Chapter 1 – The Phantom

First Chapter

I didn’t think too much about the black paint after the meeting in the garage with Mr. Bigelow and Dad. The only details I knew were that Mom was using it in her cell lines and had some success propagating it (those were her words). She fed small amounts of the paint to the cells, which reproduced the nanotubules, but only in minute amounts. She said she was ‘progressing’. Dad believed that once Mom made more progress in propagating it, he would be able to use her nanotubules for his paintings; there was too little for him to use at this time. I didn’t understand too much but Mom and Dad seemed very content.
Mom was one of the most influential women in my life. She was a beautiful goddess endowed with long, dirty blond hair, deep blue eyes and a petite nose. She attended Yoga classes twice a week, went to the gym three times a week before work, watched what she ate (not much meat, lots of fruits and vegetables) and was slim and lithe. She rarely raised her voice to me, yet she expected me to behave and supported whatever I wanted to do. She worked flexible hours and was around to drive me to the hockey rink or to my friends’ houses on the other side of our town. Dad also had flexibility with his job and shared driving responsibilities with Mom; he also skated with me frequently. Although I wasn’t a ‘Momma’s boy’ we had a special relationship that only a Mom and a son can have. We were more than Mom and son; we were soul mates who knew what the other would say and do before it was said and done.
I wasn’t home-schooled but Mom spent lots of time teaching me topics that weren’t part of the school curriculum. I learned about biology and biochemistry based on her work and how science positively influenced the world. Did you know that scientists have saved billions of lives? Billions. For example, Fritz Haber and Carl Bosch made synthetic fertilizers which saved almost five billion people from starvation; Karl Landsteiner and Richard Lewisohn discovered how blood groups interact, which allowed safe blood transfusions to be given; over two billion lives were saved by their discoveries. Edward Jennings discovered the smallpox vaccine, saving half a billion lives; chlorination of water and various other vaccines saved another billion lives. Mom was proud to be part of the scientific community that helped mankind, and in her own way wanted to add to the miracles that science brought to the world.
Mom also taught me to think, to question everything. We would watch the evening news or read the newspapers and Mom would always say that it was important to see the other side of the story. For example, while the world celebrated, Mom told me that it may have been a mistake to execute Saddam Hussein because although he was an ogre, he prevented the Shiites and Sunnis from killing each other and kept Iran in check. Or when a swan in Scotland tested positive for the H5N1 strain of bird flu, she explained that although the virus was not a threat to humans, it could change and trigger a flu pandemic, putting millions of lives at risk. We discussed these, and all other events, and I learned to debate on both sides of every issue. I’ve been accused of not being definitive but it’s not that; Mom taught me to be deliberate and examine every event, or issue, in detail before presenting my thoughts. She made me what I am today.
Julia was the other influential woman in my life. Initially not a goddess but a playmate, we developed a love-hate relationship that ultimately transgressed to the ‘love’ side of the equation. Nevertheless, as kids we competed in almost everything we did; you certainly know about the hockey from when Mr. Bigelow and Dad discussed the paint. The competition carried to the baseball field, the tennis court, the swimming pool, the basketball court, bicycle riding, whatever. I guess it’s because she was a year older than me that she could beat me in all those endeavors. She was bigger, faster, stronger and smarter than me and knew how to win. However, over time I became bigger, faster and stronger than her and could beat her at any of the physical sports. Although I was never as smart as she was I knew enough to let her win from time to time; maybe I was smarter than what I credited myself.
Julia was cute throughout her life, endowed with blond hair, bright blue eyes, a wide, friendly smile and a quick wit. When she turned fifteen she began to blossom and by the time she was seventeen she was a stunning beauty. I was sixteen at the time and somehow my perception of her morphed from the girl next door to the most beautiful creature on the face of the earth. And to me she was. I was in love with her and we consummated our relationship rather inadvertently. Or maybe not.
It was a hot, humid and sultry day in July and we were tossing the baseball to each other; most of our friends were either on vacation or chilling in their homes. Her Dad and my Dad were both at work, which was really unusual for both of them to be away at the same time. My Mom was also at work, Ryan was at his summer job at a local gas station, and Julia’s mom, Tracy, was out for the day with her friends. Mrs. Bigelow was a stay-at-home mom and looked like an older version of Julia; she had long blond hair, blue eyes, a wonderful smile and a svelte stature. She was also a beautiful woman. I think I had a thing for blond hair and blue eyes.
I tossed the ball to Julia and she remarked that the sky was getting dark. I looked behind and saw dark thunderheads accumulating.
“Looks like a big one is coming in,” I said nonchalantly.
She smiled mischievously.
“Bet I can strike you out before the first crack of lightning,” she called out, always setting up a challenge.
“Not,” I replied.
“Oh yeah, let’s see.” She picked up a bucket of baseballs and walked to the mound. I took my bat and stood at the plate, ready to smack the balls out of the ball field. The first pitch sailed over my head.
“You need to throw the ball over the plate, not over my head,” I taunted her, laughing as I said it.
Without a word she flung the next ball down the middle of the plate. I could see it as big as a watermelon and unleashed my homerun swing. The ball dropped just before it crossed the plate and I swung at nothing but air.
“Strike one!” she cried out in sheer delight. The clouds were racing toward us and the sky was getting darker.
“Lucky pitch!” I called back.
The second pitch was shoulder high and a little inside – just like I like them, high and tight. I swung and fouled it down the third base line.
“Strike two!” she yelled, even more delighted than before. I bore down on her delivery. She wound up and I could see she was going to throw a curve so I choked up on the bat. The ball came fast and at the last moment cut to the outside. I placed the bat on the ball, took a cut and caught it just before it broke. But I only got a piece of it and it sailed foul toward first base.
“That all you got?” I yelled. It was getting harder to see due to the thick black clouds and the wind that was blowing hard.
“You’re not goin’ hit this!” she yelled, reared back and threw.
I could see it come toward me in slow motion, the seams weren’t moving and it was wobbling. A knuckle ball? How’d she learn to throw a knuckle ball? I broke into a sweat, adrenaline pumping through my veins, my arms tightened like a rope, my eyes fixated on the seam. In a moment of reflexive reaction I swung and heard the thunderous crack of the bat. The ball hurled straight out, in a direct line toward Julia’s head at what seemed to be a hundred miles an hour. I heard her shriek and simultaneously a crack of lightning exploded next to her and she dropped to the ground like a thunderbolt.
“Julia!” I screamed and ran to the mound, a million thoughts racing through my mind. She’s dead! I killed her! Oh my God! What am I going to do? The run to the mound took a thousand years. All the things we did flashed before my eyes. Julia as a little girl, giggling, racing around the bases, teasing me, knowing she was bigger and faster; Julia as a preteen, smart, witty, still able to beat me; Julia as a seventeen-year-old, a goddess and now a dead goddess. My ears were pounding from the lightning strike and as I approached her she was in a coiled in heap. My worst fears were confirmed. She was dead and I killed her. I killed Julia. I loved Julia. My life is over. I have nothing left to live for. Oh my God. Oh my God. Why? Why? Why?