The Eve Genome

by Joanne Brothwell

  “I don’t know what to say.” My mother’s voice was quiet, like she was performing a stage whisper.

  Another scientist, a sixty-something man who had been introduced as Dr. Halan, spoke in a heavy Irish accent, “Many geneticists have always believed our race was derived from a single decedent, one that lived over two hundred thousand years ago. But up until today, we had no evidence to prove our theory.”

  Mom stared at the man, her eyes wide as saucers. My body felt mired to the chair.

  I finally spoke. “Are you saying… Analiese is...?”

  Dr. McGill grinned widely, with Dr. Halan and the rest of his colleagues mirroring his expression. Clearly this was something they were proud of. “We believe Analiese is a genetic throwback to this original hominid.”

  “Oh, my God.” My heart thumped so hard it felt like it was in my throat. “I don’t understand…”

  Someone cleared their throat. “Actually,” Dr. Bomer said, “We are considering the possibility that the mutation is an evolution into the original mitochondria.”

  “Although the likelihood of that is one in twenty billion,” Dr. Halan said, as if he was challenging Dr. Bomer.

  Dr. Bomer was unfazed. “There are seven billion people on the planet, Dr. Halan.”

  “Highly implausible,” was Dr. Halan’s response. Were they actually having an argument in front of us?

  Dr. Bomer returned his focus to me and my mother. “There is some debate within the scientific community, that the maximum energy potential was much stronger in the original mitochondrion. A theory we would like to test out.”

  “The Endosymbiotic Theory is highly disputed,” Dr. Halan added.

  Dr. Bomer ignored this comment altogether, his lips pinched together. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  “We’ll need to keep Analiese’s body here for a period of time so we can administer all of the appropriate tests. We’ll document our findings, as I’m sure you can appreciate.” Dr. McGill gave mom a perfunctory smile and then addressed me directly. “But I’m also aware that you, Adriana, also have the atypical blood type.”

  “That’s correct.” The words that came out of my mouth were stiff, bordering on defensive. But I had nothing to be defensive about, did I? My body felt stiff as a board.

  “Are Analiese and Adriana your biological children, Ms. Sinclair?” McGill asked.

  “Yes, they are.”

  “We would like to contact the biological father,” Dr. McGill said.

  Mom glanced at me, her eyes wide. “I can supply you with that information. Why do you need it?”

  Dr. McGill glanced at the other scientists. “Homozygous, or recessive traits, are typically inherited when both parents are carriers of the traits. Their father and you would both be carriers of recessive traits.”

  I thought about dad, and how his colouring, his body shape and his facial structure—

  blonde, brown-eyed, and six-foot-four—was nothing like me, mom and Analiese. I realized there was a heavy silence hanging over the room. Mom’s complete lack of response was very curious to say the least. I examined her widened eyes, the whites flashing. She only ever looked like this when she was truly afraid. The first time I’d seen her look like this was when she and Dad had a fight and he left. The first of many times he left us. Until he finally left for good.

  “We would like to invite you, Adriana, and your mother and father to stay here at our lab so we can run some simultaneous tests on you and your sister. It’s not that often we have the opportunity to cross-analyze with genetically identical twins.” Dr. Halan smiled widely.

  “Oh?” I said. I glanced at mom whose eyes were completely round now, like saucers.

  “Our studies on you, Carla, and Adriana’s father would be relatively short, and could be conducted at a distance, in your home city, if necessary, but,” Dr. McGill, his expression placid, continued, “Adriana, we’d like you to stay a bit longer. In the field of genetics, it is not uncommon to find genetic anomalies in the human population. But it is rare for the anomaly to be in identical twins. We are requesting you consider participating in some standard testing. For the purpose of scientific advancement, of course. We would like you to stay and become part of history.”

  “How long would that take?” I asked.

  “Good question.” Dr. McGill glanced around the room and down at Analiese’s file. “Perhaps one week, maximum, two.”

  “I’m in college. I don’t know if I can afford to miss two weeks of classes. Besides, where would I stay?” I asked.

  “I’m certain the University would be a willing participant in this research effort. We’ve made arrangements like this before. We will request your assignments, class notes and assigned readings during your stay with us. We can even moderate any quizzes or exams, if necessary.” McGill’s eyes looked bright, as if he took my question as a sign that I was softening to the idea. “And we have all of our participants stay at an adjacent residence, attached to the main building. The accommodations are luxurious, and,” he smiled, “The food is excellent.”

  “Okay, I suppose I could stay—”

  Suddenly Mom stood up, her abrupt movement catching all eyes at the table. “Absolutely not. You’ve already interfered with my family too much. Bringing Analiese’s body here and doing tests on her without even consulting me or her father is completely unacceptable. It’s an invasion of privacy and a breach of her constitutional rights as a citizen, not to mention unprofessional conduct toward me and her father. And now you expect my only remaining daughter to become your guinea pig, after how we’ve been treated?”

  “Mom.” I stared at her. What happened to her manners? Clearly they all disappeared the day Analiese died. “What they’re asking me, it’s perfectly reasonable. Why are you opposing this?”

