Monday, 7 January, 09:00, GMT, present day
Phillip woke up before his usual 8:30 am alarm. He took his usual morning shower and quickly unpacked his luggage, throwing the three suits that he had packed into his closet. He quickly threw on some jeans and an emerald green t-shirt. He slipped on a pair of black Adidas running shoes.
He looked at his phone and smiled. He clicked on the message thread he had read the night before. 'Don't push too hard,' he thought to himself. 'Play it safe.'
"Good morning, Drew. Hope you have an amazing week!" he composed the text. He hesitated for a moment and then pressed send. He blew out a breath and then pocketed the device before grabbing his winter coat as he was set for the day.
o-o-o
Monday, 7 January, 09:48, GMT, present day
Phillip stepped out of his father's BMW after parking in the medical center's parking garage after a forty-minute drive through London traffic. He was going to set up his medical appointments in person. Sure, a phone call would have made things easier, but he was hoping to bump into the Muggle-born doctor.
He walked slowly to the Physicians Building where Dr. Teodoro Singh, his general practitioner, was located. He hadn't visited the long time family doctor since his college days. But that's what this whole rehab stint was all about, connecting to his past.
He entered the lobby and headed to the elevators. He rode up to the eleventh floor and then exited the lift. He looked at the office door handle for a moment before entering.
"Good morning," the older woman greeted Phil. "Please sign in for your appointment."
"Morning, Mrs. Horowitz," Phil said.
The woman smiled, finally recognizing the young man. She stood up and came around the desk to hug him. "Phillip, it's good to see you," she said as they broke the embrace. "How are you doing?"
Phillip smiled and shrugged as he looked down at his brace. "ACL tear," he said. "I was wondering if I could schedule an appointment for later this week. That way Dr. Singh can recommend a physical therapist."
"Of course," the older woman smiled and headed back behind her desk. She punched in a few keys on the computer and then looked up. "How does Thursday at 10 am sound?"
"That sounds brilliant, Ma'am," he smiled.
"You know, you could have just called for an appointment, Phil," she smiled back.
"Then I wouldn't have been able to say, 'hi,' to my favorite receptionist," he said.
"You are too much, you know that," she laughed.
"You have a great day, Mrs. Horowitz," Phillip nodded. "I'll see you later on this week."
She nodded as he exited the door. He blew out a breath as he looked down the hallway. He walked towards the lift.
o-o-o
He recognized the older man from his photo on the website. Phillip nonchalantly walked up to the Head of the Emergency Room who was leaning against the counter at the reception area.
"I think I must have gotten off on the wrong floor," Phillip lied, "I got myself all turned around here."
The fifty-five-year-old doctor chuckled. "Well, I'm sure we can help with that."
"Thanks, Doctor Morgan," Phillip said extending his hand.
The older man, dressed in his business suit, was a little taken aback that the younger man knew his name. He shook his hand. "How did you know my name?"
Phillip nodded at the doctor's portrait on the wall above the reception area alongside all of the previous Heads of ER, which included a portrait of the Muggle-born doctor who held the position until five years ago when she took over as Director of the hospital. Doctor Aaron Morgan nodded his head.
"So how can we be of service?" the doctor smiled.
"I just came from the Physicians Building side of the hospital," Phillip said. "I'm just trying to get back to the parking lot."
"Well, you're in the ER wing of the hospital," Doctor Morgan shrugged. "Come on, I'll get you to the exit."
"Thanks," Phillip said as he walked with the ER doctor. "My friend's mum actually worked in the ER a while back."
"Ah, who's your friend's mum?" the doctor asked as he led Phillip passed the chapel.
"Doctor Hermione Malfoy," Phillip said as the pair took a right turn at the cafeteria.
"Ah, yes, Doctor Malfoy," the older man smiled. "She's the director of the hospital now."
"I should have dropped by her office to say, 'hello,'" Phillip said.
"She's not in today," Doctor Morgan said as they reached the main lobby of the hospital.
Phillip nodded. "Well, I'll probably give the family a ring, then," Phillip extended his hand once again. "Thank you so much for playing tour guide. I think I can right myself now. We're in the lobby and all."
"I'm glad I could be of service," Doctor Morgan shook the younger man's hand. "I didn't quite catch your name. If you want, I could tell Doctor Malfoy you dropped by."
"Phillip," Phil said as he nodded before departing towards the parking structure. Phillip smiled to himself as he made his way to his parking space.
He blew out a breath as he entered his vehicle. No better time than the present to start his errands on his first day back in England.
o-o-o
Monday, 7 January, 10:30, GMT, present day
Phillip had parked the BMW and had entered Harrod's with his shopping trolley nearly ten minutes ago. He headed straight to the crafts section of the large department store to pick up several gift baskets.
His father had always brought him along to shop for the holiday gifts for the school's Administration Office. He was the usual teenage boy; thinking it was the most uncool thing to hang out with his father, buying little knickknacks, office supplies and baked goods for the baskets.
