The Inheritance Paradox
Six (Eugene’s Story)
EUGENE WAS SICK Saturday and Sunday after he’d rescued Lynn. He checked into the Y so he would have a toilet and shower nearby.
You’re purging the dead cancer cells from your body.
“I’m purging the drunk from my body,” Eugene said. “I’ll never drink again.”
Not a bad idea, but you aren’t drunk. It’s the cancer.
“I should go see Doc and check into hospice. I’m going to die.”
They won’t be happy when you live.
The witty repartee from Galahad did not relieve Eugene’s misery. There were moments when he wished he would die. On Monday morning, though, his stomach and bowels seemed to be stable again. He spent the morning laundering his clothes and then cleaned his car inside and out. He even bought a pine-scented deodorizer at the car wash and hung it from the mirror.
By noon, he felt human enough to face other people and immediately went to the polling company near his lawyer’s office to see if he could get steady work.
He was surprised with how easy it was for him to apply for a job and get it without any real credentials. After reading aloud from a script and showing he could check the appropriate responses, he was shown to a cubicle with a phone and a stack of survey questionnaires. Next to it was a list of phone numbers. By two o’clock, he was dialing the phone and started asking questions of the random person who picked up. A supervisor stood next to him for fifteen minutes to be sure he had the system down and was signing each questionnaire so the company would know who to pay. He was to be paid by the call. Only those who answered and responded to the questions were to be counted.
He wasn’t sure how long he was supposed to work, but after four hours, a supervisor came by to tell him he had to take a break.
“Uh… What are my hours here?” he asked.
“You’re a piece worker, so technically you don’t have hours. You still aren’t supposed to work more than eight hours in a day or more than four hours without taking a break. Let’s bundle up your first batch of surveys and see how they stack up,” the supervisor said.
It didn’t take long to tally the sheets. Eugene had fifty clean surveys from his first four hours on the phone. At twenty-five cents per successful survey, he would be paid twelve-and-a-half dollars.
“Learn to be efficient but not rushed. The surveys are intentionally short so people don’t get upset about having dinner interrupted or needing to leave for work. Our best operators manage about twenty surveys an hour. You’ll be told if there are surveys that are worth more. Typically, they take longer and deal with things like politics.”
“Great. Thank you.”
“You can return to work after a fifteen-minute break. You’re doing well.”
Eugene put in another four hours of work, but the success rate of completed calls fell after eight o’clock. He did not earn as much for the second half of the day as for the first. Still, he figured earning twenty dollars a day on the phone was better than making ten dollars for a day of hard labor.
He decided to start a little earlier in the day and knock off at eight in the evening. He was employed.
Finding a place to live was going to take longer. He needed a bank account and wouldn’t even have money to deposit until the end of the week. He checked the rental ads in the newspaper and decided the best he could do would probably be a room in someone’s boarding house. He kept looking.
By the end of the week, he felt much better. He stayed at the Y Friday night so he could be sure to be clean and fresh for his date Saturday. He once again did laundry and made sure everything packed in his car was neat and as compact as he could make it. There was nothing in the front seat. He put his copy of Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions in the back seat, intending to get back to it after his date.
“Am I supposed to meet her at the restaurant or pick her up?” he mused as it approached time for the date.
Don’t be a stalker! You said at the restaurant.
“Oh, yes. Um… La Paloma at six.”
Six-thirty.
He didn’t have a way to call her and confirm, so he drove to the restaurant and parked. Before he got to the door, he saw her through a window, sitting at a table.
He rushed inside, his heart pumping against his chest. He wasn’t late. He spent a moment calming himself before making his way to her table. At least meeting at La Paloma should make them both feel safer than the bar where they first met.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show up, so I only ordered water,” Lynn said when he sat opposite her. “It’s not like I can usually afford to eat in a place like this.”
“Me either. It was just the first place I could think of, and I wanted to treat you to something nice.”
“We can go someplace else… cheaper,” she said.
“No. I got a job and got paid yesterday. I can afford to splurge once. Then I’ll be eating thin soup the rest of the week,” Eugene laughed self-deprecatingly.
Pay at the job was averaging slightly above minimum wage. He’d been paid $81 for four days of work, less taxes. Fridays were paid the following week. Even if the dinner cost as much as $15, he’d still have enough to make it through the next week.
“What kind of work do you do?” Lynn asked.
