A CHILD MADE TO ORDER: gripping psychological suspense

by Piotr Ryczko

  “This is Tony,” Magda barely whispered to Viola. And Viola noticed the woman’s tone was filled with reverence.

  As Magda sat on the bedside, Viola could see the woman’s face underwent yet another transformation. Her eyes brimmed with fear. Was she concerned for her dying patient? Or was there something else Viola failed to see? Something more at stake.

  “Contrary to everyone’s speculations about some kind of genetic experiment, Tony is living proof of what happens if you don’t do anything about mito-d. In Tony’s case, the abnormality of his nuclear mitochondria caused his Leigh disease.” Viola realised she couldn’t stand this anymore, no matter how sick this kid was, nor how flooded she was with pity, she had to get out of here. But before she could budge, Magda’s pleas whipped away at her again.

  “Please. He is sliding into irreversible mental decline. His central nervous system is slowly giving way. Causing vomiting, dysphagia, seizures. He’s been extraordinarily brave all these years, but now, he doesn’t even have a year.” Magda drew her fingers across the boy’s whitish skin, soothing his temples. Despite the apparent truth, Viola refused to believe any of it. It had to be fake, a road-side show, no matter how convincing the act. And the damned old woman just wouldn’t stop, she kept chipping away at Viola’s remnants of humanity.

  “He is the only reminder that if I leave things as they are, people just... die.”

  “You know what? I think you are serving me crap. Maybe it’s poetic crap, but nonetheless it smells and tastes like crap. And it certainly doesn’t make it alright that you milked those desperate women’s needs for your own research.” Viola spat out the accusation at Magda.

  “No Miss Voss. Yes, they are pioneers and I would be lying to you if I said there were no risks involved. But everything we’ve done with them was up front, clearly communicated to them, with their full acceptance, even if it meant staying here for two years under our supervision. That includes using the data collected from their cases for our own R&D lab.” Magda defended herself but Viola noticed the older woman was clearly losing her composure.

  “Come on! You can serve the bed time stories to those kids. But you can’t make me believe these women stayed here willingly for this long.” Viola said.

  “That’s exactly what I would have you believe. Given a choice between leaving and making themselves available for our observations, for their babies’ safety, every one of them accepted our offer.” Magda whipped back at Viola.

  “For fucks sake woman! Maybe you want a Noble prize for your exceptional effort in the field?”

  Magda’s composure almost broke under Viola’s provocation. She was about to reply with everything she had, but something held her back. Whatever it was, she took a breath, then another one, eyed Viola then proceeded to whisper back.

  “When I created this place, my stance was simple. I drew the line between cosmetic therapies and curing genetic diseases. I wanted to help women like you. But to my surprise, the commercial demand for preventing the hereditary diseases was practically zero. People didn’t want healthy kids. They wanted better versions of themselves. So, to stay financially afloat and develop the necessary know-how, I broke my own rules.”

  Viola looked into Magda’s eyes and for the first time something stirred inside her. She began to grasp how far Magda had gone with this place. This realisation twisted and churned inside her. She swept her eyes towards the bed, lingered on the boy’s barely heaving chest. Her eyes quivered with hesitation as the story was laid out in front of her.

  “And if I had to, I would do it again. For my son, Tony,” Magda whispered, letting out a barely audible sigh, and with it the secret that tainted everything she had done in her life. Gone was the defensiveness or the pretence of the CEO of this clinic. Left standing was a lone woman who had a dream, and somewhere along the road, she had lost sight of her ideals. And ultimately herself.

  * * *

  Magda shut the door behind her, sealing off Tony’s room. Silence permeated the air between them as they made their way down the hall.

  As Viola recollected Magda’s confession, she realised that her heart resisted being moved by emotion. It repelled anything that could generate empathy in her. Or at least pity for Magda and her Tony. Had Viola’s fight to keep away her own pain made her insensitive? Even to someone who shared a similar fate?

