Assimilation

by James Stryker

  Tinks first came back to the bar the night Andrew was with Robert and Natalie’s friends. Oz hadn’t been too worried about him once he’d been admitted to the hospital as he immediately began to receive reports from his network. His sources reported that besides the teeth, Tinks had broken his nose and fractured his skull seven times. But he’d be okay, and wasn’t under the care of CryoLife doctors.

  Oz had been more concerned about Andrew. Besides the current outing with Robert, his outburst after Tinks’s fit weighed on his mind. At first, it’d been wonderful. He’d never had someone throw themselves at him and beg him not to leave. It made him feel so wanted.

  And that it was you?

  He hadn’t been able to curb his feelings about Andrew, but he’d been careful in keeping his distance. Oz knew of Andrew’s general aversion to touch – he’d described the counting, the claustrophobia, the walls closing in on him whenever Robert was near. And Oz had caught the palpable discomfort when Santino or Tinks neared the invisible boundary of his space. Sure, there was the occasional time when Andrew would touch his hand or lean close, but nothing with any frequency.

  Yet suddenly there he was. His arms around Oz’s neck and his chest heaving with panic.

  Have I ever been so overwhelmed with something this amazing before? In front of the dry erase boards, in my other world, and at my prime. He’d pulled him close, feeling awful for being happy when Andrew was upset.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he’d said.

  The proofs and conjectures once fell like raindrops, and I could pull complicated ideas out of the sky. But there’s never been anything as perfect as this.

  However, just after Andrew had relaxed in his arms, he tensed and pulled away. Sharp and quick. And then he wouldn’t even look at Oz, like he was ashamed or hadn’t meant to embrace him.

  Oz had felt Santino’s arm around his shoulder, and hot, bitter tears clouded his eyes. He wanted to shrug his friend away, but also cry in his arms. What the fuck? Nothing was fair. What had happened to any of them, or their suffering. He’d lost everything until Andrew. Somehow Andrew eclipsed what’d been the most significant thing in his past life and made it worth losing in exchange for him.

  So why can’t I have you? What’s the point of this? Why don’t we let each other pound our heads into a concrete floor if heartache is all that’s left.

  At the bar, he’d pulled away from Santino’s arm, pushing everything to the back of his mind in favor of another stupid joke to diffuse the situation. There hadn’t been much awkwardness between them since, but on the night of Tinks’s return Santino had begun lecturing him about it.

  “I’m glad you sided with me that he should be cautious. That does help, but it’s going to become more dangerous as the conservatorship expiration moves closer. Robert isn’t going to let you have him so easily.”

  Moot. Andrew won’t let me have him either.

  “The way he talks about Robert being so devoted to the idea of recapturing this perfect family in a perfect world … When his vision is in jeopardy, he’ll act.”

  “I’ll fucking kill him,” Oz said.

  “You may not get that chance. Robert could spirit Andrew away, and you’d never see him again.” Santino edged closer. “That’s why I’m telling you, as a friend, that you cannot sink into this. For God’s sake, Oz, don’t lose yourself in him. Don’t be so stupid as to fall in love with what you can’t have. He could be gone tomorrow.”

  “Anything and everything could be gone tomorrow. No one knows that better than us.” He chose to ignore Santino’s comments about love since he didn’t know what he was talking about. “You can’t spend time today being paranoid about the future.”

  “It’s not paranoia to be cautious and go about things in a patient, logical way. I’m worried about you. I see how you look at him, and how attached you’re becoming to the idea—”

  “Over here!”

  Oz raised his hand and waved as Tinks walked into the bar.

  Thank God, I can’t stand this sermon anymore.

  Tinks approached their table with an unusual spring to his step. Parts of his face were still purple from bruising, and his nose looked crooked, but he smiled from ear to ear. What type of drugs had they put him on to stop the music this time? From his jovial manner it was obviously a good batch – riddled with all kinds of happy pills. He couldn’t wait to fill the prescription and see what was in it.

  “Hey guys, where’s Andrew?”

