Assimilation

by James Stryker

  But Simon closed his eyes and nuzzled his cheek to Natalie’s shoulder. “Please don’t stay away much longer, Mom. I miss you.”

  Her frame grew more rigid. After a long break, she replied. “So, how’s school?”

  Robert rubbed his chin. It was an odd response. No “I miss you too” or “I love you”? What was wrong with her?

  It’s not her fault. You’ve got to keep that in mind.

  Natalie’s sudden awkwardness, resistance, and anger were things he was sure he could become accustomed to, now that the CryoLife doctors had given him a reason for her behavior. The “tissue alteration,” as Brigman had called it, was worth having her back.

  If you’re changed from this, it doesn’t matter. You’re still you. He watched Natalie’s face. Was she aware of the changes in herself? If you are different, maybe you’ll try to fix or control these behaviors.

  And as he’d assured Natalie before, Simon didn’t care. He forgave his mother’s strange, distant actions.

  “School’s good,” Simon whispered, winding the ends of her hair around his fingers. “But don’t talk. Be warm, Mom.” He hummed louder. “Just be warm.”

  Robert wasn’t concerned with the request. He knew Simon wasn’t referring to Natalie’s lack of affection. Coldness was death to him. He’d rather have her slightly imperfect, but there. And he now knew she wasn’t gone forever. She wasn’t dead. She was warm. And this was supreme.

  We can get used to this, Simon. It’s still her.

  The rare times Robert had had a peaceful sleep in the past year stuck out in his mind. And never had he slept as well as the day he saw his wife open her eyes. It’d been a new door opening. A back door, into the past. Joy and hope pumped out the misery and loneliness. The emotions had been draining and when he got home his bones gave way beneath him, and he sank into a dreamless sleep.

  So he understood how Simon could let the release power him off. His fingers slipped from her hair, and he melted into his mother. Natalie looked petrified.

  “He’s only asleep, Nat.”

  “I know he’s asleep.” She looked at him before swallowing and turning her eyes to Robert. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I can’t do this to you, or him.”

  “What are you talking about?” He placed his hand on hers, but she pulled away. “Is this about the warm comment? He’s not talking about how you’re acting. Don’t you remember when his hamster died? He asked why it was cold.”

  It was one of his favorite memories. He’d been dozing when he heard the voice on the opposite bedside. Natalie’s arm had unfolded from his chest as she turned with a yawn.

  “What is it, baby?”

  “Scooter won’t move. Why’s he cold, Mom?”

  Robert pictured Simon holding out the stiff rodent, but he’d kept his eyes closed. How were dead hamsters disposed of? It’d clog the toilet, and they didn’t take the trash for another week. Maybe he’d throw it over the fence with a pair of tongs and let the neighbor’s cat have it.

  “Oh, Simon, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but he’s dead.” Her arm moved as she petted either the hamster or the boy.

  “What’s dead?”

  “Dead is where your body can’t work anymore. It’s sick, or hurt, or old. The parts don’t work together right.”

  “What happens to you then?”

  “You leave. You can’t stay in something that doesn’t work anymore.”

  “Where do you go?”

  “I don’t know, baby,” Natalie had said it in such a genuine tone that it didn’t sound like a cop out. “You go wherever you’re supposed to go.”

  “But where’s that?”

  “You know when you get there.” Her body leaned farther from Robert. “Set him on the nightstand, love, and come here.”

  The mattress creaked as Simon crawled into bed.

  “I don’t like being cold.”

  “Neither do I.” She pulled the blanket around the two of them.

  “That’s how I knew something was wrong with Scooter. When he’s sleeping, I poke him and he’s warm. When you’re cold, is it almost dead? Does it mean you’re becoming dead?”

  “No. It means you need a cuddle with someone who loves you. Don’t think so much, baby. You’re not going to die.”

  “Are you going to die? Is Dad going to die?”

  “Not for a very long time. Don’t worry about it.”