  “No. This is unacceptable.” Mom shook her head. Back and forth, back and forth. Her heavily hair sprayed bob hardly moved.

  Dr. McGill remained seated and leaned back in his chair. His colleagues sat motionless, some expressionless, others frowning. “Ms. Sinclair, our institute has acted in accordance with the laws of our country and the ethics of all governing bodies.”

  I could hardly believe what I was seeing—mom’s skin blotchy and red, her eyes wild. “I don’t care. This is my daughter we’re talking about.”

  “Mom. I think you’re overreacting here—”

  She turned to me, and the way she looked stopped the words from exiting my mouth. Her aqua eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, her lips quivering. “Come on. We’re leaving before they decide they can keep you here against your will.”

  Dr. Bomer stood up. “Mrs. Sinclair. Please consider the wonderful contribution our research could make to medical science. Your daughter may just lead to the greatest medical and genetic breakthrough yet. We are not asking she stay here indefinitely. We simply would like her to stay a few weeks.”

  I startled when mom grabbed my arm with an iron fist. Like in the haze of a strange, vivid dream I followed her out of the room, only having enough time to cast a passing glance back at the scientists sitting around the table.

  “Mom,” I said under my breath.

  Every one of the scientists had the same furrowed-brow look, including Dr. McGill.

  “Hush,” Mom commanded. Her voice had a familiar tone from my childhood, a tone that said, don’t say another damn word.

  “You are taking this out of context, Ms. Sinclair. We are only interested in what we can learn from your daughter’s passing.” McGill said as we exited the room. “Adriana, if you change your mind, you know where we are. I beg you to consider our request.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my mother dragging me along. “Sorry about this.”

  We left the building, my mother tugging my arm the entire way. She pulled me along the corridor, into the elevator, and through the foyer. Once we were outside the heavy glass doors, I spoke. “What the hell was that ab
out?” I demanded.

  She glanced around, as if scanning for a hidden camera. Was she going crazy? Having some kind of paranoid delusion after Analiese’s death? I’d heard of intense stress causing psychotic episodes in people, but I’d never seen any sign of mental illness in Mom before.

  “We’re not talking about this. Not now. Not here,” Mom said.

  “Why not?” I asked. “Please don’t go all crazy paranoid on me, here, Mom.”

  Mom snapped. “I told you I’m not talking about it here! Do you understand?”

  I’d never in my life seen her look so unhinged. We returned to the hotel, her avoiding making eye contact, me peppering her with questions she refused to answer, my volume growing with each rebuke. All I got was a variation of the same vague response: I wasn’t comfortable with what they were asking of you. I seethed in response to her silence, with little effect. In bed, I tossed and turned and my mind raced as I listened to my mother’s heavy snore beside me. Fuck.

  The next morning, on our flight home, mom was twitchy and jumpy, like we were under constant surveillance. Big brother over her shoulder. Maybe the government is tuned into our radio channel, mom, to pick up our brainwaves. All she was missing was the tin foil hat. I continued to ask questions with increased frustration, her continually evading me, until she finally muttered between gritted teeth, Don’t ask me until we are at home.

  I sat there, eyes closed, my outer body the perfect image of calm, hiding the turbulence inside of me.

  It wasn’t until we were safely inside her house that Mom looked like she actually inhaled a full breath.

  “You can’t put me off any longer. Jesus, there’s no one here, listening to us or taping our conversation, all right?” Jet-lagged and emotionally disturbed by her behavior, I had more than lost my patience.

  Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. “I’m not putting you off.”

  “Absolutely, you are! Answer my question! Do you have an extra rib, mom?”

  “No.”

  “Have you had your blood typed? Do you have the same blood type Analiese and I have?”

  Mom’s expression darkened. “No, I don’t. I’m O-negative.”

  “Why do I feel like there is something you’re not saying? Or something you’re afraid to say?” I stepped toward her and she moved back like I had a contagious disease.

  Her mouth dropped open and she sat down on a kitchen chair. Then her mouth clamped shut and her eyes narrowed. “Adriana, this is serious. I don’t think you realize just how serious this is.”

  “So serious you think NHGRI is going to use me like a lab rat?” I said. “So serious that you think people are lurking around every corner, listening to us, bugging our phone? Come on. You’re losing it.”

  “Stop it, Adriana.”

  I threw my hands in the air and cursed. “I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Why can’t you tell me what you know?”

  Mom shook her head and ran her hands through her hair. “They took Analiese’s body without our permission, which is bad enough, but when they said it was all done legally, that’s when I realized you could be forced to stay at the lab, even if you don’t want to.”

  “I gathered that from what you said to them.” I paused. “But Mom, if they insisted, I would go, because obviously, it would be for an important reason.”

  Mom let out an odd chuckle. “Important to them, sure. Make you into a guinea pig to run tests and experiments so they can get their kicks. Meanwhile, your quality of life disappears.”

  “That’s a little conspiratorial, isn’t it?” I tried to hide the sick feeling I felt inside. Her mental health status was far worse than I’d estimated. “Besides, they said two weeks. That’s hardly going to affect my quality of life.”

