in a frying pan on Rory’s black designer stove, and is making toast a few inches away, enjoying the smell of freshly cooked breakfast. As she begins to setup their placements on the large, round cedar table in the middle of the kitchen, she hears some odd noises coming from the front door.
Kelly shrugs, assuming that something is being delivered on the front steps, and continues setting up their plates and silverware for the meal. Once the placements are neatly laid out she moves to the countertop and starts to break eggs open one by one into a large, black bowl, putting the empty eggshells back into the carton until she has six little yellow yolks floating in front of her. As she picks up the whisk and begins to stir the eggs, the doorbell rings its familiar low, cathartic chime, and Kelly sighs with frustration, turning off the heat under the turkey bacon.
She steps toward the door over the gorgeous, bamboo hardwood flooring, avoiding Rory’s ficus plants as she walks to the entryway, fixing her hair a bit in the process. Kelly looks herself over, and then opens the door slowly, bending her head around the large cedar frame. Her mouth opens wide and she immediately glares at a group of reporters that have been waiting to ambush the couple all morning.
“Young lady,” a portly man asks, holding out a microphone with the CNN® logo at its base, “do you know if Rory Chambers is home? Has he been donating his blood to The Ronald Regan UCLA Medical Center?”
“Oh my God.” Kelly replies with frustration, rolling her eyes at the various cameras pointed toward their front door. She looks over the unwelcome crowd with the guise of a lioness protecting her cubs. The group of five reporters and three cameramen has somehow managed to all fit on one slab of concrete in front of their door. They remind Kelly of a group of circus clowns cramming into a car for the sake of giddy laughter from the audience.
“Miss, have you heard about the new AIDS breakthrough announced this week by The Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center?” A woman asks boldly, stepping closer to Kelly with her microphone. The woman has bright red hair and is extremely thin, sporting a formal evening dress and holding a microphone with a 4 logo on its base. “Does Rory Chamber’s blood really have healing properties? Can he cure the HIV Virus?”
After this question is asked, the entire group waits for an answer as it seems to be what they are all trying to confirm. Kelly shakes her head with disgust, closes the door and twists the deadbolt in place with a flick of her wrist. She puts her palms against the door, closing her eyes as she realizes that her boyfriend is being pursued by the National News Media, which cannot be a good thing.
“Smells good, baby,” Rory says with a smile, walking cheerfully down the bamboo staircase to join his girlfriend for breakfast. He is wearing a casual, navy blue fitness shirt and black cargo pants with no shoes or socks, and his hair is still wet from the shower. “What’s wrong, Kell?” Rory asks with concern as he sees his girlfriend with her palms against the cedar front door and her face drooping toward the floor.
“There is a group of reporters standing on our front patio,” Kelly begins, turning slowly toward him and displaying sadness in her eyes, “and they are asking if Rory Chambers is the one donating blood to Ronald Reagan Medical that cures AIDS.”
“Holy shit!” Rory states with frustration as he walks over to Kelly and stands next to her by the door. “The hospital said that they would only use my last name in their press releases, and nobody told me that they were publishing anything yet.”
“Your last name?” Kelly asks with the bitter contempt of a betrayed lover. “Damn it, Rory, how many Mr. Chambers do you think are living in L.A.?”
“I think there are a lot,” Rory says with a voice full of confusion. “How the hell did they-“
“Rory, I’m sure they camped out at the medical lab and asked questions; or bribed people; or whatever the fuck else they do to get their information.” Kelly starts to cry, looking at her boyfriend with exhausted eyes, feeling that she is losing him to the hospital and the rest of the world. “They are not leaving…” Kelly announces in stunned dismay. “Is it legal for them to just stand out there for as long as they want?”
“I don’t know, babe,” Rory says with a soothing voice, “maybe if I talk to them they’ll go away.”
“You can’t tell them anything, Rory;” Kelly declares in a defeated tone as more tears spring forth from her eyes, “you signed a non-disclosure agreement. That means the hospital has fucked you because you’ll be sued if you say anything and they won’t leave you alone until you do.”
