Assimilation

by James Stryker

  “Don’t apologize.” Andrew brought himself higher on his knees. He put his cheek on Oz’s temple and looped his arms around his shoulders.

  “Tell me I can stay with you, Oz,” he whispered.

  “I never said you couldn’t.”

  That amazing feeling of having him in his arms. Made even better. Andrew was asking to stay. He breathed in the scent of his skin – it was clean and pure.

  I’ll stop smoking. And drinking. For you, I’ll stop. So you’ll continue to be perfect and unsoiled by my self-destruction.

  “But you won’t trap me.” Andrew had pulled back and looked at him. “You promise you won’t force me in any cage of any kind? To be anything or anyone I don’t want to be?”

  “How could I cage you? No one can cage you.”

  “You could try. And you can protect me, but you have to promise you won’t try to trap me. You have to promise, Oz.”

  There was the frightened look, as if Andrew saw the cage looming already.

  “You know promises are just words, don’t you? There isn’t a promise police that makes you abide by every one you make. People change their minds. They break promises.”

  “Are you saying you will?”

  “No.” Oz took his hand as Andrew leaned away. “I’m saying you need to trust that I won’t hurt you. And you shouldn’t feel compelled to drive meaningless words out of me. I’ll give them to you if you want, but do you need to hear them? Don’t I make you feel safe?”

  He watched Andrew consider the idea. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? Why did he to pick everything to the lowest denominator? Andrew wanted reassurance. He wanted to hear the word “yes.” And his fears would’ve been eased.

  “You do. I feel safe with you.” Andrew moved in so they were almost nose to nose. “Robert doesn’t make me feel safe.”

  “Has he hurt you? Has he threatened to? I don’t care about the fucking conservatorship garbage, if he’s touched you, or if you think he might, I won’t let you go back.”

  “No, it’s not that. I don’t think he’s dangerous, he’s just so attached to Natalie. And I obviously and constantly fail at that. I’ve seen him get angry, but he’s able to calm down. He acts lately like I’m hiding something from him.”

  “You are.” Oz smiled and smoothed his thumb along Andrew’s jaw.

  “Yes, you’re my secret. And I love the way I feel when I’m with you. I love every brilliant thought that comes out of your head.”

  Andrew studied the drawing in black marker on the concrete wall. His eyes traced the shapes and formula before falling back onto Oz’s face. He leaned in, running his fingers through Oz’s hair and kissed him. Again. And again. And again.

  And Oz had been happy to be alive. Finally at peace with how he’d left the world the first time. He was complete.

  Chapter 37

  Robert sat in his car and watched Natalie leave the apartment a quarter after nine the next morning. He had “left for work” at eight thirty.

  “Are you going out with Shell today?” he’d asked as he took his keys from the basket.

  “Yes. I’ll probably be gone all day.”

  “Shopping?”

  “Maybe,” she said.

  Robert had hidden his smile. I’m fully aware of what you’re doing. You can’t fool your husband, Nat.

  It was a brilliant plan. He had it mapped out in his head and spent the forty-five-minute wait running through it.

  I’ll follow her to wherever she’s going and let her get secure that she’s alone. That no one else in the world feels her pain. She’ll be so upset, so overwrought with grief.

  Maybe it was a cemetery she went to. He doubted she caught a taxi across to Bonaventure, but it’d be someplace similar. Enchanting in a dark, unsettling way with the wind blowing the drooping, slender branches of willow trees and markers lining the dirt roads.

  She’d break down right in the middle of a road, falling to her knees to sob. To cry out to God, why had He taken her precious baby?

  At the lowest point of her anguish, that’s when I’ll be there. Stepping from the shadows and wrapping her in my arms. It’s okay, Nat. I’m here. I understand. How did I know? I felt it, hon. I knew you needed me, and I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you feel better. What can I do? Name anything. You want me to “walk beside you?” Absolutely and forever.