  “Choking down pizza at Fat Bandit’s. Probably trying not to kill small children.” Oz smiled and kicked the legs of the chair beside him. “Sit. How are you?”

  “Actually, will you step outside with me a minute?” Tinks moved the chair under the table. “I have something to show you.”

  Without waiting for them, Tinks crammed his hands inside the pockets of the black down vest he wore and marched to the side exit. Oz traded a look with Santino before they followed.

  The security light above the door illuminated the alley. Tinks rocked on his heels and his eyes gleamed.

  “What’s with the shit-eating grin?” Oz removed his cigarette pack and lighter. “And that gay life preserver?”

  “Life preserver, did you say?” Tinks’s smile spread and they could see his teeth, including the two new ones. “The irony of your words, my friend …”

  He unzipped the vest and held it open. The inside was lined with two dozen flat bundles, each about the size of a dollar bill. Black wire connected the tops of the packages.

  Oz caught his breath, and the cigarette fell from his lips.

  “What’s that, Tinks?” Santino took a step back.

  “C4. Twenty-four pounds.” He zipped the vest, patted the front, and gave Oz a wink. “You’re not the only one with far-reaching connections.”

  Hiding the explosives loosened Oz’s mind.

  “What the fuck are you doing with twenty-four pounds of C4 in a vest? Are you insane?”

  “This is possibly the sanest thing I’ve ever done.” His broad grin faded. “It’s not going to happen to me again. I’m not going to let it.”

  “So you’ll blow yourself up next time? Twenty-four pounds of C4 will take down a fucking building! Even if you’re a miserable bastard, you can’t kill a bunch of people!”

  “That’s where you come in.” Tinks looked at them. “When it happens next time, you get everyone out. Then I’ll do it.”

  “But your sedative pen. We can be quicker about that. It seemed to calm you down,” Santino pleaded.

  “Calm me down?” Tinks yelled, the bruises on his face growing darker. “Sure, it calmed me down after I’d beaten my fucking face in. It keeps me from finishing the job. It sets me up for the next time, and the next time, and the fucking next time!” He took a breath. “I’m tired, guys. I’m tired of waiting. I want it to be done.”

  “Tinks, it’s your right to kill yourself, but you can’t endanger anyone else. If it happens again, take your shot and use a gun. If you can get twenty-four pounds of C4, you can get a gun. Fuck, I’ll give you one of mine.” Oz didn’t want Tinks to kill himself either, but this line of reasoning could buy time. Time to create a plan. “Just take that thing off.”

  “No, I’ve thought this through.” He ran the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip and met Oz’s eyes. “If I blow myself up, no one will put me back together. They won’t be able to find the pieces of my brain to try. Not my family. Not anyone.”

  There hadn’t been more to say in protest. The prospect of continually being saved was terrible. And by the time CryoLife took its talons out, who knew who or what you might be? Tinks’s skewed logic came from wanting to be left at peace.

  “So, neither of you have anything to worry about. Or Andrew – you can tell him the plan, or I will.” Tinks’s smile returned. “C4 is the safest explosive. The only thing that’ll set it off is my ignition switch. And I give you my word that I’ll wait until you, and anyone else who happens to be around, are safe before I
ignite it.”

  He didn’t receive a response.

  “I get that you’re shocked. But you’ve got to understand – for me this is a life preserver. When I wear it, I feel in control. I feel free.” Tinks punched Santino’s arm. “Let’s play snooker. I think I could even take you tonight.”

  He walked back out the alley toward the bar’s entrance and when he turned the corner, Santino grabbed Oz’s shoulder. The large hand squeezed sharply, causing him to wince.

  “Oz, I know you’re not a proponent of the antipsychotics, but when you fill his prescription, give him the hard stuff, and we can talk him out of this.”

  “I don’t think it will help. It had no effect on him last time. He’s not psychotic.”

  “What do you call strolling around with twenty-four pounds of explosives in a vest? It’s not normal!”

  But Oz knew there was no convincing Tinks, and he understood why.

