The Perfect Clone

by M. L. Stephens

  Always sleeping, or just lying in bed staring into the distance, Mary refused to talk to anyone. Donna tried amusing her with pop culture and world news during the day, while Igor read poetry to her at night before retiring to his room. Not once did Mary respond.

  One afternoon, as Donna was in the middle of a political tangent, Mary slowly turned her head and actually looked at the woman beside her. With a weak voice, a simple request was made, “I think I’d like a bath now.” The request was barely a whisper but it got her sister’s full attention.

  Donna jumped up from the bedside recliner and knelt down next to the bed. “Yes, let’s get you a bath.”

  Excited that Mary had broken the extended silence, Donna was ready to give her sister anything she wanted.

  After filling the tub with warm water, Donna helped her sister out of bed. Together they made the slow trek into the bathroom, neither of them saying a word. While helping her undress and positioning her in the tub, Donna excitedly broke the silence, “Can I get you a warm cup of tea?”

  Mary’s attempt at a smile was unsuccessful. “No. You’ve done so much already. But there is one favor I’d like to ask.”

  “Anything sis, you know that.”

  “I’d like to surprise Igor with a nice dinner. Would you help me make it?”

  “Don‘t be silly. I’ll take care of it. You just enjoy your soak. Let me run downstairs to see what food choices we have, then I’ll be back to help you out.”

  “Thank you, for everything.”

  “I’m just glad to have my sister back,” With that, Donna placed a kiss on Mary’s head and ran downstairs to call Igor. After sharing the news, she went about searching for something to cook, refusing to waste time by indulging in selfish tears.

  Remembering how much Mary used to love Caesar salad, Donna began pulling vegetables out of the fridge and then removed Tilapia filets from the freezer. Igor was usually too tired after work and never wanted to waste the time he could spend reading to Mary in the evening, so he rarely ate at home. The selection of food choices was slim.

  As soon as Igor got off the phone with his sister in law, he had his assistant cancel all remaining appointments for the day. He stopped to pick up a bouquet of flowers for his wife, then drove straight home. He’d thought this day would never come. He must have broken every speed limit between the clinic and home but no man or obstacle could stop him from getting to his wife.

  Just as Donna was about to return to Mary, Igor burst through the front door, hitting the stairs two at a time as he made his way to the master bedroom. Dropping the flowers on an empty bed he opened the door to the master bath. Standing naked and wet in the tub, with her soft black hair down to her waist, Mary was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Not caring or having a second thought, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her eyelids, her nose, and her cheeks. He kissed every inch of her beautiful face as tears ran down both their cheeks.

  Igor lifted Mary from the tub. His gaze held hers as he carried her to their bed. Forcing himself to be patient and not ravish her body in its weakened condition, he carefully helped her dress and then handed Mary the flowers. As gently as possible, Igor assisted his beloved wife down the stairs to the dinner table.

  Claiming she had errands to run, Donna hugged her sister and left, giving the couple privacy and much needed quality time.

  Igor found himself at a loss for words as he watched Mary push the food around on her plate. He was almost afraid to ruin the rare moment by asking or saying the wrong things. “I’ve missed you so much Mary.” Trying to disguise the tears in his voice he cleared his throat. “Are you feeling better?”

  A single tear slid from the corner of her weary eyes. “Nothing matters but this moment. Right here, right now. Please let that be enough.”

  With that, he reached across the table, placing his hand upon hers. Their eyes connected. The unspoken words and emotions that lay between them screamed volumes.

  With most of the dinner untouched, Igor carried Mary’s skeletal frame up the stairs and softly laid her on the bed. Placing just the feathering of a kiss on her cracked lips, he covered her with the burgundy duvet.

  Igor slowly crawled under the covers, hoping she wouldn’t turn him away. Offering him her back, Mary wrapped her body in the familiar bedding and quickly feel asleep.

