“That was a typo on my insurance card.”
How could he have known where he was? Micah had calculated this moment happening under very different circumstances. He was not prepared, and the thought angered him a bit. None of that mattered, he surmised, as an undeniable truth simmered around the tips of his trembling fingers.
Filling his lungs with a deep breath of the cold air of his hospital room, Micah focused on the nasty, sterile taste it left on his tongue to calm his nerves. If things went south, he could always hit the nurse’s button and have him carted away. He could handle him. He could manage this.
“What are you doing here, Dad?”
Mr. Sterling smiled at his son. He removed his gloves, top hat, and dress coat, laying them neatly across the chair before taking his seat. “Dad? Humph. Isn’t that the word that won you a residency in that boarding school?”
Micah’s intestines tightened as his anxiety twisted them into knots. The moment to which his father was referring had hardened into his mind over the years; an innocent moment that changed his world. Years passed before he could speak the one syllable word again: dad. He had blamed himself for what happened, but not anymore. Looking at the man who fathered him sitting so smugly in the chair at the foot of his bed, he knew to whom the fault belonged.
“A girl called me asking about you one night. Had me wondering, thinking I may never see you again, but here we are.” Richard grinned widely at his son.
Micah could have sworn he saw love in his eyes, but he knew his father was not capable of it. “What do you want?”
“I have come to take you home.”
Ignoring his father’s baseless statement, Micah posed his next question. “How did you know I was here?”
“That isn’t important. Did you hear what I said? I am here to take you home.”
Micah rolled his eyes. “It is important to me, and we both know that is not true.”
“I suppose you are right about that. You made certain of that, didn’t you, son?”
Micah remained silent for a moment. “How did you know?”
“Things were great for all of us, but you had to ruin it. Do you remember, son?”
Micah tried to keep the tears slowly blurring his vision from painting his cheeks. His face shook, the veins in his temple throbbed as they swelled, making themselves visible.
“Rushed into my office without knocking as was customary for you. How many times had I instructed you to knock? But you didn’t, did you?”
“No.”
“Correct, you did not. Rushed in there calling me. Dad, Dad, Dad! But I was not alone, Micah. My wife sat in there with me. She hated you as soon as she saw you, son. My twin, the son she could never give me. I couldn’t have you or your mother around anymore. Elizabeth would have destroyed me. I had to make a difficult choice.”
“And you chose your wife.”
“I chose myself, Micah. I chose me. I always do.”
Sniffling, Micah wiped the base of his nose with the back of his hand. “I was so excited that day.” He laughed a little thinking about it. “My teacher added me to the team that would compete in the U.S. Chess Federation national championship. I raced in to tell you because I thought you’d be proud of me. He said that he thought I could be a grandmaster one day. It meant everything to me.”
Richard did not respond for a few moments. He shifted in his seat in preparation for his rebuttal. “Yes, well, let’s be serious, Micah. Your mother’s half would have crippled you, preventing you from doing anything worthwhile. I always thought that, and your life has proved me correct.”
Micah was inured to his father’s callous disregard of his emotional well-being, so he steered the conversation in a direction favorable to him. Micah despised the man and hated how badly he desired to be loved by him. “What do you want, Dad?”
“I came to see about you.”
“I am no concern of yours.”
“Why would you say that? I love you, Micah . . . in my way.”
Micah let his eyes drift up into his head, letting his father’s words disappear into the air. “I wanted your love for a long time. Not anymore. As of right now, I don’t want anything from you. I don’t need your approval, your acceptance. I ruined my life trying to be like you.”
“You were always so dramatic. Your being a screw-up has nothing to do with me. I fixed that little situation for you a while back with that girl. Did I even get a thank you? Who do you think stopped the investigation, Micah?”
Micah clenched and unclenched his fists in his lap, turning them in and out, admiring the change in color in his melanin. “Why are you here?”
“How did you fool these people into thinking you have some mental disorder? That is incredible. Mental disorders are nothing but excuses for people to throw their lives away, to be lazy, living off the government. Bipolar disorder. Ha! No such thing. Mental disorders are a farce!”
This rant was not new to Micah. He had heard it many times before. His father could not accept his mental disorder. It had first appeared while he was away at boarding school, and his father had refused to pay for treatment. His mother never contacted him, and weary of Richard’s criticisms, Micah fled the school and ended up in the system. He traded in the real version of his mother for the one that lived in his dreams. That mother did not abandon him or let anyone take him away from her. No one came looking for him. No one but Mike.
“Go away.”
“Listen, if you plan on storming into my house like that whore that birthed you, be prepared for what you’ll find there.”
Micah glared at Richard, his eyes blazing. “Get out!”
“Not until I am done! Save your words for someone that cares about them.”
Micah seethed, his heart racing a mile a minute. Beads of sweat bonded together, streaming down his face, mixing with his tears.
“I don’t know if this whole accident is a ruse to get your hands on my money or not, but it isn’t going to work. You cannot extort me, son.”
Micah gently bit the inside of his lip, squeezing his eyes closed to fight off his anger. He looked at the man whose eyes mirrored his own. “Noted. Message received, and you are free to get the fuck out of my room!”
