Choice

By Dora Farkas

"Told from the perspectives of Val and her service dog, Maya, 'Choice' is a highly interesting read. The author's imagination is fertile and fascinating, and the discussions on quantum physics are informative. This novel has tension on almost every page, and one can't help but empathize with this single mother who faces the prospect of losing her only child. Highly recommended!" -Readers' Favorite, Rating: 5/5

 

"I have studied the human brain for more than 30 years and 'Choice' brings home all the key points that make a huge difference in how people can choose to live their lives. Our brain has unlimited possibilities, and given the right focus it can create miracles for us." -Tony Dottino, Founder, USA Memory Championship

 

"An insightful read that not only promotes cross-cultural insights but conveys the complexity of parenting and juggling daily life as a working woman. I highly recommend this book and plan to share it with others in the future." -Melissa Tobey LaBelle, Ed.D., Assistant Professor, Bridgewater State University

 

Val, is a young Mexican-American quantum physicist and single mother struggling with an anxiety disorder and financial challenges. Her world is turned upside down when her ex-husband files for full custody of their three-year-old daughter to take her across the country where he was offered a job. The story unfolds as she decides either to stay put in Boston and meet job related deadlines or go on a holiday and visit her parents in Mexico.

Encouraged by her father, Val flies to Mexico with Maya, her service dog, and Daisy, her daughter, and she discovers a world of magic that will change her outlook on life forever. She also reconnects with her childhood friend, Mercedes, who gives her a glimmer of hope. Things, however, are not what they seem to be. As all areas of her life begin to fall apart, Val must explore the power of her intuition and make different choices to change the course of her and her daughter's futures.

 

"A magnificent debut novel. The author immerses the reader in the power of choice while skillfully weaving a tale of challenges." – Dana Laquidara, Author, "The Uncluttered Mother"

 

" I loved reading about Val's success in finding fantastic ways to shine in STEM with the support of her family. The struggle is real - by supporting one another we can improve the experience for everyone in science." -Joanne Kamens, PhD, STEM Diversity Consultant

 

"It's rare to find a book so entertaining and so full of creativity, positivity, and hope. If you are looking to be carried away by an impactful story of growth, I highly recommend 'Choice'." -Isaiah Hankel, PhD, Author, "The Power of a PhD"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dora Farkas
• Release date: Apr 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989958306

Book preview

Chapter 1 – Val

Friday, July 22nd

While growing up, Mom and I had a special tradition: every Friday afternoon, she showed me how to cook and bake her family’s recipes, some of them as old as 400 years. As soon as I could stand, she pulled up a stool for me, and I watched her prepare dishes from her native town in Oaxaca, Mexico, which had been passed down from mother to daughter for many generations.

Although she had to create a new home when she and Dad moved from Oaxaca to a suburb of Boston before I was born, she made sure that I would be well-prepared to pass on our family’s recipes to my children. My memories from elementary school are filled with rolling churros in cinnamon sugar, measuring out ingredients for our family’s secret mole recipe, and taking turns with Mom mixing sweet corn dough for tamales.

When I was in middle school, she stood right next to me as I simmered the sweetened milk for capirotada, the bread pudding my family ate every Easter, and nodded in approval as the deep aroma of cinnamon sticks, brown sugar, and cloves filled the air. The older I became, the more Mom expected from me in the kitchen, but there was one thing that never changed throughout the years: whenever we cooked and baked together, time stood still.

Whether she had a stack of history class exams to grade or needed to coordinate volunteers for a fundraiser at my school, she focused on nothing but our time together on those Friday afternoons. We spent hours in the kitchen as she infused stories from her childhood with details about our family recipes, and she used mistakes as teaching opportunities. Once, I accidentally added cumin seeds into chocoflan, Mom’s signature cake. She just shook her head and said that I had learned the most important lesson in cooking and life: pay attention and focus on what’s at hand.