  If I’m ever certain it’s coming back, that’s what I’ll do. I can’t go through it again. And while I have the capability, I’ll completely destroy myself.

  He was positive that despite the hostility between them, Brigman would intervene, if only to “fix” his mistake. In the past decade had his father discovered a combination of molecules, a brain tissue pattern that made one want to be a doctor? Want to follow orders without disagreement?

  Oz shuddered. No. He’d never allow that to happen. He would take matters into his own hands and trade his entire marijuana inventory for his own explosives.

  But we’re not there yet. He shook out his right hand before removing a new cigarette from his pack. I still open milk caps like a regular person and can button my own shirts. I get why you want to do it though, Tinks.

  “He’s decided.” Oz lit his cigarette. “I’ll check out whatever they’re giving him and increase the pain meds.”

  “We cannot allow him to wear a suicide vest. He doesn’t think clearly when the music comes back. With how intense the pain is he won’t be able to wait. He’ll blow it immediately. Innocent people—”

  “So we’ll switch it out.”

  “Switch it out?”

  “We’ll get enough pot and vodka in him, and then we’ll change the vest for a safe one. We’ll bury the real one in your yard.”

  “And when the music returns and he isn’t able to blow himself up on the spot?”

  Oz took a long drag before responding. “We’ll give him the shot, drive him out to the middle of nowhere, and return his vest if he wants it.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want him to die either, but if he’s ready it’s his decision. You’d better believe that when I go out, I’ll be doing so giving the finger to CryoLife myself, if I can.”

  He shoved both hands in his pockets as Santino studied him.

  Several moments into the quiet, his friend finally spoke: “Is that why you’re being so reckless with Andrew?”

  “Is what why? And I’m no more reckless than I usually am. I like being reckless. Cheerfully reckless.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “I do have a habit of interpreting innocent things with sexual innuendo. It’s just so hard not to.”

  “Oz.” Santino stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. “It wouldn’t be the same as before. I’d make sure he couldn’t—”

  Oz shrugged him off with a laugh. “I’m way too many G&Ts short of having this discussion with you. And it’s not necessary anyway.” He removed his cigarette and flicked it to the ground. “I’m peachy, brother. Or cantaloupey. Or pineappley. Whatever suits you.”

  “I only want you to know that if it ever does come to that, or if you feel—”

  “Has it occurred to you that a man plastered with twenty-four pounds of C4 is expecting us? That’s not the type of person we should keep waiting.”

  Oz turned and walked up the alley alone. He appreciated the sentiments, but he had no faith in the legal system. If he’d thought making Santino his medical proxy would block Brigman, he would’ve done it a long time ago. There’d be no stopping him.

  Except for Tinks’s ingenious plan. That’d work. Shreds of this oh-so-perfect body you created for me raining from the sky. Jigsaw me together again, you fucker.

  But that wasn’t for a while, and possibly never. Oz was fine, and Santino was wrong. The strain in his hands had absolutely nothing to do with how he felt about Andrew.

  Chapter 35

  “Thanks for letting me come by, Shell,” Robert said. “I appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem. I was going to call you anyway.”

  He watched her across the kitchen. She removed the glass carafe from the coffeemaker and poured a black stream into a mug before shuffling over. He smiled as he accepted the cup and cradled it in his hands.

  This was how things were supposed to be. Husband at work, wife at home. Sounds of children playing in the other room. Sunlight streaming into a clean, lemon floor cleaner scented kitchen. Shelly sat opposite him, visibly attentive to everything he had to say. His life used to be like this.

  “I’ve been so worried about Natty lately, Rob.”

  “I was shocked she didn’t call and apologize to you and Clark. I specifically told her to.”

  “Perhaps she forgot, and we forgive her anyway. Carter was a bit rambunctious that night.”

  “Carter is five. Natalie is twenty-eight. And she never would’ve done that before.”

