Chapter 12
I COULDN'T BELIEVE HOW comfortable my bed felt that night. It was as if my mom had secretly purchased some super-advanced space age mattress while I was gone. What a thrill to turn on my side without the feeling of rocks burrowing into my shoulder and hip!
It seemed almost a shame to sleep when it was so comfortable just lying there, and I had so much to think about and be grateful for. At the top of my gratitude list was, of course, Ragnar Norquist. I smiled as I recalled our race earlier – how he'd jumped to a fifty meter lead, and how I'd closed to within ten yards by the time we'd reached my home. Maybe he was letting me catch up, but his heavy breathing and flushed face made me question that. He could run like a gazelle on speed, but I was the frisky tortoise...or maybe more the tireless wolf to his deer? Some bad metaphor had to apply.
The rest of the evening went great, except for one thing that kind of gnawed at me: the sparkle in my mom's eyes as she watched Ragnar fire up the gas grill – a Christmas present from Dad two years ago which we'd never used – and cook us some of the most delicious steaks I'd ever tasted. That sparkle grew even brighter after a few glasses of wine and my mom laughing and smiling in a way I hadn't seen for years as they exchanged quips and argued the finer points of male estrus, hypersexuality, the current science-corporation oligarchy, and the criminal justice system.
At one point, Melanie muttered: "You guys should get a room," though I'm not sure either of them heard her. I started edging out of the living room a couple of times – Melanie had long ago retreated to her bedroom – but Ragnar would notice and call me back in. I had to admit that when he left at around eleven, I was relieved to see him go. My mom's face had been so flushed for hours that I was afraid she might suffer a stroke or something.
"You guys were sure getting along well," I observed, drawing a tight smile from my mom.
"There's a lot more to him than I thought," she said. "Anyway, I need to get to bed. I'm exhausted."
But she sure didn't look exhausted, I'd thought. More like totally pumped. Or wanting to be...
I slapped myself mentally. That was no freaking way to be thinking about your own mom. Obviously, Ragnar had been working his hypersexual magic on her. Heck, my pheromones were no doubt flooding the air, too. I wondered if they magnified each other.
Did Ragnar have designs on my mother? Or was he just being his usual, irreverent, funny self? But what if he was interested in her? How would I feel about that?
It wasn't like I was against my mom finding someone...a decent dude who would truly love her and she would love him. Not that Ragnar wasn't a decent guy – he was super-cool, and cared about deeper things than getting laid or even making shitloads of money, I knew that – but he was only seven years older than I was, for crap's sake! Given who he was, how could he bring any stability into my mom's life?
I released a deep, resigned sigh. My bedroom door creaked open. My sigh caught in my throat.
"Aiden?" Melanie whispered. "Are you awake?"
"No," I said.
"Very funny."
I sat up warily. "What's up?"
"Me, obviously." She approached, a gray ghost in the semi-darkness. "I couldn't sleep. Mom's making too much damn noise."
"Huh? What kind of noise?"
"Groans and such." She sat down on the edge of my bed.
"Is she sick?"
"Sick of being alone, from the sounds of it."
"You mean she's crying?"
"For such a supposedly smart guy, you can be really obtuse."
She flopped back on my bed next to me with a sigh. Anxiety scrabbled up my chest into my throat.
"To put it into words you can understand," she said, "she's playing 'hide the dildo' and pretending it's Ragnar Norquist."
"Hey!" I rasped. "Don't come in here and say that kind of crap to me!"
"Sorry." She reached across and patted my head. "I didn't mean to offend your delicate ears. I'd forgotten you're such an innocent young boy, who just happens to be screwing half the women in East Jefferson."
"Oh for fuck's sake." I shoved her hand away. "You should seriously work on your math skills, if you believe three represents half of ten thousand people."
"I might've exaggerated a tiny bit."
"You just exaggerated your lack of exaggeration."
Melanie laughed. "You're pretty witty for a teenage sex addict."
"Okay, you've had your kicks shocking me. You can go back to your bedroom satisfied."