Dad knew better than to disturb this sacred time. A professor of architecture, he came home early every Friday and immersed himself in books until Mom called to him that dinner was ready. Then we all sat down to eat, and he listened as I told him what I had learned to cook and bake that day. He chuckled when he heard what happened to the chocoflan and said that maybe I had discovered a way to make Mom’s recipe even better.

I smile at the memory of the botched chocoflan and run my fingers along the edge of a framed family photo on my nightstand of the four of us at my parents’ home last Christmas: Mom, Dad, me, and my daughter, Daisy, who had turned three the day before. I miss my parents so much since they moved back to Santa Lucía del Camino in Oaxaca after I started graduate school. The thought that I will be traveling to Mexico in two days to see them in time for our annual Guelaguetza festival fills me with both excitement and fear.

How will Mom react when she realizes that I haven’t been cooking Oaxacan specialties with Daisy or teaching her Spanish? Between single motherhood and the demands of being an untenured associate professor in quantum computing, every day feels like running a marathon at the pace of a 100-meter sprint.

A wave of nausea travels through my body as I mentally review the schedule for the last workday before my trip. With a day full of tasks to wrap up before my trip, an appointment with my psychiatrist, and taking care of Daisy, I don’t know how I will have time to edit the scientific paper that will be key for my promotion to a tenured professor next year. Without the promotion, I will be asked to leave the university and find a new position somewhere else.

Maya picks up on the shift in my energy and rubs up against my legs, interrupting my thoughts. I bend down to pet her and feel the velvety softness of her pink Service Dog vest. Mom brought me Maya eight years ago from Oaxaca for my twenty-sixth birthday, but shortly after I had my first panic attack, and my psychiatrist recommended that I train Maya to be a service dog. I didn’t think that toy Chihuahuas could be service dogs, but Maya’s interventions helped me to finish my PhD, get through my divorce, and publish papers on the applications of quantum computing for outer space exploration.

Once my heartbeat slows down, I let Maya out into the backyard for a few minutes, and when we’re back inside, I take out a few eggs and Mexican sausage to prepare Mom’s huevos con chorizo recipe, a quick breakfast she used to frequently whip up before school. As I am about to crack an egg, I hear an incoming text message. It’s our department head, Jim.

See me at 8 this morning.

He has never texted me at six a.m. before. Something must be wrong, but with Daisy’s daycare starting at eight, the earliest I can be at the office, given Boston morning traffic, is 8:40.

Can we meet at 9? I ask.

Jim texts me back immediately. I need to see you at 8 so we can include your models in the grant proposal due today.

My heart stops as I realize that I forgot to send Jim the figures he’s been requesting for two weeks, because I have been so preoccupied with finishing a paper for publication before the fall. Early drop-off at daycare starts at seven, and if we’re out of the house by 6:30, I can make it to the office before eight.

OK, I text back to Jim.

Resigned to another rushed morning, I put the eggs and chorizo away, fill up a sippy cup with milk, and put a muffin in a Ziploc for Daisy to eat in the car. After wolfing down a muffin myself and changing into my work clothes, I tiptoe into Daisy’s room to not wake her up too suddenly.

Good morning, honey, I say, lifting her warm, limp body out of bed, and rocking her from side to side. Her soft curls brush up against my cheek, as she yawns and puts her head on my shoulder. Born less than three years after I started my professorship, Daisy was a surprise baby, but now I can’t imagine my life without her. My heart expands as I kiss the top of her head before gently placing her on the carpet.

I take some clothes out of her dresser and take her to the bathroom to get her ready for the day.

Where are we going? she asks rubbing her eyes.

To school, I say. It’s Friday and tomorrow is the weekend!

I want pancakes, she announces as I start dressing her.

We will have breakfast in the car, I say, pulling her pants up.

Why? she asks.

Because Mommy has a meeting early this morning, I explain.

Why? she asks again.

Because Mommy needs to work. I packed you milk and a blueberry muffin, your favorite.

But I want pancakes, she whines, pulling away from me as I try to wiggle her shirt on.

We don’t have time for pancakes. I will try to get out of work early and make us a nice dinner, something special from Mexico, okay?

Promise? she asks sticking her pinky out.

