Abandoned by All I Took It All Back novel Chapter 102

"Grandpa Fairchild, wake up."

The old man couldn't even recall his own name. He’d heard “Fairchild” in a TV show once, liked how it sounded, and just started using it.

"I'm far too handsome to be called Grandpa. If you call me that again, I will sever all ties with you!"

Fairchild grumbled, but he sat up from his mattress on the floor.

His eyes were still bleary with sleep, and the collar of his pajamas was crooked.

Janina stifled a laugh and handed him her phone.

"Alright, alright, handsome Fairchild, my handsome friend. Here's the deal: I have a friend who's been diagnosed with a terminal illness, and I was hoping you could see if there's anything you can do."

As she spoke, Janina pulled up the photos of Summer's lab reports and held the phone out to him.

Fairchild didn't even glance at it. He flopped back onto his pillow like a dead fish, muttering.

"And here I thought you brought me fried chicken..." He smacked his lips, his mouth trembling slightly.

Janina was at a complete loss for words. All he ever thought about was food. Honestly, was he born with a bottomless pit for a stomach?

"Hey, hey, don't go back to sleep. I'm serious. She's dying. The doctors gave her three to six months, tops. Just look at her reports. Is there any hope?"

Annoyed by her nagging, Fairchild rolled over, turning his back to her.

"How dare you question my skills? As long as they're still breathing, even the Grim Reaper has to take a number and wait his turn."

His muffled voice drifted out from under the blankets, laced with a childish pout.

Janina's eyes lit up. "Really? You're amazing! I knew you could do it. Can I bring her over tomorrow for you to take a look?"

"Not tomorrow. Easton is taking me to his hometown to go fishing. Yawn... I'm so sleepy. Don't bother me."

With that, Fairchild let out a huge yawn, and a second later, the sound of even breathing filled the room.

Janina stared in disbelief.

But the country roads were riddled with potholes. With every bump, Fairchild let out a blood-curdling shriek.

"Ouch, my back! Easton, you brat! This isn't fishing, it's torture!"

"Where are the green hills and clear waters you promised? All I see are fields!"

"And that lunch? Was that supposed to be fit for human consumption? When has a master physician like myself ever endured such hardship!"

Easton thought to himself, "Weren't you a beggar before? This is a lot better than the scraps you were living on."

But he didn't dare say a word. This man was a miracle worker, the savior of his parents. He had to be treated like a king.

The wretched roads made Fairchild's backside ache, and he yelled at Easton the entire way.

He didn't get to see any beautiful scenery, didn't catch any fish, didn't eat well, didn't have any fun, and was tormented by the motorcycle.

Finally, after Fairchild had exhausted his tirade, Easton just chuckled sheepishly. "Heh, let's just call it a... life experience."