great."

  Minutes later, the men sat hunched at t
he bar. Their conversation stayed on casual topics before Michael dove in with what was on his mind.

  "Are you in love with Whitney?"

  Gregory didn't hesitate to answer. "Yes. I have been for the last ten years. The problem was I thought she was in love with you."

  Michael called out for another Bloody Mary before he proceeded with his soft interrogation. "Are you going to marry her?"

  The question surprised Gregory, but he didn't show it. "If she'll have me."

  Michael met his gaze. "She'll have you."

  While the seconds passed between them, Babyface's latest song The Day played in the background. The artist had a way with words, Gregory thought.

  "May I ask why you invited me for drinks?"

  "I wanted to find out what kind of man I was giving my family to."

  Gregory lifted his brows in curiosity.

  "Demetrius is like a son to me. I was there when he was born after all."

  Gregory drained the rest of his drink. "I envy you."

  "I didn't mean anything by that." Michael shook his head. "I meant to say that both of them love you and I want to make sure for myself that their emotions are warranted."

  Gregory laughed. "And what have you concluded?"

  "You are alright with me I guess." He leaned forward. "I hope you don't prove me wrong."

  They laughed.

  Gregory ordered his second drink. "You're not losing your family." He looked over and gave a firm nod of his head. "We will always be glad to have you as a part of our lives. After all, you're Demetrius' uncle."

  Michael smiled. "I'm glad to hear that."

  The men finished their drinks while Michael related told stories from the past about Whitney and Demetrius. Some of them were funny, some were sad, and as for the rest, Michael swore Whitney would kill him for repeating.

  Gregory felt grateful for the chance to learn more about what he had missed and was also grateful for making a new friend.

  * * *

  Whitney kissed Demetrius while he slept. It was eight o'clock and she knew she should head home. It had been an especially hard day for Demetrius. He seemed weaker than usual and he started hemorrhaged again.