by Wild (lit)
“I need to write up some of the data quickly. Do you want me to bring you upstairs in the meantime?”
“No, I’ll stay down here with you.” She paused. “If you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not.”
I pushed her chair into the other room and placed her next to the computer while grabbing a stool for myself. As I sat down in front of my computer and switched on the program I needed I saw her eyes wander around the room.
I was surprised she didn’t find it strange or even creepy to sit in a windowless lab surrounded by unfamiliar instruments accompanied by a stranger. My fingers flew over the keyboard recording observations about the mouse I had just euthanized. I chalked it up to another failure, one of so many.
What I had told Annette wasn’t entirely the truth. I had found the switch to turn off the gene which controlled aging over thirty years ago. I had not anticipated the side effects it would have. Once I had realized it to my horror, the change had already taken place in my body, and there was no stopping it.
Ever since then I had tried to find a compound to reverse it, without effect. The last dead mouse was just another confirmation that I hadn’t gotten any further. However, my research over the last thirty years had produced some results, one of which was the serum I had developed to remove any foreign compounds from the body as long as they had not merged with the cell’s building blocks.
It was a first step, and I hoped it would eventually provide me with the antidote I was looking for.
“Vince.” Annette’s voice pierced through my thoughts.
I turned to her. “Yes?”
“Is your last name Mesaros?”
It was a strange question. “Yes. Didn’t I tell you that earlier?”
“Vincent Mesaros MD? School of Medicine, Boston University?”
I followed her stare, and looked straight at my diploma on the wall.
Oh, no!
Panic shot through my body.
“1971?” She gasped and stared at me.
Say something! Do something!
I wasn’t ready to tell her. I couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to hear it, not yet. What would she do? She would be disgusted when she realized I was old enough to be her father.
That’s it!
“Oh, that? That’s my father’s diploma.” I searched her face to see whether she would buy it. “I was named after him,” I lied.
“Oh. So you followed in his footsteps?” It seemed I was a better liar than I thought.
“You must think I’m really nosy,” she suddenly said apologetically.
“I don’t think that at all.”
You’re just getting a little too perceptive.
“You’re probably bored sitting around here.”
“No, I like watching you,” she admitted, but suddenly blushed when I locked eyes with her. I smiled. I wanted to kiss her, but instead touched her cheek with my hand. Her skin was warm.
“I thought you didn’t want to touch me,” she said sheepishly.
I sighed. “I’m just a man.” I pulled her chair closer to me before I even knew what I was doing. “I’m not always as strong as I should be.”
“Why resist at all?” Her voice was so soft, so tempting.
“Because it’s better for you.”
I could feel her leaning toward me. “Shouldn’t I know what’s better for me?” I heard her say.
“I should think so.” I smiled. “But it looks like you don’t.” My lips were only an inch away from hers. “Have you ever thought about the fact that I’m a stranger, and you’re alone with me in my house?”
“I think of it all the time,” she whispered seductively.
“Practically incapacitated?” I continued warning her.
“I can move enough for what I want to do.” I knew exactly what she meant.
“Without a means of escape?” The thought heightened my excitement.
“Who wants to escape?” Her voice was only a whisper.
“I could be a serial killer.”
“Of mice maybe,” she chuckled.
“Are you making fun of me?” I wasn’t angry.
“I would never, because you could be a serial killer, you know,” she mocked barely suppressing a laugh.
She had to be silenced, and fast. As soon as my lips brushed hers she stopped laughing. I wasn’t as gentle as the night before, but she didn’t seem to mind. Instead she threw her arms around my neck and pressed me close to her as if she didn’t want me to let go of her. Her lips were soft and sweet. She parted them almost instantly to allow me to explore her and taste her. She wanted me to kiss her more passionately. I could feel how she urged me by pressing her body closer to mine. Did she know what she was doing? What woman would make herself so vulnerable in the house of a stranger letting him feel her body the way she did? I pulled away from her lips for just a split-second to look at her, but she immediately came after me and pressed her lips onto mine. It felt like she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
I didn’t understand why she kissed me the way she did. Was she not afraid of me? I had to warn her about me, but I couldn’t tear myself away from her. I felt like a drunk who had tried to abstain for too long. Could she press her body any closer to mine or was it I who pressed hers against mine? I couldn’t tell. Was I the one demanding her passionate response or was she volunteering it? Did it matter? She wasn’t pulling away from me. There wasn’t an ounce of resistance in her, not a gram of hesitancy.
What was I thinking when I thought I could try to deny myself the sweet taste of her lips? I could handle this. I could learn to handle this, I told myself as I hung onto her lips.
The blaring noise of an alarm interrupted us. I jumped up. Annette gave me a frightened look.
“Sorry, it’s just one of my experiments. I need to check on it.”
Saved by the bell, I thought to myself as I strode to the bench at the other end of the room. I switched off the alarm and looked at the tissue sample I had prepared during the night.