I pinky swear, and she drops her shoulders, allowing me to pull her shirt on. One battle won for the day.

Traffic is heavier than usual, and by the time we pull into the daycare, it’s half past seven. I run through the front doors carrying Daisy, as Maya follows us dutifully.

Val, are you sure you want to pay the extra fee for just thirty minutes of early care? the director, Margo, asks as we pass by her office.

With the grant proposal due today, every minute counts, and I nod. Once we’re in the playroom, I hug Daisy goodbye, and she gives me her bunny security blanket.

Keep Conejito, she says, using the Spanish word for bunny that Mom taught her. It’s good luck. For your work. She gives me a last hug before sitting down cross-legged to listen to morning story time.

Hugging Conejito close to my chest, Maya and I get back into the car, and I dictate a text message to Jim that I am running a few minutes behind. Traffic on the highway moves at a snail’s pace due to an accident, and I shake my head for paying the extra fee for early drop-off when I am still paying off my debt from my divorce proceedings.

It’s 8:45 by the time Maya and I get to Jim’s office, and his door is closed.

He has a meeting with Dean Jacobson, his secretary Sharon says, not looking up from her computer. He told me to tell you to come back at two.

I mentally run my schedule for the day and remember that I need to see Dr. Hill at two o’clock to get a refill for my anti-anxiety medication before my trip.

I…I can’t, I stammer. I have a doctor’s appointment.

Then you will have to arrange another time with him, Sharon says and continues typing.

Maya and I walk back to my office, and my eyes rest on my name plate Dr. Valeria Madrigal. How proud my parents were when I became the first female PhD in my family.

As soon as I sit down, Jim’s email pops up on my screen.

I am disappointed that you missed our meeting. The grant proposal is due at the end of the day today, and if I can’t include your simulations, you will not get funding. I am fully booked but I can see you 2-2:30.

I dial Dr. Hill’s office, and a receptionist picks up right away.

Hi, I have a two o’clock appointment with Dr. Hill, but I need to cancel it because an urgent meeting came up, I say. Can you please ask her to send a refill for my prescription to the pharmacy?

You must be Valeria, the woman responds. I’m checking your record, and it looks like you have had virtual appointments for the past year. Unfortunately, Dr. Hill needs to see you in person to continue prescribing your medication.

Please, I beg. I am traveling to Mexico on Sunday, and I can’t fly without my medication to keep me calm.

I’m sorry, but Dr. Hill wrote a note in your record that you must be seen in person for the next refill, she says.

Let me call you back. I-I just need to figure out what to do, I stammer before ending the call.

A text message from Jim pops up on my phone.

The dean will join our 2 p.m. meeting. Please bring the simulations from your model for our grant proposal. Just between us, if you miss this funding deadline, you will need to find another position after you return from Mexico.

Chapter 2 – Maya

Friday, July 22nd

Val’s days are always busy, but this one takes the cake. I have already had to intervene a few times today, and it looks like I’m on duty again.

As she stares at her phone, her eyes are wide, she’s exhaling through her mouth, and she’s running her fingers through her hair—all signs that a panic attack is imminent. If I don’t intervene soon, she will start to sweat, clutch her hands to her chest, and her exhales will become so rapid that she’ll barely be able to breathe.

When she is only a little nervous, I can interrupt her thoughts by putting my paw on her arm, pressing my nose against hers, or just cuddling up to her. From the look on her face, I can tell she needs the big guns now.

Without waiting for her signal that she needs an intervention, I jump into her lap and start sniffing all over her face in a way that she cannot ignore. As her exhales slow down, a slight smile appears on her face, and I stand down, waiting for what’s next.

"If you were me, what would you do Maya? she asks, petting me. I can’t be at my doctor’s appointment and in Jim’s office at the same time!"

That’s an easy question. If I were her, I would have eaten that chorizo this morning, instead of putting it back in the fridge! My Val hasn’t been eating well, always snacking on the run, and it’s making her more anxious.

Val’s phone rings and she taps on it.

