Oxygen And Luckys

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In his final life stage, Brad Falter discovered that Maine was a beautiful and serene place. He wondered whether his life would have been different if he and his brother had decided to go East at one point. His life was a mess, and he was suffering greatly from lung cancer that had metastasized to multiple vital systems in his body. The cough and rattles did not stop for too long, and he spent much time coughing blood into his father's threadbare handkerchiefs and fighting for bits of air. 

Early on in his diagnosis, he berated the doctor who delivered the news, telling her "That she knew nothing and that he would not ever quit smoking." Despite the patient being a non-believer about his fate, Dr. Denny Switzer developed a solid treatment plan that could possibly give Brad ten more years with the help of genomic-based personalized medicine. 

Denny was puzzled when Falter looked at her and said, "I'm not doing that."

A lack of insurance or money did not guide his decision because he had a Teamsters medical plan and a pension. It was the word "genomic" that he did not understand or ask more about. When given the news, Brad thought, "They ain't hooking me up to a genomic."

He turned down multiple treatment options that were more conventional, which would have extended his life.

His only concession was for a prescription of oxygen, which allowed him to smoke as long as he took the tubes out of his nostrils.

Three months later, his cancer started efficiently attacking multiple organs.  Brad developed a yellow pallor; his toes turned blue, and his yellow eyes drooped as he lost weight. He looked like this the last time he was in Maine when he confronted Natalie Leuze in the parking lot of that diner. Now, in the end stages, he slept a lot, ate less, and endlessly coughed.

The old New Englanders, all smokers, knew what was up with a bag of bones like Brad Falter. They had seen it many times.

It's now all about energy. Did Brad, at age sixty-nine with a terminal disease, have enough diesel in the tank to end the life of Natalie Leuze?

Brad thought of Steve, who would be sixty-seven had he lived.

Brad would rest for a few days in a chain motel. Even driving was hard on his energy, and he needed to build it up.

He would kill Natalie, have a few cold beers, and then he would kill himself.

That was the plan which, in Brad's mind, was better living than "Being hooked up to a genomic."

Cambridge, Massachusetts

Lisa Tanaka hummed and even sang a few lines as she placed a bunch of fresh tulips into a heavy glass vase on her little table. Two plates were set. 

She could not believe how well she and Ben Mason were getting along. She had a few relationships, but the chief problem with them was always issues with Lisa's drive to move forward. The last guy was around when she was speeding through her MBA, and he had difficulty understanding that you must study for degrees. It was part of the deal. He complained a lot, and Lisa tried making more time available, but he broke up with her when she wouldn't go to The Garden with him to see the WWE. Lisa had a thing for anything WWE in college and would have enjoyed it. She had to study.

​The guy before that had problems with her F.B.I. work schedule and the travel she had to do.  He was smart and seemingly easygoing, and he was honest when he told her, "I love you, and I especially love your mind, but I spend too much time waiting for you to come home. I'm leaving Cambridge and heading west."

Lisa found that acceptable and respectable.

Ben Mason... The guy was funny and always firing on all cylinders. He was never staccato like many geniuses seemed to be, which kept the spit in his mouth where it belonged. And he thought for more than half a second before he spoke. His deliveries could be lethal, and anything he summarized was practiced good copy for all the financial and news shows he appeared on.

Tanaka liked his ass a lot, and she wanted more of that tonight.

She was cooking Gyodon, which is a Japanese Beef and Rice Bowl.

Earlier, she called her mother for pointers, and her mother remarked in Japanese, "You never cook; what's going on?"

She laughed and told her mother about her "new friend." "Is he that guy on TV?"

"You are cooking Gyudon for him?" "You must get the rice correct." "What kind of beef you buy?"

Her mother asked, "He's not Japanese?"

"No, Mom, he's not."

Lisa's parents lived in Santa Monica, but that was not far enough, in Lisa's opinion. They just happened to pop into Cambridge frequently, and Lisa figured that the new guy in her life might cause them to hop on a flight soon.  

They had long gotten used to Lisa gravitating toward men who did not have Japanese heritage like her.

She finished with her mother and started brushing her long black hair.

Tonight would be fun. We will watch something good.

Two things happened at once. Lisa's phone chimed, and the door buzzer buzzed. A quick look at the small screen by the door showed Ben Mason waiting to get buzzed in. The number on her phone was F.B.I. headquarters in Chelsea.

Her mother had never taught her to say "Oh Fuck" in Japanese, so she said it in English as she buzzed Ben in, and then she started speaking with the duty desk in Chelsea, letting them know that "This was not a secure line." This meant that there would be other ears on the conversation. She let Ben in, then squeezed him, and stood on her toes to plant a kiss while she held her phone to her ear.

"Of course, sir, I'll come in. I need twenty minutes." "How long will this take?" 

TEXT EVE: Hey, Allston, I'm going out with your GF for steaks tonight. TEXT ALLSTON: Tell her I will visit a friend in Columbus tonight, and I'll update her. TEXT EVE: Do you want me to send her any heart emojis when I update her? TEXT ALLSTON: Please send hearts and eggplants, Evie LOL

Somewhere On The Coast Of Maine

Natalie and Ricky Riccardo had slipped into their old routine, and both were happy to return to normal. Natalie, now in all the Tabloids again made easy calls to companies all day. They were all eager to associate with her over the phone and with their checkbooks.

Her foundation was on pace to destroy last year's totals, and she thought there "was a silver lining to almost getting killed." Each company wanted to pony up an extra $30,000.00 which was the cost to have her fly in and accept an oversized check for a photo opportunity for their company website.

One well-known CEO mentioned to her that he had recently divorced his wife.

She said, "Isn't that lovely?" She knew she was done with rich brainiacs and wanted a real man, as she thought again of Thomas Allston, who was in Ohio. 

She was running her foundation, working on getting the man who stabbed her put in jail and working with both a law firm and a public relations firm in case she was charged in a murder or assault case.

She picked up the phone and called Eve Crowder.

"Hey, Eve, do you want to go out and grab some food while Allston is in Ohio"? 

"Eve didn't hesitate. "Steaks In Portland? 

"I'll meet you in Portland then."  "It's a little lonely here, and I'm nervous. I don't know why." "Can Ricky and I stay at your house tonight?"

"Of course! That makes sense." 

Eve said, "I know a great place". "I'll send you the location."