She fed the fish she had bought. She named it Wilt, after her late older brother, Wilter Hadley, who died in a car accident before she was even born. Her mother always picked strange names because her father never wanted to name either one of them. Wilt the Fish had been her only focus over the last few days when she came home. She would stare at his golden scales as he circled the bowl, around the plant, into the castle. Until tonight he had been her focus. Tonight, it was the kiss with Foreman.
She kicked off her dark violet ballet flats and took off her navy blue peacoat and laid on it the couch. She walked over to the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. What would Foreman think of me now? she thought. Was she Thirteen, the mysterious, Huntington's Chorea infected co-worker that killed a man's dog and was employed to the brilliant Doctor Gregory House. Or was she Remy, still the Huntington's infected co-worker that was in the drug trial to extend her life, but shared that kiss in the trial office that Christmas Eve after she told him that he wasn't the son of a gun she thought he was at first.
Would this change their working environment? Would House fire one of them because their relationship was in the way of diagnosing patient? Would the one he would fire be her? The questions fumbled through her mind. Her deteriorating mind. At least she had ten years more with him if their relationship lasted. or maybe nine. Or eight. She flung herself onto her bed. She threw a pale yellow, circular pillow at the wall. She sighed yet again that night. Her eyes glanced out the window. The moon stared at her, and she knew. With all the problems in her world, This Christmas would be the one she would always remember for the next eight to ten years of her life.
