Help! I need an antidote for anxiety.

It had been one week. One week of twiddling my fingers and wearing my carpet thin. One week of not hearing back from the DEA.

I was almost foaming at the mouth. Everyday like clockwork, I would get to the office before anyone, because I was going stir-crazy at home amongst my staff. I probably checked the company mail about ten times every hour. When that didn't yield any fruit, I shifted my attention to my personal mail, and then it was back to the company mail once again.

And then I began to ruminate.

Maybe they got some alphabets mixed up. It had happened to me once when I sent a mail to a company and waited for weeks for a reply. They had eventually called saying they hadn't gotten any mail from me. Turned out I had mixed up an n with an m.

So maybe that was what probably happened.

Mr. Hendricks did seem impressed, so what was the big hold-up about?

A thought occurred to me. Perhaps they wanted to send me a personal text message but didn't have my number. But even as the thought was conceived, I shut it down.

That would have been highly unprofessional of them. And there was the fact that I guarded my phone number like a vault. Only a handful of people knew it. People I could literally swear wouldn't give it out.

I consoled myself with the saying that no news was good news. But the silence from their end was jarring to say the least.

The muted ring of my phone sounded off, taking me away from my scrambled thoughts. I patted my pocket but it was empty, then I remembered I had put it on my desk earlier on after receiving a call. Now, it was buried amongst the myriad of files on my table.

Not wanting it to ring off, but not able to find it, I pushed all the files to the side - big mistake - because I watched in horror as they slid across the desk. It was like slow motion, or maybe it was my mind that tried to slow things down.

Unfortunately for me, that only happened in movies.

All the papers in the files landed in a pile, with all the papers strewn all over the floor and my phone right alongside them. With the agility of a two year old, I dived for it. Unfortunately, it stopped ringing before I was able to get a hold of it. Even as I stared at it, upset with myself for being such a doofus, it rang once again.

This time I picked it immediately. "Alexander Moore, here."

As soon as I heard the chuckle, I mentally slapped myself for not checking the caller ID first.

"Is that anyway to answer your phone?"

I closed my eyes and curled my fist around the edge of my chair. "Hello . . . mother."

There was a pause on the line before she spoke. "Hello, Alex, son. Sorry I wasn't able to come for your wife's funeral, I had some important things to take care of."

I tightened my hands around my phone and tried to swallow a lump that had suddenly erupted in my throat. Oblivious of what I was going through, she continued speaking.

"Anyway, now that that woman is dead, when do you think you can remarry? And this time, it has to be to a woman that suits your status, especially one that can give me a grandchild."

I squeezed my eyes shut and then flexed my neck. My breathing had increased, along with the beating of my heart. I opened my eyes once more and silently counted to ten before I replied. "I was in the middle of a meeting. I'll call you back when I deem it fit to." And then I cut the call.

I knew I had just asked for it, because my phone rang again almost immediately. I picked the call quite alright, but left the phone on the table.

She could talk to herself for all I cared.

Was it a crime to be an only child?

Maybe it was an anathema to marry whomever I pleased?

Oh! This was a good one.

Was it my fault she couldn't accept the fact that Aretha had captivated me from the get go against her wishes?

Whatever way I looked at it, it definitely didn't give her the right to treat Aretha shabbily. She had never liked Aretha, not even when Aretha (who was a professional chef), regularly made her sumptuous food to eat, and would drive to the other side of town to give it to her. Now she had passed, she dared to mock her- even in death?

I shook my head and released a sigh that helped calm my erratic heart beat.

I didn't want to be rude to her but I couldn't stand her attitude any longer. Even after sending word to her about Aretha's passing, she had not come, neither had she called to commiserate with me. Not one time.

What kind of mother was that?

A knock sounded off, cutting off my angry thoughts. The door to my office opened, and Kelly walked in. There was a look on her face I couldn't place. She wove something in the air and it took some seconds for me to realize it was a letter.

"This just came by courier. It has the stamp of the DEA on it."

She placed it on my desk and all I could do was stare at it. They didn't send a mail or place a call after all. They did it the old-fashioned way - by letter.