  Their son’s fears had been soothed, and it hadn’t been long before Robert heard their rhythmic breathing. He turned on his back and folded his arms under his head.

  Perfection.

  He’d glanced at Natalie’s hair falling across the pillow. He could tell she had Simon in her arms, her cheek to his head. There wasn’t a single thing out of place. His family. His life. He had everything he ever wanted.

  I created this. I built this.

  And now he was going to regain it. Minus the dead rodent on the nightstand.

  “Yes, I remember.” The Natalie in the hospital bed brought him back from the frequently visited memory. “It’s not about that. I’m different. I—”

  “Does it look like it matters to him that you’re a little different?”

  “It’s not a little different.” She sighed. “There’s something wrong, and I can’t hide that from you.”

  “It’s an adjustment, I’ll give you that. But you’ll feel more normal when you’re home.”

  Robert put aside the half concocted thought of her wanting to leave them. This was Natalie. And she’d always been afraid of disappointing him. Her goal in life was to be the perfect wife and mother, and she was panicking because she felt she was falling short. Which she was, but he could deal with her deficiencies.

  And shortages could be temporary anyway. Perhaps she hadn’t considered that. “You don’t know you can’t get better.”

  Natalie lowered her eyes to the floor.

  “You said you’d never prevent me from doing what I want. Even during the next six months when you own me, in essence.”

  “I don’t own you. I’m your guardian. There’s a difference.” He motioned to Simon. “I’m Simon’s guardian too, and look, I let him out of the dungeon occasionally.” The joke met with a blank stare. “Nat, I’m kidding. I’d never force you to do anything.”

  “You feel like that now. You bought me. You probably have a receipt for me.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “I paid for a group of doctors to bring you back to us. I paid for them to perform a service. I don’t own the product. I don’t give a fuck what the law says I technically have, or can do.”

  Robert expected this to draw a positive reaction. She wanted to know she was valuable, but also that he didn’t think of her as an object, right?

  “And if I try and it doesn’t work, will you let me go?”

  Robert took off his glasses. He rubbed his eyebrows with his thumb and pointer finger. He couldn’t rationalize this as being part of her new eccentricity and be okay with it. Why was she being this morbid? Let it go. No matter how uncomfortable this new reality currently was, she could be dead. With that tamed, what else mattered and why were they wasting time being upset about it?

  “Natalie, I’ll say it again – I won’t prevent you from doing anything. If you wanted me to turn the conservatorship to CryoLife so you could be someone else, I would.” He slid his glasses back on. “But don’t give up on yourself. Please try.”

  Her eyes drew inward but she put her cheek to the top of Simon’s head.

  “I’ll try, but I wanted to make sure there was an out.”

  “There’s always an out. Even in the most difficult situations.”

  And Robert smiled. He’d won. As usual.

  Chapter 6

  Natalie was released on schedule. And the hiccups in between were so minor that Robert paid them no mind. Again she changed after the troubling conversation during Simon’s visit.

  She seemed complacent. And while it wasn’t her normal self, it was closer than any version bef
ore. Robert believed it was more due to him and Simon encouraging her to work harder at recovery, and less because of the medication she was on. Most of the time.

  With the target date of release in sight, the CryoLife staff were amiable about transitioning his wife’s care. A couple of days before she left, Dr. Zuniga reviewed with him the medications Natalie was taking.

  “It’s been such a traumatic event for you and your son, Mr. Keller. And it’s been almost as bad for Mrs. Keller.”

  “I know.” Robert nodded.

  “After reanimation, individuals have a tendency to become depressed. Or possibly aggressive.”

  It was good to have that out in the open. “Yes, I noticed she gets riled quicker than she used to.”

  “A normal part of adjusting, I assure you,” Zuniga said. “So based on our continued talks, we’ll make recommendations of medication to help her assimilate.”

  Robert hadn’t been sure how he felt about this at first.

  “You said recommendations?”