  It wasn’t like Robert hadn’t been irritated by the child’s behavior. Shelly and Clark had a lax parenting style he didn’t agree with. At the first pizza throw, Robert would’ve taken Simon out and they would’ve left. Natalie’s reaction from the beginning struck him as odd. She’d pulled the first two slices off her shirt with an angry grimace and set them on the table.

  Before you would’ve burst into tears because he’d stained your blouse. You’d run into the restroom and spend twenty minutes crying and trying to scrub out the stain. Of course, that’s when you wore beautiful clothes instead of these men’s shirts.

  “Is it the medication?” Shelly asked. “I assume they have her on something.”

  “What she’s on should be keeping her calm and helping her think. I’ve spoken to the doctor since it doesn’t seem to be working, but I don’t know how much they can do.”

  “She’s almost a different person.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Robert took a swallow of the coffee. “I understand you two have your confidences, and I don’t want to infringe on your friendship, but I’m at my wit’s end. I need to know if you have any insight on what’s bothering her.”

  “Believe me, if I knew, I’d tell you.”

  “Does she act differently around you? I thought she might let her guard down and tell you what she obviously won’t tell me. I can’t seem to reach her.”

  “When she came over she was very strange. More quiet. Agitated. She did freak out before she left—”

  “Wait. What do you mean ‘when she came over?’ You make it sound like she’s only been here once.”

  “Well, that’s all she has been. I’ve invited her but—”

  “So you spend all your time outside? How much shopping can two women do?”

  “Rob, what are you talking about? I haven’t been out with Natty. She came to the house one time weeks ago, and I haven’t seen her since …”

  It felt like something high in his chest sank to his stomach.

  Then where have you been, Natalie?

  “Did she tell you she’s been spending time with me? I can’t even get hold of her for a phone conversation. She texts me every now and then, but she won’t answer when I call.”

  He hated to admit the truth to Shelly. It made it seem he’d lost control of his wife. But maybe he had … “She goes out every afternoon and most evenings. She always says she’s with you.”

  “Well, you can ask Clark. I’ve been here the entire time.”

  “Do you know where she might be going?”


  “No. I can’t believe she’d lie to you.”

  “The list of what I can’t believe is getting longer and longer.”

  Robert leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Where had Natalie been? What had she been doing? He tried to think. Another friend perhaps? Evie? Maryann? Imogene? Should he call them and ask if they’d been secretly gallivanting with his wife for weeks? But Natalie knew he didn’t mind her other friends, so why wouldn’t she tell the truth of which friend she was with?

  She could be going out alone, but where besides someone’s house could she be for such long stretches? Hours spent in an art museum? Feeding pigeons at the park? The zoo? Was this another “brain tissue alteration” – Natalie was now compelled to spend eight hours watching iguanas at the fucking zoo?

  “It’ll be okay, Rob.” Shelly patted his leg. “Maybe she just needs to be alone.”

  “Alone where? And why?”

  “It actually makes sense to me.”

  He looked at her and gave an exasperated laugh. “By all means explain it. I’ve been trying to figure her out for weeks.”

  “It might not be something a man would understand.” She shifted in her chair. “After my miscarriage before Carter, I wanted to be alone a lot, even away from Natty. And I’d take long walks in the cemetery where it was peaceful and people wouldn’t bother me.”

  “You’re saying you think she’s upset because of Michael?” Now there were two people outside of him who’d drawn that conclusion – a mental health professional and Natalie’s best friend.

  “She’s devastated. I told you, when she came over here the one time she had a break down about it.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes. I’ll admit, it was kind of my fault. When she showed up wearing that awful sweatshirt I thought maybe she was trying to hide … Well, you know. So I made the horrible mistake of asking her when she was due. And she completely lost it.”

  “And she said it was about Michael?”

  “I had to tell her it wasn’t her fault.” Shelly nodded. “I’ve never seen her so upset, Rob. When she wouldn’t return my calls or texts for days, I thought she was furious with me. But it was so painful that she couldn’t talk to me, I guess. And that’s probably why she hasn’t come back to the house. Seeing my babies probably reminds her. Seeing me probably reminds her.”