  He’d walk with her, though he hated walking and thought it was pointless. He’d curl his arm around her waist as they walked. She might continue to cry, but he wouldn’t mind. Her tears were like cleaning out an infected wound.

  Then everything would be okay. It was exactly what Natalie needed. More than what she needed. He glanced at the empty passenger seat, on which he’d placed a bouquet of long stem roses to greet her after their walk. He was without a doubt the very gentleman’s gentleman. And who knew where the evening would lead after that? Sweet but not evasive.

  And we’re ready to roll.

  Robert allowed her to get some yards away before starting the car. He pulled a baseball cap tight over his ears and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. Slowly, he edged out of the parking space and trailed her.

  Natalie walked five blocks east before turning down and proceeding two blocks south. He parallel parked across the street as she entered the pharmacy.

  Errands first. Okay, got it.

  Robert melted into his seat and took off his sunglasses to wait for her to emerge with her medication bag.

  Thank you, God. For everything. For giving me my family back. For CryoLife. For excellent friends like Shelly. For additional chances to make things right. Life will be different than it used to be, but I’m willing to overlook the ways she’s changed. I’ll tolerate those oddities when things are on track.

  He closed his eyes and thought of Natalie. Usually he remembered her glowing face with the golden hair curling around her shoulders. But he tried to substitute this image with how she looked now. Short haired and unsmiling. But still his Natalie. And he’d make her smile again. The plan was fool proof.

  Paradise reclaimed. By me.

  He opened his eyes, and turned toward the pharmacy.

  That’s when he saw them.

  Robert knew this man. Not by name, but he’d seen him when he’d stopped for Natalie’s medication. He was that freak with the tattoos and the piercings. The one who always had a smart ass comment to make. He’d hated it when this man had been at the register.

  A person like him didn’t belong in a respectable profession. Where did he belong? At a bar. A gas station. On a corner selling watches out of a trench coat. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he thought he was better than everyone else.

  And his hand, his fucking tattooed hand was on Natalie’s arm! And he smiled at her. Not how a friend smiled at a friend. A warm smile that started in his eyes and embraced his face.

  She was smiling at him like she used to smile at Robert before the accident. Like there was no place else she wanted to be, and even if he wasn’t talking, she was hanging on his every breath.

  They walked to a car, and before he went to the driver’s side, the man ran his hand through Natalie’s hair. Through his Natalie’s hair!

  And she smoothed his cheek.

  The blood boiled in Robert’s brain. He watched the man curl her hair around his fingers and step closer to her.

  If you kiss my wife, I swear to God I’ll jump out of this car, and beat you to death! With my bare fists, I will beat you to fucking death!

  But the man didn’t kiss her. They continued to smile at each other before he let go of her hair and turned. Natalie caught his fingertips as he walked away, and he tipped his head to her, smiling again.

  Robert felt his heart dissolving, and the effervescence stung his eyes. It was as if she couldn’t bear to lose contact with him. She wanted him to know that his touch would be missed, even in its most brief absence. Hadn’t she done this with Robert too? Played these coquettish games of love and affection?


  The man squeezed Natalie’s fingertips before releasing them and moving faster this time. Robert could tell he was pleased. His face beamed, and he pushed his hand through his hair as he opened the driver’s door.

  His happiness caused the remnants of Robert’s empty chest to blaze anew. He’d never considered himself a violent man, but he pummeled the steering wheel.

  Natalie got into the passenger seat, and the car left the parking lot. He saw the man’s hand holding a cigarette out the window as the car drove away.

  His carefully constructed plot to sweep his grieving wife off her feet crumbled. She wasn’t spending her days in mourning for Michael. She was spending them with another man.

  How could you do this to me? After all I’ve done for you? Robert grit his teeth until they ached. Ten years of marriage. Two children. I’ve kept a roof over your head, I’ve provided for you. I sacrificed everything to bring you back from the dead. I’ve been nothing but loving and understanding of you before and after the accident. And this is how you repay me?