“I used to… Well, that’s past history. I got a job as a telephone survey taker—a pollster, they call us. I sit on the phone asking people questions all day.”
“Oh, that must be interesting.”
“Yes. This week I discovered housewives marginally prefer Dawn to Palmolive dish soap. It’s a near thing, though,” Eugene said.
“How exciting,” Lynn said, sounding enthusiastic. “I waited on people at the 50s Diner over on Maynard and one day a person left me a dollar and a half tip! Can you imagine? Some people are made of money.”
“That’s true. It’s not like the Diner is fancy like this place is.” Eugene paused to consider what he’d just said. The Diner was capitalizing on the Happy Days craze. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with the Diner. I’ve eaten there before. It’s a good place. Fine.”
“Okay. You made your point,” Lynn said. “So, um… where do you live? I mean, you do live alone, don’t you? You aren’t… married?”
“No, I’m not married,” Eugene said, absently rubbing his ring finger with his thumb. “I’ve been pretty sick for a while. I’m getting better now. That’s why I was able to get a job. But before, I couldn’t work at what I’d been doing and I lost my home. It kind of affected my mind as well as my body. I’m still… Well, the mess you saw in my car is because everything I own is in it. The front seat is clean now, though!”
“You’ve been living in your car? It’s so small,” Lynn said.
Eugene had the impression that if he had a larger car, Lynn wouldn’t be concerned about him living in it at all.
“Yes. I visit the YMCA each day for a shower and I launder my clothes regularly. It’s almost like having a house on wheels. I just need to be careful not to park in the same spot every night so the police don’t get nosy. I’m looking for a more stable place now that I’ve got a job. I should be able to rent a room.”
“You poor guy!” Lynn said, reaching across the table and patting Eugene’s hand.
She let her hand rest on his until the waitress came to take their order. Eugene held his breath while she ordered, but she kept it simple and inexpensive. He ordered the same spaghetti and meat sauce.
“So, tell me more about yourself, Lynn,” he said as they ate.
“Not all that much to tell. I’m twenty-four and living on my own, but with two other girls who share my apartment. There are days I think I’d prefer living in a car,” she giggled. “But I don’t even own one. I went to college for two years, but my heart wasn’t in it, you know? I’ve been waiting tables for the past three years, just waiting for my life to find its direction.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Eugene said more confidently than he felt. He certainly hadn’t figured his own out.
“You know, I don’t believe we can successfully plan our lives. It’s not for us to ‘figure out.’ Life has a plan and it’s up to us to let it take control. Even your illness could be part of your life’s plan.”
“God caused my illness so I’d…? I don’t know.”
“Oh, take God out of the equation. That’s irrelevant. There are more than four billion people on earth. Do you think God can be bothered with planning out everyone’s life?”
That was, in fact, exactly what Eugene had believed until recently.
“He delegates that sh… oops… that stuff. That’s what I believe. Like you being where I needed to be rescued last week. That’s not like some great plan of the Almighty. That was just our lives intersecting according to their own plans.”
“That’s a pretty radical viewpoint,” Eugene said.
“When I told my roommates what happened last weekend and how you rescued me, Allison said, ‘Oh, thank God!’ I said, ‘No, thank Eugene!’ It was you who saved me. Not God.”
“I guess you can be thankful for me, but I’m thankful I was there. To whomever,” Eugene said.
Wells is not God.
“I believe there are different planes of existence,” Lynn said. “We probably met on a different plane somewhere sometime. That’s how you knew me and knew our lives were connected some way. We probably knew each other in a past life.”
Eugene was baffled by the girl. Ten days previously, he would have thought she was just a loopy new age airhead. So much had changed in the past week, though.
She’s still a loopy new age airhead.
“Do you believe in time travel?” Eugene asked suddenly.
Lynn didn’t stop eating but started talking again almost at once.
“Oh, no. We don’t need to time travel. All time is now. We just jump from one plane of existence to another. Everyone we’ve ever been is who we are today,” she said. “You should meditate. I could teach you. I do it all the time. When you are in a pure meditative state, samadhi, you can deal with all the issues you face in life. It’s how I knew college just wasn’t the right path for me. We can visit who we were in past lives and correct our paths. I’ve had all sorts of past lives. They’re just right here where I am. Isn’t it amazing to think we might have had this very same conversation four hundred years ago? Or maybe we were ancient Egyptians, planning our elaborate tombs. Or we might have been slaves trying to move one of those massive stone blocks into place to build the pyramids. Or Stonehenge!”
