Music: No Roots, Alice Merton
March 23rd, 2020

*****

A classical piece of piano music drifted through Lacroix, greeting the young professional with its soothing melodies. Introducing herself to the hostess, she was seated promptly. The reserved table overlooked the garden, a riot of color vibrant in the noon light. 

On the table itself sat a vase, containing a bouquet of cream and peach roses. She took one out of the vase, inhaling the floral scent, eyes closed in delight. Roses were one of the flowers Melissa grew in her garden; one of her pride and joys. They always brought forth a bitter-sweet smile. 

Putting the flower back, she picked up the card that sat propped in front of the bouquet. 

Dear Dr. Montgomery; 

I wanted once again to thank you for your dedication to my son, Cole's, medical care. Please accept these flowers as a token of how much I appreciate you for your hard work. I look forward to having lunch with you. 

Sincerely, 

William Pennhurst, III 

The card furthered her smile. Despite how much she minimized her role in Cole's recovery, gratitude never got old. She put the card back in the envelope and put it in her purse. 

While she glanced over the menu, a waiter came and filled her glass of water. A group of professionals walked by, guided to their own table by the same hostess from earlier. The restaurant started to fill with the hubbub of quiet lunch-time talk.

"Dr. Montgomery! It's good to see you," a familiar masculine voice cut through the noise. 

"Mr. Pennhurst, its good to see you, too!" she exclaimed, standing up to shake his offered hand. "Thank you for the flowers." Looking him over, she remembered her coworkers' teasings of their physical similarities. Then how one of the nurses realized that no one knew any personal details of Stella's life. Since then, it became a game in the PICU to try and get her to talk about something outside her hospital life. 

"You're welcome. And, please, call me Will. Most people do." 

"Then please, call me Stella." She flashed one of her award-winning smiles as they sat back down. She forced her coworkers' teasing out of her mind; any random man on the street could be her father. Besides, there were only a certain amount of genetic combinations. It was entirely that they were blessed with a similar set that determined their physical traits.

"I hope you don't mind; I called ahead and ordered a bottle of cabernet for us," he said as their waiter came over with a bottle of wine. He offered his glass to get filled.

"It's perfectly fine. But, I'd rather stick with water." To emphasize her point, Stella took a sip of her water, the pale pink lipstick leaving a faint mark behind. 

"There's no need to worry about the cost. I am paying for today's lunch. Please, have some," Will said, gesturing for the waiter to pour her a glass.

"No, thank you. I don't drink, Will."  Her eyes matched his - she ignored the voice that said they were the exact same shade of green - a challenge in both.

With a well-disguised look of disappointment, Will looked away. "Very well, Stella. Shall we look at lunch instead, then?" 

She shuddered at the way he said her name. Something about it felt oily. Copying Will's actions, she returned her attention back to the menu. It had not changed within the past few minutes; there was still only one thing she could eat. Instead of trying to convince herself that maybe, possibly, cheese would be alright to eat, she studied will over the top of the menu. 

Recalling Cole's chart, she remembered WIll was divorced and had another son. Since their mother had disappeared off into the sunset, Will had primary custody of both of them. Despite what must have been a challenge, raising two boys by himself, he showed no obvious signs of aging. He only had the beginnings of crow's feet and worry lines. She suspected that he looked far younger than his actual age. 

It was with a startling decisive movement that Will put his menu down. "So, Stella, what made you want to be a doctor?" 

Oh, good. The ever-popular get to know the doctor on a surface level lunch. Her absolute favorite. 

"I'd always been fascinated by biology. It was something I've always enjoyed studying, so when it came time for college, I figured I'd share my knowledge in a way to benefit others. Medicine seemed to be the best choice." She let her words sit for a second. "What do you do for a living?" she asked, reminding herself to make small talk. The donation he insinuated to Jacquiline would only help her future.

"I am the chief financial officer for the American branch of Jackson and Jackson Pharmaceuticals. Did anyone support you in your dream to be a doctor?" He leaned forward, a slimy-looking smile on his face. 

Ah, what story to tell him? The foster kid struggle; that she didn't have a lot of consistent adult support? That she had to do it all on her own? "There were a few people, here and there, who helped me. But, I did it mostly on my own." That was close enough to the truth. A few librarians, Melissa, and the Changs gave the best support they could. There was only so much Stella accepted and even less offered. "How is Cole doing?" 

"Much better. I think he's staying away from liquor. For now, at least," he smiled, his tone trying to convey a joke. "Didn't you have a mother, or someone, to help out?" 

"That's a wise decision on his part. He doesn't need to come back to the hospital anytime soon." She took another sip of her water, trying to delay answering his question. "I can't say I was particularly close to my mother growing up. I had to look after myself a lot of the time; I honestly believe that if I hadn't been so intent on becoming a doctor my life would have been drastically different." Well, she knew it would be different. She'd probably be dead. "Cole's fifteen, right?" She thought she saw a hint of disappointment on his face before it vanished. 

What did he have to be disappointed about? Was there something wrong with being a self-made woman?

Their waiter arrived, interrupting their conversation. He took their order, a Rittenhouse Cheesesteak for Will and chickpea burger for Stella, and went back to put their order in. They returned their attention to each other. 

