Assimilation

by James Stryker

  Especially with the pharmacist’s role having come to light, Robert was still sure he knew what Natalie’s problem was. He’d been married to her for ten years, which made him an expert. And Shelly had known her for sixteen, which made her opinions valid as well. Even if Natalie hadn’t been wandering grief stricken, it made sense to him that her gender-confused behavior was due to Michael.

  “Whatever that pharmacist did to her, Natalie is devastated about our son’s death. What will fix this problem is for her to move past that grief and start acting like a woman.” Robert swallowed. “To preserve my family, I need to give her another child to love.”

  “Is she open to that?”

  “No, she’s not.”

  He didn’t know if assistance was something Brigman was capable of, let alone ethically allowed to do. For a second he regretted saying anything since—

  “I can certainly help you with that.” The doctor smiled and took a pen and pad from his desk. “It sounds rational to me. She can’t deny her gender when she’s carrying your child.”

  “Exactly.”

  Dr. Brigman tore the top sheet off the pad and held it out. “Take this. It’ll be simple and will make things … more effective, shall we say? Put it in her water or food. When she wakes, she won’t have any idea what happened.”

  “Thank you.” Robert took the prescription and stood.

  “Needless to say, don’t try to fill it at that pharmacy. And I assure you, I will personally handle the matter of the pharmacist’s unprofessional behavior.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m never going to set foot in that pharmacy again.”

  After I chat with its owner.

  Chapter 38

  From the Cryobiotic Treatment Center, Robert drove first to see Simon at his parents’ house, and then home. By the time he pulled into the parking spot he had another plan.

  If possible, he was going to avoid the use of the prescription Brigman had given him. While Natalie had been standoffish, he reconsidered the latter half of Shelly’s advice, that he shouldn’t be evasive. Perhaps she wouldn’t be averse if he was resolute. That could be what she wanted – for him to take control. And he could do that without drugging her. Still, he tucked the script into the pocket of his car’s sun visor should he need it.

  Robert was also going to put a better structure in place. He’d let Natalie do whatever she liked. No boundaries, no restrictions. But things were going to change.

  You will grow your hair back and never cut it. You will put effort into looking beautiful for me by fixing your makeup and wearing clothes I approve of. You will treat me with respect, and you will take care of my son as a proper mother should. And if I want to touch you, I’m going to.

  Most notably, Natalie wouldn’t be going out anymore. If she left without his permission, he’d put the ankle monitor on her. Despite her protests, or how insulted she might feel, she really was a criminal this time. Adultery wasn’t technically illegal, but it should be. He was through being a pushover.

  But before Robert established these new rules he was going to do something about the pharmacist. He had to be removed if there’d be hope of turning the situation around. While Brigman said he was going to take care of it, Robert didn’t trust it’d be handled severely. What was Brigman going to do? Write a letter? Pull the pharmacy from CryoLife’s approval list? No. The pharmacist needed to be taught that there were consequences for his actions.

  So that night, while he waited for Natalie to come home, he thought about what he would do and say. And this made him feel better, as much as it stoked his anger. He wasn’t afraid of the pharmacist. The man was no threat, especially since right, truth, and goodness were on Robert’s side. And those things always triumphed over evil.

  When Natalie finally came to bed, he felt tight as a drum. She laid down at the edge – as far away from him as she could get.

  Did you have a good day with Shelly? Oh, you’re too tired to talk? Get some rest. Sleep it off. This is the end. The last time you are ever going to turn away from me.

  The morning came too slowly. It was hard for him to stay in bed until the alarm went off.

  When it finally buzzed, he showered and dressed as if he were going to work. When he heard Natalie bustling around the bathroom, he took a wrench to the kitchen.

  Robert put the stopper in the left side of the sink and turned on the water. He added a spurt of detergent and piled in the dishes before sticking his head under the sink. He hooked the wrench onto the coupling that joined the trap to the drain pipe. It only took a turn or two before he was able to loosen it and separate the pipes. Cold dish water burbled over the rim of the trap as he rotated it, leaving the pipe open and disconnected.

