by Kira Peikoff
“Perfect. Four of them are growing according to plan. We lost one overnight to the stress of the procedure, but the others are stable. And we only need one, so I’m not worried.”
“Good,” Dr. Ericson said. “So let’s get down to business. I want us to get all the details straight.”
Sam smiled. He had always liked the doctor, a man who got right to the point and never worried if he was too abrupt.
Arianna wheeled herself between Sam and Emily, who picked up her hand and squeezed it.
“This is so exciting,” Emily whispered.
Sam wrung his hands under the table. “Bottom line is that the cells should drain intravenously into her spinal cord between vertebrates four and five.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Dr. Ericson agreed.
“So a lumbar puncture, then,” Arianna said. “How long do you think it will take?”
“Well, we’ll have to put the whole solution containing the cells into a sterile bag and let it drain,” Sam said. He looked at the doctor. “What do you think?”
Dr. Ericson was nodding. “We’ll have to make sure to squeeze the bag very gently, so as not to increase the pressure in her spinal cord too quickly.” He looked meaningfully at Arianna, who was already wincing.
“I know,” she said. “I’m going to wind up with the migraine of my life.”
“How come?” Emily asked.
“The change in pressure. But that’s fine—trust me, I’m not complaining.”
“So how long do you think it’ll take?” Sam asked.
Dr. Ericson considered. “How many milliliters?”
“About three hundred,” Sam said.
“Then the bag should take about forty-five minutes to drain. I’ll have to hold the needle completely steady in her spine.” He held up his hands so they were level with his nose. “No shaking yet,” he noted proudly.
“I would hope not,” Sam said. “So what’s the plan, then?”
“Come to the clinic Friday night, and we’ll funnel the solution into the bag and set up the rest of the equipment before Arianna gets there.”
“Fine.”
“What about anesthesia?” Emily asked.
Sam looked at Arianna, who was spreading cream cheese on a bagel as if she had not a care in the world. “I don’t know what effect that would have on the cells,” he said.
“It’s fine.” She barely hesitated. “I can deal.”
“We can have it on reserve if you decide you really need it,” Dr. Ericson offered. “It should be safe to use an IV sedative at least.”
“Okay,” she said. “But pain isn’t the worst thing ever.”
“Technically, they’re your own cells,” Sam pointed out. “So I wouldn’t expect any bad reactions, would you?”
Dr. Ericson shook his head. “But we are moving into uncharted territory.”
“I think we’re pretty much in it,” Emily said.
Arianna smiled at her. “In the best way possible.”
“So you’re not scared?” With her girlish sloped nose and widened eyes, Emily looked much younger than mid-forties. Sam wondered how much younger he looked than sixty-seven.
“Honestly? Not in the least.” Arianna chuckled at Emily’s surprise. “Okay, maybe slightly. But it’s the kind of fear you get when you’re climbing a roller coaster. A fun fear, if that makes sense.”
“An anticipation,” Sam clarified. “Of something dangerously thrilling to come.”
“Exactly.”
He thought: I know just what you mean.
* * *
When the meeting was over, and everyone had cleared the table and placed their dishes in the dishwasher, the pummeling in Sam’s chest signaled what was near. The Ericsons were saying good-bye, walking toward the door and wishing Arianna a restful weekend. Sam lingered behind them, dawdling in the kitchen just to the right of the foyer, with a hand in his pocket. He fingered the edge of the paper folded there.
“You guys go ahead,” Sam called as Emily held the door open for him. He wished he could think of a convincing reason to stay behind, instead of nervously waving.
Emily shrugged and waved, and then the door closed. Arianna reached up above the doorknob to lock the bolt, and it clicked loudly into place.
They were alone.
She turned her wheelchair around to face him. “What’s up?”
Sam sat back down in one of the kitchen chairs and motioned for her to come over.
How do I do this? he thought, panicking. Hadn’t he rehearsed this moment all of last night? Hadn’t he lost sleep over it, imagining exactly what he would say?
“Are you still hungry?” she asked, wheeling up in front of him. “I have a lot more food you could take.”
“No, thanks, I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted a moment with you.”
She nodded as if she understood. “I’m glad.”
“You are?”
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about something that happened a while ago between us. It was kind of an unspoken thing, and I was planning to talk to you about it, but then we got so distracted—”
“Yes,” he interrupted. “I think I know what you’re talking about.” His heart raged against his rib cage. In the lab, that look they had shared, loaded with meaning— Now, finally, she was acknowledging it.…
She sighed. “So it’s bothering you, too? I should have talked to you about it sooner. I knew you were mad at me and I just ignored it until it seemed like you were over it, and that was wrong of me. So I’m sorry. And I never apologized properly for upsetting you either.”
Sam frowned, feeling disoriented. He saw her lips moving and her remorseful expression, heard the strange words that pelted his eardrums. When was he mad? And then he understood. This was not about them; it was about the outsider who had invaded his lab and her heart, and in doing so, threatened all that Sam held dear.
He grimaced, not trusting his voice. In his pocket, his hand closed tightly around the folded piece of paper; its edge pierced his skin, a thin but stinging blade.