Hi, is this Valeria? This is Terri from Dr. Hill’s office, I hear a woman’s voice through the speaker.

Oh, hi, Val says, sitting up.

After you hung up, I saw that Dr. Hill had a cancellation at 12:30, the woman says. I am happy to put you in, if it works for you.

Umm… Val begins, looking at her computer. I have a meeting at one o’clock, but...I can reschedule that one. Thank you so much. I will see you then!

Val taps on her phone again.

Hi, Stella. Can we meet now instead of at one p.m.? Val asks. Another appointment just came up.

Jack and I are at the math department rerunning the simulations.

I wag my tail as I hear Stella’s voice. She is a young woman who works with Val and always brings me the best dog cookies. The other fellow she mentioned, Jack, is a quiet guy who doesn’t interact much with me, but he seems nice enough.

I thought those figures were done, Val says, swallowing hard. We need them for the grant proposal due today.

I wanted to verify everything with the new model, Stella responds.

Then I need to rewrite the data interpretations with the new data. Val groans, scratching her temples. When will you be done?

About an hour, Stella answers. Sorry, I should have told you that we would rerun everything.

Please email them as soon as possible, Val says, tightening her lips. I’m meeting with Jim and Dean Jacobson at two.

Will do, Stella responds, and they end the call.

Val’s posture relaxes, and the crisis is over, at least for now. I stand by Val’s desk ready for another intervention at any time.

It’s a quiet day in the office with fewer people than normal. Val works nonstop until her phone buzzes, and the face of Val’s mom, la señora María, appears on the screen.

Mom, this is a bad time, Val says rolling her eyes.

Ay hija, ¿qué pasa? la señora María asks Val’s what’s happening.

I am writing up the results sections of our grant proposal for a meeting at two o’clock, Val says. She usually speaks English with her parents because she says her Spanish is rusty, so they end up speaking an interesting mix of the two languages.

I also need to edit a paper, and I don’t know how I will find the time to fit it all in before our flight… Val continues before burying her head in her hands.

Lo que necesitas es descansar, hija la señora María tells Val that what she needs is rest. Your cousin Silvia will be dancing at the Guelaguetza this year, it will be spectacular! I am making all your favorites for your welcome dinner. Is there something specific you would like?

If she were asking me, I would tell her all my favorites, including carne asada and chorizo, and don’t even get me started on Mom’s special salted meat, cecina. The call is interrupted by an alarm on Val’s phone.

Anything is fine for dinner, Val says abruptly. I must go to my appointment with Dr. Hill now.

Te esperamos, hija. La señora María tells Val that they’re expecting her.

Un gran abrazo, Val says, sending her mother a big virtual hug.

The drive to Dr. Hill’s office is quick, and Val keeps glancing at her watch in the waiting room. A young woman comes out and takes us to a small room where she examines Val with machines that make funny sounds.

Your weight and blood pressure haven’t changed much since last time, the woman says, looking at her screen. You’ve been seeing Dr. Hill for eight years. Is that right?

Yes, since my first panic attack, Val says. I’m lucky that I received a job offer in the same area where I went to grad school, and I’ve been seeing Dr. Hill all these years.

The woman smiles and takes us to the familiar office of Dr. Hill.

I am sorry for the wait, Dr. Hill says. I had a family emergency this morning and I’m running behind schedule.

I understand, Val says once she’s seated. It’s just that I have a meeting with our department head and the dean at two o’clock today, and I must get back in time.

We’ll keep this appointment short, Dr. Hill says, looking at her computer. Are you happy with the anxiolytic I’ve been prescribing? We haven’t changed the dose in years.

I still get anxious, but Maya helps me to manage my symptoms, she responds and bends down to pet my head. Between her interventions and the medication, I’m doing okay.

Val, I want you to be more than just okay, Dr. Hill says with a serious tone. I’m happy to give you a new prescription if you want to try something else.

The tenure review for my promotion starts next year, and I don’t want to react to a new medication while writing my papers, Val says.

How are you and Mark doing with coparenting? Dr. Hill asks, scrolling through her screen.