She sopped up the remainder of her pasta sauce with a piece of bread and then kept right on going.
“I’m not one of those people who believes all her past lives were royalty. I know I was once a slave. I’ve been a beggar on a street corner. That’s why I sympathize so much with homeless people. Like you. It’s okay. We’ve all been there.”
Eugene’s mind was spinning. Lynn was a real talker, and it fascinated him. The less time he had to spend on his own past life, the better. She was enthusiastic about life and that enthusiasm was contagious. Eugene had lost all the enthusiasm he had for life. The illness, the trauma of his affair being revealed and ending his marriage, and other news he’d received in the past year had sapped him of all the energy and enthusiasm he had.
He’d eaten his entire dinner while being entertained by Lynn. His stomach didn’t feel the least upset. He could actually believe—at least start to believe—that life could be better for him.
It’s up to you.
“I think my awareness of past lives and the oneness of all time might be why I walk into so many dumb situations,” she said. “I mean, last week when you rescued me wasn’t the first time I nearly lost my life or was raped or robbed. I know those guys would have raped me. And I might have died. I’d surely not be here having dinner with a sweet guy who saved me.”
“What happened there, anyway?” Eugene asked.
“I met these girls I work with at that bar because they were going out dancing to celebrate Joyce’s birthday. She’s the youngest of us and just turned twenty-one. They said it was a great place to dance. I don’t know about you, but I never saw anyone dancing there. I went to the restroom and when I came out, they’d left. Without me! I spotted you earlier and you looked pretty harmless. Trustworthy, you know? I just decided to throw my life at your feet and ask you for help. I can’t even imagine how you got outside to save me as fast as you did.”
“I’m just glad I was there.”
“Me, too. One time, I fell asleep on a bus in Detroit. When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was or how long I’d been out. There were a bunch of guys on the bus, and I could feel them all eyeing me. Then this little old lady sitting beside me nudged me and said, ‘Come on, dear. This is our stop.’ Well, I got off the bus with her and no one else got off. She helped me figure out where I was and how to get back to where I thought I was going. I think we were connected on another plane, too.”
If this girl is the future of the human race, it’s not the last time she’ll need rescuing. You’d better keep an eye on her.
“I intend to,” Eugene said aloud.
“Intend to what?” Lynn asked.
“Oh. I intend to take you home when we’re finished and make sure you are safe.”
“Thank you, Eugene. Tomorrow is Sunday and I have the Sunday brunch crowd to serve,” Lynn said. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”
“We don’t need to rush, but I don’t want to keep you out too late,” Eugene explained, silently cursing at himself and at Galahad for interrupting him.
“Oh, yeah. I suppose so. Eugene,” she reached across the table to take his hand, “I feel like we’ve made a real connection tonight. I’m so glad you are more than a bat swinging knight to the rescue. Um… Will I see you again?”
“I hope so, Lynn. Saturday is your night off? I work till at least eight during the week. How about we go to a movie next Saturday?”
“Sure. Or just for a walk, you know. Or… anything. You don’t have to spend a lot of money on me.”
Eugene paid the bill and left $1.00 in change as a tip, feeling particularly generous. Then he led Lynn to his car and settled her in the passenger seat before taking her home.
There were a few awkward moments when Eugene walked her to her door and found they were holding hands. He wasn’t sure when that had happened.
“Well… um… I’ll see you next week, then. Want to pick me up?”
“Yes, sure. I’ll be by at six and we can decide then what we’re going to do.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Eugene,” she said, squeezing his hand.
“Goodnight, Lynn,” he responded, holding the door for her.
He drove out into the country until he found a deserted barnyard where he parked for the night.
You are so whipped!
Eugene felt better and more energetic the following week than he had in months. Perhaps he was just sublimating his constant feelings of guilt, but physically he felt fine. He was tempted to cancel his doctor appointment on Friday and keep working, but the cancellation would cost him as much as the missed time at work. Besides, in the back of his mind, he wanted the doctor to confirm he was in remission. He was admitted to the office near the scheduled time for his appointment.
“You’re looking bright and chipper today,” Dr. Roberts said. “That’s good. A positive attitude at a time like this is important. Let’s get the routine things out of the way and then talk about your plans.”