"Not from that, I won't," she snorted.
"Melanie..."
"Relax." She rested a hand on my thigh. "I just want to hang out with you for a minute, until Mother finishes ravishing herself. Remember how I used to sneak into your room when I had a bad dream when we were kids?"
The last time she'd snuck into my bedroom, we must've been seven or eight. I vaguely remembered something about a "disgusting nightmare." Apparently, she specialized in disgusting thoughts even back then.
"That was a long time ago," I said.
"Ages." She patted my thigh for emphasis.
I dislodged her hand from my thigh and returned it firmly to her side.
"Ouch," she protested. "You're hurting me."
"Good. Look, Mel..." I clenched my jaw against the unwelcome sensations shooting up my thigh. "I may be obtuse, sometimes, but I think I know what's going on now. My pheromones are messing with your head, aren't they? They have been since the day I went off Andrydox. That's really why you're here, isn't it?"
"So you think I came in here to seduce you, is that it?"
"Ah, well..." I coughed to loosen the tightness in my throat. "If I'm wrong about that, I'm sorry."
"I guess you don't have to apologize, then."
She sat up and lifted off her top. I couldn't make out all the details, but what I could see looked terrifyingly good.
"I admit your 'hyperness' does get to me," she said. "But I'm not a slave to your pheromones, Aiden. Or to my hormones. I've loved you since I was a little girl. In love with you, actually."
I gulped. It was painful, because my throat was so dry that the air scraped its way into my lungs.
"It's oxytocin," I croaked. "Exposure to a hyper over time greatly increases a female's oxytocin levels. That creates the illusion of love."
"Stop your science bullshit." She placed the palm of her hand against my chest. "Tell me how you feel. How you honestly feel."
"I honestly feel that you're being influenced by oxytocin?"
She slapped my chest. "I'm talking about your feelings toward me, you prick!"
"Keep it down!" I whispered. "Jeez." I glanced at the door.
"Then be quiet." She shoved me down, and crawled on top of me. "No more talking."
DAYLIGHT DAWNED in a psychedelic rainbow cast from my blinds. I started to raise my hand to shield my eyes, but a forearm that stretched across my chest blocked it.
A forearm? I turned my head and saw something so surreal that I thought for a long moment that I just might be on psychedelics.
"Mmmfff," said my sister, lying on her side next to me, her brown hair fanned out over my shoulder. A quick peek under the sheets confirmed that she was not wearing pajamas.
So this – last night – wasn't a dream. Not that I didn't remember everything we did, but it was so unbelievable that at some point during the night, retreating into my own inner world, I decided that what we'd done was just a figment of my hyper-heated imagination.
I hadn't truly believed that, of course, and yet...I wanted so desperately for it to be merely some sick fantasy that I'd persuaded my brain to play along. So many times I'd awakened from a dream where something terrible had happened or I'd done something terrible, only to breathe a giant breath of relief that none of it was true.
No such luck today.
"Oh..." Melanie blinked awake, her gold-flecked eyes peering into mine. "Shit..."
"Yeah."
A sharp rap sounded on the door. Mel and I both lurched up – she c
lutching the sheet to her chest. I stared at the doorknob. Either of us could've turned the button to the lock position, but I could see neither of us had.
"Aiden." The sharp tone of our mom's voice did not imply anything good. "Are you decent?"
One of the premier questions in my mind. The other crucial question was: Can I make it to the door in time to lock it?
I swung one leg out of bed before the knob began to turn. Then, lacking the power to go either backward or forward in time, all I could do – we could do, since Melanie was now panting at my side – was watch in terror as the knob turned and the door eased open in a cruel horror movie cliché.
My mom stood in the doorway, her face the color of burnt umber. I knew about burnt umber from my juvie hall crafts class. I expected to see smoke billow from her ears and a deafening demonic roar issue from her lips. Instead, the moments ticked by, each one no doubt adding another eternity to my perdition.
"Mom – "
Her right hand shot up, cutting me off.