Richard remained as a cool as the other side of the pillow, unfettered by Micah’s explosion. “Fine. I am glad you understand. I am doing this for you, for all of us.”
“Just get the hell out!”
Mr. Sterling grabbed his things and headed for the door. “I really do love you, son. One day, you’ll understand why things need to be this way.” With that, he closed the door behind him.
Micah did not bother wiping the tears from his eyes. He had exhausted himself devoting nearly all of his life trying to win his father’s affection. Richard Sterling had made it painfully clear that he was incapable of being the father Micah deserved. Micah would have to look within himself and affirm his value, not to the man he once idolized. He didn’t want or need validation from him anymore. Much like Ms. Vida had advised, his life was under his control.
It mattered not that his father had chosen to not be a part of it. That was his father’s choice and had nothing to do with Micah. For the first time, Micah decided to concentrate on Micah. He had become the same selfish, manipulative bastard his father was, and it infuriated him. It was time for a brand-new Micah.
He eyed the nurse’s aide as she walked in with the medication Ms. Vida promised to send and a little cup of water. “Thank you,” he stated as he threw the pills into his mouth, flushing them down with the water.
Here’s to the new me, he thought as the medicine made its way down his trachea. Here’s to the new Micah Javan Harris.
Chapter 26
“Step onto the scale, please.”
Brianna eased her bare feet onto the frigid metal of the scale.
“Thank you.” Noting her current weight on his pad, Dr. Baxter motioned for her to stand against the wall. “This will only take a moment. I need to get an a
ccurate height for you.”
“Sure, no problem.” Brianna skimmed the walls of the small corridor. Dr. Baxter shared the practice with three other doctors, but the suite was empty tonight. Brianna had requested that Dr. Baxter see her alone, and much to her surprise, he eagerly obliged. The space was decent as far as private medical facilities went. The waiting area housed the standard floral paintings and patterned seating. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“The bathroom is the last door on the left, there.” Dr. Baxter pointed down the hall about three doors away from where they were standing. “I need to test your urine. Standard procedure. Just follow the instructions on the bottle and join me in examination room one.”
“Is that where I changed earlier?”
“It’s actually the room next to it. I need to give you a physical exam, and that room is a little bigger.”
Brianna watched Dr. Baxter disappear around the corner into the nurse’s area. Once alone, she began having second thoughts about the visit. Briefly staring at the glowing EXIT sign at the opposite end of the hall, she considered ditching Dr. Baxter. Perhaps she had not yet passed the point of no return, where it would be unconscionable even for her to recuse herself, but the thought left her as soon as it came. Dr. Baxter had inconvenienced himself at her behest, and as much as it pained her, she needed to follow through, despite the probability of her finding his news unfavorable. Not knowing would only bolster a false reality, and there was no real comfort to be had living that way.
Locating the bathroom with ease, Brianna spotted the cup sitting on a silver tray on top of a straw hamper as soon as she walked in. It had all sorts of feminine hygiene products on display: travel size lotions, soaps, sanitary napkins, single tampons, and three or four different types of air freshener. Brianna bypassed the assortment of toiletries and grabbed one of the cups. The instructions were simple enough: pee in the cup, close the lid. As if on cue, her bladder did the two-step. Pulling her pants down, Brianna snatched a mini package of cleansing wipes and straddled the toilet seat. She wiped her vaginal area with the antibacterial wipes, trying to avoid an accident before she had the stupid plastic cup in place. Damn it! The task, a complicated dance between balance and aim, proved to be much more difficult than Brianna remembered. The teasingly wide-rimmed cup magically shrank in size, forcing her to bust out an original yoga move to get the job done. Shit.
“That was harder than it needed to be.”
Brianna cleaned herself up, locked and labeled the cup, and shuffled back down the hall to Exam Room 1 where Dr. Baxter was waiting.
“All done?”
The question was absurd. Of course she was done. Why else would she be there? Brianna nodded in confirmation.
“Good. I’ll go run the tests on that in a minute, but before we get to that.” Noticing Brianna was still standing in the door, Dr. Baxter pointed her toward the examination table near the center of the room. Once she was seated, he continued. “Before I go do that, I wanted to be sure that I have a clear picture of your symptoms.”
“I have been nauseous, lethargic. Appetite is all over the place, but Dr. Shepherd said that those things are normal considering what happened.”
“That is probable, but we can run a few tests to rule out anything else.” Dr. Baxter, who had been resting against the counter, made his way toward Brianna. Grabbing the blood pressure pump, he wrapped it around Brianna’s arm to check her levels.
She squirmed uncomfortably as the suction on her arm increased. Javan ran across her mind, nearly sending her crashing to the floor. Dr. Baxter caught her before she slid completely off.
“Brianna? Are you okay?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
Brianna felt uneasy, felt her heart beating erratically. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what happened. I don’t . . . I’m sorry.”
Dr. Baxter carefully pushed her back onto the examination table, removed the cuff, and sat in front her. Using his foot to pull the rolling stool closer to him, Dr. Baxter took a seat on it. The stool was no more than a foot or so off the ground. Brianna’s elevated position gave her comfort for some reason. She felt her body relaxing again as she looked down at him, waiting for him to speak.