“I’m sorry I didn’t consult with you before I took him there,” Arianna continued. “It was impulsive and potentially dangerous, and I admit that. I guess I got so swept away by how badly I wanted to show him that I didn’t think of you or Patrick or Ian, and how you guys would feel about it. I should have shown you more consideration.”
Sam nodded. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and noticed tiny beads of blood across his palm.
“Are you still mad?” she asked. Worry spread across her face, rendering it even more innocent, and more lovely.
“Not anymore,” he said.
“I should have apologized a lot earlier.”
“Probably.”
She bit her lip. “Better late than never, right?”
“Yeah.” Sam paused. “So how are things going with him?”
She ventured to smile. “Amazing. He’s so supportive. I don’t think I could ask for more.”
Sam glanced behind her at the front door. It had never looked so welcome; and yet, he glanced back into her dark blue eyes, compelled by a savage impulse to watch the end of the crash, the final horrific moment of combustion.
“Do you love him?”
Eagerness crept into her smile—there was no mistaking such a look, one that Sam knew well from his days of teaching: It was the recognition of an easy question.
“Definitely,” she said.
He felt strangely detached, as if he were following a script written as punishment for his foolishness.
“Good,” he murmured. “I want you to be happy.”
It was the gut-shredding truth.
She grabbed one of his hands with both of hers. “Oh, Sam, I’m so glad you feel that way! I was worried you didn’t approve, and your opinion means the world to me. I’ve always felt…” She looked down, smiling almost shyly. “Well, that you’re like a second father to me. I know you hate being sentimental, but it’s true. Even beyon
d saving my life, which is—well, there are no words for that … but I’m so lucky just to have you in my life. I see us as family, don’t you?”
Sam nodded, smiling at the sheer irony of his idiocy.
“And, I know this is impossible, but if there is anything I could ever do to repay you at all, you have to tell me.” She shook her head, looking stunned. “I still can’t believe it. And beyond me, what this could mean for so many more people … You should be all over the news right now! Like the next Pasteur!”
“Galileo’s more like it,” he muttered.
“Except you’re not under any kind of arrest.”
“No. But if I were, it would be by the same people.”
She shivered. “Scary.”
“It’s goddamn infuriating is what it is.”
“We ought to find a way to tell the world what you’ve done.”
He nodded, though glory was the furthest thing from his mind.
“But, hey,” she said, “what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Oh, we already covered it.”
“So you also wanted to get that off your chest?”
“Yep.”
“I’m honestly surprised you stayed behind to talk about it,” she said, throwing him a teasing look. “But I’m glad you did. It’s so much better to clear the air.”
“Yeah. I should be getting back to the lab.” Sam rose, letting go of her hands.
“Okay. And call me if you need or want anything. I can have someone bring stuff to you.”
“Thanks.” He thought: I’d rather starve than have your boyfriend visit me again. He walked to the front door, careful not to rush.
“See you soon,” she called from the kitchen.
He could not bear to turn back around and see her radiant face. But he did it anyway, smiling. And then he was out the door, alone in the quiet sanctuary of the hall. His face began to burn, as repressed shame flowed upward. All he wanted was to escape this building that housed the truth—now so painfully obvious, like a hidden blister exploded upon chafing.
He hurried out of the building. The folded paper crinkled against his right thigh, but he ignored it, refusing to acknowledge any reminder of his folly. Outside, the cool air felt moist, as if the gray sky was preparing to shed its clouds. He stood on the corner, with one limp arm raised, until a cab pulled up. Once he settled into it, he craved something to dull his mind: the sting of vodka or the warmth of whiskey or even just the relief of a cigarette.
By the time the cab dropped him at Avenue C and Tenth Street, it had begun to rain, and he sprinted, groaning, to the alley. Bolts of pain shot through his lower back. He reached the threshold, looked all around the desolate street, and then headed into the alley. Puddles of muck were lapping up raindrops and oozing outward in all directions. He could hardly avoid them as he rushed to the concrete stairs, then down the short flight and to the steel door. He fumbled with his keys before unlocking all three bolts and then bursting inside, pulling the door shut behind him.
Cool droplets slid down his forehead as he caught his breath. He looked down; the cuffs of his jeans were soaked. He had no choice but to take them off. After tossing his keys onto the cot, he removed his cell phone from his left pocket and his wallet from his back one, and threw those onto the cot as well. When he crouched down to untie his sneakers, he felt the folded paper stiffen against his thigh. Exhaling, he stood back up and looked around the familiar room that had become his home. The microscopes waited loyally on the counter; the incubator and freezer hummed; the cot and flannel blanket promised warmth, if not comfort. Here, at least, he was guaranteed total privacy, however poor a consolation.
He hesitated. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the rectangle of paper. He knew he could simply toss it into the wastebasket under the counter and never look at it again. But some masochistic force drove him to unfold the page, to read the words he had written, if only for the sick pleasure of seeing exactly what humiliation he had avoided:
January 21, 2028
Dear Arianna,
I hope this is the last weekend of your life that you have to suffer. You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to watch you get sicker these past few months. But what happened today will change everything—of course it’s unknown, but I have every reason to believe that it will work. Theoretically, it’s perfect. I can’t wait for this week to pass. And when it does, you’ll be the bravest patient your clinic has ever seen. All I want is for you to live, Arianna. The world can’t afford to lose you.
