Page 7 of Mr. Hotshot CEO

I sip my coffee and look up at the sky. My apartment faces east, and the sun warms my face.

It’s going to be a good day, I can just feel it.

After I finish breakfast, I head into work and get started on some experiments. I’m about to take a break for lunch when one of the post docs approaches me.

“Your sister’s here,” he says.

How odd. Naomi rarely visits me at work, but she works downtown, not all that far from me, so it isn’t too inconvenient for her to come here.

I head out to meet my sister in the hallway, and she’s missing her usual smile.

“My car broke down,” she says. “I just got off the phone with the repair shop, and it’s going to cost more to fix it than I initially thought.” She frowns. “I can’t go to New York. I don’t have the money.”

I feel a tightness in my chest.

Every five years, like clockwork, I get depressed. It started when I was sixteen, and it’ll be coming back soon. It’s hard to explain how, but I can already feel it coming.

Naomi and I had planned this trip to New York for when I was unwell. Of course, it wouldn’t solve my depression, but it would give me something to look forward to—as much as I can look forward to anything when I’m struggling with depression. Getting out of my regular day-to-day life often helps when I’m feeling that way, too.

I was counting on that trip.

So much for thinking today was going to be a great day.

“I’m so sorry,” she says.

She doesn’t suggest I go by myself or find a friend to go with me. She knows that’s not an option. I can’t travel alone when I’m depressed; that’s a disaster waiting to happen. It’s not good for me to be alone for days at a time, and I need someone else to deal with the travel plans and maps because my brain turns to mush and the tiniest things seem like insurmountable problems.

And it has to be Naomi. She’s my sister and best friend.

She’s the only one who knows what to do with me when I’m unwell.

I consider whether I could pay for her share of the trip, too. I’m doing okay financially, and I can afford gingerbread lattes, but I’m hardly rich. Plus, I need to have a decent amount of savings in case I’m unable to work for a while due to my mental illness. Because I spent so many years in school, I haven’t saved as much as I’d like.

I have to accept it. We’re not going to New York. I can’t justify the expense.

“That’s okay,” I say, not wanting to let on just how disappointed I am.

I had that trip to look forward to, but now, all I expect of this fall is a blur of heaviness and gray and sleepless nights.

Naomi squeezes my hand. “You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it, even though we can’t do this trip. I’m really sorry. I just...I can’t. And Will and I haven’t been together long, and I don’t want to ask him for money.”

Since one car repair threw off my sister’s budget, I’m a little worried about her financial situation, but I don’t ask, not now.

“I just wanted to tell you in person,” she says.

We talk for a few more minutes before she leaves and I head to lunch with a friend, my heart heavy.

* * *

After lunch, I returnto my experiments. I’ve always liked science, always liked understanding how things work. It’s incredible how much we can explain, isn’t it? From the microscopic scale, out to the universe beyond our solar system. When I was in high school, I’d already figured that I would get a PhD and do research, though exactly which field, I had no idea. I found a number of things interesting. The fact that we can explain natural phenomena only makes them more amazing to me, not less, and science can do so much for us.

But when I try to lose myself in my work today, I’m not successful. I can’t help thinking about the trip that won’t happen, as well as my sister’s finances.

At eight thirty, I pack up my bag. Some of the tension in my body drifts away as I head toward my regular coffee shop, one of my favorite places in the city. Still, I can’t completely shake my disappointment.

If only a few thousand bucks would drop out of the sky and into my hands...