  He threw the wrench to the back of the cupboard and stood. When the sink filled to its rim, he turned off the water. A lot of time wouldn’t be needed to deal with the pharmacist, and his sabotage should create enough of a mess to delay her departure.

  He acted casual when she came out of the bathroom.

  Natalie looked rested, as if she’d woken from a week of sleep. Her skin glowed and color tinged her cheeks.

  “Are you going out with Shelly this afternoon?” Robert asked, and grabbed his keys to leave.

  “Yes.”

  “Before you do, would you mind finishing the dishes I left in the sink? I didn’t have enough time to do them this morning.”

  “Sure. I have to do these anyway.” Natalie rose from the table and gathered their dirty breakfast plates.

  “Have a good day, Nat.”

  She hadn’t answered, though there’d been plenty of time to respond.

  Five minutes later he was in the car, driving east. His hands clenched the steering wheel, his nails digging back into his palms.

  After a fair amount of regret, Robert had decided not to hurt the pharmacist. He’d puff himself up to look large and intimidating. Scare the hell out of him. He had no intention to use it, but when he’d stopped to visit Simon he’d borrowed his father’s gun; it was tucked under the driver’s seat. Perhaps he’d use that to threaten the pharmacist. Or put him against a wall. Nothing more. However, the verbal altercation still made him nervous.

  You have to do this. You have to be the voice of good, Robert. Of purity. Of family values. All this man is going to get from CryoLife is a slap on the wrist. You go in, put him in his place, and walk away.

  But he wanted to walk away quickly, so he pulled into the same spot he’d used the day before. Robert looked at the ceiling.

  You are the only man who can do this. To stand for what’s right.

  To his shame, his legs felt weak. He was losing his nerve.

  No, I’m doing this. Yesterday, I was ready to kill him, and we’re not going that far. Today is yesterday. Think about that. Think about seeing them together.

  He turned his head to the window and looked at the parking lot. The car was there. He remembered yesterday:

  That pharmacist strolling out the doors with his hand on Natalie. The smug look on his face, while he guided her to his car. Pushing his hand through her hair. Through the hair he’d convinced her to hack off.

  That was mine. The adrenalin released. Everything about her is mine. And you caused her to mutilate herself.

  And the way she’d looked at him. Having fallen into his trap as a result of her grief. She adored him. Her hand to his face of her own accord. Touching him. She wanted to. It was nearly as bad as him touching her. Catching his fingertips when he tried to walk away …

  You never touch me because you love me and want to feel close to me. I’m your husband, Natalie. Not him. You had no reason to touch his cheek or his hand. Except you wanted to feel his skin. You like to think about how it makes him feel when you touch him.

  He remembered having her affection. How she fluttered around him lovingly. She used to caress his cheek, catch his hand. Now her perfect hands were soiled with the pharmacist’s grease.

  His throat grew dry from the rushed breathin
g. He hadn’t seen them kiss, but he knew they had. The look in that man’s eyes told him they had. Told him he’d wanted to. Robert hadn’t kissed Natalie on the lips since the accident. She always turned away, but couldn’t wipe the grimace off her face. Yet she kissed this man who must smell like cigarettes and alcohol and whatever else he did. She wanted to kiss him.

  But no more. She’ll kiss me and me alone.

  Robert got out of the car and slammed the door, forgetting the gun. As he crossed the street, he didn’t watch for cars, and one had to swerve around him.

  I won’t let anyone break apart my family.

  He stomped over the curb and pushed open the door.

  Chapter 39

  Oz hummed as he stocked extra merchandise in the back room. It was a zen activity for him. Open a box, take out the merch, find a place for it. Open another box, take out different merch, find a different place. Since he sometimes forgot orders he’d placed, it was almost like Christmas when deliveries came. And like at Christmas, he shoved the empty boxes and wrappings aside for someone else to take care of.

  Stocking required zero brain power. Less than punching numbers into spreadsheets. He could let his mind wander to better things. Such as how he was sure that sooner, rather than later, Andrew would come by to keep him company.

  That was the reason he’d left the door propped an inch. It wasn’t something he should do for security reasons, but he did it anyway. Barty was acquainted with their frequent visitor, and when Oz was in back, he appreciated being able to wave Andrew down the hallway.