“How are you feeling, Brianna?”
“I’m okay. Honestly. I don’t know what happened.”
Dr. Baxter squeezed his eyes closed, opened them, and forced a smile. He knew she was lying; the truth was in her eyes.
“I think you do know and you don’t want to tell me. If you aren’t honest with me, I can’t really help you.”
Brianna tried to resist sharing herself, but something in the oval rim of his eye compelled her to spill her tea. Something stronger, deeper than her fear of what may come, coaxed her into creating a divide in her wall wide enough to let him in, urging her to trust him.
“Javan.”
Dr. Baxter nodded. “Feared that might be the case. I trust Dr. Shepherd’s work and her process. I admit that I’d hoped you’d be further along. I have no gauge, really, since I didn’t know you before, but you don’t seem like yourself, if I may.”
Brianna remained silent.
“I’m worried over the physical nature of what needed to be done tonight. Though I hope you know I’d never hurt you in any way, I am still a man. We are alone here, and I don’t want to undo any of the progress you’ve made.”
“I am fine, really. It was just a second. Happens sometimes,” Brianna stated, shrugging her shoulders. “Provocateur isn’t a determinant or necessary.”
“I’m sorry, Brianna. I don’t want to ever make you uncomfortable. Let me know if something is too much. Okay?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have anything you want to talk to me about? I am your doctor, but I like to think we are a bit more. I think there was a reason I found you that night.”
Brianna was not sure of how to take his statement, but the thought of anything sexual happening between them made her even more nauseous than she already was. There had to be some rule against doctors getting romantically involved with their patients, wasn’t there? Wasn’t that what the Hippocratic Oath was for? Wait . . . no, that was for saving patients, not fucking them.
Interrupting her thoughts, Dr. Baxter temporarily derailed her suspicions. “I am going to go ahead and run the tests on your urine. I won’t be long. The TV is not functional, I’m afraid.”
Brianna followed his eyes to the flat screen hanging on the wall to the right behind her, wondering why she hadn’t noticed it before.
“We are switching service providers, so unfortunately we have thirty channels, and they are all variations of static. Not that entertaining.”
Brianna laughed at his attempt at a joke. Regardless of whatever weird vibe he was giving her, one thing she could attest to was his pleasant personality. She could see why he was so popular. People want to be treated, but being personable can take you places an excellent skill set alone cannot. Dr. Baxter came off like a really sweet man.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Great.” Dr. Baxter stood so quickly the stool rolled away from him. Paying it no mind, he turned and exited the room.
Brianna casually let her eyes rove around the room. Her urge to inspect her surroundings lasted all of thirty seconds. She scooted up toward the crest of the table until she felt she might be able to lay comfortably. Lying on her left side, giving her visual access to the doorway, she tried to rest. Less than two minutes passed before Michelle crept back into her mind. Brianna did not want to think about Michelle; that situation was such a mess.
It had been nearly a week, and Michelle still would not accept her calls. God created the universe in seven days, so surely that was enough time for Michelle to calm down. Brianna was not entirely sure what she would say to her, but that shouldn’t matter. They were twins, and that should count for something. What did Michelle expect her to do?
On a lighter note, she noted that she had not felt like she was being stalked as of late. Maybe the session
s were actually working and the paranoia was subsiding a bit. Then again, she had not heard from Sophie lately, either. Maybe that helped, too. Sighing, she hated that this system of inaccurate guesses had become her life. Fighting the sadness tempting her tears to flow, she answered the question she dreaded asking.
“Yes, Brianna, you will get back to yourself. You’ll get there.” Hopefully within this century.
Knocking lightly on the door, Dr. Baxter drew her eyes to him before entering into the room. “I didn’t want to startle you.”
“Oh, thanks. We know what happened last time you surprised me.”
Dr. Baxter laughed, holding his hands, pretending to protect himself. “I think I am still feeling that one.” Brianna sat up on the table. “Actually, if you wouldn’t mind lying on your back for me, please, I want to examine your torso.”
Brianna did as he asked, resting on her back, giving Dr. Baxter access to her stomach. Dr. Baxter walked beside her, blocking her view of the useless television. “Forgive me. My hands might be a little cold.”
That was the understatement of the year. His hands felt like sticks of ice against her skin. She couldn’t suppress the squeals that slipped from her as she concentrated on her best statue imitation while he pressed his fingers into her six-pack’s last resting place.
“Humph.” Pausing, Dr. Baxter leaned in to get a closer look at her side, and Brianna had a good idea of what he was looking at.
“What is it?”
“It looks like an angel or butterfly maybe? Did you try and get a tattoo removed or something?”
Her birthmark had gotten his attention. She was not surprised. It was pretty unique, and the few that had seen it all had the same reaction. “That’s my birthmark.”
“Really?” The energy in the room shifted dramatically, and the change made Brianna very uncomfortable.
“Yes, it is. Not typical, I guess.” Brianna watched an emotion take shape in his face that she couldn’t label. His mouth hung open a bit, forcing him to take a big gulp of nothing. Dr. Baxter was not breathing, and Brianna could see the color draining from his face.
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