“I’m sorry, Kelly,” Rory replies, rubbing her back in clockwise circles through her silk pajamas. “I just wanted to help people.”
“I know, sweets,” Kelly says with a half smile. “Look, I’m going to take a shower… Why don’t you call the hospital and ask them what they published and how we can get rid of that circus on our patio?”
“Yeah, I sure as hell will,” Rory agrees in an aggressive tone. “They better give me some answers and stop this media bullshit or I won’t donate blood to them anymore.”
“Sounds good, sweets,” Kelly speaks softly, giving him a hug before moving toward the upstairs bathroom for a hot, refreshing shower, “let me know what you find out.” When she reaches the top of the stairs, she turns with a sober expression, “I won’t live in a fishbowl, Rory, too many of my friends have tried that in this town, and it’s not a happy life.”
Rory nods his head and steps toward his home telephone with a sublime expression.
A few hours later, he and Kelly are sitting in the conference room of the hospital waiting for Doctor Anderton and Doctor Yahmir to return with the offending press releases that had gone out during the week. Rory squeezes Kelly’s hand softly as she sits on his immediate left at the head of the conference table. They enjoy a quick kiss and smile at each other as they continue to wait. Kelly is wearing a white evening dress with her hair pulled into a ponytail, and Rory is wearing the same fitness shirt and cargo pants he had put on after his shower earlier in the morning. They are a total fashion mismatch, and Kelly had asked him to change, but Rory was too consumed by his conversation with Doctor Yahmir over the phone to care about changing clothes.
They enjoy the quiet simplicity in the conference room this morning. Beams of sunlight shine through the large windows behind them, the familiar mahogany table appears elegant with its glass surface, and the old fashioned scent of real leather chairs has a calming effect.
Although the doctor was vague in their conversation, as he has consistently been since the process began, he did ask that Kelly join them at the hospital for a meeting. When Rory prodded him for more information, he simply stated that he could not go into details over the phone, but they had some important news to share with the couple.
Rory gazes at Kelly with a smile, thinking to himself that she looks far better than he, especially for being three years older at the age of thirty-one. As the conference room door opens, the young couple looks onward with eager eyes, hoping the doctors have good news for their future.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Doctor Yahmir says with sincerity as he enters the room followed closely by Doctor Anderton. Both doctors are carrying folders filled with loose paperwork and they soon join the young couple at the conference table, sitting on Rory’s immediate right.
“This is my girlfriend Kelly,” Rory begins as the couple releases their hands from their tender grasp.
“Pleased to meet you,” Doctor Yahmir says with a boyish smile, delicately
shaking Kelly’s right hand, “I am Doctor Yahmir and this is my colleague Doctor Anderton. We both work in the pathology clinic here at the hospital.”
“So what can you tell me about these reporters?” Rory asks evenly, wanting an immediate solution to keep the couple out of the spotlight.
“Well, before we get into that,” Doctor Yahmir answers with a reassuring smile, “let’s talk more about what we know from our research. Since we have been studying your lab work, our microbiologist has formed a theory that your blood might be used to treat other forms of illness.” The doctor looks at the couple with kind eyes behind his thick glasses; the hair on his balding head is flighty and he has the appearance of someone who has been working around the clock.
“What other forms of illness?” Rory inquires with some confusion.
“We began our trials on blood borne pathogens,” Doctor Anderton states impatiently, his pale, emotionless face showing signs of fatigue with dark circles under his eyes. “This would include incurable pathogens such as: AIDS, HIV, and Hepatitis B and C. During the Hepatitis trials, we have seen a success rate of more than 90% when treating patients with 100 milliliters of your blood.” The doctor pushes his small glasses closer to the bridge of his nose and leans forward with his tall frame. “Apparently, the protein that protects your T-Cells from the HIV Virus also protects liver cells from Hepatitis infection.”
“Nice.” Rory exclaims in a flat tone. “How soon before you can create a vaccine in the lab so