After a few seconds of staring dumbly at it, I lifted it, the same way one would, precious stones. I've never used glasses before, but suddenly it seemed difficult for me to read what had been boldly emblazoned on the front.

At least, I was able to make out a long slip of paper snugly fitted inside.

"That's right, keep staring at it and it just might open itself." Kelly drawled from in front of me.

I had completely forgotten she was still standing there.

Without wasting anymore time, I took a hold of the paper knife and slowly opened up the edges of the letter. This time, I was clearly able to see the logo of the DEA at the top left.

I skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the body of the letter.

It is with great thought I....... this letter ..... in all honesty, I had known...... beginning......that .......Exceva .......the one. When we first talked......the phone..... your passion .......and I........

I cut off all the unnecessary information and jumped to the end.

A big congratulations, Mr. Moore, The Department of Justice's drive enforcement administration hereby endorses Exceva. . .

My mouth fell open and the letter slipped from my hands.

Kelly was beside me in some seconds. "What's wrong?"

She picked the letter from where it had fluttered to the floor and began to read from the beginning.

It is with great thought I type this letter to you. In all honesty, I had known from the beginning that Exceva was the one. When we first talked on the phone, your passion and drive were palpable to me. You almost bunched it up when you walked into your boardroom looking like you had just stepped out from a whorehouse-

"Wait! Is he allowed to type this? Kelly looked at me with wide eyes.

I couldn't reply. I was too much in shock at that point. She shook her head and continued reading.

. . . But then I saw on the news about the passing of your wife, and I understood clearly what you were going through. Accept my condolences once again. So back to the matter at hand, without further ado, the department of Justice's drug administration hereby endorsed Exceva as a cure for killing cancer cells in the early stage. A big congratulations, Mr. Moore, you did it.

Kelly looked at me with eyes that had gone big and round. Her mouth opened up in a wide smile and then she hollered, pumping her fist in the air. "Yes. Yes! You did it. Exceva is live!"

My initial shock gave way and I was finally caught up in the excitement pouring out from her. "Fifteen years, and now it's finally here." I smiled widely.

"This calls for a celebration." She turned to me, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "And I know just what to use."

She flounced off and returned a few minutes later, smiling from ear to ear with one hand behind her back. She stopped in front of my desk and within a jiffy of an eye, whipped a bottle out from behind her back.

"Champagne, for this momentous occasion." She announced it like she was the MC of an event.

She popped it open and the cork flew off and landed somewhere on the floor. She took out two flute glasses from my cabinet and poured a healthy amount into each one. We cheered and I took a sip of the bubbly drink.

We did it, Aretha, baby, this is for us.

I smiled against the rim of my glass.

"Congratulations, once again, Alex. I never doubted you could do it. You are my hero." She smiled coyly. She traced the rim of the glass with her fingers and then slowly dropped it on my desk, all the while maintaining eye contact.

As she walked towards me, a glint entered her eyes. She stopped within an inch of me and I waited, waited for her to make a move so I could show her I was interested in no one but Aretha.

Her hand lifted in the air, settled on the back of my collar and I froze. Turned into a complete icicle. I closed my eyes, swallowed hard and opened them again, only to see her face had moved closer.

The invisible bonds that bound me, loosened.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I removed her hand from around my neck and side stepped her. "'I've got to get to the lab. Exceva needs me now."

With that admission, I walked off, leaving her drilling holes in my back.

"So, Mr. Moore, what can we expect from Exceva in the long run?"

"Mr. Moore, how many people do you perceive will be cured using Exceva?"

"Mr. Moore, will you. . . ?"

I mentally shut out the words of the third reporter. At that point in time, I was about ready to keel over. My eyes had become blurry and red and they stung, but I lifted my shoulders a little higher and pasted on a smile that didn't reach my heart. "As you all know, my wife was diagnosed with womb cancer. Unfortunately, she wasn't diagnosed on time, and as a result. . ." I looked down and shook my head, valiantly trying to keep the tears which threatened to swim to the surface, at bay.

