Lucid Design

by Kate Tailor

The conversation ended, and they sat in silence. For so long they’d searched for answers, and now one could be days away.

  3

  TWO DAYS LATER Raleigh sat on the exam table. Across from her hung a picture of a tree in all its autumn grace. With her numerous trips to doctors over the years, she’d become an exam room art aficionado. Most practitioners and institutions chose landscapes like the one on this wall. Others were more adventurous and went with impressionists. Raleigh’s neurologist was obsessed with babies dressed in costumes. The tree across the way appeared happy despite being on the verge of losing its leaves.

  A long dormant emotion crept up her spine—hope. It had been absent so long that she’d forgotten the way it fluttered in her stomach and lightened her shoulders. When she was young and her issues fresh, hope was always with her. It made her eager to go to the doctors and willing to complete any tests or labs they wanted. Over the years that hope had gradually been replaced by cynicism. The trips became yet another doctor’s appointment—a formality of being sick rather than an opportunity to get better. She hadn’t fully realized the extent of her disillusionment until now, when hope niggled the back of her mind.

  What if?

  Two quick raps on the door drew her from her musings. Dr. Moore, Uncle Patrick, and a slip of a woman entered the room. The lady, who couldn’t have been much more than five feet, was dwarfed by the two men. Her rapid heartbeats, thin fingers, and delicate cheeks likened her to a fledgling bird. Thin gray hairs escaped matching clips over her ears.

  “Raleigh?” The woman’s French accent came as a surprise. “I’m Doctor Sabine Orman.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dr. Orman.”

  “Please call me Sabine.” She placed a small case on the side counter and opened the twin clasps. “It is so nice to finally meet you. I’ve been talking with your uncle and friend. We were discussing how much Lucidin we found in your blood. Did they tell you what Lucidin is?”

  “Yes. It’s what lets me understand people better than most. It’s why I can tell you have hypothyroidism and your treatment dose is perhaps a little too high.”

  Sabine looked at Dr. Moore. “She is skilled, as you said.”

  “You should see how well she can detect cancer.” Dr. Moore spoke with all the pride of a father. “Her early detection has already saved a lot of lives. When I think of the career that she has ahead of her....”

  Sabine’s face remained unaffected. Inside, however, the doctor wasn’t placid. Dr. Moore’s words caused her shoulders to tighten and her stomach to churn. Hallmarks of worry, but the reason behind the concern remained elusive.

  “There are tests that my uncle said you could perform,” Raleigh said.

  “Yes. The blood work that your uncle provided showed that you create Lucidin. It’s the rare person who does that, and even then they make very little, much less than what we’ve seen with you. I believe it is the abundance of the Lucidin that is problematic. It will depend on the number of receptors you have in your brain. If my theory is correct, you have many receptors and they’re overloading with Lucidin. Think of it like a circuit with too many appliances attached. If there’s a surge of electricity from the demand, it will cause them all to overload. In short, that’s what I think’s happening, a high number of receptors overloading on Lucidin causing a surge and then a blackout.”

  Raleigh hadn’t ever thought of herself in that way, overloading, but it fit. “Has this happened to other people you know?”

  “No. No one else I’ve known has made so much that it overwhelms them. A few have made a lot, but it didn’t have the same consequences. That’s why the receptor volume is important. I’ve brought along a marker that will bind to them and give us an idea of how many you have, and if that is indeed causing your problem.”

  “Sabine gave me the marker and ran the test earlier,” Dr. Moore told Raleigh. “I was interested to see how many receptors I have and didn’t want your uncle to accuse me of making you a guinea pig. So, I figured I’d go first. It didn’t hurt at all.”

  Pain didn’t concern Raleigh. Over the years she’d been picked and prodded enough that she was numb to it. She turned over her arm, exposing the crisscross of veins.

  It didn’t take long for Sabine to inject the marker. “We’ll have to wait a half hour for the marker to circulate to your brain.”