  Having desperately missed lying next to her, and invigorated with thoughts of tomorrow‘s promise, Igor had remained awake for hours. Finally overcome by the deep hypnotic sound of her breathing, he’d fallen into the most satisfying sleep he’d had in years.

  Daylight beamed through the curtains, waking Igor from his nightly slumber. He stretched and smiled, remembering where he’d spent the night. He was back in his bed next to the woman he loved.

  Ready to start putting the shattered pieces of their lives back together he slipped from the room to make breakfast.

  Once in the kitchen, the usually precise doctor tripped over himself in his rush to locate a tray. After practically crawling inside the lower cabinets and bumping his head on the way out, he found the tray and loaded it down. Two cups of coffee, juice, fresh fruit, and whole wheat toast, would be the perfect way to begin their marital recovery. It was an opportunity to discuss where they’d go from here. He’d dreamt of this moment for so long. Please don’t let me mess this up, he thought.

  Carefully balancing the tray so that he didn’t spill anything, Igor headed back up the stairs and pushed the bedroom door open with his backside.

  “Room service,” he announced, hoping his voice portrayed the cheerfulness in his heart. Depositing the tray on his nightstand, he walked to the window and threw open the drapes. “Good morning sleepy head. I come bearing gifts.”

  Turning away from the window and walking toward the bed, he felt like an adolescent boy sneaking into his girlfriend’s bedroom window. The biggest smile he’d worn since his wedding night spread across his face.

  Mary, never fond of mornings, was still enveloped deep inside the covers. Sitting on the bed next to her, Igor eased the covers from her head… and froze.

  His wife’s beautiful white skin had turned to pale shades of gray. She was cold—ice cold. Igor jumped up from the bed. Two empty pill bottles lay on her night stand next to the glass of water he had gotten her after he‘d tucked her in. Grabbing them up in disbelief, he read the labels—Hydrocodone and Xanax.

  Quivers of shock, fear, grief, and a dozen other emotions caused him to shake uncontrollably.

  Check for a pulse—none. Call 911. Call Donna. Leave the room. Stay in the room. Straighten her hair. Touch her face. Kiss her face. Sit next to her. Don’t sit next to her. Hold her hand. Don’t hold her hand. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. Igor pulled Mary tightly against his chest, stroking the softness of her hair and breathing in its scent one last time. He’d always loved her hair. Tears flooded his vision as he rocked his Mary back and forth.

  He was unable to remember who pulled them apart or who he talked to or what was said. He was unable to remember how long he sat on the bed after the paramedics removed her body. He was only able to remember that she was gone forever. And all that was left was a note. One damned note!

  It was then that he had made the decision that put him where he was today. He went back to medical school and began to study in his current field.

  The pain of his loss acted as a driving force. He hadn’t truly realized how important it was for so many families to have children of their own, until he lost his Mary. Her suicide, always at the forefront of his thoughts, drove him to succeed. He never wanted anyone to suffer as Mary had; as he had.

  Unaware of the time that had passed a knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. The concern in his assistant’s voice was obvious even through the heavy wooden door.

  “Dr. Hamstein, I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s well past closing. Is there anything you need from me before I leave?”

  Sheila was the fifth assistant he’
d been through since starting his practice, but he was certain that she’d stick around. Her type ‘A’ personality, maturity, and attention to detail matched his own. He respected how she searched for ways to expedite lengthy processes without compromising details, and she always double checked her work. The assistant took her job as seriously as he took his. That spoke volumes about her character.

  “Thank you Sheila. That will be all. I’ll lock up when I leave. Enjoy your weekend.”

  Folding Mary’s note in on itself, he placed it back within the pages that had housed it since her death. Closing the small book, Igor walked over to the bookshelf. He filed the book, along with his memories, between a copy of Collected Poems by Robert Frost and Socratic Dialogues by Plato.

  He then made a decision that would change his life forever.