  No. This was not acceptable. He wiped his sleeve across his eyes and coughed. He’d follow them to whatever seedy motel or bar they were going to and demand that she come home. If force was necessary, he’d use it. He wouldn’t allow this behavior to continue.

  But the car was gone, and he was alone.

  Or was he? Shelly hadn’t been of much help, but he remembered his friend, Dr. Zuniga. His appointment was still days away, but she’d see him. Right now! Ultimately this was CryoLife’s fault. His Natalie would never have cheated on him. Enough of “be patient” or “this is normal.” This situation was their problem. And Dr. Zuniga would tell him what he needed to do to fix it and bring Natalie back.

  *

  Robert swiped his visitor’s pass at the card reader outside the Center’s indoor entrance through Savannah General. He almost hadn’t bothered with the more peaceful eastside doors. He didn’t feel peaceful. Let the protesters try to get in his way. Let them chuck a Bible at him. He’d jump their picket line and tackle the thrower. But there wasn’t time for losing his temper with them. He had a more definite target in mind. The doors separated and he marched to the front desk.

  “I want to see Dr. Zuniga, now,” he said to the receptionist.

  “Let me see if she’s available. One—”

  “No, not ‘let me see if she’s available.’ Make her available.”

  The young woman cast a glance to the armed guards at the door. “Do you have an appointment, sir?”

  “I don’t need an appointment. Tell her it’s Robert Keller.”

  “Hang on please.”

  Robert tapped his fingers on the counter as she walked to the other side of the desk and picked up the phone. When she returned, she looked toward the officers again.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Keller, but she’s not in today.”

  “Call her cell then. I need to speak to her immediately.”

  “I apologize, but there’s no way I can do that.”

  “I paid you people two million dollars. You get her on the damn phone now.”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Fine. Get me Brigman then. Is he in?” It was ridiculous that Zuniga was probably basking on some beach while Robert was in crisis, but being thrown out of the Center wouldn’t help anything.

  “I believe so, let me check if he’s—”

  “Listen to me.” Robert lowered his voice. “If that man is anywhere in this building, I don’t care what he’s doing, you will get him for me. This is an emergency and whatever else he’s occupied with will have to wait. I don’t care if he’s elbows deep in someone’s chest. Get him. Now.”

  If Brigman had been in surgery, he cleaned up fast and well. Only minutes later, Robert was in his office. The old man stood and leaned over his desk, his hand extended.

  “Mr. Keller, what a pleasant—”

  “No. You let me talk. You’ve done enough.” Robert shut the door and approached the desk. “For weeks, weeks Zuniga has been talking patience and ‘nudges’ while we make our way through a cornucopia of medication. Nothing is working. Nothing! And I cannot and will not accept any of that.”

  “Mr. Keller, please sit down. I’m quite—”

  “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m tired of people thinking they can advise me what to do. How to take care of my family and my wife.”

  Dr. Brigman kept his calming, monotone voice. “But you’re here for answers, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. And you’re going to give me something that will work today. Not tomorrow, not in a week. Today.”

  “Pills? You’re thinking a different medication would help and that’s what you want?”

  Robert picked a glass paperweight from Brigman’s desk and threw it hard past the man’s face at his framed doctoral degree. The frame dropped to the floor and scattered jagged pieces of glass.

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said?” he roared. “I don’t want pills! I want my fucking wife back!”

  The doctor remained standing, unfazed by the violence.

  “Have a seat then, Mr. Keller. And let’s talk about how we can make that happen.”

  “It’d better happen. If it doesn’t, I swear to God I will go public with what you did to her. A guy who hates Chinese food? A woman who wants to play piano? No, you took a beautiful, devoted, loving wife and mother, and you made her into a scheming adulteress. How will that look to the world? I’ll target you and your company in any way I can!”

  There wasn’t a dramatic response, but Brigman’s pupils shrank and the skin at the corners of his eyes grew pinched.

  Good, you should be afraid. The reaction calmed Robert and, after taking a few breaths, he sat.