  “Sabine and I will commandeer the imaging equipment. We’ll meet you down in imaging.” Dr. Moore and Sabine took their leave.

  Raleigh and Patrick waited alone in the room. Her eyes rested on the painting of the tree, while his searched her face. “You don’t seem as excited as I thought you’d be. I thought you’d be thrilled about figuring this out... after going so long without any answers.”

  Her uncle was right, but she couldn’t let her hope rise only to have it fall. “I am excited, but she didn’t mention a cure.”

  “One thing at a time.”

  “I think Sabine is scared of something.”

  “I didn’t get that impression.”

  “Her body tensed up while we were discussing Lucidin.”

  “Perhaps because it’s making you sick. As she said, you’re the first person she knows that it makes ill.”

  Her illness didn’t make doctors that uneasy. She didn’t talk to her uncle about it further. Instead, they anxiously watched seconds tick pass on the clock until it was time to go to the imaging room.

  Forty minutes and one imaging session later, Raleigh and the doctors crowded into Dr. Moore’s office. She’d spent time in here before, meeting people who had the unfortunate need to become Dr. Moore’s patients. Everyone held their breath, a silence settled in around them. These doctors could train their faces to hide emotions, but their bodies betrayed them.

  Sabine put three scans on Dr. Moore’s board. The marker lit up the three different brains with varying amounts of fluorescent green. The first had a spattering, the second a decent amount, and the third looked as though someone had let a highlighter bleed out on it.

  “This first scan is Dr. Moore.” Sabine traced her fingers along the green pattern. “Half the population doesn’t have any receptors to speak of. This many would put him in the sixty-seventh percentile.”

  “Half the population?” Dr. Moore asked. “But I don’t have any of Raleigh’s skills.”

  Sabine nodded. “You have receptors, but you do not create Lucidin. This scan beside yours is from someone who falls in the eightieth percentile. They also didn’t make Lucidin, so, like you, they are unaffected. This last scan is Raleigh’s. I think we can safely say that the high receptor volume and the overproduction of Lucidin in her system is causing her blackouts.”

  It was an answer, a solid answer after all this time. Raleigh let go of the breath she’d been holding.

  “If I took Lucidin, could I sense people?” Dr. Moore asked.

  Sabine shook her head. “It might give you better awareness of your own body.”

  Patrick pointed to the brain scan in the middle. “Could that person use Lucidin the way Raleigh does?”

  Sabine paused, and her shoulders once again tightened. “Our initial research hoped to allow people to use Lucidin diagnostically. Unfortunately, Lucidin is very rare, and it’s harmful for people to take. Only people like Raleigh, who make it on their own, benefit from it. In her case, I wouldn’t call it a benefit if she’s blacking out.”

  “That brings us to our next question,” Patrick said. “Is there a treatment?”

  “To study Lucidin, a device was made that can extract it from the body. If she extracts it, then it should decrease, if not completely eliminate, the blackouts.”

  “I could go to college and be normal.” There would be no ugly reflective vests or signs strapped to her back to set her apart.

  Dr. Moore rubbed his hands together. “How do we get hold of one of these machines?”

  The side of Sabine’s mouth dipped down. “I have one, but it’s large and bulky. Eventually, I might be able to get my hands on
something smaller and portable, but that may take months, if not years. Until then, I can happily invite Raleigh to use mine.”

  “Great. That’s great,” Raleigh said. Maybe she could keep it on campus. It didn’t really matter, without blackouts she could learn to drive. “Can I keep it in my dorm?”

  “I’m sorry, no. It’s much too large for that. I’m suggesting that you come with me to my home and receive treatment there. The machine is old and can’t be moved, especially not across the Atlantic.”

  “Are you from France?”

  “No, Liege, Belgium.”

  Raleigh shouldn’t have been surprised that her home was in Europe. Patrick let out a long whistle—no doubt thinking of the long argument that his sister would put up if Raleigh asked to go.

  Reality always had a way of knocking Raleigh down. “That’s too far, and there’s no way I could afford to live there.”

