A leading question, I think, but I also don’t know the answer to it. Ever since I was little and told my parents that I wanted to be a doctor, they helped suggest what field I should specialize in. From a young age, the choices were limited: family medicine, oncology, or cardiovascular medicine. Cardio was quickly thrown out when it became evident that I don’t have outstanding fine motor skills. And family medicine…that just seemed so boring to them.

Oncology was the right choice. The best choice. We all agreed. At least, that’s how I remember it.

I shrug and give a not-quite-full answer as a reply. “Mom and Dad are both doctors, but more doctors of research. Academic ones. They have always just wanted what’s best for me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Do you want to be a doctor because you want to be one or because your parents want you to be one?”

There it is.

“Because you seem so much more interesting than someone who does something just to please Daddy.”

I shove him hard enough for his body to sway, but not enough to really move him.

“I’m sick. Well, I used to be sick. I still could be—who knows?”

Usually, people tense up when I say that. They back away and stumble over their words. But Michael doesn’t.

In fact, he moves closer to me. Close enough that his body heat radiates against mine, warming my skin. The faint smell of cigarette smoke is stronger than it was a few moments ago but not overpowering.

“Like, sick sick?”

I shake my head. “You can’t catch it. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I have—had cancer a while back.”

Michael sits up on his elbows, eyes wide. It’s not the usual reaction I get from people when I tell them that, but it’s similar. Surprise. Pity. Fear. All rolled into one neat package.

“Seriously? You okay?”

I nod again. “Cancer of the liver.” I pull up my shirt, showing him the scar. I wince as his fingers move gently over it, tracing the rivers and valleys from the sutures.

“Sorry.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Oh, so you’re just ticklish. Noted.”

“I’m just not used to someone doing that. Anyway, it’s what gave me this ability to travel.”

He gives me a puzzled look.

“Long story. Circles back to what I said before—about, you know, time travel.”

“We’ve got time.” He grins in a boyish way that shows off dimples I’ve never noticed before.

In response, I hit him with my foot. “I got this cancer thanks to a hepatocellular carcinoma; you don’t need to remember that.”

“Thank God.”