He sank back into the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. She didn’t reproach him.
“Sorry, but you’re not that beguiling. I’m proof of that. You can’t make anyone love you. They choose to do that, and you have to let them make their choices and own their mistakes.”
“But this isn’t a situation you understand, Oz.” Natalie sighed, her shoulders sinking further. “It’s not that clean cut. He was distraught and grieving. He wanted to do the right thing.”
“Being upset isn’t an excuse for making poor decisions. And I don’t mean to blast the guy for being ‘noble’. How long were you out though? It couldn’t have been much more than a year based on the elapse between when I first saw you, and when you came in to get your meds last week.”
“Sixteen months.”
“Do you know how long it takes them to construct a body? Approximately nine months. So, if you were only out for sixteen, he had that money in six. They won’t do a damn thing until every drop is paid. And how long are they required to keep your brain in storage before they toss you out?”
“Five years.”
“So why would he go into financial hardship instead of being more responsible? In five years he could’ve come up with it – saving, and I’m sure with the fundraising bullshit, but he could’ve done it. He picked the timeline, that’s not your bad.”
“He wanted me back. I told you, he loved me.”
“But I say again, how can you possibly blame yourself for that? Look, doll, you think this is complicated, but it’s not. Listen, do you see him anywhere? Is he here right now?”
She raised an eyebrow. “No, he left for work.”
“So you aren’t connected. You aren’t the same body and mind. You’re two separate individuals. Simply put: There’s the you compartment, and there’s the Robert compartment.” Oz put out one fist and then the other.
“You leave his feelings, his decisions, his weird erotic fantasies in his compartment. They may affect you sometimes, but they’re not yours." Satisfied in having made his point, he dropped eye contact to fish his cigarette pack out of his pocket. “Let the man own his decisions. If he has buyer’s remorse, he has only himself to blame. Don’t be such a selfish bitch.”
He didn’t know if she was comforted by his sentiments. Genuinely, he was trying to make her feel better. As no one had apologized to her for the circumstance besides Santino, he doubted she’d spoken of her unhappiness to anyone. He knew you couldn’t talk to or trust those CryoLife therapists. They were representatives of CryoLife, eager to quiet criticisms with pills.
And if she’d mentioned how she was feeling, no one would dare make the assertion that Robert had been irresponsible. No one would explain that she had to separate herself from him, let alone encourage her to do it. They were CryoLife. They brought families together. Everything was fluffy bunnies and unicorns shooting rainbows out their asses. Any good psychiatrist would’ve told her she wasn’t accountable for Robert, but a CryoLife psychiatrist thrived on making a person feel vulnerable, dependent, and indebted.
“You can’t smoke in here, Oz,” Natalie said, but she smiled.
“You’re a cigarette Nazi, eh?”
“I couldn’t care less what you do, but if you smoke, Robert will know someone has been here.”
“Will he dangle you from the ceiling in chains? Whipping your naked skin with a riding crop to punish you for opening the door?”
“I don’t want to talk to him about it. If he thinks I have new friends, he’ll want to meet them.”
He was touched to be classified as a friend. It was plural, so it included Santino and Tinks, but it also meant she appreciated what he’d said.
“I’ll meet him. I’m a nice guy.”
“He won’t think you’re nice.”
From the family picture that hung on the wall, which included the pre-reanimated Natalie, Robert looked straight laced. A pleasant but reserved man. The kind who always wore a shirt and tie and carried two ballpoint pens in his pocket. Would Robert not like him because he was gay? His tattoos and piercings? His chain smoking? The drinking and growing weed in his basement? He wouldn’t be fond of all these characteristics, but what she was probably referring to was his big mouth. It was a good thing Oz didn’t care what Robert thought of him.
“If I can’t smoke here, we can’t stay here. I’m beyond not admitting I need them. Pack the kid, and let’s go.”
“What makes you think I’m going anywhere with you?” Natalie didn’t move.
“You’re depressed and need to get out of this prison. You’ve got Big Brother watching your every move.” He motioned to the portrait as he stood, returning the lighter and pack to his pocket. The unlit cigarette still dangled from his lips. “For real, I don’t care about bringing the kid. Let’s get the fuck out.”
“Simon isn’t here.”
“I meant the baby. You can bring him. Or her. Whatever it is.”
“What baby?”
“You came into the pharmacy with a car seat two years ago. The way you were kissing at it made me think you were trying to suck its face off, or get it to eat out of your mouth like a fucking bird.”
“It died in the accident.”
Oz paused, searching her face.
“Well, I’d offer my condolences if you were upset, but it appears you’ve healed up decently.”
“I’ve had a while to get used to it. Of course, I’m sad.” The skin around her eyes tensed. “I mean, a baby died.”
“So do rhododendron plants. ‘What baby?’ ‘It died.’ ‘A baby.’ You don’t need to worry about me judging you. My best friend fucks dead people. My other friend hammers tools into his head. Yeah, it’s sad when anything dies, even rhododendron plants. But if you felt connected to the kid, you wouldn’t refer to it that way.” Oz took out his keys and, hooking his finger in the ring, swung them around. “As it is, I lied. I was hoping you’d have stuck it in a daycare. Let’s go.”
