He moved closer, extending his hand. “Come on. We shall take a walk, enjoy the sunny day, and then we’ll talk.”
While they strolled together through the rows of shrubs, he told her how he’d watched his lover grow sicker and then die, and countless other friends as well. He couldn’t sit by and watch another human being suffer. He explained with enthusiasm about the protease inhibitors he was currently taking, about finding hope again after so much despair. Finally, as the shadows lengthened in the late afternoon, he brought up the name of his healer.
“His name is Xavier Navarro. He’s a doctor, but he practices what he calls complementary medicine. Kind of a blend of therapies like nutrition, homeopathy, clinical medicine and old Mexican home remedies. I don’t claim to understand it, but I do know it works. He is very smart, brilliant even. Up-to-date on all the studies. But more than all of that, he’s a natural born healer. Do you believe such a thing is possible?”
“I do,” she replied, thinking of the miracles she, herself, had experienced. “What have I got to lose? Do you think he could help me?”
“Yes, he could if anyone could.” His voice was positive, full of confidence. It was very convincing to Charlotte, who was at this point grasping at straws.
“I won’t waste your time trying to explain what he does. I’m not sure I understand it all myself. Why don’t I make an appointment for you? As soon as possible. You can go in there, let him examine you, and see for yourself what he says. I really believe he can help you. Darling, I feel eons younger and stronger since I’ve been on his regime. A regular Hercules.”
Charlotte laughed, amused as much by Bobby’s dramatic enthusiasm as by the image of his slight body in the pose of a bodybuilder. “Of course. As soon as possible.”
Xavier Navarro’s office was in his home, a small creamy building built in the Mediterranean style, nestled in the remote California hills. The office was nondescript but very clean. Outdated magazines lay neatly on a wooden table flanked by a few mismatched chairs. Near the glistening windows, several thriving plants flowered in the sunlight. This, she thought, was a good sign.
They stepped in and removed their jackets. There was no secretary to check in with; this was strictly a homey operation. She wondered again if she should have come. Michael was furious with Bobby for taking her to “that quack.” Michael had little faith in anything that had to do with Mexican home remedies.
“Nervous?” Bobby asked.
“A little. I’ve been to so many doctors lately, and frankly I don’t want to be poked and prodded anymore. You don’t think he’ll do a full examination, do you? After all, how much does he need to know to prescribe a vitamin regime but my height and weight? And my daily activities, exercise, that sort of thing, I suppose. Everyone these days seems to want to know about my stress levels.” She glanced at her watch, impatient.
“You want some answers, don’t you? Come on, just sit down and relax. Read one of these magazines and find out what happened in sports four months ago.” He sat in a red chair and indicated an orange one for her. When she joined him he pulled a paperback novel from his pocket and within minutes was engrossed in the story.
Charlotte crossed her legs, stared out the window and counted the reasons why she should have just stayed home after all.
After a short wait, the door to the inner office opened and a squat, round, dark-skinned woman with Indian features and a flowing, riotously colored outfit strode from Navarro’s office. She was beaming. The part in her hair was very straight, severe and almost two inches wide, exposing an alarming amount of bare scalp. Charlotte wondered if the woman was seeing Xavier Navarro about that.
Then a tall Latin man with thoughtful eyes, a dark mustache and a long, benevolent face appeared at the door. He was conservatively dressed in a tan suit and a yellow patterned tie. Everything about him was clean and orderly and his manner was polite, even courtly. She liked him immediately and felt almost a gush of relief.
“Miss Godfrey?” he asked. Her ears picked up no trace of an accent.
She nodded and stood up.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?” He smiled warmly, then turned to Bobby. He spoke to him in Spanish and Bobby responded in kind, obviously making some kind of joke because both men laughed.
“Won’t you come in, Miss Godfrey? Let’s see how I can help you.”
“Go on,” Bobby prompted, sensing her hesitation.
The physical examination was quick and impersonal. His nurse was friendly and efficient, and Dr. Navarro, although considerate, made no attempt at humor. Rather, he set her at ease by explaining what he was doing and why. His methods were practical, if sometimes a little unusual. The only time she felt nervous was when he studied her head, jaw and neck at length, bending so close she felt the brush of his jacket against her cheek and could smell the soap on his soft hands. She had to will herself to relax, to allow him to examine her there. It required the utmost trust.
When he raised himself back up, he placed his hands around her jaws, cupping them but not quite touching the skin, and closed his eyes. He remained motionless. Then something remarkable happened. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it or not, but beneath his hands she felt heat. A soothing warmth that tingled the skin, and deeper, especially in the jaw joints.
After the nurse completed a few blood tests, he joined her again, pulling up a chair informally to talk to her.
“Have you ever had any plastic surgery, Miss Godfrey?”
Charlotte expelled a quick rush of air. Denial was on the tip of her tongue, but looking into his eyes, so circumspect, she knew it was useless to lie to him.
“Are the scars visible?”
He shook his head. “Oh, no, not at all. I compliment the surgeon. He did wonderful work. No, I felt the surgery. Felt the energy change. It was quite clear to me, actually. What was it?” he asked gently. “The jaw?”