“Sure, Doc. I don’t think I’m going to need the hospice thing, though. I’ve got a new job and things are going well. I even have a date tomorrow night,” Eugene said.
“Uh… Okay. Don’t deny yourself pain meds and the care you can get. That’s my only concern. We want to make things comfortable as you progress. Do you have someone who will be with you?” the doctor asked.
“That’s just it. I’m not uncomfortable. And I’m not drunk. I mean, I tried that after our last visit. Talk about something that will make you uncomfortable. I’m not going that route again.”
“I’m glad you aren’t just drinking your life away. Your blood pressure is good. Heart rate. What’s your housing like now?”
“I’m working on it. I needed a job and a few dollars in my pocket before I could look for a place to live. In the meantime, I spend a couple of nights a week at the Y and stop there each morning for a shower. My clothes are clean. I keep my car aired out so it doesn’t smell too bad,” Eugene said.
“To what do you credit this new attitude?” Roberts asked.
“I suppose to getting well,” Eugene said. “I feel healthy again.”
“Well… Uh… Let’s run a quick scan. We’ve got a new device that allows me to take a look inside without an x-ray or radiation. It’s great for checking the condition of a fetus in the mother’s womb, for example. We can look inside and tell what position it’s in, how strong the heart is, and even what sex the kid is. Long before birth!”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not pregnant. I don’t have money for a bunch of extra tests,” Eugene began.
“No, no. I’m looking for reasons to test this new equipment out. I’ll run it as a test of the machine and not as an actual procedure. A check like this would probably cost you $5 in the future. Today, it’s free.”
Eugene got into the gown and stretched out on the table. A technician rolled a cart full of equipment in and started setting up.
How quaint.
Dr. Roberts poked at Eugene to see where the pain was. There wasn’t any. In his previous tests, Eugene had grimaced at the slightest touch. The machine was turned on, and Dr. Roberts smeared a lubricant on the transducer, which he then rubbed across Eugene’s belly in the area of the tumor near his stomach.
“Hmm. Hmm. This isn’t working. Randall, do you have everything plugged in correctly?” he asked the technician.
“We’re getting a perfectly clear image of the stomach and small intestine,” Randal responded. “Is that a spot just there?”
“It was as big as a golf ball when I did the extraction for biopsy three weeks ago. Let’s move the fluoroscope in.”
It’s gone There’s still a spot on your liver, but it’s fading quickly.
“Uh, check the liver, Doc. There’s still a spot on it. You should be able to see that with this ultrasound thing, right?” Eugene said.
“An expert in medical diagnoses now?” Dr. Roberts asked.
Nonetheless, he shifted the position of the device until the liver came into view. Eugene calmly waited. He wanted the confirmation of modern medicine for what he still considered a kind of voodoo performed by Wells.
“There’s a spot there. The fluoroscope showed you freckled with them. Let’s check the bladder.”
It’s clear.
The exam went on for another fifteen minutes as the doctor still wanted to view the site with old dependable fluoroscopy. He promised he wasn’t charging anything for the additional tests.
“It looks like the last spot is the one on your liver and it’s fading,” Dr. Roberts said.
“That’s why I don’t need to go into hospice care. Really. I’ve been healed,” Eugene said.
“Are you telling me prayer healed you? A faith healing?”
“I didn’t pray for healing. God washed his hands of me, and I of Him.”
“God’s been good to you, Eugene.”
“Or I sold my soul,” Eugene said, sitting up. He wiped the slippery residue from his abdomen.
Ten years ago, penicillin was still a miracle. No one sold his soul for it.
“Do you believe in alternate dimensions, Doc?” Eugene asked.
“I believe in medicine, Eugene. I’m sure whatever has caused your remission will have a perfectly scientific explanation sometime in the future.”
Eighty years, to be precise.
“I’ll accept that future medicine today, thank you. You know I might still die in three months. What do we really know about lifespan? How many years do I have? Or days?” Eugene said.
“Do something useful with whatever time you have left,” Dr. Roberts said. “And call if you feel any negative change. I’m canceling your pain medication prescription. You shouldn’t take the stuff if you aren’t in pain.”
“Oh, yeah. I kind of quit taking it almost two weeks ago. Just forgot about it.”
“God bless you, Eugene. Do something good with your new life.”
You will.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
