by Anson Barber
“If I was fully human? Paralysis. But in my condition I doubt it would last.”
“I can’t! I’m sorry. Let’s call your dad.”
“My dad hasn’t done an LP since I was a baby, and I doubt his hands are as steady as yours. You can do this. It’s really not that difficult.”
“Then why do doctors get paid thousands of dollars to do it after going to school for so many years?” I pressed.
She tried a new strategy after she saw pushing me wasn’t working. She ran her hands up my chest and around my neck, pulling me down to her cool lips.
“Please, Dillon? I’m asking you for your help. I need you. I might be onto something and I can’t do this without you. Please.”
No fair. “I don’t know, Em,” I faltered and she smiled, knowing she’d got me.
“There are over three hundred thousand people at the Outer Banks hoping right now, Dillon. Millions around the world. You can do this for them. Do it for Corey.”
I sighed in defeat. “Tell me exactly what I need to do and we’ll see.” I left myself an out in case it was too much. This wasn’t like changing a car’s oil.
She drew a spine on the white board.
“Can you see my vertebra?” She asked as she pulled off her shirt and faced away from me.
“Yes, Em. I think I can.” I winced. I ran my finger gently down the lumps in her back. Vertebra.
“Good. Then you can count them easier. Feel this one up here and start counting down,” she instructed and then pointed at the diagram. “Put an X between those two. That’s where you’re aiming.”
“Ugh.” I felt woozy.
“Let’s wash up and prep the area,” she continued while ignoring my resistance. I wasn’t going to get out of it.
She gave me a kiss before crawling up on the table and curling up in a ball on her side, stretching her spine out.
“You’re going to put your finger just under the X and use that as a guide to slide the needle in. If you meet something hard that’s bone and you’re not in the right place. You’ll need to try again.”
“Em…” I began.
“You can do this. I need you. Please just jab that big needle into my back. Do it with some force behind it.” She laughed, actually laughed.
“Are you ready?” My voice cracked.
“Yeah. You don’t need to go far. Just two to three inches.”
“All right. On the count of three—”
“Please don’t count. Just do it when you’re comfortable.”
“Um, that would be never.”
“Do it when you’re ready.”
I sighed and jabbed the needle in. It slid in easier than expected and I didn’t encounter anything hard. I must have done it.
“I’m in, I guess.”
“Now steadily pull back on the syringe until you’ve extracted about six milliliters.”
“What the hell is a milliliter?” This was America, not Europe dammit!
“Do you see a six on the syringe?”
“Yeah.”
“To there.”
“Ah. Okay.” I calmed down and pulled back on the plunger while being careful to not move the needle.
I had some expectations. I knew spinal fluid was clear. At least on TV. Those expectations were shattered when the fluid started to collect in the syringe.
Black.
I took a deep breath. Emery noticed.
“What is it?” She moved slightly.
“For the love of God, Em! Don’t move!”
She froze and I continued drawling up to the six.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Pull it out gently and then use the cotton ball and the bandage to cover the spot.”
I removed the needle even as she spoke, wanting it out of her as quickly as possible.
“All done. And can I just say, I always thought playing doctor would be more fun than that.” With the bandage now in place I patted her butt.
She rolled over and laid flat on her back. I held up the vial for her and she gasped.
“That must be why the transfusions aren’t working. If there is any trace of the foreign matter in our body it will replenish itself. Replacing just the blood isn’t getting it all, and then it comes back in force. How the hell did it get in here?” I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or herself.
“Can you get it all out?”
“Maybe. I’ve got a better idea of how than I did ten minutes ago anyway.”
I waited for her to get up but she continued to lie there, looking at the ceiling, not moving.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I need to stay on my back for a few hours, just to be safe. Though chances are I’m already fine. The hole probably sealed up the moment you pulled out the needle.”
I winced, more than a bit creeped out, which made her laugh.
“Now you’re repulsed?” She laughed again. “The black eyes, the cold skin, the hideous scars and the fact I could drink your blood doesn’t bother you, but spinal fluid creeps you out?”
“So it would seem.”
“I’m fine.” She saw the worry on my face. “It doesn’t even hurt. You did an excellent job.”
I helped her to bed, as she requested. I brought her an extra bag of food, and lay next to her with a YooHoo while she drank it.
“I like how you call me Em,” she said. Just thrown out there in a matter-of-fact sort of way.
“Really?” I sniffed. “You find my laziness endearing?”
“I never really liked my name. It’s a boy’s name. I was named after my mother’s father. Go figure. My dad always calls me Emmie, which sounds like I’m still four years old. Em could be short for Emma or Emily.”
“I like your name. It’s different and pretty. I sure don’t think of a boy when I hear it.” I winked at her and she touched my cheek.
“I’m glad I wasn’t able to scare you off,” she said, almost under her breath. I smiled at her admission.