  Mom’s eyes widened. “You think I’m exaggerating? I know what loopholes the government has so they can get around the constitution. I know they can take you against your will if they want, they can suspend your rights if they deem it necessary and imprison you in a lab until they’re damn good and satisfied.”

  My head throbbed and my hands fisted. “Okay…?”

  Mom’s lips pursed as she examined my face. “As a child, I remember rumblings in the family, things said in hushed tones between family members. They thought I was out of earshot, but I heard. Something about someone’s blood. Our family has secrets.”

  Silence filled the air between us, heavy and still. Secrets? Finally, she was talking.

  “Can you find out?” Tears stung at the back of my eyes at the thought of it. If those secrets had been out in the open, could Analiese’s death been prevented?

  As if reading my mind, she nodded. “I’ll try. In the meantime, can you please just… go back to college, go to class, blend in, pretend everything is normal, okay? Give me two days, and I’ll dig around. I’ll find us some answers.”

  Mutation:

  A relatively permanent change in hereditary material involving either a physical change in chromosome relations or a biochemical change in the codons that make up genes.

  -Merriam-Webster Dictionary

  CHAPTER THREE

  KALAN KANE

  I sat across the aisle from the gorgeous girl, looking out of the corner of my eye, furtive glances, trying not to be noticed. There was something about her that was hard to put into words, an energy that practically pulsed off of her. She hadn’t even said a word, and yet I couldn’t keep myself from staring. I was like a dog, watching my master’s every move, waiting for some small gesture. Some small acknowledgement of my existence. I forced myself to turn in my seat so I wouldn’t be tempted to stare at her. I didn’t need to send her the creep vibe before I’d even met her. And that was the ultimate goal.

  Sitting through a Biochemistry lab wasn’t something I was overly excited about, but I knew it was the only way I’d be able to see her up close. In fact, Stonewood, the small, relatively isolated university town right in the middle of a densely forested area, was one of the last places on my list of locations to move to. But here I was, all because of this girl, whose sister’s death was in the paper, the headline reading, ‘Patient with atypical blood type dies from botched blood transfusion.’

  She leaned down from her lab stool and rummaged through her backpack until she touched the object she was in search of. She withdrew her hand from the pack to reveal a shiny red apple. Without hesitation, her lush lips pulled back and she bit down on the crimson skin, her incisors slicing through to the juicy flesh beneath. The familiar crunch echoed through the lab followed by the crisp, sweet scent that took me back to my childhood lunchroom.

  I evaluated her features. She had at least one of the classic markers I was hoping she had. In fact, those teal green eyes of hers could be noticed halfway across the room. Even though she already had her lab coat on, it was obvious she also had a great rack. More than a handful, for sure. Get your mind out of the gutter.

  The girl continued to chomp her fruit as she prepared her lab table. She adjusted her Bunsen burner so it sat directly in front of her, set her safety goggles to her right, and the evaporating dish and an Erlenmeyer flask to her left.

  Judging by the numerous guys twisting at their desks, I wasn’t the only one looking at her, either. A guy around her age sat in the next aisle over, not even trying to hide his kicked-puppy stare. She glanced over at him and he said hi. Then I heard her voice for the first time.

  “Derek.” Her voice sounded as if her throat was pinched. Was there history between these two? Or was her voice like this on account that she had just lost her sister?

  Derek’s hound-dog expression transformed. “Hi. Look, we need to talk.”

  Her silky black hair swayed across her back as she spoke. A funny sound came from her mouth, like a stifled sob. “No, Derek, we don’t. There is nothing we need to say to each other.”

  “I don’t agree,” Derek said. His expression was stricken. “I heard you went to
Maryland. Why were you there?”

  Adriana’s eyes grew wet and the colour went from teal to a deep turquoise. “They took Analiese’s body to the National Human Genome Research Institute,” Adriana said in a tight voice. She no longer held back her tears and one zigzagged down her cheek in an inky streak.

  My heart rate spiked. Obviously this was the girl. And the news article I’d read about the atypical blood was, in fact, her sister, and if her sister had some genetic quirks… perhaps Adriana did, too?

  Derek’s eyebrows crinkled in the middle. “Why?”

  Adriana’s expression changed, grew… twitchy. She surveyed the entire room, and then did a double take. What was she looking for?

  “She and I have a weird blood type.”

  “Geez, I wish I could have been there for you.” Derek said, his expression sympathetic in a greasy way. “I’m sorry. I’m so… sorry.”

  Adriana’s head tilted forward so her hair cascaded over-the-top of her desk like hundreds of long black ribbons. She shook her head. “Don’t.”

  I wished I could have seen her face at that moment.

  Derek’s expression returned immediately to that of undisguised pain, his mouth pursed into a tight, flat line. He put his head down on his arms atop his desk. Adriana turned in her seat, her back to him, her expression dark, her arms folded across her chest.

  Then a couple walked in, chatting loudly, both smiling at Adriana. The woman was petite with highlighted hair and dark skin, her exotic bone structure and almond eyes making me immediately think she was from the Phillipines. She took a seat in front of me, and the guy, a blond with orange pants and orange shirt, sat down across the aisle so he was sitting in front of Adriana. It was obvious they were not a couple, the way they sat apart.