“Yes,” she replied after hesitating. “And the chin.”
“Ah, yes, I thought I felt something there as well. But it’s much more pronounced at the jaw. Right about here.” He reached out and pointed directly to the small spot on either side of her jaw joint that caused her pain. She jumped slightly at the touch.
“Yes. It hurts there.”
He frowned and rubbed his own jaw in consternation.
“I’m concerned about your symptoms. The aches and pains, the headaches, the nausea and fatigue. They’re all connected, I’m sure of it. I’d like to do a little research. Would you come back? In a week or so? Good. In the meantime, I’ve worked out a program for you to begin immediately.”
He spent a good amount of time advising her in an unhurried manner about her new health regime. Some of the advice was very simple, part common sense, part Mexican home remedies that he claimed had been handed down to him through generations. His family had always been healers, shamans in the old days. It was, he explained to her with a chuckle and a twinkle in his eye, both an inherited gift as well as a curse.
His advice also included what sounded like standard medical practices. He explained that like most things in life, healing was a balance of modern medical knowledge and ancient wisdom. She had a vitamin B1 and B6 deficiency, and a mineral deficiency as well, quite common today, he assured her. He prescribed some antioxidants for stress, some vegetarian sources of digestive enzymes, and a few herbs that were given in neat little capsules, easy to take. She’d have to get used to taking a handful of pills, but if it worked, it would be well worth the gagging twice a day.
“We’ll get you feeling better right off,” he said to her as he saw her off at the door. “In the meantime, I’ll go to the medical library and do a little research, get your results. I’ll call you when I find something, all right?”
Charlotte realized how wrong she’d been to doubt Dr. Navarro. She left his office feeling more confident with his treatment than she had with anyone else’s. In fact, when she watched him glide across the floor, she thought he walked on water.
Two weeks later, Dr. Navarro called and asked to see her again. Right away. It was a blustery day, overcast and rainy, the kind that, if it continued, signaled an early fall.
“I’m sure it’s just a follow-up,” she said to Bobby as they drove together along the narrow, leaf strewn roads to Navarro’s office. “I feel so much better on his regime. The symptoms are almost gone. Really, I haven’t felt so good in months.”
“No need to convince me of anything, darling.”
She looked out the window, chewing her lip. It was herself she was trying to convince. Xavier Navarro had sounded so serious. There was a tone in his voice that hinted at bad news.
“I just know everything is fine,” she said again, more firmly. “Everything is so perfect. God won’t let anything bad happen now.”
Bobby, who knew better, kept his eyes on the road and said nothing.
Dr. Navarro greeted them at the door of his home office. The rain had begun falling in earnest, so they had to stomp their feet and brush the wet from their clothes after they scurried in. Unlike the first visit, there was no one else in the waiting room.
“Let’s go into my office where we can talk,” Navarro said after initial, polite pleasantries were exchanged.
“I’ll wait right here,” Bobby said, and he smiled encouragingly.
He couldn’t fool her. The lines of his smile were tense over glittering eyes, and after he took a seat in the waiting room, he slouched low, crossed his ankle over his knee and began wagging his wing-tipped shoes and drumming his fingers, too nervous to read.
“I’m feeling so much better,” she remarked when Navarro ushered her into the examining room.
“I’m glad,” Navarro replied with a sad smile. “No, no, there’s no need to change. Today we’ll just talk,” he said, and pointed to a chair.
Charlotte didn’t want to sit in the orange cushioned chair. She didn’t want to talk, to hear what Navarro had to say that made his expression so serious. Every instinct told her to run, but she sat in the indicated chair and held her hands tightly clasped. She’d imagined what he might have to say to her. That she had some disease that was causing all these symptoms, something debilitating. Or perhaps something horrible that would make it hard, or impossible, to have babies. My God, she thought, her heart pounding in her chest like a trapped bird. What if it was cancer?
“I’ve completed my inquiries and I believe I know the cause of all your problems.” He paused to look at his fingertips.
It felt as though the bird in her chest was flapping its wings wildly. She stared at the doctor’s fingertips, struggling to hold on to her composure. He said he knew? There would be an answer? Could it be true, after so many dead ends? She stifled her questions and sat straighter in her chair, leaning forward in anticipation.
“I’m afraid the news is unpleasant. Do you remember when you came to see me last we drew blood samples for studies? The results reveal that you are experiencing an unusual reaction. That is to say, an unusual immune response. I believe your body is developing antibodies to the silicone or part of the constituents of your implants that were inserted into your jaw during your reconstructive surgery.”
Charlotte heard the words but couldn’t give them meaning. “Implants? What…?”
Dr. Navarro picked up a pen and quickly drew a sketch of her jawline. “When Dr. Harmon created your jaw, he inserted small pads here—” He pointed to two spots directly on the jawbone. “And here,” he added, pointing to the chin.
Charlotte instantly knew they were the same spots on her jaw that caused her pain.
“The purpose was to project your jaw forward, to create a stronger, more defined line. It is a common procedure, and he completed it expertly.”
“Then…why is there a problem?”
Dr. Navarro set down his pen and folded his hands on the table. “It isn’t a problem with the surgery. I’ve consulted with someone I know who is doing research at the medical school. Your body is having a strong reaction to the implants. I’m afraid the implants must come out.”