  Chapter 4

  Laura and Roger arrived in separate cars, just as the caterers pulled up. After directing the catering crew to the kitchen, Laura gingerly approached her father, hoping today wasn’t the day he’d forget her.

  Her father looked so handsome in the navy blue tailored suit she had laid out for the nurse to dress him in. Kneeling down, Laura placed a kiss on his cheek. His freshly shaven face felt smooth beneath her lips. Turning to face her, his eyes searched for recognition. Fear bubbled up in her throat.

  “That crazy lady over there told me that today is my birthday,” he accused, pointing toward the nurse. “We just had a birthday party for my daughter. She turned 25 yesterday. You should have been there, we had a wonderful time.”

  Lifting his arthritic knuckles, her father motioned the nurse to his side. “Please see that our guest gets refreshments. She’s such a pretty thing. The girl reminds me so much of my wife. Where is Helen?”

  Helen’s name lingered in the room. “Oh never mind, she’s probably tending to the other guests. Such a proper host my wife is. If you see her, please tell her that I need to talk with her. The car needs to be put in the shop.”

  He hadn’t driven in years and she was almost 28. Feeling a lump gather in her throat, Laura ran to the upstairs bathroom, wiping at the tears as they streamed down her face. This was it. It had finally happened. Her father had forgotten her. All the preparation in the world had not equipped her for this.

  Roger followed Laura upstairs and took her in his arms and held on tightly, until she was able to calm herself.

  “Why now? Why on this special day?” The words choked on the bile at the back of her throat.

  “Alzheimer doesn’t schedule days that work best for its victims Laura, you know that.”

  “I just wanted more time.” Laura plopped down on the toilet lid, covering her face with her hands in the hope that it would erase what had just happened.

  “More time to do what?” The sternness in his voice caused Laura to lift her head. She glared at him in disbelief. Laura opened her mouth to argue but nothing came out.

  Roger leaned against the bathroom counter and bent his head in frustration. A moment passed as two friends stood on the brink of helplessness.

  “Laura, you want more time to do what? Continue torturing yourself with worry, waiting for this day to happen? It’s happening. Right here, right now, on this day.”

  Turning to face the sink counter, he picked up the tissue box and handed it to her. “I know it’s not easy to hear, but you’ve got to pull yourself together for your father’s sake. He’s going to need you now more than ever. You’ll have time to worry about you, after he’s gone.”

  Laura blew her nose into the tissue. Roger had become her rock. He was sound, sturdy, and infuriatingly logical. Twisting the tissue back and forth between her fingers she could only nod her head up and down as their eyes remained locked in a battle of wills. Minutes passed. Sometimes words couldn’t serve the same justice to emotions that silence did.

  “You’re right. It’s time to put on the big girl panties and pretend to be the mountain of strength that I’m not.”

  “Who are you kidding?” Roger teased. “Your picture is in the dictionary next to the word, falsified strength.”

  A soggy giggle rumbled deep in Laura’s chest. Roger had a way of turning everything into an acceptable situation. “That’s two words Roger.”

  “Two words to describe one complicated moment in time. Remind me to send Webster an email.”

  “I’m not ready to lose him Roger. He’s the only family I have.”

  In a horrible theatric act of pain, Roger dabbed at his eyes and sniffled as if he were going to cry. “So what am I, chopped liver?”

  “No, you’re just a pathetic actor.”

  “Thank ya—thank ya very much,” Roger drawled out in his feeble attempt at an Elvis impersonation. “Besides, I can’t be too bad, you‘ve stopped crying.”

  Laura smiled. She could always count on Roger to cheer her up. “I must look horrible.”

  “You…look horrible? Never! You look slightly delusional maybe, but never horrible.”

  “Is my photo next to that word as well?”

  “Nope, that would be my photo. Stop trying to hog all the good words, would you?”

  That earned a hearty laugh. “I’ll remember you said it first. Ok, give me five minutes and I’ll be out to keep the party goers in line. Thank you, Roger.”