  After all, Magda’s tragedy was Viola’s past. All twenty years of it. But when Viola thought about this, this woman had gone much further. She had not only rearranged her personal life according to the laws of a crippling disease, but she had built this place in the hope of helping him and others like him.

  Not only that, but when confronted with a dead end, the end of funding for the research necessary to help Tony, Magda proceeded to do all the wrong things, for what she thought were the right reasons.

  For the first time since Magda had shared her secret, Magda’s eyes searched for contact with Viola. At first Viola was far from willing to return her gaze. But when their eyes finally met, something stirred in Viola. She shivered all over her body, finally moved by the circumstances that turned this woman’s life into a living hell.

  She saw an older woman who had burned down her whole life, and just like Viola, sacrificed everything for her kid. And what did life pay her back with? A dying son. And at that moment, Viola felt moved by the truth in Magda’s eyes.

  “What happens to him if this place shuts down?”

  “He could still walk a month ago. Then there was the chair and now he can barely get up from bed. Without the care we are able to give him here, his life span would be reduced to a few weeks. Best case scenario.” Magda shared this fact with her, and this time Viola didn’t question its validity. She didn’t need to because she had already made up her mind what she would do next.

  “If it were up to me, this story would never make it to print. Still, my silence won’t be enough here. Give me a day? Okay? I might have an idea how to fix things,” Viola said, and with her steadfast gaze, left no room for doubt that she was one hundred percent behind Magda.

  The older woman eyed Viola and wanted to know more, but instead just nodded, her face filled with gratitude.

  Chapter 40

  Morning

  Viola peered into Marianne’s room, and observed the woman punching away on her mobile phone. The blogger had obviously been more effective with the smuggling in of her phone. Marianne’s frantic typing was interspersed by constant checks to see if anyone was paying attention to her.

  Viola was sure of one thing: This would be far from easy. However mission-oriented Marianne wanted to appear, Viola had learnt the hard way what lay behind that fatuous country smile.

  When Marianne finally finished her task, she hid the phone under her bedsheets.

  As Viola entered the room, Marianne’s composure stiffened. But the blogger quickly covered it with a reassuring grin.

  “Dear, I’ve done some thinking. And you are right. This opportunity is unique. I will help you go public with this.”

  “You will? That’s just amazing, hon! I am so happy... but are you sure?” And it was quite obvious, despite the mistrust, that Marianne still played her role perfectly.

  Viola knew Marianne would not be swayed by her sudden friendliness. If anything, it would only make matters worse, and make her more suspicious.

  Viola’s mind raced for a solution. When Marianne had revealed her plan yesterday, she had uncovered a couple of crucial facts about herself. The most obvious one was that she not only distrusted Viola but also everyone else. How could she not, considering her life was built on the assumption that everything was a poker game? The only way to get ahead was by being the best hustler in the room.

  Yet, Marianne also revealed another fact about herself. She had constructed her whole life around one single thing. However warped it was, Marianne would stop at nothing to get into the limelight.

  * * *

  “I couldn’t be more sure. You know, I thought about you
and everything. I’ve been through hell. All my life. So I am a bit weary of people finding out about my condition. No. Not weary, terrified. So, I can imagine what you will be going through. And...” Viola allowed her voice to quiver with emotions. “And right now, I feel it’s as if I’ve let you down. And that feels as if I also let myself down. Do you see how much you mean to me? And the best I can give you is my support, because I think what you have done for others... that’s priceless. And I realise now that you and your children deserve to be at the centre of attention. Because you deserve to do more good.” Viola whispered the words with appreciation, and hugged Marianne to herself tightly.

  Slowly, she felt her words making a dent in Marianne’s armour. No. Actually, they did far more than that. They left a huge gaping hole that turned Marianne into a misty-eyed teenager dreaming of stardom.

  “Yeees! I knew you would come around. And just in time. I received my plan from my lawyer yesterday.” Marianne jumped up from her bed and fished out her mobile phone. Her reservation was gone now, replaced by a child-like belief that Viola was on her side.

