Evolution has ensured that our brains just aren't equipped to visualise 11 dimensions directly. However, from a purely mathematical point of view it's just as easy to think in 11 dimensions, as it is to think in three or four.

– Stephen Hawking

:2020:

Ronnie blinks and thinks she must be going crazy. Surely, she is. She even closes her eyes, massaging her forehead for a second. Yet, when she opens them again, the vials are still there, labelled with Violet’s name, with the reference number that Ronnie pulled off the computer just minutes ago, but very clearly empty.

The first thing that Ronnie thinks to do is to run after Lani. Because if her baby’s blood is evaporating (if that’s what it is) then that must some sort of problem, surely.

But then, Ronnie has never ever seen anything like this, in over 15 years of working as a doctor. This is the first time she’s seen anyone’s bodily fluids just disappear like they were never there. Without leaving a single stain.

Is it possible that she didn’t draw the blood? No, no, she remembers clearly, baby Violet struggling and the heavy red fluid filling the syringe.

“I’m going nuts,” she says to herself, sitting back in her chair. “That’s what it must be. Just going fully, completely insane.”

There’s no reliable solution that she can think of that would solve the missing blood in the vials. There’s really nothing to explain it. It’s just gone - like it was never there in the first place.

Ronnie nearly jumps when the phone on her desk rings. She stares at it in suspicion for a second before answering.

“Paediatrics, doctor Nelson speaking.”

“Well hello, doctor Nelson, would I be able to steal you away for lunch today?”

Prince. “Hey. I don’t know. There’s a lot of work to do today, and it’s flu season, you know how it is.” Ronnie takes the blood vials in her hand, looking at them closely, looking for any traces of the disappearing blood. There isn’t even any stains. “I...I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” his playful tone turns slightly anxious. “You sound preoccupied.”

Well, I’m seeing blood disappear into thin air, so there’s that. “Yes. Yes, sorry honey. It’s just been a long, long day already.” I take a deep breath, I can’t worry him with my crazy brain. “Lunch sounds lovely. Birchwood?”

“Sure.” Ronnie can almost see him squinting at her in suspicion. She knows she’ll definitely get a barrage of questions over lunch. “See you in fifteen minutes.”

She hangs up and keeps staring at the vials, squinting her eyes as if the blood would magically reappear if she stares at it hard enough. Is it possible that she hallucinated it - Lani coming in, the baby, the blood? No, Pauline burst in, she saw Lani too. Didn’t know you had anyone with you. Still, what other reasonable explanation could there be for the blood disappearing? Maybe she hallucinated the episode where she drew the blood?

Hallucinations only means one thing: a broken brain.

Ronnie’s hand absentmindedly goes to her right side again, feeling the painful lumps. They’ve grown slightly bigger since she first found them. Maybe it’s spread. Maybe it’s not just stage two anymore.

With her stomach twisted, she dials the extension for neurology.

“Hi, yes, this is Nelson from obs. I need an MRI appointment.” She takes in a deep breath. “For myself, please.”

The receptionist, thankfully, doesn’t ask questions, and books her in for next Tuesday. Ronnie looks at her watch - she can almost see Prince tapping his foot nervously as he sits in his Bentley outside. Ronnie shakes her head, tells herself to calm down, then grabs her keys and heads out.

--

:1995:

The car ride quickly lulls Violet back into a sound sleep, so rather than heading straight home as originally planned, Lani decides to make what she believes will be a quick stop to the nearest supermarket in search of the formula Ronnie had recommended and to pick up a few things for dinner.

Speaking of Ronnie, she couldn’t get their latest encounter out of her mind. The fact of this being their second chance meeting in as many days was strange enough, but the fact that she still hadn’t told her husband about her diagnosis is what continued to plague Lani.  

From everything Ronnie had told her, she had every reason to believe he’d be a key part of the support system she needed to beat this, but she continued to carry this burden alone for reasons unknown.  I really hope she takes my advice this time...

However, when one grocery visit quickly becomes three, and then five, she’s forced back into the present.  A present that involves a still sleeping, but increasing restless baby...one who will be looking for her lunch any time now.  