He took in a deep breath as he picked up a large basket, remembering his father being quite particular with the size of the vessel; it had to be just right. He smiled to himself as he placed three of the large baskets into the trolley before heading to find the goodies he was going to add to the gift baskets.
o-o-o
Monday, 7 January, 13:30, GMT, present day
Normally a no-nonsense shopper, Phillip had uncharacteristically spent three hours shopping in the large department store. Even with the brace on his knee, he was able to ambulate through the store.
He packed his trolley with assorted candies, chocolates and baked goods. He also added some office supplies. He grabbed some cellophane wrap, transparent tape, and ribbon before heading to the queue.
o-o-o
Monday, 7 January, 14:45, GMT, present day
Phillip took a bite of his chicken Tikka Masala as he finished checking his text messages that came in while he was shopping. He had arrived home fifteen minutes ago after picking up take-out food. He had scarfed down most of his lunch as he answered his texts; most from Boston, none from the familiar number.
He sopped up the rest of the sauce on his pate with the last of his naan bread. He stood up and trashed his food container and took a last sip from his bottle of Heineken. He washed his hands before turning back to the kitchen island.
"Time to channel my inner Martha Stewart," he said to himself as he started to pull all of the contents of the shopping bags onto the counter.
o-o-o
Monday, 7 January, 19:45, GMT, present day
He nodded his head as he finished tying the blue ribbon that secured the clear cellophane wrap around the gift basket full of office supplies. He took a step back to admire his work. Then he looked around the kitchen island at the mess.
"Yup, that'll do it," he said laughing at himself. Five hours of work and only one of the gift baskets was completed. It was a good thing he wasn't planning on delivering the baskets until Friday.
He blew out a breath. 'Time to clean up,' he thought to himself. For a split second, he thought of the Wizarding stick in the box on the mantle in the living room. Then shook his head. "Do it the old fashion way, Phil," he told himself as he started to clean up.
o-o-o
Thursday, 10 January, 13:20 GMT, present day
Phillip had arrived home after his morning medical appointment with Doctor Teodoro Singh. The doctor had done a baseline, giving Phil a good bill of health, save his repaired knee. Even his shoulder appeared healthy.
Doctor Singh had walked him over to Lifelong Fit Physical Therapy, two floors below his office and introduced him to Doctor Lance Fisher, head physical therapist. Phillip was able to get a Wednesday, 10 am appointment.
He had left Saint Augustine's an hour and a half after his medical appointment and headed to Forge for lunch. It was a short fifteen-minute wait before he was seated. He ordered a Forge Beef Burger and a glass of iced tea which he leisurely ate.
He people-watched during his one hour lunch. The clientele was mostly young business people breaking away from their offices or closing deals with clients. He thought back to the blind date he had set up years ago and how understatedly beautiful she looked.
On his drive home to the Chiswick house, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He thought about all the missed chances he had since meeting her sixteen years ago; being in the same classes since year 10, playing alongside her during their basketball seasons and being under the same roof during their college days.
He entered the house and sat down on the couch. He blew out a breath as he turned on the big screen television to listen to sports highlights. He shut his eyes, picturing her face. He wondered if he would rue the day that he didn't act on his true feelings towards her.
He opened his eyes after a few moments. He looked at his watch, 2 pm. "Come on, those cheesecakes won't bake themselves," he told himself as he stood up to head to the kitchen.
o-o-o
Friday, 11 January, 09:05 GMT, present day
Phillip walked into the school's administration office just like he had over sixteen years ago. This time, instead of the backpack on his back, he carried three cellophane wrapped gift baskets in his arms.
He placed the baskets on the front counter and smiled at the first office clerk, an older woman in her fifties looked up. She smiled back as she recognized the son of their former physical education professor. She stood up and went around the corner to hug him.
"Good morning to you, too, Mrs. Fordman," the Wellesley alumnus smiled down at the longtime office clerk.
"We haven't seen you in a long time, young man," she smiled as other office workers came in to see what was happening in the front.
The school's administrative service assistant was the first of the crowd to take her turn to hug the new arrival. "Where have you been hiding yourself, Mr. Martínez?"
"It's been a busy year, Mrs. Thoreau," Phillip smiled as he hugged her back.
"It's good to see you, Son," Mrs. Thoreau nodded.
"I figured I'd continue the tradition," Phillip said as he tapped the counter.
"Phillip Martínez," the older gentleman smiled as he extended his hand, "Nice to see you again. Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year to you, too, Director Timson," Phillip said, shaking the director's hand.
"Come on. Have a seat," Director Timson said, nodding for the young man to sit for a while. "Congratulations on the last championship."
"Thank you, Sir," Phillip said as he sat down on one of the desk chairs. The rest of the office staff gathered around as well. It seemed to be a slow school day.
"Why aren't you with the team, Phillip?" Mrs. Fordman, a sports fan herself, asked.
