Free The God Particle by Richard Cox Page A

everything turned out okay. I’m eager to get back.”
    “Get back? Betty made it sound like you’d be out for a few more weeks.”
    He shoots a look at his mother, who is sitting in a chair across from the bed, and she shoots back a patronizing smile.
    “Actually—”
    “Look, Steve. You’re a vital part of this organization. We need you. I want you to take all the time you need to get well, and that’s an order.”
    “But the interview—”
    “The interview can wait, Steve.”
    He ignores the silky cascade of relief tingling his spine and pushes forward.
    “Jim, are you sure? I know the board wants to move quickly on this.”
    “The board will wait. I’ll see to that. Just get yourself back into shape, all right?”
    “Okay, Jim. Thanks for understanding.”
    “No problem, Steve. Give your mother my best. I’ll talk to you later.”
    “I told you,” Betty says as he hangs up the phone.
    “Mom, you have no idea what it’s like at that company. I specifically asked you not to talk to him.”
    “Stevie, I’ve been talking to Jim for a week. He’s very nice. I wish you could see that I was doing you a favor.”
    “Thanks, Mom, but this is a political thing. I have to play it very carefully.”
    “Did he offer to postpone the interview?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Did he tell you to take your time?”
    “He did.”
    “Then I rest my case.”
    Steve gives up.
    “Dr. Dobbelfeld says you walked well today,” she says.
    “It felt pretty good to get out of bed.”
    “I have to admit, I don’t agree with him.”
    “What? Why not?”
    “You were hobbling. I kept thinking you were going to fall down and crack your head open again.”
    “I was a lot more stable than that.”
    “I wish they would give you crutches. I asked the doctor to get you some crutches, but he wouldn’t.”
    “He said I don’t need them.”
    “He said he doesn’t want you to get dependent on them. It was obvious that you need them. I wish we were home. Dr. Koetter could take care of you much better than these foreign quacks.”
    “Mom, Dr. Koetter is an immigrant from Germany. He moved to the States when he was sixteen.”
    “Well, at least we’d be in an American hospital. I don’t trust this place.”
    “Why?”
    “I keep seeing men in suits everywhere. They look suspicious to me.”
    “I wear suits sometimes. Do you think I’m suspicious?”
    “These men don’t sell auto parts, Steve. They look serious. They whisper. Like they have secrets.”
    “Mom, you think everyone has secrets.”
    “And I haven’t seen too many other patients. This is a big hospital, and I’ve been up here and down to the cafeteria, and I just don’t see too many sick people. I don’t see too many doctors, either. Just men in suits.”
    “Maybe they’re government agents, Mom. Maybe they think I’m an American spy.”
    “Go ahead and make fun if you want. I just don’t like it here, and I want to get you back home.”
    “Yesterday you didn’t want me to go anywhere.”
    “I’ve changed my mind.”
    “Well, maybe I can talk the doctor into letting me go early. Maybe we can leave by the end of the week.”
    “I hope so,” his mother says. “I don’t like this place one bit.”
    12
    The days grind by. A ropy, middle-age Swiss woman who bathes with questionable frequency administers his physical therapy, pushing him through rigorous cycles of walking, first with the aid of parallel bars, and then unaided. His muscle coordination returns to form quickly. He scores well on cognitive evaluations. After exactly two weeks, Dr. Dobbelfeld agrees to let him return home, on the condition that Steve calls with frequent progress reports.
    His mother is ecstatic, his father proud to return home with his son at his side. The first available flight with three seats together doesn’t leave until the next day, so they book a couple of rooms at the Golden Arch (the idea of staying at a hotel owned by McDonald’s tantalizes his mother) and