My lips felt oddly raw and hot. I wondered how bad hers must feel after the way I had crushed them. I had let myself give into my desire. Obviously my strategy of keeping away from her and not touching her didn’t work.
As a scientist I knew if one method didn’t yield the desired result, another method had to be tried, until one could be found which would work.
I remembered what I had thought earlier when I was kissing her. I had thought I could learn to handle it. What if I could? What if I could keep my emotions under control and suppress the transformation?
It’s not the senses themselves, it’s what the mouse does with them. Those were my own words. Maybe there was more truth in them than I believed. In the last thirty years I had learned how to control myself in most situations and only transformed when the situation warranted it. Somehow my body knew when danger was real. So, what if I could tell my body that passion didn’t warrant a transformation?
Could I switch off the trigger, like I had switched off my aging gene? And if I could, would it mean she would never have to find out?
“I didn’t think you’d cave in that quickly,” she interrupted my thoughts.
Without turning away from the microscope I answered her. “Who says I caved in?”
I could feel how she held her breath.
“Maybe I was planning this all along?” I continued, but it was time to turn around to see her expression. I could tell she didn’t know whether I was joking or not since my voice had sounded serious.
Once she got a glimpse of my face though, she shot back. “No. I could tell by your kiss. You just caved.”
“What about my kiss?”
“It was too, too …” She was looking for the right word. “It had too much pent up hunger to be planned.”
I was surprised at her analysis. I myself had compared it to being drunk, but hunger was a good analogy too. “You didn’t exactly hold back either.”
“Oh, would you prefer me to play shy?”
With a couple of strides I was at her chair and pulled her up without letting her feet touch the ground. I looked into her eyes.
“I don’t want you to play anything. I want you the way you are.” I was serious.
“Vince?”
“Hmh?”
What is it, my angel?
“What’s going to happen when my leg is better?”
I wasn’t quite sure what she was getting at. “You won’t need any pain killers anymore, I guess, and you’ll walk on your own. Why?”
“I mean, will you still want me here?”
“Maybe not in the lab,” I joked. “But perhaps upstairs.”
She blushed and didn’t know what to say. Had she understood my sexual innuendo?
“Of course, I still want you here,” I whispered to her. “I don’t want to let you go, can’t you feel that?” I could feel her arms wrapping themselves around my neck as she put her head next to mine, cheek to cheek.
“I don’t want to leave.”
No, you don’t right now. But there’ll come a time when you will.
I didn’t want this time to ever come.
9. Annette’s Secrets
Vince’s work in the lab was soon done and he suggested spending the afternoon in Golden Gate Park. Thinking of my leg, I wasn’t quite sure how it would work.
“You’re not expecting me to walk around in that.” I pointed at the Zimmer frame.
He laughed. “Of course not - I’ll get you a wheelchair.”
“I’m going to look like an invalid!” I protested. I didn’t know what was worse, a wheelchair or a Zimmer frame.
“Nothing wrong with that.” He grinned. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll go borrow a wheelchair.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Hospitals are open every day of the week. I’ll be back in less than an hour.”
He rushed downstairs before I could protest. I didn’t want to sit in a wheelchair. However, the idea of spending an afternoon in the park was quite appealing. I could see through the skylight that it was sunny outside and days like these had to be taken advantage of.
I could tell he made every effort to make me feel comfortable. When I had gotten up in the morning, I had noticed he had unpacked my suitcases and made some space in his closet for me, where he had neatly hung my clothes.
He had also made some space on the bathroom counter for me where he had placed all toiletries he had found in my suitcase. Vince had also laid out fresh towels for me. I had been surprised at how thoughtful he was.
Most men his age or younger could only think of themselves and showed others no consideration. It had always been a contentious point between me and any of the guys I had been dating.
Most of them had been under thirty and completely self-absorbed. It had never lasted very long. I had been dumped just as often as I had dumped guys, but it most cases it had always been just a matter of time. If they hadn’t dumped me, I was sure I would have dumped them in short order.
My aunt had always thought my morals were too loose, because I had gone from one guy to the next, but I didn’t see it this way. Why stay with somebody, when you realized after a few weeks that he was a jerk?
My aunt hadn’t understood it and had been glad when I had decided to leave Des Moines. She had given me the obligatory please stay speech, but I could tell it had been half-hearted.
I was pretty sure she was glad I was gone. Since I liked to see her shocked face when she would see me standing at the door again, I hadn’t bothered informing her of my planned return. Now I was glad I hadn’t. It saved me from having to call her and explain to her I was staying in San Francisco after all.
It was better she didn’t know what was going on. She would be just shocked if she heard I had woken up in a stranger’s bed, injured and practically incapacitated, and without the slightest intention of wanting to leave.
I suddenly remembered what Vince had answered me when I had asked him when he had last kissed a woman. His answer had been a little cryptic. I figured he had wanted to disguise the fact that it had been a while. It was May, and he had said it was in July of the year he had turned thirty-two.