"It's not what it looks like," said my sister, drawing a glacial gaze from our mom. "Well, okay, it is what it looks like, but I want to explain, it's not Aiden's fault – "
"Get dressed. I'll talk to you in the living room."
My mom backed out, the door closing on any further words. We stared at each other.
"Oh, screw it," she said, jumping out and into her nightshirt and panties in nearly one motion. She turned back to me. "What do you think she's going to do?"
"We'll find out soon enough."
Melanie departed. I really didn't want to leave my room. I wanted to crawl back under the covers, fall asleep, and wake up to a fresh new reality. I understood in that moment the extraordinary appeal of being "born again."
Then, far too soon, I plodded into the living room to meet my – our – fate. My mom was gazing out the window across the room from her beloved recliner, a coffee cup in hand. The steam rose like a mist in front of her face, but she made no move to drink. Melanie sat on the couch, staring at her feet. My mom's eyes flicked to me, but then returned to the window and its view of the street that she seemed to find so mesmerizing.
"Mom," said Melanie, "before you say anything I want to tell you something. That wasn't just fooling around. I love Aiden."
Mom dipped her head, her jaw muscles squeezing.
"It's been in front of me the whole time," she said, not looking at either of us, as if she were talking to herself or some unseen person in the room. "And I did nothing to stop it."
My sister and I exchanged a look. Neither of us had expected that.
"I could say the same thing," I said miserably. "I knew when I went off the Andrydox that things, uh, changed between me and Melanie. But I selfishly kept off it."
My mom raised her head to frown at me. "Why didn't you say something about it?"
My shrug turned into a squirm. "I wasn't sure what to say?"
Mom sighed. "I'm not denying that you bear some responsibility for what's happened in recent weeks, Aiden. You're sixteen years old, and not far from being a man. But you're still basically a child, and I'm your parent. I did fail you by not being present enough to see what was happening between you and your sister. Looking back on it now, I know I saw some of the signs, but I was too preoccupied to digest them."
"Excuse me." Mel was waving her hands as though directing traffic. "I'm right here! And once again, I'm in love with Aiden. Didn't you hear me?"
"I heard you." My mom's voice sounded muffled. "And that's where I inexcusably failed to act on what I knew to be true: for a female, living in close proximity to a hyper creates huge hormonal stresses, including a dramatic increase in oxytocin, which can stimulate strong feelings of love."
"Oh, really? So are you in love with him, too?"
My mom didn't answer for a few unnerving seconds.
"First, I'm his mom," she said. "Second, I'm an adult – thirty-eight years old, not sixteen. Third, I haven't been at the house that much, so the effects of being around Aiden haven't been as pronounced."
"They sounded pretty 'pronounced' last night in her bedroom," Melanie snickered. "One of the reasons I went to Aiden's room was to escape the noise."
My mom's face reprised its burnt umber shade.
"Oh, God," she murmured. "You could hear me?"
"The walls aren't that thick, Mom."
"I'm sorry. I just..." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Melanie."
My sister's usual hostile expression toward our mom softened. "It's a pretty fucked up world when it comes to men and women these days, isn't it?"
"Yes. It's almost inhumanly frustrating at times. Though I wish you wouldn't use the f-bomb."
We sat in silence for a few minutes. My mom finally started in on the coffee she'd been holding. Outside, the August sun shone brightly on the street and neighbors' houses – another shining day full of promise – while all was dark and gloomy in the Stevens' house.
"You could end that frustration," said Melanie. "Ragnar obviously likes you."
"Trade one frustration for another." Mom's smile was pained. "He's just a boy, too, though a very charismatic one."
"And incredibly hot. Not that I'd want to listen to him banging you in the next room, that's for sure."
Mom eyed the ceiling, her breath hissing out over her coffee cup. "Melanie, I know I haven't been around as much as would be ideal, but I don't believe you were raised in a truck stop while I wasn't looking."
"More like a Marine barracks," I snickered.
"I get that you're angry at me," my mom said to her, "and I'm sure I deserve it to some degree, but would it kill you to speak to me in a respectful manner?"