  He nodded his head in acknowledgement then turned the knob to let himself out. He walked into the hallway and softly closed the door as he left.

  Laura could hear the guests arriving downstairs. Sending up a quick ‘thank you’ to the creators of waterproof mascara, she dabbed the tears from her eyes, squared her shoulders, and walked away from the crime scene fully intact.

  Descending the stairs, she could hear Roger welcoming the guests.

  It was time to revert to what Cliff had always referred to as her award winning acting abilities.

  Reaching the front door to welcome the next guest, Laura’s sadness was forgotten. She squealed with teenage excitement. Of all the people that had been invited, he was the one she most hoped would come. She hadn’t seen him since before the accident.

  Uncle Richard wasn’t really her uncle, and was only eight years older than her. Having grown up around him as a child, Laura had given him the label as a sign of her affection.

  He was fluent in numerous languages and dialects. Because of his quick ability to learn and become fluent in new languages, her father had often teased him as being the reincarnation of Cardinal Giuseppe Messofanti.

  Messofanti was thought to be self-taught and fluent in over seventy-eight languages and dialects until his death in 1849. The things a girl could learn when growing up amongst scholars, she thought.

  Richard didn’t have the stereotypical physicality that most scientists and professors had. At 6’2, he was built like a professional wrestler and had the fashion sense of a GQ model. His outward appearance fooled the majority of people who unknowingly underestimated his brilliance.

  “Richard!” Laura threw herself against his broad chest, allowing him to wrap her up in a bear hug and swing her around. A greeting they’d grown accustomed to over the years. Some things never changed no matter how long you were apart or how old you were.

  “I’m glad you could make it. It seems like ages since I saw you. How have you been? Where have you been? What have you been up to?”

  “Slow down baby girl. There’s plenty of time for that. I came to see the old man.”

  Laura slipped back from the familiar embrace. Looking up at the man she‘d secretly loved since forever, she tried to find the words to explain her father’s latest diagnosis.

  A strong understanding hand landed squarely on her shoulder. Gently squeezing, Richard turned and walked into the living room. Maneuvering a chair directly in front of the older man, Richard took a seat and clasped his friend on the shoulder. “Hello, old friend.”

  “Who in the hell let you in?” Her father’s playful recognition of Richard, when he had forgotten her just moments ago, cut like a knife.

  �
�Some pretty lady that claims to be your daughter.”

  Laura covered her mouth, blinking back tears as her dad laughed aloud. Her father hadn’t laughed like that since the disease had taken hold.

  “I’ve told her not to let strangers in the house,” and with that, her father leaned forward and embraced his friend.

  Laura stole glances at the two men whenever possible as she played hostess to the guests. Their conversation seemed to flow without problems, agitation, or lag.

  As the hour grew late and the last guest was leaving, save Richard, Laura and Roger started cleaning up.

  Fortunately, she had served the guests on Chinaware, so dishwashing was left to a minimum as the caterers scooped up their personal belongings and left. With trash bag in hand, Roger made quick work of the plastic ware and carried the garbage out to the curb.

  Her father’s big yawn followed by a suggestive cough promptly set the in-house nurse reverently into action. She helped Laura’s father from his chair. After a long hand shake, coupled with a few firm pats on the back, Richard and her father said their goodnights.

  Laura awkwardly approached her father and placed a kiss on his cheek. His empty stare put her on the defensive. Holding back tears yet again, she wished him goodnight.

  As the nurse shuffled her ward toward his ground floor bedroom, he abruptly stopped and turned. “Good night, Laura. Your mother would have been proud. It was a wonderful party.”

  A strangled cry almost escaped. Laura blinked back a new round of tears and watched her father walk to his room.

  Wrapping hands around the back of her shoulders, Roger supported her until she found her balance. “You said that the doctor told you, that it’s hit and miss at this stage.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t make things easier. Thanks for being such a good friend, Roger. I couldn’t have managed without you.”

  “It was my pleasure.”