  “Yes. If we think a new medication or dosage would be effective, as her conservator you’ll need to approve. We try to make it easy for you by only providing our medication to a licensed distributor so her immunosuppressant medication can be combined on site with everything else. The end result is that she’ll only have to take one pill.” Zuniga had tipped her glasses and looked at Robert. “Technically, Mr. Keller, you don’t need to worry her about what’s in the medication.”

  And the psychiatrist had shown him the document detailing what CryoLife was giving Natalie. The complicated medications didn’t have the friendly names advertised on television. But Zuniga explained what each was, and how they worked together to help his wife.

  She also mentioned alternatives they could try if Natalie became too listless, or developed facial tics. The level of control made him feel better. Characteristic of the entire CryoLife operation, he didn’t get the sense of being a pawn. He was a player. And not even “a player.” The player. Natalie had relied on him to make decisions for the last ten years, and she could continue to do so.

  “You’ll need to sign for the prescription yourself for the first couple weeks. We don’t allow them to handle their own medication until they’re in the right habits to continue independently.” Dr. Zuniga pushed a document across the table.

  Robert glanced at the pharmacy’s address on the paper. He knew the place.

  “And, Mr. Keller, be sure to tell me if you have problems. Specifically, the interaction with the pharmacy. As I said, CryoLife only works with certain distributors, and we have high standards of quality and service.”

  “We’ve had prescriptions filled there before. I don’t remember having any issues.”

  “And I don’t expect you to have any. I just want you to know that we’re here for you.” The doctor touched his arm. “We want to make the transition home as smooth as possible, so if there’s anything more we can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  *

  The ankle monitor had been the biggest upset for Natalie. Maybe they’d had the misfortune of catching her as the last dose of medication was wearing off. Her anxiety had shot through the roof.

  “What was that about you not owning me, Robert? About this arrangement not being a prison?” Natalie paced her room like a caged animal. Since she’d regained the ability to walk, she was constantly in nervous motion.

  “It’s important for your safety.”

  “For your safety, you mean. The safety of your investment.”

  “Hon, we need to make sure you’re okay. If something happened to you, if you had a reaction to your medication, we’d need to be able to find you.”

  She raised her palms to her forehead, squinting her eyes shut. Her shoulders quivered as she brought in loud, ragged breaths.

  Robert exchanged a look with Dr. Brigman, who stood in the doorway holding the black ankle monitor. The doctor mouthed, “It’s okay” before clearing his throat.

  “Mrs. Keller, it’s—”

  Natalie spun on her heels and dropped her arms. Unlike Robert had thought, she wasn’t crying, but her words came fast and panicked. “I just want to be alone sometimes. I need to be alone. I need to think. By myself. Alone.”

  “And you can still do that, Mrs. Keller.” Brigman stepped farther into the room. “We don’t have someone watching your every move. Why would we do that?”

  She eyed the device in the man’s hands as he approached. Robert saw her tense when he got within arm’s length, but Brigman must have seen it too. Instead of proceeding, he sidestepped to the hospital bed.

  “It’s standard procedure, and I promise it comes off after two weeks.” Brigman patted the mattress. “Come along, I can’t allow you to go home without it, Mrs. Keller. You want to go home, don’t you?”

  Still, Natalie remained frozen.

  I’m going to have to grab her and hold her down, I guess. Robert sighed. He didn’t prefer having to be rough with her, but this game was wasting everyone’s time.

  Though he thought her stare had been fixated on the ankle monitor, at his slight movement toward her, she flinched. And he found that no further advance was necessary as she backed closer to the bed while eyeing him.

  “That’s it, have a seat.” The doctor stood, waiting until Natalie sat before he knelt. He rolled the right cuff of her jeans. “Mrs. Keller, did your husband tell you that my son used to be a patient here also?”

  She shook her head, the anxious breaths continuing as Brigman slid the black strap around her ankle.