“I’m not going with you, Oz.”
He thought she might initially refuse, which was why he’d prepared a backup plan. To work through these types of problems one had to stay a step ahead. Know the rules and where to move next.
“Even for these?” He presented a small orange bottle and shook it, producing the sound of pills ricocheting off the insides.
“What are those?”
“Unlaced pills. The pure stuff, without the fun CryoLife additives they put in to keep you a fucking drone.”
Her eyes widened.
“But I can’t in good conscience give them to you unless I’m sure you don’t need the bonuses. And I won’t know that without spending more time with you.” He pocketed the bottle. “I’m a professional, doll.”
“Tell me what they’re putting in the medication.”
“I can’t think and not smoke at the same time. I’ll tell you everything in the car.” He could see her hesitate. “Really, what else do you have to do today, and more poignantly, what do you have to lose?”
The sharp realization broke the dam.
“I have to be home by three when Robert gets back. It’s his one early day.”
As Natalie dug through a basket near the entrance, Oz glanced at the covered picture by the door.
What are you hiding? He only briefly hesitated invading her privacy. Let’s face it, I have the restraint of a two-year-old.
He pulled at a corner of the pillowcase tucked around the frame and the covering dropped to the floor. His initial uncertainty at seeing his own reflection turned to shame.
“Are you Jewish?”
“No, why?” She brought a set of keys from the basket and faced him. He gestured to the uncovered mirror.
Oz was relieved he hadn’t disrupted a Shiva for the sake of his impulsiveness, but his confusion returned. He felt her watching him as he ran his gaze along the mirror’s gilded frame.
“I wouldn’t say it’s an ugly mirror. Maybe gaudy in comparison to the rest of your décor.�
� He picked up the pillowcase and folded it over his arm. “Not that a tan pillowcase goes better, but whatever you prefer.”
“I prefer to go, if we’re going to.” Natalie took the pillowcase and tossed it onto the coffee table. She held open the door. “Go.”
He considered launching himself back onto her couch and badgering her further about the covered mirror. There was something more to it – her body language told him there was.
But you’ll tell me when you’re ready. If I haven’t figured you out first. Oz strode through the door and pushed his hands in his pockets. His fingers went directly to his lighter. Who are you kidding? It’s not the fairness of allowing her to be comfortable. It’s that you can’t wait another five minutes for a cigarette.
Chapter 18
“Where are we going?” Andrew asked as they approached the car parked on the street.
While he took wide steps to try and keep pace with Oz, the man quickened his stride at the grass strip that separated the sidewalk and curb.
Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door. Don’t—
Oz jogged around the front and held out the passenger side for him.
“It’s a surprise,” he said.
What are you doing, Andrew? Getting into a car with someone who’s practically a stranger and that you can barely stand? He stayed with his hand to the door and watched Oz circle the car. Though he was nice to me in there. His version of nice.
Oz’s blunt opinions about Robert and the situation had made him feel better. It wasn’t just that he felt heard, but he had the sense of someone wanting to hear. Yes, the other guys at the bar had been anxious for him to reveal his secret, but they hadn’t been concerned about him. He’d been a curiosity among curiosities. Oz sought him out because he “seemed lonely.” And he listened carefully enough to pick out subtle things Andrew hadn’t meant to let slip.
“If I’m going to get you home in time to change the kid’s diapers, you need to get in the car.”
Finding out about the pills. That’s the reason you’re going. And you’ll try not to kill him. No promises, but you’ll make an honest effort. Andrew closed the car door and buckled his seatbelt.
Oz started the engine. He pulled out his lighter, but then paused. “Am I allowed to have a cigarette in my own car? Or do I have to suck on this fucking thing all day?”
“If you smoke, you have to have me home by two, so I can wash my clothes and shower.” If Robert discovered … Well, he didn’t exactly know what Robert would do. He’d cleaned the outlet covers and lightbulbs. Scrubbed the grout around the bathtub with a toothbrush. Wiped down the inside of the vents. Could he go out with a friend if he’d done all that? Being social had clearly been approved over artistic pursuits.
“Not a friend who smokes,” Robert would probably say, since cigarette smoke couldn’t be allowed to pollute his wife.
Oz pulled out of the parking space, and the car sped down the street.
“You’re such a fucking nun,” he mumbled as he held his lighter to the cigarette.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s in the medication, or was this a stupid game?”
“Listen to you. This is twice you’ve accused me of lying to get you alone. First with the group, and now again. If I wanted to get you alone, I clearly don’t need to lie. I didn’t lie to get you to let me into your apartment, did I?”
“You said it was cold outside.”
“If you believed me, that’s your fault. It’s eighty degrees.”
“Tell me then, if you intend to.”
Oz veered the car to the left and checked behind his shoulder to merge onto the highway. “A little of this, a dash of that. Depends on your psychiatric sessions. Depends on what your master wants.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you’re too depressed, or too manic. Too angry, not angry enough. Want too much sex, don’t want any. You name it, they have a pill for it. And they change your personal mix often.” Oz looked from the road to meet his eyes. “Since you’ve been released, they’ve changed your medication three times.”