I calculated. If he was thirty-three now, then it had been almost a year. It didn’t look like he dated much. Was that why he seemed so reluctant about getting physical with me? Would he be shocked if he found out how many guys I had dated? Maybe it was best I kept that little fact to myself. There wasn’t much of a chance of him finding out anyway, so why tell?
I remembered he had seen Ben. Ben hadn’t exactly been one of my brightest choices, and I had felt almost relieved when he had stopped calling. It saved me from dumping him. That he had started seeing Carmela behind my back had completely escaped me, and despite the fact that I didn’t care about him, I had been a little miffed about their secrecy.
I put my thoughts away when I heard Vince return. He packed me into the car and drove us to Golden Gate Park, parking on one of the side streets north of the park.
I waited while he took out the collapsible wheelchair from the trunk. Being able to borrow a wheelchair from the hospital was probably one of the perks of being a doctor.
“Your chariot awaits, Madam,” Vince announced as he helped me from the car into the wheelchair.
Golden Gate Park stretched from the ocean to Haight Ashbury and occupied more than a thousand acres of land. It housed many attractions like the Conservatory of Flowers, the Buffalo Paddock, Botanical Gardens, Polo Fields and lots more. It was the City’s residents’ first and foremost garden, a place where everybody came to on the weekends.
The park was packed as usual on a sunny day. On Sundays some of the streets leading through the park were closed to traffic, so people could freely walk, run, bike and roller skate without having to watch out for cars.
Vince pushed my wheelchair, passing by the new De Young Museum and around the concourse, before he headed toward one of the many meadows where people would lie on the grass and read, sun themselves or just relax.
Vince told me about the earthquake which had damaged the old De Young Museum several years ago, and how long it had taken to finally start rebuilding.
We stopped at a small meadow which was still relatively empty.
“Would you like to stay here for a little while?”
I nodded. He took a blanket which had been stuffed into the back pocket of my wheelchair and laid it out toward one side of the meadow. He came back to lift me into his arms and carry me to the spot he had selected for us.
I used the opportunity to look into his eyes. He lowered us onto the blanket and stayed close to my side. I was pleased he didn’t want to immediately put some space between us.
I rested my head on his arm, as he turned his body toward me.
“I could get used to this,” I said.
“You mean the wheelchair?” he teased me.
“You know I don’t mean the wheelchair.”
I ran my hand through his hair. He didn’t stop me.
“This is a family place,” he warned me with a smile. “So you’d better not be planning anything else.”
He pulled my hand out of his hair and put it toward his lips, kissing my palm.
“This is a family place,” I repeated.
“Don’t worry, this is PG-13,” he claimed between kisses to my hand. “Annette, may I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I was wondering what was on his mind.
“When you woke up in my bed that first morning, why were you not scared?”
I wasn’t quite sure how to answer him, because I didn’t know myself.
“I wish I could say, but when I looked at you, I had no reason to be scared. You weren’t there to hurt me.”
“But you didn’t know that then.”
“I guess I must have had a gut feeling.” I shrugged my shoulders. I suddenly had an awful thought. “I hope you don’t think I’m making it a habit to wake up in strangers’ beds.”
“Well, now that you’re pointin
g it out …”
He didn’t get any further. I started pounding my hands into his chest, but he just laughed until he finally clutched my wrists without any effort and held them tight.
“Cute,” he said and kissed my fists quickly. “Peace?” He released my wrists and then wrapped his arms around me. “Am I forgiven?”
“Only if you kiss me.” I decided to take advantage of the situation.
“As I said, this is a family place, and the way you kiss is rated R if not X-rated.”
“You’re exaggerating. It’s barely PG-13, and it’s not even called X-rated. They call it NC-17. How long have you not been to a movie?”
“Anyway, don’t change the subject. You don’t kiss PG-13. I guess, I’m going to have to take you to a few movies to show you the difference, unless they rate things differently in Des Moines,” he added jokingly.
He lowered himself back into the grass keeping me in his arms. He obviously had decided it was safe to touch me, but not safe enough to kiss me. For now, it was good enough. I leaned my head against his chest and soaked in his smell.
There was something primal about him. Maybe he emitted a lot more of those pheromones I had read about in a trashy magazine. They were supposed to attract women. I wondered what had attracted him to me. Did women emit pheromones too?
“Vince.”
“Hm?” His eyes were closed.
“Why did you not bring me to a hospital?”
I could tell how he suddenly held his breath. He seemed to think long and hard about his answer. He opened his eyes and turned to look at my face, before he answered.
“I don’t know, Annette. It was a split-second decision. I knew I had all the medical training and all the medications at home to take care of you.” He stopped. “But I don’t know what made me take you home. I just couldn’t bring myself to drop you off at the hospital. I know it was wrong.” He looked apologetic.
“Do you regret it?”
“I can’t regret something that brought so much joy into my life.”
I smiled at him. He changed the subject, and I guessed it was because he felt just like I did that we wanted to kiss.
He sat up and looked up into the trees which surrounded the meadow.