Eight

19 2 0
                                        


A/N: I dedicate this piece to all the women working on the frontlines during this pandemic. You folks are awesome!! Keep moving forward and we all are counting on you. 

*******

She felt cold inside the building with the vinyl flooring. It might be because she pulled an all-nighter in a highly air conditioned lab. Besides, it was not the first time for her to be engulfed by her work. Usually the nocturnal she was, her assignments that day were the hardest and took hours to completion.

With increasing crime rates and medical needs, people like her worked on the frontlines, side-by-side with the doctors. Though her profession was not acknowledged or encouraged by most of the world's existing human population, it ended up saving their asses from antigens and false accusations. The worst thing was, she didn't have the time to spend her hard-earned bucks, except for food. There was never a day when she dreamt of sunny dates and sleepy nights. With no motives to abandon her high chair, she swore at the non-living gels and microscopes, thanks to her one bore of a waiting time. 

Her prayers of outings were answered only after teaming up with Natasha in her Tabata class. They hit it off like fire and wind.

The day before, she was suddenly called in to test some blood samples for matching a particular genetic makeup. She was getting her lab ready with utmost care. If anything went wrong, she might have to redo it and the process took more than three hours. Ultimately, she had to wait a couple of hours for her results given the traditional devices in her lab. She hated the idea of waiting a long time though her work turned out that way. Sometimes she wondered why she had to choose her major in that field. She could have paid attention to her sisters who were also in similar fields when they advised her to take one with the electric circuits or codes but not chemicals.

Besides her usual work, she was also investing in her own - her thesis for doctoral studies. Letting the protein sample run on her gel, she took vials containing different concentrations of the drug that she was working on. She moved to the laminar chamber and sterilized her hands till her elbow. Retrieving her goggles and petri dishes, she took the vials out from her lab coat. Her hands were shaking when they reached for the vial, making her too anxious for the efforts she put in to formulate the drug. That was not her first time. That was not new to her.

One might wonder, what difference would it make when one worked on something on a daily-basis. It sincerely mattered a lot, because, if one mis-step from the caution, the consequences would be life threatening. Working with microbes even in a sterilised environment was never an easy task. She was once put in quarantine for a week for a mishap while studying a synthetic strain of a bacteria in her lab. She was never new to the dangers that accompanied her work.

Lighting the burner inside the chamber, her short but slender fingers reached for the loop and the vial. After spreading the medium carefully and evenly on the petri dish, she dipped the loop inside the vial. Without blinking her eyes for the entire time, she streaked the contents from the loop to the medium and closed the dish. She repeated the same process on five distinctively marked petri dishes. Meanwhile, she was preparing another medium for the next test that she had planned to do later.

As she was busy doing conversions and calculations for the new medium, her phone began vibrating in her coat pocket. Without bothering to check the caller ID, she answered the call, 'Good morning, Ivy Williams here.'

The voice on the other end responded. 'Do you know that women with type O blood may find it harder to conceive than others. People with type A tend to be more fertile. What kind of web article was I looking at?'

'I am not in the mood for your trivia.'

'Even I find it harder to prove it. The chances of conceiving are high when one has sex during ovulation. Seems like I invested my first ten minutes of this wonderful morning in some stupid study. Hope you are not doing the same in your lab.'

'Meh. I have other things to do. Don't even ask me to test that theory for fun. I am exhausted.' Ivy turned on her speaker.

'As if! You didn't even get me the sample you were testing before your quarantine.' A raspy female voice answered from the other side.

'Why? To isolate your floor and get you a break in all that rush?'

'I can only dream on.. Guess who is my third patient by 10 30 today?'

'Let me guess. Your then boyfriend's current girlfriend? Or that nurse who had eyes on your present boyfriend?'

'Bahahahahha.! No jokes now. That reminds me to keep a keen eye on that nurse who has hots for Dom. Too bad, I can't put stickers on his forehead that he is mine.'

'Iris, people are not property to own. Besides, there are millions of fishes out in the sea.'

'Argh! Have you guessed it yet? I am going crazy here!'

'Nah. Spill it.'

'Your barista friend, her full name.....is Natasha Birchwood, right?

Ivy stopped concentrating on her math. She cursed at both her sibling and her friend. Of all the doctors in the city, why did it have to be her sister?, she thought. Her sister may be one of the best in the field, but the hospital she worked in had been on the front page a lot of times, mostly for scandals.

'...'

'Ivy?'

'Yeah. Do you want anything to eat? I can get you breakfast on my way there.'

'You are the best! Get me that haloumi-chicken sandwich from the Moben's. Make it a meal with an Americano. Also, the pretzels with cinnamon sugar from Annie's.' 

'Do you realize that you're freeloading expensive meals from your younger sister's wallet, where dollar notes are such a rarity?'

'Indeed. I am teaching you how to spend your money on food, rather some ninja training and fitness clubs. You should thank me for it! Don't make me wait for a long time. My hunger pangs are already on record high.' The call disconnected. Ivy snorted. She could never deny the fact that all her family members were used to taking heavy meals, including her. She moved across the counter and checked the progress of her assignments for that day. She was relieved when she realised that she didn't need to check on them for the next twelve hours at the minimum. She decided to make the medium, later that evening. She made some minor arrangements in her lab, grabbed her backpack and signed in the log, denoting her time of exit.

Ivy crossed the road across her university in long, quick strides. She was glad that the said restaurant was on her way to the Sorbet St. After placing the order, she moved around the place, slowly taking in their quirky taste in interiors. No wonder the place was open in wee hours.

Ivy was checking their display signs and came across a full length mirror with a note in a colourful sketch on the rightmost corner. It said, 'Don't starve the person you see.' She smiled at the sign. She then turned to the mirror and checked out her figure. Her afro is the only thing that seemed to add weight to her image. She turned around. She couldn't believe how many pounds she had lost since their frequent treks and workout sessions at the gym. With the casual outfit, coat aside, she looked like someone who was malnourished. Ivy felt like she missed her all-time favourites. She fought the urge to order another pretzel for her.

Even when she was greeted with the mouth-drooling odour of her orders, Ivy imposed controls over her heart. She paid the bill and rushed out of the door before she changed her options.

Ivy halted on her tracks, a mere two blocks away from the Moben's. She was going to have a rough day, no matter how much she tried to deny it. Her problem-attracting best friend was indeed rewarded with another one. Her thesis was going downhill. Her results were not promising enough to continue further. Her contract with the Forensics Department was coming to an end. All her applications to the pharmaceutical firms had been rejected. Her student loans were long overdue. Not to forget, she got dumped by her ex just because she talked and spent too much time with her best friends than her lover. Moreover, she could not stop feeling guilty in all the family dinners when she was not able to succeed in whatever choices she picked.

Would her stacked up troubles soar with a bite of good food? She didn't think so. She hurried back to the exact place she left from and ordered her favourites to her heart's content.

At the sight of food, she cried. Though food might not be the solution to the problems surrounding her, it helped push her energy levels before she took another step. That time, she wanted to set her channels straight without regrets.

Song of the FirebirdWhere stories live. Discover now