“It’s almost time for you to wind down,” I mentioned as the sky began to lighten.
“Yeah, I can feel it. Don’t worry, I won’t fight the inevitable again.” She sighed and pulled me to her. “Thanks for your help tonight. Thank you for manning up and doing something outside your comfort zone.”
I shook my head. “I did it because I can’t say no to you.”
She smiled deviously. “Well. Isn’t that good to know.”
“Oh please! You don’t take no for an answer anyway.” I rolled my eyes and got up to pull the heavy drapes, still uncomfortable seeing the sunlight on her skin.
The room was pitch dark.
“I love you, Dillon,” she whispered as I sat next to her.
I froze, not knowing what to say in response. I’d never said that to anyone before. Then again, I’d never felt like this about anyone before either. Was that love? I should have figured it out before now so I was prepared.
I flipped on the light by her bed. She was out. Maybe she’d assume I said it back and she’d missed it? Maybe I should say it when she woke up?
Did I love her?
Long ago, before I joined the service and met Bobby overseas, I had made a list of expectations a woman would need to meet before I would allow myself to get serious. It was a completely impossible set of criteria, and I think I made it so I would always have an excuse as to why things never worked out.
As I lay there playing with Emery’s lank hair I realized I was in big trouble.
She was funny, smart, and beautiful. She was also compassionate, stable, confident and mature. She liked to be outside, though she couldn’t be out as much at the time. She liked baseball. She could cook, and I enjoyed talking to her for hours. Of course she was physically weakened, had no endurance, literally burned in the sun and had no se
x drive to speak of. You’d think those would all tick something on my list so I could walk away.
But here’s the thing: I realized the list didn’t mean a damn anymore.
I was falling. Falling hard. And I didn’t even seem to care.
Chapter Fourteen
I fell asleep next to Emery while trying to figure out what to say. Maybe I could tell her I loved her, since it was undeniably true. But somehow it didn’t feel that easy.
I was awakened by the security system alerting me to a vehicle coming up the driveway.
I jumped out of her bed and went to check the house perimeter. From the entertainment center I scanned the external cameras and recognized the car that had parked outside.
Mr. Mitchell was entering the house as I reached the front door.
He chuckled as he took in my bed head and sleep pants. “Good morning, Dillon.” It was three in the afternoon.
“Still on a night schedule,” I informed him with a smile.
“Is she well?” he asked.
“Yes. I think. She made me do an LP last night. That was not fun.”
“She made you?” He raised his brow, knowing exactly how his daughter was. Like him.
He put a fresh supply of food for Emery in the refrigerator and went into the sun room—Emery’s idea room—looking at the odd collage of fish, cars, human skeletons and equations.
“It hasn’t been that long, but she really seemed to think she’s onto something after the LP. She has an idea, I could see it on her face.”
“You can read her face?”
I shrugged it off. “I could see an idea forming. I know that much.”
“That’s good. I know I might seem like I’m being a tyrant. But Emmie works better under pressure. If you hadn’t set the three month time limit, I probably would have.”
I frowned. “Don’t you think she’s under enough pressure already?”
“I guess she is.” He nodded. “Are you telling me to back off?”
I shook my head. “I don’t pretend to know your relationship or want to interfere. All I see is how scared and frustrated she is. She only started to relax and make some headway yesterday.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
We chatted about other things going on in the world for the rest of the afternoon. The last highway reopening, the repairs on the Eiffel Tower. Stuff like that.
All things considered, we humans had put ourselves back together fairly quickly. The bigger cities still had massive reconstruction projects underway, but everywhere else seemed back to normal—for the most part.
Time flew by fairly quickly all things considered. Mr. Mitchell and I sat on the deck and looked out over the forest with a beer as the sun began to dive for the horizon.
“Has Emmie said anything about her stepmother?” he asked.
“No.”
“Does she know I was having an affair?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.” He looked disappointed. “I don’t want her to feel like she can’t trust men, but I’m hardly a role model for her, am I?”
“This isn’t the first time this has happened?” I guessed, taking a sip of my beer.
“No. Heather was my fourth wife.”
“I see.” I didn’t say anything else for a moment. “Why get married if you know you can’t be faithful?” I really wanted to know the answer.
“To be honest, I always think I’m ready to settle down. Then some young girl looks at me and you know how it is. I’m sure you have the women eating out of your hand.”
“I try not to feed women from my hand.”
Mr. Mitchell chuckled and looked over his shoulder towards the door. “When will she wake up?”
I looked at the clock. “A few minutes. Excuse me.”
I made us some coffee and heated up Em’s blood in a cup, hoping it wouldn’t have the catastrophic effect as the night before if I got it to her right away. Adam raised his brow.
“I thought it might make her feel more normal to drink out of a cup,” I explained.