Well, we’ve been divorced for over a year, and Daisy spends one week with me and one week with him, although we change the schedule to accommodate trips and holidays, Val begins. With my tenure review coming up soon, I have to call Mark frequently to pick up Daisy from daycare because I can’t make it in time. Then I pick her up from his house. Our relationship has been rocky since we met five years ago, but lately, he’s been very accommodating. Daisy’s happy to spend a good amount of time with both of us, without having to see us argue.

It sounds like things are working, Dr. Hill says.

Yes, and we don’t fight any more about me keeping my last name, Val says with a slight smile. It’s very common for women in academia to do so, but he always used it against me as the reason our marriage fell apart.

That’s ridiculous! Dr. Hill exclaims.

Yeah, I don’t think my last name had anything to do with his affair, Val responds, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Anyway, I’m grateful that he easily consented to me taking Daisy to Mexico for over a week.

I’m surprised his infidelity didn’t influence the custody decision, Dr. Hill says as she adjusts her glasses.

I was surprised, too, but my attorney explained that, in this state, adultery usually doesn’t influence custody. Val looks at her watch again.

It sounds like things are going as well as they can be, and I know you need to get back in time for your meeting, Dr. Hill says. I’ve sent a refill to your pharmacy. If you want to try another medication, please schedule an appointment.

***

We have just a few minutes for a late lunch, Val says after she parks on campus, and orders chicken enchiladas at a food truck.

It’s sunny and warm, and all around campus, students are sitting on benches sipping iced drinks and eating colorfully decorated ice creams.

With the order of chicken enchiladas in her hand, Val rushes absentmindedly by the benches towards her building. Suddenly, she slips on a puddle of melted ice cream, and after she regains her balance, she stares at the sauce splattered on her shirt.

Oh no! She shakes her head. This had to happen right before my meeting with Jim and the dean.

To my chagrin, Val throws out the enchiladas, and I follow her inside the building to the ladies’ room.

I shouldn’t have worn a white blouse today, Val mutters under her breath as she splashes water on her shirt and rubs it with a paper towel. And this is only making it worse.

Val is almost in tears as we exit the bathroom. Her body tenses as onlookers stare at her shirt in the hallway and elevator.

They’re just finishing up in there, Sharon says, nodding her head towards Jim’s closed door when we get to his office. Goodness, what happened to your shirt? If it were winter, I could lend you a fleece to cover it up, but I didn’t bring one today.

Val’s face flushes. The door opens slowly, and Jim and a man with a white beard are in the middle of a conversation, laughing. Their smiles freeze as they turn towards Val, their eyes locking onto the big wet spot across her chest.

Chapter 3 – Val

Friday, July 22nd

C -Come in, Jim stutters, his eyes wide at the sight of the wet see-through spot on my blouse.

"Umm…sorry, I’m really embarrassed about this, I begin lightly, but I slipped while I was eating lunch, and the sauce from my enchiladas splattered on my shirt."

Jim rummages through his drawers and takes out a black t-shirt.

I got this at the Quantum Leaps Conference last year, he says handing it to me, his face still red from the shock. I don’t want you to get cold from the air conditioning.

My embarrassment dissipates after I put the shirt on, and we sit down at Jim’s conference table to look through Stella’s latest simulations on my laptop.

Where is the data interpretation? Jim asks, raising his eyebrows.

I’ll get them in before the deadline, I respond, my mind churning at a hundred miles an hour, wondering how I’ll leave by five to get Daisy.

The reason I wanted to see your results, the dean says, leaning back, is that we’re planning a freshman seminar in the spring on the impact of new frontiers of research on global issues. I’d like you to do five lectures on the applications of quantum computing to encourage freshmen to major in physics. Based on our surveys, students are interested in space exploration, telecommunication, fuel efficiency, data security, and weather prediction.

Of course, I say, sitting up. My university values teaching, and these lectures would support my promotion to a tenured professor.

Please send me your five lecture topics by Monday, the dean responds. Once the curriculum committee approves them, the lecture outlines will be due in early September.