  “My sister-in-law owns a bakery there, and they could use another set of hands. The work would cover your room and board,” Sabine offered.

  “Or we could wait for a portable machine, and you could go to college here.” Patrick made the suggestion, but he didn’t look happy with it.

  Dr. Moore snapped his fingers. “Or we could build one! If she’ll need treatment for the foreseeable future, it would be worth it.”

  Sabine flinched at that solution. “To do that we would have to dismantle the one we have, to see how it works. All the schematics were destroyed when people stopped studying Lucidin. I’m not sure we could ever get the device back together if we take it apart. I think that she should come to Liege for treatment. The sooner, the better. The falls are a danger to her.”

  “Only if she lands wrong,” said Patrick.

  “I promise to take good care of her. Why don’t we see if we can give her a chance at a normal life, free of this condition?”

  Patrick exchanged a look with Raleigh. Her mother would fight this. The question now was, did it matter? That maturity Raleigh had gained a few days ago made her think not.

  Patrick shook Sabine’s hand. “We are so thankful that you’ve discovered the cause of Raleigh’s blackouts. The offer you’re making for treatment is very generous. But we’ll have to discuss it with her parents before a decision can be made.”

  “Of course,” Sabine said. “Raleigh, I hope you’ll come, and I look forward to treating you. Please take your time and let me know your decision.”

  Patrick and Raleigh followed Sabine out of the office. Raleigh watched as the small woman walked down the hall, her steps soft. Then she turned to her uncle. They had a lot to discuss.

  —

  PATRICK DROVE SILENTLY, tapping the steering wheel every so often to the music. The tires broke through puddles. It rained during the brain scan, and the smell lingered in the air. Raleigh stared out the window. “She’s not going to believe me.”

  “Who’s not going to believe you?”

  “Mom.”

  Patrick took a side road, detouring from her house. He pulled into the ice cream parlor parking lot. “Let’s talk about what you want and what exactly we’re going to say to your mother.”

  The clock on the dash showed that dinner was in an hour, and Beth would scold her if she filled up on ice cream. Another small hit. Raleigh climbed out of the car.

  Old ladies sat on a bench outside, their cones dripping onto their liver-spotted hands. Patrick held open the door for his niece, and she stepped inside. The sweet smell of waffle cones brought a smile to her lips. Inside, children bounced on the balls of their feet trying to see the options.

  With teenagers pulling crumpled dollars from their shorts and whispering about the other classmates in line, Raleigh easily fit in. She glanced at the different flavors under the glass in half-full tubs. Uncle Patrick would get what he always got—butter pecan. Patrick had been bringing her here since she was too young to remember. Back then her older sister, Lana, would often order for her, and her older brother, Ben, would finish the cone when she was full.

  Patrick treated Raleigh. As her tongue made its first trip around the scoop, she wondered if this was to celebrate learning about Lucidin or to soften the very serious discussion that lay ahead. Probably a little of both.

  Customers brushed by them filing into line. Patrick motioned to the door. “Let’s go outside. Better not to have this talk in public.”

  Patrick and Raleigh headed across the parking lot into the nearby neighborhood. They passed by the houses, avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk. Music echoed from a car driving by. Kids played on lawns, their skin tan even though school had only been out two weeks. This was her first summer vacation when the next year hadn’t been plotted out. If she elected to skip college, then she’d be venturing out into adult life, a life she hadn’t considered before. In that moment she was older, even with the chocolate ice cream in her hand.

  “We shouldn’t tell your mom the details about Lucidin.” Patrick’s steps fell into an easy rhythm. “She’s never believed that you can feel illness. If we use that as evidence that we’ve solved your problem, she’ll discount it. Instead, we’ll say that you have a rare hormonal imbalance.”

  “It’s not a lie. And you’re right. She thinks I’m crazy when I bring up sensing people, so that’s not a good place to start.”