Her heart sank and she slumped in the chair. Oh, God, no, she thought, bringing her hand to her jaw. Did that mean she’d have to go through still another surgery to fix up her face? She never wanted to go through that kind of pain again. Or to smell the inside of a hospital again, or to feel that groggy, nauseating dizziness of the recovery room. And how was she going to get the surgery done without telling Michael?
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this.”
“No, not at all,” she replied slowly, letting it all sink in. She was having a hard time articulating words beyond a whisper. “Thank you, Dr. Navarro. I’m—I’m grateful you found the cause of all my complaints. Really. I’ve been led to believe my symptoms were all in my head.”
“I admit, at first I was skeptical. Many of the illnesses and abnormalities reported with implants are anecdotal in nature. Nonspecific. In your case, it is clear the symptoms are real.”
“But—” she stroked her chin, putting together what she’d heard “—there’s one thing I don’t understand. If I’m having a rejection of these implants, what will they replace them with? I mean, are there several different kinds of implants?”
Dr. Navarro looked at her with a puzzled expression, then it changed, slowly, as his brows closed together. He drummed his fingertips together.
“I think perhaps you don’t understand,” he began, shaking his head regretfully. “The implants…They cannot be replaced.”
Charlotte blinked, uncomprehendingly. Surely she’d not heard right. “They can’t be replaced,” she echoed in a hoarse voice.
“No. It is most unfortunate.”
Her world was slowing, slowing, grinding to a halt. This wasn’t real. She was in shock. Numb. She looked around the room, moving her head with an effort.
“What if I don’t do it?”
He drew himself up in his chair and looked her straight in the eye.
“You must understand, Miss Godfrey. High titers of antipolymer antibodies seem to correlate with greater severity of immune disorders.”
“How severe?”
“These disorders get progressively worse.” He paused.
“They can be fatal.”
“No. There must be some mistake,” she said in a dazed voice.
“I’m sorry.” Navarro sighed with sympathy and shifted in his seat. “This reaction isn’t true for everyone. It is, in fact, rare. What you must understand is that in you it is clearly life threatening.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Let me speak plainly. Miss Godfrey, if you don’t remove the implants, it is my opinion that you will get progressively ill. This is life threatening.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You aren’t even a plastic surgeon! I’m going to see Dr. Harmon.”
“You should. As soon as possible.”
“He’ll tell me you’re wrong. He’ll fix it.”
“Miss Godfrey,” he began, tapping his fingertips together. “I’ve run several tests. There is no doubt. Dr. Harmon, any doctor aware of the facts, will corroborate what I am saying to you. I know this is difficult to hear and even more difficult to accept. But I don’t want you to leave with any misunderstandings.”
Panic began to grow in her gut as the possibility that what Navarro was saying might be true. In his white coat, sitting back in his chair, steepling his fingers with authority, he sounded too sure.
“If they are removed…” she began, thinking the impossible. “What happens to my jaw? To my face? What will I look like?”
“I can’t really say.” He looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. “I don’t know the extent of your original surgery.”
“If the implants are removed, then what will happen to my face?” she repeated with urgency.
“You should really talk to Dr. Harmon about these details.”
“What…would…happen…to…my…face?”
“I…” He spread out his fingers and loo
ked at them, and she felt as though her last shred of hope slipped through them. “I imagine your face, your jaw, would be as before the surgery.”
She felt as though he’d just dumped a bucket of cold water over her. No, it couldn’t be true. Her breath shortened. She felt a cold clutch in her heart, felt the little bird flutter and die, the breath squeezed out of it.
But death would have been too easy. She had to live through this.
Part Four
She dwells with beauty—Beauty that must die.
—John Keats
Nineteen
Bobby drove home from Xavier Navarro’s office with none of his usual reckless speed. He took the numerous sharp curves and angled slopes of the mountain roads with care, not wishing to cause Charlotte any more discomfort than she already felt. He’d been worried about her even before they’d arrived for her appointment. Seeing her ashen face and wild-eyed stare as she walked out of his office however, he knew it was time for action.
He disguised his alarm with his customary detached humor, trying to bring Charlotte out of her desultory silence. Nothing was working. She stared ahead at the road with eyes that seemed to see nothing. Her responses were brief, noncommittal, strained. Finally, Bobby was at his wit’s end. His self-confidence was shattered. There was nothing left but to be honest.
“All right, Charlotte, I confess, I can’t stand this another moment. I’m a curious creature. I adore secrets and am very good at keeping them, especially if I like the person, and you know I’d do anything for you.” He was gushing; his hand was lifting from the steering wheel, punctuating his remarks. “You’ve obviously had some bad news and I want to help. No, make that I need to help. I simply can’t sit here and watch you suffer in silence a moment longer.”
Charlotte turned her head. Then to his surprise, she said, “Yes, I need to talk to someone, and I think, yes, you are the very one I should talk to.”
He felt momentarily giddy with self-satisfaction. A rush of gladness that not only would she confide in him, but that he was, for the first time in many months, needed by someone. He vowed he would not fail her.
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