It appears no one has ever heard of this particular formula.  They’ve heard of Similac obviously, but Pro-Sensitive? Everyone seems to be stumped despite Ronnie’s assertion that she’d be able to find it anywhere. Maybe I heard wrong…

By the time she reached the ninth store, Lund’s right near home in Chanhassen, Lani’s patience was shot and Violet was now wide awake...and hungry.  

The normally well mannered and happy baby was squawking ravenously, but Lani was determined to hold out for the right formula before feeding her again.

“It’s okay, sweetpea,” she offers soothingly, gently stroking the screaming infant’s foot as she continues scanning the shelves.  “Your lunch is coming...just as soon as I can find it.”

“Excuse me,”  a friendly elderly salesclerk interjects, looking at Lani with pity in her eyes.  “I couldn’t help overhearing. May I help you find something?”

“I hope so,” Lani appeals, her eyes pleading as she gestures toward a persistently squalling, red faced Violet.  “I’ve been looking for a specific formula...”

“I can tell.  Someone looks hungry,” she replies with a good natured chuckle. “I should be able to help you,” the woman replies with confidence. “What brand do you need?” she asks kindly.

When the clerk reaches forward to stroke the baby’s forehead gently, Lani’s amazed when little Violet quiets, immediately captivated by the costume jewelry adorning the woman’s neck.

“It’s called Similac Pro-Sensitive…” Lani begins with uncertainty. “Violet’s been getting really gassy with her current formula, and it’s what the doctor recommended.   Unfortunately we haven’t been able to find it anywhere…” she finishes with tearful frustration, eyes still combing the shelves while a temporarily occupied Violet reaches forward for the woman’s necklace.  

“I haven’t heard of that one either,” the woman begins pensively, as she too scans the shelves.

Lani’s heart sinks with this revelation. I must have heard her wrong...but how?  What kind of mother am I? I can’t even feed my child!

A quick frustrated glance reveals Violet now hungrily gumming the woman’s necklace as the elderly lady looks on with grandmotherly pride. I’ve got to feed her soon…but what?!

“I’ve got it!” the clerk replies with a smile, snapping her fingers in a eureka moment before she dashes off down the aisle leaving a now whimpering Violet and a nervous looking Lani in her wake.  

Moments later she returns to find an anxious Lani bouncing Violet gently. The child is still crying softly, even as she frantically sucks on her tiny fist.  

“This is what you’re looking for right here,” the clerk replies as she hands Lani one of the cans, and sticks a second into her cart.  

“Hmmm...Similac Isomil…” Lani murmurs quietly, turning the can gently in one hand to read the back as she still cradles Violet close with the other.  Is it possible I misheard Ronnie?

“My grandson had the same problem as a baby, and this worked perfectly,” the clerk replied gently, giving Lani a conspiratorial wink.  “Unless I’m mistaken, and I rarely am, this is just what the doctor ordered for your daughter here.”

“Ummm...thank you…” Lani utters appreciatively, her eyes darting down to the woman’s name tag for the first time.  “...Opal. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It was my pleasure.   Now let’s get you checked out so you can get this little princess some lunch,” she finishes with a chuckle just in time for Violet to once again let out a ravenous howl.  

--

Lani is busy feeding a starving Violet amidst many gulps as though she can't get the formula in fast enough.  She offers her cuddles and sweet coos, but the baby's preoccupied with her late meal.  

Meanwhile, Prince walks in the front door fresh from the studio.   “Well if it isn’t my two favourite girls,” he says cheerfully, stopping to give them both a quick kiss and to shuffle a still feasting Violet into his arms.

"Where were you two for so long? Is Violet okay?" he asks, lifting his gaze to Lani concerned.  "I tried calling to let you know I'd be a little longer than I planned, but got no answer. I was worried."

"She's fine...perfect even," Lani replies, beaming.  The sight of her fiance cradling the tiny baby in his arms never fails to melt her heart. "Just very hungry," she continues with a chuckle.

"So I see," he replies, withdrawing the bottle in search of a tiny burp only to hear her tiny hungry wail fill the air. "Mama was late with your lunch wasn't she?" he asks the baby with a good natured laugh, bringing the bottle back to her rooting mouth where she suckles contentedly, eyes drooping.

He lifts his gaze to Lani with a lusty gleam in his eye.  "Bad mama. How should Daddy punish you, hmmm?"