You have no idea what you saved me from when you showed up at my apartment all those months ago. I hate to think what would have happened to me if you hadn’t come. That day, I think we made each other’s wildest hopes come true. And then I started to see you as the woman you are, and not just as a former student who needed my help. Why do you think I could never imagine quitting like the others? I know you’ve never seen this side of me. I bet you’re surprised. Well, so am I.
It’s funny sometimes how life works. When I thought everything was over for me, you found me, you breathed life back into me, and now I will do the same to you. Maybe one day we’ll walk in the park together, hand in hand, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Forgive me for this fantasy, if that’s all it is, but I’ve had stranger dreams come true. You might agree that it is audacious to fantasize about something against all odds, but I know you of all people can sympathize with the joy—and the horror—of our kind of hope. The kind that drives you mad and keeps you up and keeps you going.
Together, Arianna, we are pioneers. Eventually, I think we’ll be united in history’s eyes, like Lewis and Clark, or Watson and Crick. And none will know the truth between our names except for you and me; the truth I would take to my grave, were it not for the tiniest chance that you might feel the same. For the truth is this: I love you.
Yours, always,
Sam
Sam stared, unblinking, at the scribbled piece of paper in his hand. The words were as embarrassingly honest as he had ever been with himself, let alone with her. He cringed, feeling his soul curl up on itself.
In one swift movement, he crumpled the page into a ball and hurled it into the wastebasket.
EIGHTEEN
On Saturday morning, Dopp rushed down the sidewalk to the office. The streets in Midtown were much less crowded than he had ever seen, and for once, he was able to keep up his natural pace. He wore a beige trench coat and boots, and kept one hand ready on the handle of his umbrella. Dark clouds portended a storm at any moment. There was a certain piece of paper in his briefcase that he had worked hard to obtain, but his briefcase would protect it from rain.
All his trouble was going to be worth it. He could feel it. Even though Abby had cried when he left the house this morning and Joanie was furious with him. With a cringe, he recalled her stomping into the computer room late last night. Her eight-months-pregnant belly had entered the room a foot ahead of her. Luckily, he had just hung up the phone.
“Gideon,” she whined. “When are you coming to bed? It’s eleven thirty!”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Just give me a few more minutes.”
“You have to let go of work! It’s too much!”
He had sighed. “Look, try not to get too upset, honey. But it looks like I’ll have to stay in the city for a little while. I just got off the phone with the hotel.” He held up a hand at her scowl. “I’m sorry it has to come to this. But I need to do everything I can right now.”
She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat and rubbed her protruding stomach. “You’ve got to be joking.”
Dopp shook his head. “I’m doing this for us. If I lose my job, then what would we do?”
“How long is a little while?”
“Maybe just a day. I don’t know. As long as it takes.”
“I can’t believe this! How do you expect me to manage the kids alone when the doctor said I’m barely supposed to get out of bed?�
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“We’ll call your mother. No, I’ll call her and arrange it. Just go back to bed and relax. I love you.”
Joanie shook her head, muttering under her breath as she turned around.
“What’d you say?” Dopp asked. He watched her trudge down the hall, planting heavy steps, one hand on her lower back.
“This better be worth it,” she seethed over her shoulder.
He thought of those words now as he rushed inside the sleek black skyscraper that housed the department’s headquarters. Windra had told him the same thing: This better be worth it. But it would be, since God was in control. He always came through, and always had a wise reason for Dopp’s struggles in the meantime. Besides, the fact that Dopp had been able to secure permission from Windra’s judge friend on such short notice was a clear sign of the Lord’s cooperation.
When Dopp walked into the appointed meeting room, he saw that Trent, Inspector Banks, and Jed were already waiting for him at the rectangular table, wearing ties and black suits as if it were a normal workday. They stopped chatting as soon as he came in.
“Good morning,” he said, nodding. “I’m glad to see you’re all on time.”
They chimed hello, a bit stiffly, Dopp thought. But it was early on a Saturday. He took off his coat and sat at the head of the table, with his briefcase at his feet. Trent was sitting on his left, Banks and Jed on his right.
“So you’re probably all wondering why you’re here,” he said. “As I told Trent last night, some critical changes are starting today. For you, there’s good news and bad news. So which do you want to hear first?”
“The bad,” Banks mumbled. Jed and Trent nodded, looking anxious. Trent fiddled with a rubber band on the table, rolling and unrolling it with his thumb and forefinger. Better to give it to them straight, Dopp thought.
“You’re all going to start working real overtime. And I’m talking overnight.” He turned to look at the two surprised men on his right. “You two are going to switch overnight shifts, monitoring Arianna’s apartment building outside, in an unmarked car. I know it sounds painful, so you’re going to cut back your day shifts to just a few hours so you have time to sleep during the day. I’ll have another inspector monitor her at her clinic full-time starting Monday. But starting today, we can’t let her out of range.”