He stands up and nods his head towards Jim and me. Meeting with the provost at 2:30. Your research has great promise, Val. Looking forward to your lecture topics.

After the dean leaves the office, Jim narrows his eyes.

You embarrassed our whole department, he says. Not only did you show up with a see-through shirt for a meeting with the dean, but you’re missing the data interpretations for our grant proposal. The deadline is in a few hours.

My breathing picks up, but Maya’s soft presence next to my calves keeps me steady.

I’m sorry, I slipped by accident. I shrug. I’m also sorry I didn’t send you the figures earlier, but I’ve been focused on finishing my paper so we can publish it as soon as possible. You told me yourself how important that would be for my tenure review next year.

Jim leans back on his chair and crosses his arms. Yes, I did say that your paper will be essential for your tenure, he begins, but if you neglect the grant proposal and don’t get funding for your research, what’s the point of publishing your paper?

Feeling the sting of tears in my eyes, I remain quiet.

I expect the data interpretations for our grant proposal by six p.m., he says. Also, please include this data in your abstract for the next Quantum Leaps Conference.

I bend down and pet Maya to hide my embarrassment that I haven’t even gotten started on the abstract.

Don’t tell me you forgot about the conference deadline! he exclaims. The abstracts are due at the end of August! You’ll need to run more simulations if you want to have a shot at presenting a poster. The data analysis can take weeks, and I assume you will be working while you’re in Mexico. This conference is your chance to be recognized as a leading researcher in your field and to get tenure.

I’ll meet the deadline, I say robotically, although I have no idea how, given that I also need to send Dean Jacobson the outline for my lectures and finish my paper.

Jim shakes his head. You do great work, but you’re not focused, and you keep missing deadlines, he says. "From what you said, it sounds like you got a stain on your shirt before a meeting with the dean, because you were rushing and walking while eating lunch. If you want to get tenure, you’ll need to change something so you can represent our department professionally."

He stands up to signal that the meeting is over.

Keep the t-shirt, he says with tight lips, just in case.

My eyes are moist as we exit Jim’s office and head towards mine. It’s 2:30, and I need to leave by five to pick up Daisy from daycare. It’s a tight deadline to submit the data write-ups for Jim.

For the second time this week, I reach for my phone to call Mark to pick up Daisy. As I’m about to dial him, there’s an incoming video call from Sonia, my divorce attorney. She’s the daughter of my parents’ friends in Oaxaca and has been like a big sister to me. She’s invited Daisy and me for dinner a few times, and I wonder if that’s why she’s calling.

Sonia, ¿qué onda? I ask how she is doing while looking at my watch, hoping it will be a quick call.

¿Val, estás sentada? She asks whether I am sitting.

My body freezes as I sense that something must be wrong.

What happened? Is it my parents? I…I just spoke to Mom earlier today, I say, as my heart begins to beat fast.

Mark is filing for full custody of Daisy, Sonia says without preamble.

My whole body goes cold, and although Sonia’s lips are moving, I can’t hear her. The next thing I know, Maya is in my lap, licking the insides of my ears, something she only does during a panic attack.

What are you talking about? I ask, gently pushing Maya away.

Mark’s attorney messaged me that he accepted a job in Tucson and is expecting to start in January, Sonia says. He claims that he’s been picking Daisy up from daycare because you’re always working and that you cannot take care of Daisy on your own.

Wh-Why didn’t he tell me he was moving? I ask.

My guess is that his lawyer told him not to talk to you, Sonia says. He knew you would be upset, and it’s better to handle this through attorneys.

My heart starts beating faster as the reality of the situation sinks in.

I can help you to keep Daisy, Sonia says. But you need to show the courts that you can take care of her on your own.

My job is on the rocks, I admit tearfully. My department head and dean just gave me a bunch of deadlines, and if I don’t meet them, I may lose my job before my tenure review next year.

"You must keep your job while we go through this, Sonia says sternly, and then her voice softens. I am sorry that I had to break the news to you like this.