by Andrea Ring
I’m a mess in the bathroom. Not that I keep it messy, but I’m messy in my clean up. I don’t know about you, but I cannot brush my teeth without toothpaste dribbling down my chin. When I shave in the sink, all the little hairs go everywhere and I have to rinse the entire counter to remove them. And who knows what the toilet looks like after I use it—I’ve never paid attention before. Gah—I need to buy some air freshener or something.
And sleeping together—I mean, actually sleeping—we’ve done that several times now, so I guess I don’t have to worry about it. I don’t snore, so that’s good. I probably fart in my sleep, but everyone does, so no big deal. And Tessa could fart and stink up the entire house and I wouldn’t care. She has actually, a few times that I’ve noticed, and we just laugh about it. Growing up with three brothers has made her immune to embarrassment where bodily functions are concerned.
And then there’s the real sleeping together. Sex.
Okay, so even though I’m inexperienced, I’m not as uninformed as I may have come across. I’m a guy. I’ve read the respected works (and a lot of the un-respected works), I’ve watched…stuff. I’ve watched a lot of stuff, actually. It’s just that it’s different doing it for real, with a live person. In my head, I can be a god, and my partner can respond like I’m a god, but in reality, every woman is different. Every woman’s body is different. I might be a sex god with woman A, and still flop mightily doing the same stuff with Tessa.
Ugh, why am I even worrying about this? Tessa has the same zero experience I do.
But I want to be her perfect partner.
I smoosh the clay between my palms.
To be her perfect partner, I have to be what Tessa needs. I can sit here and think all day about what I should do, but it comes down to one thing—what does Tessa need? What does Tessa want?
I think about our make-out session two days ago, and I cringe.
That was all about me.
I didn’t even ask her what she wanted, if she wanted anything. I didn’t ask her if she enjoyed it.
I tear the clay into two pieces and knead them, one in each fist.
Why is Tessa even with me? I’m a self-absorbed, arrogant cretin.
God, what did I do to deserve her?
I fall asleep, my fingernails dug tight into the clay, without thinking of a single answer.
Chapter Thirty-Four
At six my alarm clock goes off, and I flop my arm to the nightstand to turn it off.
Hardened clay crashes into the clock with a thud.
I sit up and rub my forearm across my eyes. I peel a few large chunks of clay from my fingers, but the rest needs to come off in the shower.
I check the date on the clock to make sure I didn’t sleep the week away. I only slept ten hours. Shazam.
Knowing I got a decent—and totally normal—night’s sleep gives me a boost. I get out of bed whistling.
***
Kenneth runs my tests himself this morning, since Kate’s checking on a patient at the hospital. I think they’ve probably agreed that Kenneth is better in a crisis and more comfortable with my on-the-fly healing. By ten, I’m hooked up to Olivia and starting more repairs.
Kenneth sits silently in a chair beside me. Dr. Park enters, moves a chair to the opposite side of Olivia’s bed, and takes a seat.
“Do you mind if I watch?” he asks.
I glance at him briefly then re-focus on Olivia. “Not much to see,” I say.
“Perhaps you could…talk me through what you’re doing?”
I stop working and stare at him.
He gives me a small smile. “I admit,” he says, “I’m curious.”
“Is that your idea of an apology?” I say.
“Can you blame me? I’m a man of science.”
“So am I.”
Dr. Park sighs and hangs his head. “I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he says. “Not for the way I felt, because I feel I had good cause, but I could have handled it differently.”
“And now you see the things I can do and you want to learn more,” I say. “I get it. It’s a golden opportunity for you.”
He nods once in acknowledgment.
“Fine, but I think you’re going to be disappointed. I don’t know that anything I’m doing will translate to something you can do.”
“You’ve put me in my place,” he says softly. “You can do things I never will be able to do. Got it.”
And then, of course, I feel like an ass. Here I am, arrogant again.
I glance at Kenneth, who has an amused smile on his lips. “Shit,” I say. “I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant…forget it. I’ll keep a narrative going. Stop me if you have anything to add.”
Dr. Park grins. “So I may have something to add?” he says.
“Miracles happen,” I say, grinning back at him, and I close my eyes and zoom deep into Olivia’s brain.
***
“I start on my own body,” I say. “I have limited resources, and I have to manage them. I already took a vitamin pill, which is simplifying things, it’s more of a super-nutrient, calorie-boost type thing, which keeps me fueled. Dehydration is always an issue so I keep a bottle of Gatorade nearby, but I’ll drink it as I go. Right now, everything’s tip-top.
“To grow or repair the nerve or brain cells, I need a protein that I manufacture. I produce it in my brain then move it into Olivia’s body. Doing that now. I only produce what I need or less—extra protein floating around could activate cells we don’t want activated, so I can’t leave any of it unused in Olivia’s body.”
Dr. Park clears his throat and I pause. “How do you move the protein in the body?” he asks.
“I don’t really know,” I admit. “I just have perfect control of my entire body and everything in it. And once I’m hooked up to a patient’s brain stem, I have control of their body as well. Finding the answer to that is key, I know. It’s on my list.”