I looked back up at all the reporters that swarmed around, eagerly waiting for the rest of my words and I knew I couldn't let the water works reign free. "Exceva was meant for people who have been diagnosed with early stage cancer. It is a drug that's meant to give sustainability, but above all, restoration and complete healing. Imagine a world free of the cancerous disease, a world where people will be free of the clutches of disease that plagues them. Why don't you take a minute to imagine a world filled with generations of people to come, better still, let's do it together."

Silence reigned throughout the hall once I had finished speaking. And then someone behind me began to clap. The next person to my left took it up. Another at my right continued, until, like an echo, everyone in the hall was clapping and giving me a standing ovation.

Even though I had just sat through an eight hour press conference and my heart had been heavy, it lightened considerably. I stood and smiled. "Thank you all for the honor and the love, but that will be all for now."

"Mr. Moore, please, one more question, what about. . .?"

But I had heard enough.

I walked out of the hall, flanked by my bodyguards. The reporters were a balsy lot. They tried to one-up each other by shoving their microphones in my face and asking questions at the same time, but my bodyguards shouldered anyone away who dared come close.

All I wanted was to hit my bed and close my eyes forever.

Gross Exaggeration: I meant for a few hours.

I was led out of the hall and into the hallway. More reporters swarmed around, making it even more difficult for us to move. Luckily, Hugo and Bravo did a damn good job by taking the brunt of the crassness exhibited by them.

We finally made it to the compound of the hotel, and just when I saw freedom beckoning, Kelly ran up to me breathing heavily. "Whew! It's a zoo back in there. Thank goodness all that's left to do is pose for pictures. Have you forgotten?" She placed a hand on my forearm and moved uncomfortably close.

I felt the warmth of her body through her clothings and I looked away. Ever since that day in my office, Kelly had looked for ways to come close to me. Whether it was to give me a document or just some piece of information, she would come up close into my personal space and brush against me.

Now I didn''t know what she was looking for, but I wasn't so naive that I didn't know she wanted a shot at me.

Unfortunately for her, I wasn't up for grabs.

"Alex, Mr. Hendricks will soon be out. Remember we need to take pictures for the archives as well as to put on the walls in the office and labs. That serves as a. . ."

I stopped listening to her. I had to admit, she was good at her job. Always keeping me in line and on my toes, but that's what I paid her for though. To do exactly that.

We found a good spot in the compound of the hotel, some meters away from the pool. No one was there at this time. It seemed all of the action was taking place inside the hotel. My bodyguards took up positions at both corners of the exits ready to intercept anyone, reporter or otherwise that came close.

A few minutes later, and Kelly came back with Mr. Hendricks and the rest of his team in tow. There were twenty of them all together, key members of the Justice of the department of administration. To be honest, I felt one picture with all of them was enough, but Kelly had the bright idea to make me take pictures with each of them, and then according to their ranks and office.

She was ingratiating herself in the last picture beside me when my phone rang. I heaved a sigh of relief and excused myself.

"Hello, Mr. Moore, this is doctor Rogers, I'm calling with regards to the lady that was brought here three weeks ago, your personal assistant."

For some reason, I became silent as I drew a blank at who he was talking about. But as he continued speaking, it flooded my memory once again.

"The lady seems to be out of the woods now, but she's presently in an induced coma. She still needs a lot of healing. I felt I needed to update you, see if you're chanced so you could swing by. I know you're a busy man, but a few minutes spent talking to her will add to her healing. No one has come in to see her yet, I hear."

Where before I wanted to hit the sack, as I listened, the tiredness slid from my body and was quickly replaced with sadness. It settled like a heavy bag of rocks on my chest. I knew first hand, what it meant to have no one.

I made up my mind immediately."Thank you, doctor, I'll definitely drop by today. Same room as before?"

"No, she has been moved to another more comfortable room, thanks to the funds you provided."

I nodded, like he could see me and promised to come.

I turned round to see Kelly in an animated discussion with Mr. Hendricks, so I walked up to them. "Sorry, something came up, I've got to go."