Mel averted her eyes from Mom's stern gaze, and shrugged.
"For what it's worth, I swear that will never happen again," I said, ignoring Melanie's glare.
"You can't promise that, Aiden."
I started to protest, but my mom's world-weary stare stopped me.
"So what are we going to do?" I asked.
"I don't know. What do you want to do?"
"Stop messing you guys up, for starters. I'll go back on Andrydox, and also maybe a low dose of Melatin."
"Unfortunately, those medications wouldn't be compatible with the testing at CellEvolve," said my mom with a frown. "They want you 'au naturel.'"
"Okay," I said. I hoped I didn't sound too eager.
Mom turned to my sister. "Do you think you can handle it, Melanie?"
"Sure." She flipped her hands as though flicking off dust. "Why not?"
"I'm asking you a serious question."
"What do you want me to say? If Aiden doesn't want me, I'm just going to have to accept that, right? Even if I am a total perv I still have some pride."
"You're not a perv," my mom said in a tired voice. "These are not normal circumstances."
"The times that try women's souls," I cracked, drawing a cool look from my mom and a snort from Melanie.
"You're not so wrong about that," said my mom. "You could try Melatin yourself, Mel. A number of women use it to combat estrus-related depression. There's no shame in it."
"No chance. Did you happen to notice how brain-dead it makes Aiden?"
"I think you're exaggerating."
"Not really," I said. "But I have another idea." I had to be careful here, but under the circumstances, I thought it might not be such a hard sell. "I'm sure CellEvolve is anxious for me to make up for lost time. Maybe for the rest of summer, I could spend a few days there during the week, and kind of let you guys chill. I already have my own apartment there, and they said it wouldn't be a problem if I wanted to stay. They'll even feed me."
"Did Dr. Blumenthal tell you that?"
"Uh, no. Aleesha."
Predictably, that drew a frown from my mother.
"That may not be the worst idea," she said. "I'll sound him out about that tomorrow."
I DROVE in with my mom Monday morning. I had something other than hanging out in my apartment to discus
s with Dr. Blumenthal, but I didn't know if I had the guts to do that. It wasn't something I wanted to share with my mom and Melanie that was for sure.
Aleesha met me with a tepid smile. I had sprayed myself with Andrydox that morning as if it were insect repellant and I was venturing into the Amazon.
"Are you ready to get back to work?" she asked. "We've got a lot of catching up to do."
"Uh, sure."
My smile slipped as she started away in brisk, business-like, strides. I had the feeling she knew about my "misadventures." Probably everyone here did.
Aleesha added some time on a treadmill to the usual extraction and emission of blood and personal bodily fluids, to see "if that introduces any new chemical factors in your blood or elsewhere."
By the time lunch rolled around, I felt probed, prodded, and treadmilled within an inch of my life. Aleesha disappeared, but Dr. Blumenthal intercepted me on the way to the cafeteria.
"I have an idea," he said. "I'm headed out for some Italian at Silvino's. Would you care to join me?"
"Ah, sure. I'm starving."
Funny, I thought. I'd been working up my courage to go to the mountain, but the mountain had come to me. My body tingled with nervousness as I followed him into an elevator and down to a parking space under the building. He beeped open the door on a Mercedes, and I climbed in beside him onto seats so lush with leather that after sinking into them I might need to be pried loose.
"Nice car," I said.
"As nice as Ragnar Norquist's?" he asked with his usual amused smile. "I understand you and he have become quite well acquainted."
"I don't know. His car is more sporty than luxurious, I guess."
"As one would expect."
"But yeah, I guess we have become friends, sort of. He's really a nice guy."
"Nice enough to get you out of that juvenile detention center."
"Yes. That was pretty cool." I was both uneasy and curious if Dr. Blumenthal might be going somewhere with this.
"Cool, indeed." He glanced at me, a hint of the conspiratorial in his perpetually amused smile. "And very concerned with your welfare, it appears. As a matter of fact, he called me recently to speak of those concerns."
Hyper Page 13