Three times?
“They probably thought the last combo wasn’t working, so they’re trying something else. Do you feel more tired than you did weeks ago? More run down? Maybe cloudy in the head? And from time to time you get a tremor in your hands? That’s the new meds.”
Andrew pushed his hands in his pockets.
“But I was told if I didn’t take them the body would reject my brain and I’d die. Or is that not true either?”
“No, that’s true. It’s necessary to keep everything simpatico. But it’s also a good opportunity to pump you full of anything else that suits their fancy, and ensure you keep taking it like a fucking mule.”
“But what else am I supposed to do, if I need a part of it?”
“You were supposed to get in the car with me. Which you did.” Oz took one hand off the wheel and slipped the pill bottle from his pocket. He tossed it to him. “Here you go. I’m a man of my word.”
Andrew opened the lid and emptied some capsules into his palm. They identical to the ones he’d been taking since the beginning.
“Now, that’s not the immunosuppressants without all the shit. But it’s a downgrade from the other cocktail.”
“You said they were unlaced.”
“Slightly unlaced would’ve been a better term.” He tapped his cigarette ash on the window frame. “What they have you on is highly addictive. If I cut you off cold, you’d have withdrawal symptoms they’d identify.”
“Withdrawal symptoms?”
“Sure. People trade this shit in back alleys. If I gave you the straight immunosuppressants, you’d be manic. You wouldn’t be able to sleep. You could start having seizures. And then what kind of responsible healthcare provider would I be?”
Andrew felt Oz looking at him, but he studied the medication, his hands shaking.
“The ticket is to step off gradually so we don’t cause problems that would prompt them to put you on more meds. It’ll take a bit to wean you off them. Length of time depends on how you feel.”
Hitting the reflection of the pool instead of the water. Is this where it came from? Is this what caused it? These pills constructed a barrier inside him. A blockade to self-expression. He wasn’t stupid enough to not have supposed before that it was a possibility, but to have it confirmed …
“They can’t make me take something against my will!” He dropped the pills into the bottle and closed it. “They can’t do this!”
“Wrong-o. They can make you do whatever. There isn’t even a ‘make you’. It’s ‘you do.’ Or have you forgotten that you’re a piece of furniture?” Oz flicked his cigarette outside the car.
“Robert wouldn’t stand for it.”
Natalie hadn’t taken medication. She hadn’t needed drugs to be perfect. When Robert found out that CryoLife was secretly contaminating—
“Newsflash, doll, Robert allows it. Whenever they recommend a change to your meds he has to sign on the dotted line. And not only is he the reason they can do it, he’s why they do it. To try and keep him happy with you. How does it feel to be a juiced up organ grinder monkey?” Oz brought out his lighter again.
The flame rose from both the literal lighter and the figurative one Andrew saw in his head.
“He doesn’t own me! No one owns me!”
“Yes he does. He paid for you. And when you buy a chair, you can do whatever you want with it. You can sand it, paint it, or break its legs off and use them to fuck yourself.” He removed his cigarette and glanced at Andrew. “I don’t know which metaphor I prefer. The chair or the monkey. How about we combine the two images – a lap-dancing grinder monkey.”
How could Robert betray him? He knew he’d fallen short of Natalie but for God’s sake he could’ve offed himself days ago. And did it matter that he was still alive from guilt and not love? Robert didn’t know that. Yet he’d still—
“Dance, pretty monkey girl.”
“Keep on dancin’. Shake that ass.”
What to do? What to do? Not that his world had been completely safe before, but now there was no protection. None at—
“Go on and get those quarters. Boom, boom—”
“Shut up! Will you shut up?”
“Aw, yelling at me won’t get another dollar in your G-string or a banana in your—”
Andrew turned to Oz. “I’m warning you.” He said his next words in slow, separate sentences. “Right. Now. Stop it.”
They were at a traffic signal. Depending on how awful Oz’s snarky response was, Andrew would lunge across the middle console, tear his face off, and then exit the vehicle. He had no idea where he was, but he didn’t care. He had a feeling he might as well unbuckle his seatbelt.
“I bet it was your aggression that caused them to put you on the antipsychotics when you were released.”
The car continued on. “Antipsychotics? I’m not psychotic!”
“I know. But would your master be pleased if he lost control of you? And how does an angry, volatile patient reflect on CryoLife? All asses must be covered, doll. This isn’t some nude beach.”
“Am I on them now? You didn’t say antipsychotics earlier.”
“I didn’t say it because you aren’t on them anymore. Remember how you felt when you first got out? Jittery and restless?”
The pacing.
“And I’ll tell you what else – Tinks was put on the same meds after he rammed that screwdriver in his ear. They prescribed him ten milligrams. You they gave eight. How does that make you feel? The guy who drives tools into his head only got two milligrams more than you. Congrats.”
He thought of the meeting at the Center – Brigman’s fake smiles, Zuniga’s balloon expressions, and Tweed’s blank stares. Robert aside, these were people he should’ve been able to trust.
“It’s just necessary for you to temporarily have a guardian who can legally represent you, act as your healthcare proxy, and manage your assets,” Zuniga had said.
Assimilation Page 15