  “Thank you.” Brigman sank into his chair as well. “I’ll admit to you first, Mr. Keller, that due to patient confidentiality I’m not aware of the details you may have discussed with—”

  “Here’s what you need to know: Natalie is not acting like herself. We’ve tried tons of medications without effect. She’s hostile and belligerent. She seems to be going through some kind of gender crisis. She cut her hair and dressed like a boy. And now—” Robert could barely choke the words out. “She’s cheating on me.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry. I agree with you completely; the situation has gone too far for talking.” He leaned to the right where his laptop sat on an angle and typed. “Let me take a look at her file.”

  See, Robert, he agrees with you. Too far for talking.

  “Goodness, cornucopia was right. And you’re saying none of these medications impacted her behavior?”

  “None. So I don’t want more.”

  “I understand, but it doesn’t make sense. Some of these drugs, Mr. Keller – you definitely should’ve seen a difference. Are you sure she’s been taking her medication?”

  “She has to have been. You said she needed the immunosuppressants to keep her brain from rejecting the body.”

  “She does, that’s what’s so odd about it.” Brigman squinted at his computer screen.

  “Well, I suppose they could’ve been tampered with. She is having the affair with that pharmacist.”

  “What?” The doctor flipped all attention immediately to Robert. “The pharmacist who dispenses her CryoLife medication? The one downtown here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure it’s the pharmacist? Not someone else who works there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Describe him to me.”

  “Nasty looking. Trailer trash. Ugly brown hair and eyes. Piercing on his eyebrow. Dirty tattoos over his arms. One of them was on his neck – a bunch of Satanic symbols probably. He’s disgusting and I don’t—”

  “That’s him.” Brigman’s lips drew tight together, and he kept his eyes fixated on his desk.

  “So you think that’s possible? That he wasn’t giving her the right medication?”

  It took the doctor a few seconds more to redirect his stare and focus on Robert. “Base
d on what you’re telling me, I’d say it’s highly likely, Mr. Keller. And on behalf of CryoLife, I sincerely apologize. Believe me, this issue will be addressed.”

  “It’s the pharmacist’s fault then?” Transferring blame made Robert feel better. The medication might’ve worked had Natalie been taking what she should. The pharmacist could’ve been meddling with the pills from the beginning. And who was to say he wasn’t adding his own concoction? “Could he be giving her something that would make her do what he wants? That would make her want him?”

  “There are no love potions. But could he be administering something so she isn’t thinking clearly? Absolutely.” Brigman looked just as upset as he felt.

  Robert’s thoughts crossed into murder. Serious murder. Not beating the man into the pavement or lofty threats. A real way to kill the pharmacist.

  I’ll find out where he lives. I’ll use my father’s gun and force my way into his house. I’ll—

  Dr. Brigman shook his head as if emerging from a daze. The anger in his expression had been replaced by coldness. “I don’t think it’s necessary to waste further time with this, Mr. Keller. The issue is obvious. And I also won’t subject you to delays or try to placate you by suggesting more medication.” The corners of his mouth curved in a slow smile. “We’re friends, remember? And I feel a personal responsibility for what’s happened here.”

  “You should. This is your fault.” But it was difficult to be upset with someone who’d taken his side from the beginning. “Well, not you personally. You didn’t make the pharmacist interfere with her medication. Still, it’s kind of …”

  “No, you’re correct. Some of that blame does lie with us. But I’m going to do everything in my power to correct this problem.”

  “What can you do?”

  “Oh, I have many options at my disposal, but let’s go back to a conversation we had right here in my office months ago. Remember how I said that despite my fancy degrees, I know how in tune you are with your wife?”

  “Yes, I remember,” Robert said.

  “I think it’s time for us to step aside so you can make the decisions you feel are right for Mrs. Keller.” He folded his arms on his desk and leaned in. “Tell me what you think will fix this problem, and I will ensure you receive whatever support you need.”