Dr. Park nods.
“So I’ve got Olivia to a pretty good place. I’ve healed the medulla oblongata and associated structures, as you know, since she’s now breathing and responding to basic stimuli. I’ve got all the veins and arteries cleared and repaired. Blood flow and oxygen levels are normal. The two big areas I have left are the cerebral cortex—the gray matter—and the reticular activating system.”
“The RAS?” Dr. Park says. “I thought you healed the brain stem yesterday.”
“I healed all of it except the RAS. Since the damage there is responsible for Olivia still being in a coma, we wanted to save it for last. We don’t want Olivia awake and severely impaired. If she wakes, I mean, when…we want everything functioning as well as possible.”
“How bad is the RAS?” he asks.
“Bad enough that healing the gray matter won’t bring her out of the coma, we don’t think,” I say.
“We?” he asks.
“Me and both Drs. Mullen,” I say. “They’re the neurological experts. We’ve consulted extensively before I agreed to come here.”
Dr. Park nods his head at Kenneth, who nods back.
“So that’s what I’m tackling today—the gray matter. It’s going to be tricky because these nerve connections are important to Olivia’s personality and to her memory. I want Olivia to come back as close to the person she was as possible.”
Dr. Park looks away, and I get a funny feeling in my stomach.
“What?” I ask him.
“Nothing,” he says, forcing a smile and bringing his eyes back to me. “It’s just a lot to take in, that you can do this. That’s what we all want, of course. Olivia back to us, just as she was.”
I go back to work and my running monologue.
I try to ignore the growing pit in my gut.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dad and Erica are unloading boxes from her car when I pull up to the house.
“Can I help?” I ask.
Dad thrusts a box of books into my arms, and Erica swats him on the shoulder. “You could have given him the
pillows.”
Dad laughs. “He’s got the youngest, strongest arms here. He can carry the books.”
I laugh and head inside.
Tessa is in the spare bedroom, looking around with her hands on her hips.
I set the box down quietly and jump on her from behind, squeezing tight.
She squeals. “You scared me!”
I laugh and kiss her. “Eyeing your new digs?”
She giggles nervously. “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
“Oh, it’s stupid,” she says, waving a hand in the air. “I’m being silly.”
“What?”
“Well, your grandma passed away in here.”
I put an arm over her shoulder and nod.
“I thought…when I came in here, just now, I got the chills.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s still here,” I say.
Tessa grimaces. “Really? You believe in that?”
“I have no idea,” I say. “But sometimes, I get feelings about my mom. Like, suddenly I’ll think of her, when I was thinking about something else entirely. Or I’ll have a dream about her that is crystal clear. Maybe it is her.”
Tessa shudders. “I don’t know if I can sleep in here.”
“You liked my grandma, right?” I ask.
“I loved your grandma,” Tessa says, and her eyes turn glassy.
“Well then, there’s nothing to fear. Even if she is here, it’s for a good purpose. She’s looking out for us. She loved you, too.”
Tessa leans into me. “You’re right.”
“And if you’re still not comfortable,” I say, “we can change rooms. I’ll move in here.”
She looks up at me. “You’d do that for me?”
“Whatever you need.”
***
Tessa decides to keep the spare bedroom, with the caveat that I sleep with her for the first few nights. Fine by me.
Even though it will be a couple of weeks before she and Erica are actually sleeping here, I’m already used to the idea. And I can’t imagine that once we start cuddling up at night, we’re ever gonna want to stop.
It makes me think about marrying her. For real.
After Tessa and Erica go home, I call Dr. Rumson.
“How are you feeling, sir?” I ask.
“Excellent,” he says. “How are you?”
“Great. Things are moving right along.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I always call you when I need something, and that’s crappy of me. It really is.”
“Oh, Thomas,” he says. “Shut up already. Stop beating yourself up. I’m here for you.”
“Just so you know I’m here for you, too,” I say.
“And you have been, and I know you will continue to be. So what’s up?”
I sigh. “Well, Tessa and Erica are moving in.”
“Ahh,” he says. “Interesting parenting choice.”
“I know,” I say. “So I’ve been thinking…maybe I should ask Tessa to marry me.”
“So that you’re not living in sin?”
“Yes,” I say. “That’s one reason.”
“What are the others?”
I pause. “Well, I want to protect her virtue, yes, and I’m afraid of what living together might do to our relationship, and I’ve been thinking that having that commitment, pledging ourselves to each other, might make it easier.”
“And have you discussed this with your father and with Erica?”
“My dad suggested it,” I say.
“He what?”
“He was the one who suggested it.”
Dr. Rumson falls silent.
“Are you still there?” I ask.
“Oh, yes, I’m here, I…Thomas, I think you need to give this a lot of thought.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” I say. “That’s why I’m talking to you.”
“Yes, but…I think I need to give this some thought before I counsel you.”
I laugh. “You mean, you don’t have a ready answer for me?”
Dr. Rumson chuckles. “This was not a question I thought you’d bring up any time soon. I thought maybe you’d ask me about sex, but not marriage.”