“Well sir, I would’ve never been late if your daughter didn’t need a formula it took no less than nine stores to find,” she replies with a giggle, cheeks flushed at the promise in his eyes as she gently shifts a now milk drunk and sleeping Violet into her arms and heads to the nursery with Prince in tow.  

“Yep...she sounds like a daddy’s girl alright,” he declares with pride and a husky chuckle.  

“How did I know you’d say that?” she briefly snickers, her gaze dropping to the peacefully asleep and quiet infant before rising back to meet her e ipo’s eyes with concern.  “Seriously though...remember all those problems she was having every time we tried feeding her?”

“What about it, Lani?” he asks softly, a hint of fear flashing across his features.  “You said everything was okay...isn’t it?”

“It should be now,” Lani reassures him with a relieved smile before her face falls with concern.  “The doctor...did I tell you it was the same woman I ran into at the clinic the other day...the one just diagnosed with breast cancer...Ronnie?”

He shakes his head in response.  “You didn’t, but what does that have to do with Violet?” he continues gesturing toward the crib, questions in his eyes.  
“I was just getting to that,” she replies meeting his eyes, lightly touching his arm.  “Apparently Violet’s got more in common with her daddy than we ever could have guessed.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” he asks, eyes dancing as his gaze flutters toward the baby girl with pride.  

“Dr. Nelson...isn’t it funny that her last name…’her husband’s last name’ is also Nelson?” she contemplates with a far off look.

“Not as strange as you’d think, mama. Check the phone book sometime. There’s over 100 of us in the Twin Cities alone...and those are just the listed ones,” he replies with a chuckle.
“Now stop beating around the bush, woman! What’s going on with our little purple lady here?” he finishes with a wink.

“Well it seems that Dr. Nelson...err Ronnie...says she can’t handle the lactose in the formula we had her on...so we, Mr. Nelson, have a vegetarian baby on our hands!” she finishes with a smirk.

Taking in his befuddled expression, she gets lost in peals of laughter.  He offers her a playful pout in response, but can only hold it for a few seconds before he too, starts laughing.  

—-

:2020:

Ronnie takes a deep breath and sits still as she feels and hears the MRI machine come to life around her. She’s always been scared of them in an odd, irrational way - just the sheer power they possess. Besides, she’s read enough stories of unfortunate accidents with them, from forgotten earrings ripping ears in two and metal teeth flying around to scarier, much more unsavoury stories. She does her very best to remind herself that she does not, in fact, have any hidden metal bits inside of her.

“Okay, that’s it Ronnie.”

The lights gradually come down and Lisa, her friend from radiology, helps her out of the belly of the machine. “Feeling alright?”

“Just a bit overwhelming.”

Lisa gives her an understanding smile. “That’s normal. Wanna come have a look at the images?”

“Sure.”

Together, they make their way into the small glass office right behind the machine. The advantage of not being like any other patient is that you can get your results pretty much straightaway. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing, it really depends.

Ronnie and Lisa take a careful look at the pictures of Ronnie’s brain.

“It all looks normal,” Lisa remarks. “No abnormal shadows or growths. No cause for concern.”

Ronnie keeps looking. Lisa’s right. It looks like every image she’s ever seen of a healthy brain. The small spots that she was almost expecting to see scattered over the right hemisphere are not there.

“Right. Can you send these over to my work email?”

“Of course I can.” Lisa regards her carefully. “Do you feel okay? I mean, any headaches, or --”

Nah. Just hallucinations about drawing blood from a baby. “Yeah. Yeah, just -- wanted to make sure it was all fine, you know?” She doesn’t need to tell Lisa the whole reason and they both know that.

Thankfully, Lisa doesn’t pry directly; however Ronnie really has underestimated just how quickly word travels between people in this hospital, and she has pretty much forgotten that her best friend’s wife happens to work in medical image diagnostics, where all MRI photos normally end up.

She’s harshly reminded of this simple fact when a certain Doctor Michelle Brown bursts into her office and stands in front of her, with her hands on her waist.

Ronnie shakes her head. “You’re doing a top notch impression of a Greek vase. Or the letter Phi. I’m not sure.”