  “Those stupid doctors have her believing you’re making it up as a coping mechanism for your own illness. It makes you wonder how many things we ought to believe but don’t. How many things do we discount because they’re scary or fantastical?”

  Raleigh stopped him from going off on one of his tangents. “Should I go to Belgium?”

  “I’m not sure. If you didn’t already have plans for college, the obvious answer is yes. To put your college plans on hold, I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

  She couldn’t discount college. Registration for classes began in two weeks. Her mother couldn’t stop her. All her efforts would be wasted if she simply picked up and moved to Belgium.

  “It would be a treatment,” Patrick said.

  The word hung on the air mingling with the smell of grass. Long ago she’d given up wishing for a treatment, and now one had arrived. It didn’t come packaged the way she expected. She’d imagined it would be a pill. Maybe she’d have some nausea or other side effect, but she’d already decided that a treatment was worth a whole lot to her. Was it worth postponing college?

  “It’s not like I would never go to school. I would defer for a year or two. That was the plan before now, my mom’s anyways. She wanted me to hold off until I got better. I guess she’ll be getting her way.”

  Patrick crunched on the last bit of his cone and dusted his hands together scattering the crumbs. “I think that you should refrain from putting it like that. I doubt your mother will want you to go to Belgium, treatment or not. It’s going to be an interesting debate, and you know how my sister loves those. Would you keep your scholarships? I’d imagine those would go away if you defer.”

  “I don’t know. I could check. I suppose that would be another downside.” Raleigh’s wants shifted from college to the prospect of getting well. If it worked, when she did go to college, she wouldn’t have to wear a sign around her neck. She wouldn’t have to be known as the sick girl. She could have a normal life. “I want to go to Belgium.”

  “You don’t have to decide now.”

  “I do, though. I have a deadline for registration and my tuition. If I’m going to go to Belgium, I need to decide now.”

  “We just found out. Sometimes it’s good to sleep on it. And we don’t really know Doctor Orman.”

  “You didn’t look into her?”

  “I did, and her professional résumé is impressive. Not only is she a physician, but for a number of years she taught at an orphanage. But I know nothing about Liege and her life there.”

  “You know my mother. The moment she learns of the treatment, of Belgium, and the rest of it, she’s going to plan out exactly what I should do. If I go to her without a
firm plan of my own, I’ll end up like Lana. Remember how she ended up in a major she hated freshman year because Mom insisted?”

  “We can hold off on telling her while you make sure this is the right choice.”

  Raleigh absently kicked a rock on the sidewalk and watched it skitter to the gutter. “She’s not going to be happy that we’ve kept this from her. Don’t say she won’t know, she figures out everything.”

  “It just seems like a hasty decision. I know how much you want answers, but I don’t want you to feel pressured to leave in an attempt to find them.”

  “I can always come back. Sure, it’s across the world, but there are planes. Some of my classmates are taking a year off to find themselves. That’s what we’ll call this.”

  During their talk they’d circled the block and had made their way back to the parking lot. With the ice cream eaten, they were ready to leave. Patrick unlocked his door. “I guess, then, it’s time to go home and tell your mother the good news.”

  4

  THE AROMA OF Beth’s lasagna greeted Raleigh and Patrick when they entered the house. Raleigh’s father muttered to himself in his study, something about paperwork and unrealistic deadlines. An otherwise average day, if it wasn’t for her extraordinary news. Anticipation gripped her stomach. Going to Europe wasn’t anything like college. There wouldn’t be weekend visits to do laundry, and her parents couldn’t stop by for lunch.

  “Dad?” Raleigh said, peering into his study.

  Theo flipped through a small mountain of paper on his desk. “I’m busy, Raleigh. I’m hoping to get a few more emails sent out before dinner.”

  “It’s important.”

  He looked up, his shoulders sinking. “Is this about your mother not wanting you to go to college? You should go.”

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Patrick said, walking in behind Raleigh.

  “Patrick?” Theo left his papers. “Are you staying for dinner? Maybe we can watch some of the game.”