I swallow. “Okay, what would you say about sex?”
“No.”
I laugh. “No. I already knew that. That’s why I haven’t asked.”
“So sex is not on your list of reasons to marry Tessa?”
I think about that. “Not really. I’d never marry someone just to have sex.”
“Good lad. Okay, then, let me think about this. Can we speak tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“Until then.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
***
Of course it didn’t escape my attention that Dr. Rumson needed to think about his advice as soon as he heard Dad was the one who suggested I marry Tessa now.
He’s wondering about Dad’s motives, just like I am.
Just don’t forget the big picture.
The big picture with Dad is that his life may be close to ending.
Focus in a little bit more, to what Dad’s doing now, and he’s what? Moving his girlfriend in! When he may be dying! Why is he pursuing his relationship with Erica when they might not have much time together?
Does she even know?
And he’s suddenly putting me on the fast track to heal. I’ve visited the Attic and found researchers to work with. I’ve been allowed to heal Olivia. All this makes sense—if he’s dying, he wants to be here to guide me through these things. On the more nefarious side, he’s pushing me toward something, some test, some outcome, some revelation that will help him…do what? What problem does Dad want to solve?
I squeeze my eyes shut tight and open them back up.
It’s so simple, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.
But he could just ask me, be upfront with me, explain it to me, and I’d go along. He knows I’d go along.
Or maybe he doesn’t.
I don’t know much about it. I mean, I didn’t even realize it would happen until Grandma spilled the beans. Maybe I can’t do it on my own, and that’s why he wants me to marry Tessa. Maybe he needs a baby to do it. Maybe…
I cross the room to my closet and pull out a duffle bag. I pack. I even throw a lump of clay in just in case I need to think, ‘cause sculpting always helps me do that.
I text Kate and Cyrus to let them know I’ll be gone a few days. Then I go to bed early. I have to be well rested for my drive down to the Attic and for my new project: saving Dad’s life.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I wake up at 4:30 and stealthily leave the house. I have no idea about dad’s schedule—maybe I’ll see him at the Attic, maybe I won’t. It’s guaranteed that he’ll find out when I show up, and there’s no point in discussing anything with him. He won’t give me straight answers anyway.
I pull into the facility parking lot and make my way underground. I stifle my gag reflex before I exit the elevator in anticipation of the horrid smell.
Door number twelve. I take a shallow breath, swipe my card, lean into the retinal scanner, and watch as the door whooshes open to General Population.
***
Only one person seems to be awake. Dr. Trent is bent over Cappy, her wrist in his hand, taking her pulse. When I enter, he lifts his head in my direction and puts up a finger, asking me to wait.
I do.
He finishes and places her hand gently on the bed. He crosses the space to me and shakes my hand.
“Thomas,” he says in a whisper. “Nice to see you. I didn’t realize you were coming today.”
“Neither did I,” I say with a smile. “It was a last-minute decision.”
He clasps a hand on my shoulder. “Dacey and Tyrion will be excited to see you. They’ve been working on a few things.”
“Oh?” I say. I didn’t exactly forget about Dacey and Tyrion, but I’ve defi
nitely put them on the back burner. I’m happy to hear that they’re moving along without me.
“Well, I won’t say more,” he says. “I’m sure they’ll want to surprise you. They’re interacting more with all of us, but they still sleep in their isolation room—the bed’s larger to accommodate them—but let me ring them. I’m sure they’ll be—”
“No, no,” I say quickly. “Let them sleep. I’ll be around all day.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. I have something else, something I’d like to discuss with you. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Of course.” He replaces the clipboard he’s holding in a slot at the end of Cappy’s bed. “Follow me.”
***
We end up in room fourteen (interesting that they’re superstitious here—there is no room thirteen), a space with lounge chairs, over-stuffed sofas, and shag carpeting on the floor. There’s even a coffee bar and donuts set out in the corner.
“Coffee?” he asks, and we both make ourselves a cup and select a donut. There are no rainbow sprinkles, so I settle for a chocolate bar.
I plop into a bulging chair and it engulfs me. I struggle to sit up without spilling my coffee while Dr. Trent laughs at me.
“I should have warned you about that chair,” he says. “Let me hold that.” He takes the coffee from me while I get settled, then hands it back. “How are you holding up since your grandmother’s passed?”
I blink at him, trying to tune my brain to what he’s said. I’m thinking about something else entirely. “Doing well,” I say. “Thanks for coming to the funeral. It meant a lot to my dad.”
“I wish I could have met her,” he says. “Mike always spoke about how irreverent she was.”
I smile. “In some ways,” I say. “She was a great lady. I’m lucky to have met her.”
He nods. “It’s odd, isn’t it? Tragedy can bring unexpected blessings. I understand you only got to meet her after your mother died.”
“Yes,” I say. “My grandmother rescued us. I just wish I could have returned the favor.”
Dr. Trent obviously knows the story, because he nods again. “That’s the tricky part about what we do as healers. We can a lead a horse to water, but we can’t make him drink.”