Michelle doesn’t beat around the bush. She doesn’t look amused, either. “Ronnie, why did you go to get an MRI?”

“To make sure my brain is still in its place?”

“Listen, I’m only going to ask once. I do have Prince’s private line on my speed dial.”

“It really is none of your business.”

“I am your friend. And your doctor. I think it’s very much my business.” Michelle mellows down and pulls a chair to sit on the other side of Ronnie’s desk. “You got the tests done, didn’t you? The mammogram?”

Ronnie is focusing on her computer screen very, very hard. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

She knows Michelle and Michelle isn’t the type of woman to give up that easy. “Ronnie, talk to me.”

“What is there to say?” She feels that same helpless clench in her chest she’d felt when Lani first spoke to her in the corridor of the cancer clinic. That same vulnerability, that same inescapable feeling of being a burden. “Michelle, why are you so desperate to know?”

“You’re not letting anyone even try to help you.” Her voice is calm, even. “I want to. I want to help you, but Ronnie, people who find lumps in their breasts don’t go getting brain scans a few weeks after. What happened?”

Ronnie leans back in her chair, running a hand through her hair. “The tests are positive, Michelle. The cancer’s stage two.”

A gasp escapes from Michelle’s mouth as she covers it with her hand. Ronnie sees that one thing that she never ever wants to see in the eyes of anyone looking at her: pity. It’s hateful. “Oh, Ronnie --”

“Don’t.” Her jaw is clenched so hard that it hurts. “Michelle. Do not say you’re sorry. I’m fine.”

“So you wanted to see if --”

“If it had spread. Yes.”

“Ronnie. You have to tell Prince.”

And there it is. “I will. Once I figure out how.”

“This is ridiculous. He’s your husband. He needs to know.”

Does he, Ronnie thinks. Does he really. Why would he need to know? For a small, selfish moment, she wishes that she could prove Michelle wrong. That she could say no, he doesn’t need to find out, everything can just go on as normal and Ronnie can just disappear, fade away one day, just like the morning dew on freshly mowed grass.

But it doesn’t work like that.

She can’t even get angry at Michelle. “I’ll tell him. Michelle, I will. Just --”

Michelle reaches over to take her friend’s hand. “I know it’s hard. But you need to do it as if you’re pulling off a bandaid. Clear and quick. That way, he can support you the best he can. Ronnie --”

“I don’t want him to.” It escapes Ronnie’s mouth before she can stop it. “Michelle, he’ll be so upset, and so hurt, and then he’ll start, well, he’ll start being Prince. He’ll throw millions of money into experimental treatments and he’ll want me to do everything under the sun to beat this, when, as of right now, I don’t even know if I want any of it.”

She doesn’t realise when she’s started crying, she’s slightly breathless. Michelle sucks in a breath herself. “So you’re saying --”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. It just happened two weeks ago. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice sounds small and lost, even to herself. She hates it.

Michelle gets up and goes around Ronnie’s desk without a word. Then, she wraps her arms around her friend’s shoulders and pulls her close. It’s like something breaks within Ronnie and she cries and cries and cries until it feels like all her tears have run dry. Michelle just holds her; they both know full well that she shouldn’t be the person holding her but Ronnie takes it anyway. It only makes her crave Prince’s support and love even more; and it only makes her feel even more selfish for thinking about roping him into this in the first place.

Right now, all she wants to do is find the nurse from the cancer clinic - Lani - and talk to her. She’s suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to speak to no one else because it feels like no one else understands, not even her best friend, not even her husband. Lani saw her right after, and there was something about the gentle, understanding look in her eyes that makes Ronnie feel like she can trust her.

Just then, her email pings and drags them both out of their trance. Ronnie pulls away and wipes at her eyes, squinting at the screen. She’s still on call after all.

It’s Tomlinson from paediatrics, asking her to cover for a house call for him. He’s desperate and it only just came in within the last five minutes of his shift, apparently - and it might be something for her anyway, he’s not sure if the pregnant woman needs help with herself or with her two-year-old. He swears to Ronnie to shower her in riches and chocolate if she does.

Ronnie sighs as she takes a deep breath. “Well, it’ll keep me occupied.”

“You’re too stupidly selfless for this world,” Michelle states as Ronnie replies, saying she’ll take it. “When will you finally start taking care of yourself the way you take care of others?”