Mr. Hendricks smiled and took a hold of my hand in a firm handshake. "Congratulations, Alex, I'll definitely be buying a few packs of Exceva. One never knows when this sneaky cancer disease will sneak up on one."

I cracked a smile. "Not to worry, I will definitely send some complimentary packs over to you and the rest of the team."

As I finished speaking, Kelly sidled up to me. Her hand got fixed on mine as I turned. "Where are you off to? I thought we could all-"

"Sorry, rain check." I shook her hand off and walked off.

*

Stepping into the hospital took me back. I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to remember those times when the screams would wake me up. Screams of despair and pain. Screams that shook my very foundation. Screams that took the very foundation of the hope that Aretha and I had built.

All my aspirations came crumbling down the moment Aretha was diagnosed with womb cancer. This wasn't just any type of cancer though, it was the type that grew side by side with the child in her womb. Our child. A child that was being stifled with the deadly disease.

A child we had been expecting for almost eight years. A child that was loved and prepared for even before his inception.

Jacob.

We had given him the same name as Aretha's father of blessed memory. A man I had never met but still felt a strange, yet strong affinity to. I didn't know if there was anything like reincarnation but I kind of wanted him to come back as Jacob, my son.

I shook my head to rid it of the thoughts that spilled unbidden, into my mind and stopped at the front desk. "Hi, I'm looking for a lady that was brought in a few weeks ago. Mia Hernandez by name."

The middle aged woman didn't even bother looking up. She stared at the screen in front of her. "What's your name, sir?"

I told her and she nodded. "Visiting times for ICU patients are between 12-4pm." She looked at the time on her wrist meaningfully.

I got the meaning clearly. It was almost 4pm. I needed to hurry.

She directed me to the ICU section. As I walked, people crowded the hallway. Their faces told a story of woe and despair and I was hard pressed to continue. I gritted my teeth, steeled my nerves and kept walking until I got to the front of the room. There, I stopped because I heard it, the continuous mechanical beeping of a machine. A machine that indicated a life needed to be saved.

From the window, I saw a form lying on the bed. I didn't know what possessed me to do it. I just know I found myself opening the door and walking inside. From inside the room, the beeping sound was even louder and another noise accompanied it. Curious, I walked forward, my hands becoming sweatier by the second. I got to her bedside and stared.

She was a mess.

Aretha was in ICU before she passed, but what I saw before me was on another level. The lady lying still on the bed was hooked up to different tubes. One protruded from her mouth, while a cord was wrapped around her head and attached to a machine. A neck band was wrapped around her neck, possibly to stabilize it. An IV was set up on both side of her wrists, while an oximeter was attached to both her finger and toe.

The woman's face was bruised purple and swollen. Her skin matched the pale colour of the sheets she lay on. Amidst the gory picture she portrayed, something red poked out from the top of her head. I leaned closer to take a good look and couldn't look away.

Her hair. It was bright copper red. One word came to my mind as I stared in fascination at it.

Fiery.

Spellbound, I leaned closer, stretching my hand forward towards it. I needed to touch it so bad.

"Hello, Mr. Moore."

I felt like a kid who had been caught with his hands in the cooking jar. Except mine hadn't even made it there at all. My hand hung in the air foolishly, but I slowly retracted it and turned to see Doctor Rogers. He stood at the door, staring at me with a smile on his face.

I gave him a nod and a tight smile.

"I'm glad you were able to come." He moved closer into the room.

I turned to him fully. "Tell me, how is she really faring?"

He cleared his throat and moved away from me and closer to the woman on the bed. "There was internal bleeding in her brain, but that is now under control after the successful surgery."

I moved closer to her bed and was shocked to see part of her shock of red hair had been scraped off on one side of her head. A large gauze tape was plastered there with white bandaging. I stared at it, missing some words of the doctor.

". . . swelling which is normal and we are closely watching. The next three days are critical now. If she gets better and wakes up on her own, then all's going to be well, but if she doesn't, then. . . " He didn't say anymore. He chose to shake his head instead.