  “He liked to be alone and think too. And nothing could stop him from doing it, especially not an ankle monitor.” The doctor locked the strap in place and pressed the rivets around it tightly. When he stood, he took a keychain from his pocket. “What do you think about?”

  After clearing her throat Natalie answered in a wavering voice, which made it seem like another question. “Art?”

  Brigman hit a button on the keychain. A green light illuminated on the ankle monitor’s housing, and there was a sharp beep. “He’d probably say the same. All sorts of silly things.” He laughed and looked to Robert. “A word with—”

  “Dr. Brigman.” Even though Natalie had cut him off, she seemed to fumble for her next words. “Besides your son, you’d mentioned two other patients. The Chinese food man and the musician. Is there a way I could reach out to them?”

  “Why would you want to do that?” The corners of Brigman’s mouth twitched slightly, but he maintained his smile.

  “Someone to talk to who understands.”

  “Well, Mrs. Keller, you have resources that are much, much better than that. All of our CryoLife affiliated doctors and therapists are happy to talk with you, and we know more ‘how it is’ than anyone, due to treating the thousands of patients before you.” He turned toward Robert. “We don’t encourage contact with other patients due to privacy, and truly there isn’t a need. They’re just normal people restarting their lives. It’d be like having a support group for people who just came back from Hawaiian vacations.”

  While Natalie focused on the floor, Robert nodded. “That makes sense. If she wants to talk, we’ll make sure to set something up with the staff here.”

  “Excellent,” Brigman said. “And may I also have a word with you privately, Mr. Keller?”

  Robert tried to catch Natalie’s eye, but she didn’t look up. “You’ll be okay, Nat?”

  He paused for a response that didn’t come before shutting the door and walking down the hall to where Brigman waited.

  “Doctor, I apologize. I have no idea what’s gotten into her.”

  “Mr. Keller, there’s no need. This is part of working toward the goal of a complete assimilation. I understand that firsthand.” The doctor smiled. “I am going to recommend we overlap her medication more though. Maybe move it to four or five times a day instead of two. And increase the neuroleptics.”

  “To help the anxiety?”

  “Correct, but that’s no
t what I want to talk to you about,” Brigman said. “You remember when we chatted that day in my office? How I said I’d care for you like family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I meant it. And even more wholeheartedly in your case. See, you remind me a lot of myself. You’re so devoted to your family, Mr. Keller. A loving husband and role model to your son. Protector, provider, caretaker.”

  Robert remained silent. Yes, he was all these things.

  “You and I are the same kind of person. We take ownership and accountability of those around us. We stand for the virtuous qualities so many of today’s men are lacking. We’re leaders of the finest degree.”

  Robert still didn’t reply.

  “So, based on my own personal experience, not on anything professional, I want to offer some advice before you go.”

  The doctor clapped his hand against Robert’s shoulder.

  “This is your hour. This is your time to lead. You can see that your wife is struggling. My son had the same type of challenges. It’s completely normal, but at no other time in her life will Natalie need you as much as she does now. You can’t forget your position.”

  “My position?” Robert shrugged off Brigman’s touch.

  “Yes. Protector, provider, caretaker. If she’s having difficulty finding her place in the world, you’ll need to show it to her.”

  Robert turned his eyes to the wall, before looking at him.

  “Did your son not find his place, and is that why you only keep a picture of him when he was a child?”

  “Unfortunately, Mr. Keller, I was too dewy-eyed at having him back to hold the reins properly. To teach him, like he should’ve been taught. I failed him, and I regret it every day. I don’t want the same to happen to you.”

  Robert found he couldn’t avoid the question. “You talk about him in the past tense. What happened to him? Did he die?”

  “No, but he might as well be dead.” Dr. Brigman sighed. “Don’t let unconditional love divert you from truly supporting your wife. You must lead with absolute authority.” His smile returned as he took Robert’s arm and steered him to Natalie’s room. “I want to see you happy.”