All Ronnie can do is shrug. Now’s really not the time for these questions. She’s got a job to do.  

--

:1995:

Lani stumbles into the kitchen bleary eyed, cradling a fussy, feverish Violet in the crook of her right arm, attempting to grab what must be, at least, her and Prince’s tenth cups of coffee this morning...and it’s only 7 a.m.  Parenthood is definitely overrated…

“Here, let me get the coffee mama,” Prince offers good naturedly, reaching over Lani for the cups still sitting on the counter.

Compared to Lani’s death warmed over look, and Violet who’s been blowing snot bubbles all night long, Prince looks fresh as a daisy.  To look at him, you’d never guess he was up all night like everybody else. How does he do it?

“Oh, thank god,” she replies with a grateful look followed by a yawn, as she carries a fussy, congested Violet over to a nearby rocking chair...just in time to hear a tiny sneeze followed by a scream.  

“Shhh Violet, honey,” Lani coos softly rocking her gently, before lifting exhausted, but concerned eyes to her fiance.  “I think it’s time to call a doctor, Prince. Her fever’s not breaking, we haven’t slept all night…”

“Achoo!”  Violet sneezes again, her bloodshot eyes looking at Lani lethargically as snot starts running down her face.

“,,.and now she’s sneezing,” she continues with concern, wiping the infant’s nose gently with a baby wipe as she makes a weak attempt to wiggle away.  “It's okay, baby. Mommy’s here…”

Prince sets his coffee cup down on the counter, heading over with Lani’s steaming hot brew.  “I think you’re right,” he starts gently, eyeing the listless baby in her arms.

“You take this, Lani...” he continues, handing over her scalding coffee, which she accepts with a grateful look.  “...and I’ll watch the little princess here while Mommy calls the doctor,” he finishes, shuffling a fidgety, whining Violet into his embrace.  

He moves her fiery little cheek close enough for a quick kiss...only for the baby to be overtaken by a sneezing fit, spraying mucus all over his face. “Ewwww…” he exclaims with disgust as Violet’s pitiful cry pierces the air.

“It’s okay, sugarplum,” he coos to the fussy baby, filling his hand with wipes.  He starts cleaning up the mess just as Lani picks up the receiver to make the call.

“Hello...I need to speak with pediatrics,” she replies in a polite, but exhausted tone.  “It’s our baby...she’s sick.” Her eyes rove over to where Prince is still cradling a restless, flushed Violet in his arms.  

“I think we need a house call…”

--

:2020:

Ronnie takes off cycling for the house call, as she normally would. The conversation with Michelle has her preoccupied, she knows for a fact that her friend is right, but it’s not as easy as she thinks she is. She wishes that, for once, her friends would stop being so considerate and trying to tell her how to do things. It would make her life a lot easier.

Traffic is slowing down at this time of day, so it takes her next to no time to get to the address that Tomlinson’s given her. This time, at least, she’s not going in completely blind - Tomlinson has given her a chart. A Ms. Williamson, pregnant in the second trimester with her second child, has called for an urgent house visit. The chart, however, doesn’t specify what’s so urgent about it, so Ronnie will have to eyeball it the best she can.

Just as she chains her bike to the rail and starts walking forward, she’s overcome with a dizzy spell so powerful, she has to shut her eyes for a second and grab the nearby fence for support. It feels like the world has suddenly decided to have a little spaz and didn’t tell her about it.

:1995:

The dizziness is gone as quickly as it came and Ronnie opens her eyes. It’s a nice house, she remarks, very nice for a single mother of two. Well, one and a half. She clears her throat and goes to knock on the door.

She doesn’t turn around. But if she had, she would have seen the Ford Thunderbird parked outside, a model that hasn’t been manufactured since the late 80s. She would have seen the streets oddly deserted and a few houses there that weren’t there just five minutes ago. Most importantly, she would have seen her bike missing.

---

A half hour has passed since Lani called to request a house call and was told to expect the on call doctor anytime.  

Her and Prince had spent the time trying everything possible to soothe the sickly baby.  Prince slowly rocked her with a bottle, singing every lullaby he could think of. Lani changed her diaper, wiping her tiny flushed body with a damp cool cloth hoping to bring her some relief.