  “Plan?”

  And as Marianne’s grin stretched her lips, Viola had the sensation that her problems were about to become a whole lot larger.

  “What do you think, silly? My business plan, of course.” Marianne shrugged her shoulders with the innocuousness of a schoolgirl, then proceeded to download the pdfs to her mobile.

  Noon

  Maybe she had schemed to use her mother, Stine, in order to get to Viola. To make her do exactly what she ultimately had done. This fact couldn’t be pushed away.

  Yet, despite her shortcomings, Marianne had gone through the same IVF hell that Viola had. The ups and lows of the ovarian stimulation, the hopes awakened then ground to smithereens after the endless shots of progesterone and oestrogen. And the two weeks of waiting for the final judgement.

  Over and over again.

  And if this experience had taught Viola anything at all, it was how unique life was. What a true gift it was, this tiny breathing organism, a true marvel of what life had to offer. It had made her realise what it means to be grateful for the thing in life which most women take for granted.

  With this mind-set, Viola simply failed to see how a business plan related to such an intimate matter as Marianne’s childlessness. Even for someone like Marianne, it would be quite a stretch.

  No.

  Viola repeated to herself, she had to have faith in people. And even more so in Marianne.

  * * *

  “Hello Dolly, you darlings!” Marianne hugged Viola close to herself and bared her bleached teeth for the selfie.

  In a matter of two hours, Viola found herself dragged through countless photo sessions. What was supposed to be humble memorabilia for the blogger’s future children, turned out to be selfies pumped up on PR-steroids.

  However hard Marianne tried to justify this to Viola, none of these shots seemed like cosy photos intended for the preservation of a family’s memories. But Marianne only chuckled this away, and pushed Viola on to the next task on her tight schedule.

  The blogger posed with a grin on her face. She posed with a solemn face. She posed exasperated. Marianne even managed to shower water all over herself to get what she called that sweaty momma look.

  And right now, as Marianne bared her stomach to her best ability, she told Viola to wait for her cue before she snapped the photo.

  Then she burst into tears. But when too few of them flowed, she began to grow impatient. She squeezed at her face as if this would alleviate the situation. But when it didn’t, she hit herself. Once, then twice. Her face twisted in pain. Then she waved to Viola, the cue for her to grab the pic.

  “Hello Dolly to you gals!” she whispered into the cell phone as tears trickled down her face.

  Early afternoon

  When they found themselves back at her room, Marianne aired a lot of questions. Each one more peculiar than the last. And every one of them twisted Viola’s insides even further into some freakish knot.

  Marianne questioned Viola about optimal schedules of the post-InviNordica time schedule. It seemed she had separated them into phases. Although Marianne didn’t share explicitly what was on her mind, it became apparent she had planned some kind of launch. But for what, and to what end?

  Then she pushed Viola for information about media reviews and the press. Clearly, this was why she needed Viola, the expert in her field, and now an accomplice. And as Viola let the young woman talk, making sure the girl got more than enough praise, Marianne’s mouth loosened and her boasting increased.

  Soon enough, Viola was holding Marianne’s mobile in her palms. Viola realised that it had a document with a clear timetable for her business stored on it. This included a complete marketing launch, media appearances, intended media outlets, a whole social media strategy with precisely chosen channels and partners. Also included were draft contracts for book, movie and TV rights.

  The specifications were endless, and as Viola’s trembling hands tapped on Marianne’s phone, her mind tried to take all of this in. Double-check, then triple-check if this was for real. But however hard she tried, she found nothing to tell her otherwise. Marianne had left nothing to chance.

  And as Viola glanced at Marianne, finishing the financial summary in her business plan, Viola noticed a tiny footprint, a copyright text that specified the plan’s conception date. Dating it back more than six years. About the time Marianne started up her blog.