"You have a good memory, Stella. Where did you go to college?"

"I have a bachelor's in biochemistry from UPenn. Then I went to Perelman School of Medicine to get my MD." She couldn't help the bit of pride that came out; it hadn't been an easy journey for her.

"That's a good school. Generations of my family have received their degrees there."

Was that a hint of pride she sensed in his voice? Why would he be proud that she went to the same school his family had? Or could he just be proud to uphold a family tradition? In the middle of her musings, the waiter dropped off their plate of crudité. Picking up a stick of celery, she decided that there was something rather unsettling about him. 

She hadn't done too many meetings like this but she'd done enough to know that most people didn't talk like this. It was usually research-centric.  This was squarely centered around her. 

"So, is that where you got your degree from?" she asked after she finished her bite of celery.

"Bachelor's and masters from the Wharton School of Business*," he replied as he beamed at her.

Well, two could play at that game. If he wanted to make this a personal conversation, she could play along. "What was your major?"

"My undergrad was in finance, and I received a master's in marketing analytics. I used it to get myself an upper management position at Jackson and Jackson," he explained, reaching for a green bean. "You should try their avocado ranch dip. It's divine." Will quickly ate the green bean before continuing, a gob of the dip landing on his pink and gray paisley tie. "So, what research are you working on?"

"You have dip on your tie," she pointed out, unable to take her eyes off of the glob.

He looked down, surprised, and quickly wiped the blob off.

Finally able to take her eyes off of the tie, she responded. "I've been researching cannabidiol* in adolescents. Very specifically, post-oncology patients who have seizures." Stella couldn't help but grin. There was something wonderful about discussing her research, and something pleasing about him dropping the personal aspect of this conversation. 

Will leaned forward, a glint in his eyes that hadn't been there earlier. "Well, Stella, do you think that cannabidiol will be able to replace the more popular anti-seizure drugs?"

Before she could answer, the waiter came and cleared their plates. He quickly gave them their lunch and refilled Will's glass of wine. Stella had a bite of her burger before she responded.

"At this point, I can't conclusively say one way or the other. It's entirely possible, but when it comes down to it there are too many unknowns. Cannabidiol hasn't been extensively researched enough for us to say whether or not there are any long-term side effects. Some patients have shown elevated liver enzymes and inflammation. Considering that I am working with post-oncology patients, it's a serious risk to take into consideration."

"Is oncology something you see a lot of in the PICU*?" he asked after swallowing a bite of his cheesesteak.

"Yes. Most people who don't work in the medical field wouldn't expect it, but oncology patients make up a large portion of our PICU. I've had many post-oncology patients recovering from surgery. Due to my research, my attending often assigns me patients that have brain tumors or leukemia. Occasionally, like in Cole's case, I get adolescents who have concussions in addition to other problems. Of course, that's in addition to my regular PICU duties." Temporarily snapping out of the medical conversation induced haze she was in, Stella noticed that Will was giving her a wolfish grin.

"You, Stella, are a very intelligent young woman. I have to say, I'm pleased to have this opportunity."

Stella pushed the burger around on her plate. She was starting to find food unappealing. She tried to convince herself to take another bite; it was the first bit of food she'd truly enjoyed in a while. "Thank you. Why did you want to have lunch with me?" She felt her stomach twist at his look of surprise. Was there something Jacquiline was supposed to have told her? Was it just supposed to be obvious?

"Why wouldn't I want to? Not only did you save my son's life," he started saying.

"Will, with all due respect," she started, holding her hand up to cut him off, "he was a simple case of pneumonia with a concussion. Any of my colleagues would have been able to provide the same level of care. As someone in the pharmaceutical industry, I'd expect you to know as much."

His smile fell. "Did you not get your Ancestry results?" 

Her stomach fell, landing in a violent sea. "How would you know about those?" 

Stupid question; there was only one way he'd know about those. 

They'd matched. Somehow. 

Motherfucking hell. 

She swallowed, trying to keep her burger from reappearing. The world spun in front of her, the edges turning white. 

He didn't answer. Instead, he took out his phone. When he'd opened the app, he turned it around to face her. She scanned the list of names

William Pennhurst II, father. 

Brigette Pennhurst, mother. 

 She continued one more name down, her heart thunderous in her head. 

A selfie, she'd taken it with Howie on her birthday at his insistence, that she'd made her profile picture. 

Stella Montgomery, daughter.

How did she respond to this? Where did she even begin? 

She glanced at him, their similar features finally making sense. Already, she could hear her coworkers smug jokes - not that she'd tell them about this. She returned her attention to the screen. 

It still linked her as his daughter. 

Right now, she really liked her freckles. 

A loud smack brought her back to her senses, pain lancing up her arm. She noticed she was half out of her chair and everyone was staring at her. Her cheeks flushed; it was hard to tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. "Sorry," she muttered, sitting back down. Slowly, the crowd resumed their lunch. 

Stella returned her attention to the man in front of her. "What the fuck was the point of that? The fuck did you think you'd get out of this?" she hissed. She felt herself getting colder with every word that came out; her breathing slowed to match it. The world took on a sudden sharp clarity that it didn't have a second ago. 