Unfortunately nothing was working, so when the doorbell finally rang, signalling the arrival of the doctor,
they both let out a sigh of relief.

Lani quickly passes Violet off to Prince before she rushes to open the door...and makes eye contact with a startled, yet professional looking Ronnie situated on her doorstep.

“Ronnie...errr Dr. Nelson?”  a delightfully surprised Lani asks.  

“Lani?”  Ronnie asks, meeting her eyes with confusion.  "You're not pregnant...are you?" Ronnie asks skeptically, eyeing Lani's unmistakably flat, toned stomach before glancing down at the chart in her hand.  

"She better not be," Prince's baritone shouts from somewhere inside the house, carting a fussy, snot bubble ridden Violet toward the front door. "One of these at a time is more than enough..."

---

The voice startles Ronnie out of her confusion - she looks at the name on the chart and then at Lani again, who is definitely not pregnant single mother Clarissa Williamson - and comes face to face with her husband.

Or so she thinks. He looks at least 25 years younger, his hair is in a wild cut, he’s wearing too much eyeliner, but she can’t mistake those eyes, that face. Everything is spinning again and she has to grab a hold of the doorframe to not topple over.

He walks over, bouncing baby Violet on his hip. It’s such a violently familiar image. Only, it all feels wrong - because why does he look like this? Why --

“Nice to finally meet you, Doctor Nelson.” Even his pitch is the same, even the small twang he always adds to his words. “I’ve heard a lot about --”

“Is this a joke?” She finally finds her voice again, looking at Lani. Her legs are shaking. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but you should stop now.”

“Ronnie, what --”

“And you.” She points to the man, holding Violet. “I have to say, you’re good. The best impersonator I’ve ever seen, in fact. How did you get the clothes?”

“Lani.” The man’s voice is now rimmed with ice, he’s clearly unhappy and he’s squinting at her. His expression of distaste is the mirror image of her husband. “I thought you’d called for a doctor, not a crazy woman, mama.”

“She is a doctor. Ronnie, I don’t understand what you’re --”

“Of course you don’t.” Ronnie shakes her head. “You heard my surname, put two and two together and thought it would be funny to have someone impersonate my husband? Well, I don’t think it’s funny. Not one bit.”

Lani shakes her head. “What are you talking about? I have no idea who your husband is, Ronnie. I just called for a doctor because Violet is sick.”

Ronnie looks to the man again, she can’t seem to tear her eyes away. “My husband is Prince.”

“I sure as hell ain’t,” he snaps right back. “Lani, I’m gonna call security. She’s delusional.”

“Shut up,” Lani tells him and goes to grab Ronnie’s arm. “Ronnie, I think you need to take a seat. I think you’re confused. Are you feeling okay?”

“I --” Ronnie only now realises she’s struggling to breathe. “I don’t know if I’m hallucinating. I don’t know --”

“Come in, please.” Before she knows it, Lani’s guided her to take a seat on a sofa in a lavishly decorated sitting room. In a very classic Prince style. She relieves Prince of the baby and shoots him a look. “E ipo, go make us some tea, please.”

“Lani, I ain’t leaving you and Violet alone with --”

“Please.” She repeats. Ronnie can’t take her eyes off him still as he huffs and turns on his heel. She idly wonders if she was hit by a car on her way here and she was transported into some crazy world, where her husband is still permanently stuck in the 90s.

“Oh, and by the way,” he says before he leaves. “This is my name. So if you’re married to Prince, he sure as hell ain’t me.”

He’s holding up his necklace with his symbol - the symbol Ronnie has seen so many times, the one engraved inside the bellows of her accordion. She can only stare as he walks away.

Slowly, her brain starts working and she starts taking in her surroundings. She looks at: the landline. The mobile phone on the table. The tin of formula next to it that says Similac Isomil. The television. And then finally, Lani - looking at her in distress, holding a sniffling baby in her arms.

“I think I’m going crazy,” Ronnie tells her, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

“What are you --”

“Lani. What date is it today?”

Lani blinks but indulges her anyway. “August 21st.”

“What year?”

The answer that Lani gives her makes Ronnie’s stomach drop somewhere near her feet.

“It’s 1995.”