  “This must be a mistake. This thing. It’s six years old?” Viola stuttered out the words, but even before she voiced them, the comprehension began to flood her mind.

  Viola had pushed this away for far too long, tried to soften Marianne’s character, attempted to explain away her shortcomings. But in the face of these facts, her heart ground to a halt.

  This young blogger had carefully planned this for over half a decade. And now Viola wasn’t sure anymore what came first: the blog with its noble intentions, or this plot. Maybe Marianne had this plan already in mind when she initiated her blogging activity. And her whole mission to be of support to the infertile community was a lie from the very first moment.

  “Oh. A mistake. Yes.” She smirked at Viola, and her cheeks bloomed yet again with an aura full of gratitude at Viola’s help. But this glance only made Viola’s body shudder.

  Yet one fact didn’t add up to Viola in all of this. Why had Marianne stayed in the clinic for so long? Why didn’t she just leave InviNordica when Tobias was born? That must have been the easiest and the most tempting solution. To cash in on her plan and fame as soon as Tobias came along. Instead, Marianne stayed around for another two years. Nothing about this woman’s plan seemed to be a coincidence and certainly not two years.

  “Ok. I see. So, Helen was a mistake as well? That’s why you waited around for two years. Just because of a mistake?” Viola prodded Marianne but didn’t have high expectations for any deeper truth from the young woman.

  “Viola! How could you say something like that? I am surprised by your lack of heart. Helen was never a mistake. I had her planned from the very beginning. Long before Tobias. There had to be two of them. Spaced apart at least two years from each other. It couldn’t be any other way. Don’t you get it? Silly!” Marianne cringed at the lack of understanding.

  Viola tried to wrap her mind around what the blogger was trying to tell her. Then it struck her, maybe there was hope for Marianne after all.

  “You stayed here to make sure Tobias was ok? You did this for him? Didn’t you?” Viola voiced her idea, and hoped this would be the case. Surely this could in some way redeem Marianne’s character.

  “Yes! Yes! You couldn’t be more right. This was the only way my plan would work, don’t you see that? I had to be sure he was ok. Just imagine what an idiot I would make of myself in the media if he turned out bad. But now that I am sure he is ok, I can proceed with Helen, you know.”

  “Everything for the media, right?”

/>   “No. No. Of course not. This was done for Helen’s safety.”

  “Right.” Viola went along with the blogger but her words were already tainted with sarcasm. The damage had irreversibly been done. Viola had pierced right through to the core of this woman. And at this realisation, Viola began to choke. She felt crushed by everything. As much as she had been taught to keep an open mind, she could not grasp this.

  Marianne’s conscience had more than six years to reflect on what she was doing, scream out how she was bludgeoning herself, and what she would be doing to her children. Wasn’t that enough time for some kind of wake-up call of the soul?

  Yet, nothing happened.

  Viola had seen it on so many occasions. People always had noble reasons to do horrible things. But this? To despise and abuse human life? One life brought into this world two years ago, and now another? All this just to make sure a plan was fool proof? This fact was simply irreconcilable within Viola.

  Her body reeled, swaying out of balance at the implications. If these children lived, Viola couldn’t fathom what kind of life they would have. A mother obsessed with glitzy stardom. A mum who had turned her kid into an efficient tool.

  What would happen when the fame faded, or even worse, when the mother realised the children failed to serve their purpose? And would the future teenagers see the absurdity of how they came to be, or comprehend that they existed only so their mother could attain her goals?

  Would they understand they were cursed from the beginning? Would they feel they were only a means to an end?

  Afternoon

  Marianne snuggled into Viola’s shoulder, and her face beamed with teenage excitement. By now, the blogger’s gaze was enamoured with Viola. Ready to destroy her life, and the life of her coming child.

  “I gotta give it to you. Just knock-out amazing. Everything.” Viola’s eagerness was forced, which Marianne failed to notice.

  “Just one more thing.” Viola halted Marianne and took out the girl’s phone from her own pocket, then shoved it into her face.