He nodded. “It’s the little things.”
Emery came out wearing a robe with her hair everywhere. I wanted to kiss her in the worst way, but this was hardly the right time. We couldn’t tell him about us until the two of us knew for certain what we had.
“Morning, Daddy. Good morning, Dillon.” I handed her the cup and relaxed when she took a sip. “Thanks.” Much better.
“How did you sleep, sweetie?” Adam asked.
“Like the dead. As always.” She shrugged and then stretched. “I had a new idea when I woke up.”
“That sounds promising.”
She smiled at me. “I have the chassis of the formula in my head now.”
“Chassis?” Adam questioned.
“Car metaphor,” she explained.
“That sounds like the best place to start.”
“Did you know it’s in the spinal fluid, not just the blood?” She frowned.
His brows creased. “That makes sense, given the areas of the body it affects.”
“Right.” She nodded. “I have a plan.”
“So why are you sitting here in your pajamas instead of making it happen?” Adam held out his hands.
“Oh, fine!” she muttered and got up, taking the mug with her. “You could at least let me finish my not-coffee first.”
“This is why she needs deadlines,” Adam said with a smirk.
Mr. Mitchell didn’t stay long. Once he’d unloaded some fresh supplies and equipment and finished his business, he left after giving her a kiss on the forehead.
Emery was now back in the sun room, erasing some of the fish to make room for her new ideas. She left the chassis picture up though, and occasionally while she was thinking she would draw her own fish.
Like before, I sat with her most of the night, keeping her company. She would chatter at me about compounds and bases and I would just smile and nod. I hadn’t a clue what she was talking about, but she looked cute when she said it.
She took some more of my blood and forced me to take hers. After performing the LP I wasn’t going to get out of a simple blood draw.
“Thank you for staying with me again. It’s nice to have someone to bounce ideas off.”
It was a pretty accurate metaphor, since most of the time it felt like they ricocheted off my skull rather than sink in. “As long as you don’t expect me to bounce anything back to you.” I chuckled.
“It helps to hear it out loud.”
I nodded. “I get that. I talk to someone whenever I work on a car.”
“Who?”
“Someone who isn’t there.” I shrugged, not wanting to tell her I had heated discussions with my father about why things weren’t engineered better at the factory.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t leave much time for us tonight.”
“You have a job to do. That has to come first. Don’t worry about it.”
“Will you stay with me when I sleep?” she asked.
“Sure.”
Before dawn I snuggled in bed and kissed her. It reminded me of the morning before when she had declared her feelings and I said nothing in return. She must have remembered too.
“I’m sorry about what I said before I fell asleep yesterday.” She looked at her hand, picking a string from the edge of the blanket.
My eyebrows creased as I watched her. “You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. I mean, this can’t be anything serious. I know that.”
“You shouldn’t be the one to apologize, Em. I’m the one who messed up. I have…issues with saying…you know,” I stammered.
“The ‘L’ Word?” she said in a joking tone. “Most guys do.”
I didn’t want to tell her how I had loved my parents and after they died I became leery of saying
it to anyone else. As if it was a precursor to some grim event. I wasn’t ready to share any of that.
“I have more than just the normal issues, but it doesn’t mean this isn’t serious.” I put my hands on her face and pulled her chin up gently so she would meet my eyes. “This is definitely something, Em.” I kissed her lightly at first and then put some energy behind it. When I released her she looked a little dazed. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you exactly what that something is.” Here I was, only able to allude to my feelings like a chicken.
“I think maybe you kind of just did.” She smiled at me and then her eyes closed and she was out. The smile lingered on her face for a few seconds before sleep washed the expression away.
I pulled her close and closed my eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
She worked the next night without a break. And the next.
I nodded off now and then as Emery stopped explaining things and focused more on the task at hand. It wasn’t like saving the world was boring, but the process to get to that point…well, it sure wasn’t that exciting.
As my eyes closed, surrounding my mind in darkness, I dreamed of another dark place.
An alley in Philadelphia. An icy frost covered everything, and I could see my breath as I waited. The street light reflected in the prismatic blanket that covered the otherwise ugly location.
I knew what was going to happen in this place, filled with trash and the smell of urine, and tried to force myself to wake up. It never worked.
It was a recurring nightmare. My first recovery that had gone bad. An older woman, surviving on rat blood died when she woke up in the van, terrified worse than Emery had been. It wasn’t unheard of, but it had been the first time it ever happened to me.
I could still see her face in my dream. Every detail.
“I’m sorry,” I leaned over to close her eyes, just as I had the night it happened.
Only this time it wasn’t her face anymore. It was Emery’s.
I banged the back of my head against the wall as I jerked awake. I was still sitting on the stool. Emery jumped and put her hand over her heart.
“Are you okay?” she said.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