Phillip shrugged, "I tore my ACL back in December. I'm rehabbing at home."
"Well, it's nice to have our hometown hero back," Mrs. Thoreau said as she patted his shoulder.
"Good to be back," the Celtic forward said.
"We can't thank you enough, Phillip," Director Timson said as he nodded at the young man. "The ten million British Pounds that you donated has done wonders with our maintenance backlog."
Phillip smiled and nodded. "Every little thing counts."
"We've started plans to upgrade the gym and we've set up several scholarships in your father's name," Director Timson said, nodding.
"I think Dad would have gotten a kick out of that," Phillip said, gulping as he thought of his father.
For the next hour, the group reminisced about the older Martínez. Phillip found a deeper appreciation for the school staff members who held his father in such high esteem.
o-o-o
Friday, 11 January, 11:50 GMT, present day
Phillip opened the door to room 204 in A building. He entered as the older, grey haired gentleman looked up from his pasta lunch.
"I know you know the rules about not interrupting my lunch," he said as he turned back to his newspaper. "I've ten minutes before I have to officially deal with you guys."
"Good day to you, too, Professor Ingles," Phillip laughed.
The English Language Arts teacher looked over his glasses as he studied the young man. A smile eventually crept up on the man's face. He stood up, smiling.
"Bloody hell," Professor Conner Ingles extended his hand as he walked towards the younger man. "Phillip Martínez, as I live and breathe."
"Nice seeing you, too, Professor," Phillip said as he nodded at his old English professor.
"I thought you were in Boston," the professor said as he leaned against his desk.
Phillip shrugged. "I injured my knee in December. I thought it would be a good idea to come home to rehab."
"Sounds sentimental," the professor smiled. "But you could have gone to someplace warmer. I could have sworn you went to Hawai'i for university."
Phillip laughed. "Yeah, I did."
"Baguio and Granger did as well, right? Three of the Four Horseman."
"Right," Phillip shrugged.
"I think Thomas went to university here in London."
"Yeah, Cambridge," Phillip said.
"Wow," the professor shook his head. "It seemed like it's been a lifetime since you guys were in this very same classroom. Do you still talk to them?"
"Yeah," Phillip nodded. "We're still very close."
"You know," Professor Ingles canted his head, "You and Ms. Granger seemed to get on each other's nerves like an old married couple. I've always thought you two would end up with each other."
Phillip laughed nervously and then shrugged, "Things never aligned for us."
Professor Ingles nodded. "That's too bad. I always thought it would be the case of 'Star-crossed lovers'. Just like Romeo and Juliet."
Phillip blew out a breath as the school bell rang. Students started to stream in.
"Hey, professor," one of the students who sat in the back of the room called. "Do we have a new student today?"
The pair at the front of the room laughed as the rest of the class settled into their seats. Professor Ingles placed a hand on Phillip's shoulder.
"Alright ladies and gentleman," the English professor nodded, "I'd liked to introduce to you one of Wellesley's most famous alumni. He actually sat right in the back as well as a Year 10 student transferring in from New York. I want you guys to meet Phillip Martínez."
"Phillip Martínez," another student said. "Are you related to our former basketball coach."
"Yeah, he's my dad," Phillip said, taking in a breath. "He taught me everything about basketball."
"Wait," another student said. "Don't you play for the Celtics?"
"Yes," Phillip said, nodding.
"So, are you playing hooky?" another student asked as everyone laughed.
"I injured my knee last month and had to have surgery on it," Phillip answered. "I came back home to rehab."
"So, if you can't play anymore, what exactly are you planning to do with the rest of your life?" a young lady at the front of the room asked.
"Now, Ms. Gleason," Professor Ingles began. "Phillip's very resilient. He'll bounce back from this injury in no time."
Phillip smiled to himself. "That's a very interesting point, though," he smiled at the girl. "Did you know Professor Ingles, here, has been a great inspiration to me since I stepped into his class almost sixteen years ago.
"I've learned a lot during my four years of English classes with him. I met three life-long friends since day one. I actually graduated from college with a teaching degree specializing in Secondary English Language Arts.
"So that's my fallback career, if and when that comes," Phillip smiled.
"Wow," the girl said, nodding in appreciation. The rest of the students chimed in with the same sentiment. Professor Ingles nodded at his former student.
"You should mind the professor," Phillip said. "He's got a lot of knowledge to offer.
"And I think I'll let him get on with today's lesson," the alumnus said extending a hand to his former English professor.
Professor Ingles shook it. He gave the taller man a hug before he let the younger man exit the classroom.
o-o-o
Friday, 11 January, 12:15 GMT, present day
Phillip sat in his car for a few minutes, warming up from the cold. Thoughts of his time at the secondary time spent with his father came flooding back. He blew out a breath.
'First, find lunch,' he thought to himself, 'then find the rest of the eighty million British Pounds that Mr. Montague was supposed to have given to Wellesley.'
He put the car into drive. He headed into London Proper.