He opened his mouth; an answer at the ready. 

"But you know what? I don't fucking care." Her voice came out a low growl. She could see William pale, pinned down by her gaze. "I made it this far without you. I don't need you in my life." 

She shot out of her chair, making a beeline for the exit. Anyone who was in her way dove to the side. She could hear him following her, shouting something that she couldn't hear over her own heartbeat. 

The warm June air rushed to welcome her as she shot out of the restaurant. She tore across the square, stopping on the other side. There weren't any sounds following her; a quick glance confirmed that Will, her father, Will. 

Fuck. 

His name was Billy. Not Will. Damned bastard. 

He wasn't behind her. 

She doubled over, chunks of her burger slid back up her throat, splattering into pieces on the ground. She heaved again, letting it rip her apart. 

Worthless. 

Fucking worthless. 

That's what she was. 

She pulled her braid out, the action relieving the tightness in her head. Her strawberry colored waves rejoiced at their sudden freedom, the tresses falling forward to cover her face.  She took off her blazer, shoving it into her purse. 

It still wasn't enough. 

She was still Stella Lee Montgomery. 

Who's father just decided needed to be involved. 

And he wouldn't have done that if she hadn't been Cole's doctor. 

There was just no fucking way. 

Without that, she was just fucking worthless. 

Her fingers trembled as she undid her blouse and shoved that in her purse as well. She tugged at the waist of her undershirt, wishing she could take that off too. Public nudity charges weren't quite worth that. Not right now. 

"Stella." His voice floated behind her, a disembodied tormentor come to find her. 

She turned around, her hair whipping with her spin. "Just stay away!" She wiped the bit of vomit off of her lip as her stomach bucked. 

Yet, the look of concern on his face wasn't what she expected to see. 

"What the fuck do you want from me?" She took a step back, increasing the distance between them. 

Not that he was close - he knew to keep his distance. "I just wanted to meet with you." 

"Yeah, well you did that." And now she knew how worthless he thought she was. 

"I wanted to get to know my daughter, is that so wrong?" He stepped towards her. Maybe a chance to close the distance. 

She looked at him. 

It would be so easy to walk over there. 

And gain a father. 

What would that even mean? 

Wang Lei, for all she was terrified of him, was more of a father to her than this man was. He'd been honest about his expectations from day one. 

This sad excuse for a man came in, expecting her to fall into his arms, only thinking that he wanted to be her father. 

Now, that she'd cured his son. 

Her half-brother. 

Fuck. 

He didn't want her - she'd be nothing to him without that! He wouldn't have even reached out! 

No, she wasn't some kid he could just pick up when it pleased him. 

Stella turned around and fled. Her loafers rubbed uncomfortably against her feet and her trousers chafed. Hot tears streamed down her face as she ran through the city. She forced herself to stop at the crosswalk; there was too much traffic to just run across the street. 

He wasn't behind her. 

That was good, wasn't it? 

When traffic cleared, she crossed the street. Thoughts about Will bombarded her as she walked back to Howie's - closer than her own apartment. 

When she finally arrived in front of the brick rowhome, she let herself in and headed straight for his kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water, she chugged half of it in one go. An attempt to rinse out the taste of vomit.

She regretted it the instant it hit her stomach. She threw up, again, into the sink. Stella held her own hair back, letting tears and vomit mix in the sink. She turned the faucet on, letting it rinse everything down the drain. 

"Are you okay?" Chyou's hesitant voice came from the kitchen table. 

"The fuck do you care?" she asked, shutting the water off. "You made your feelings clear last night." 

Before Chyou could respond, Stella headed for the stairs. She took them, two at a time, and ran into her room. She didn't bother to shut the door behind her. 

She tossed her undershirt and push-up bra, for all the good it did, into the hamper. Her pants weren't far behind. 

"What's going on?" Adam asked, poking his head into the room. Her mad dash for her room must have disturbed him from whatever project he was working on. 

"Fuck off," she snarled as she yanked her running shorts up. 

"Stella," he said. 

"Look, you can either fuck me, or I can go for a run. And maybe find someone to fuck while I'm at it." She pulled her lime green sports bra on. She didn't care that it left her scars on display. Today, the world could see how fucked up she was. "And we both know option one isn't happening." 

"What happened?" 

"Just the normal dumpster fire that is my life." She yanked her socks on, then stuffed her feet into a pair of running shoes. She found her spare set of headphones and took her cell phone out of her wallet. She caught sight of Adam's warm honey-brown eyes, confusion and concern mixed within them. "I'm just going to the river. I need a nice, long run. You can tell Howie that there aren't any suicidal thoughts mixed in. Right now." 

She pushed her way past him and ran down the stairs. She ignored whatever it was Chyou had to say. 

Outside, in the fresh air, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, thankful for the foresight she had to put her hair tie around her wrist. She started Spotify, the familiar lines to Lose Yourself drowning out her inner voice. 

Heading towards the Schuylkill, her heart felt lighter. Her head quieted. The voice, that bad one, disappeared. Between the beats of Eminem, silence reigned as she ran.