  He sliced open another carton with his box cutter and removed two packages of greeting cards.

  It’s always cats. Fat old ladies and cats. Why do people buy this shit?

  But it didn’t warrant a transcendental investigation. He put the cat cards by the other cat cards, making a mental note that he didn’t need more cat cards.

  He kicked the box into the corner and grabbed another. This one he opened with excruciating slowness. It was unlike Andrew to be late. Not that there’d been an established time. They’d been up late, and perhaps Andrew had slept in.

  Last night, he’d fallen asleep in Oz’s arms. His head near his side, and his arm wrapped around his chest. God, it’d felt incredible.

  Oz had let him sleep as long as he could before he had to wake him. He’d forgone the cigarette he’d desperately wanted because leaning over to the nightstand might disturb Andrew. He remained as still as he could, smoothing his hair in the darkness. His hand felt weak as he curled Andrew’s hair around his fingertips, but he didn’t care.

  It was then that the awareness hit him. He’d fallen in and done exactly what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t, what Santino had begged him not to. He was submersed, and he knew he could never climb out. He belonged to Andrew.

  The idea made him smirk.

  “You have ‘Property Of’ written all over your forehead.”

  Yes, he did.

  Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to call Andrew “brother” lately. They were no longer equals. But he hadn’t chaffed at this realization. He’d only felt the warmth of Andrew’s arm around him, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

  Oz placed another greeting card box alongside the others. For real, no more fucking cat cards.

  He slit open the next box and folded the lid.

  Fuck. Just fuck. He eyed the shelf for an empty spot. I guess I can turn them sideways and squeeze them in there. In how many ways can a pharmacist organize seven different types of cat cards in three places on a shelf?

  Oz capsized the cardboard box to dump out the smaller boxes.

  Where “n” is the number of cat card boxes, “r” the finite number of spaces.

  “Boss!”

  He picked up the first box and approached his shelf.

  “N” permute “r.” Think. First take the “n” minus—

  “Boss!”

  Oz scowled, wedging the box in the small space. Couldn’t Barty handle anything? For twenty fucking minutes? It was probably an old woman asking which were the best cough drops.

  They’re all the same. Jesus Christ.

  “Shut the door, boss! Shut the fucking door!”

  The steel door opened, smashing hard to the wall.

  Oz turned around, but before he registered what was happening, two powerful hands pushed his shoulders into the wall. Fingers gripped under his collar as if they wanted to pull the bone out through his skin.

  “Open your eyes! I want to know you’re listening to everything I have to say.”

  “How does it feel to want?”

  Hands brought him away from the wall, then thrust him back into it, whipping his head on the cement.

  “Don’t be a smart ass. Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

  The room spun and Oz had to blink many times before he could center on the eyes drilling into him.

  Robert held him pinned and his thick fingers dug into Oz’s shoulders.

  But Barty was there with his cell phone. Robert pulled Oz back and shoved him again into the wall. His skull cracked and his ears rang. He barely heard Barty, who pointed a box cutter like a weapon.

  “Back off, you fucker!” the loyal technician shouted. “And get out! I’m calling the police!”

  “You’re calling the police?” Robert glanced at Barty with a sneer.

  When he turned his glare away, Oz felt a sense of relief. It was like a short break from being waterboarded. But the eyes were back in an instant. And he wasn’t sure who Robert was talking to. His voice was low and cocky.

  “Go ahead. Call the police.”

  “Barty,” Oz croaked. “Don’t. Just go.”

  “Go?” The young man quivered, the box cutter still out in front.

  “You heard him. Go. And shut the door,” Robert hissed.

  Terror streaked across Barty’s face, and he hesitated.

  “It’s okay. Go.” Oz tried to sound as calm as he could.

  The technician backed toward the door, keeping his weapon at the ready. He edged out and closed the door except for a crack. Oz knew he’d be there listening. Cell phone out and primed.

  Robert’s nostrils flared, his breath heavy and erratic. Oz wiped every expression from his face and stared at Robert. They said nothing for a long time.

  Then Robert let go of one shoulder. The release made Oz want to scream. His face contorted with pain. So much for appearing like a rock.

  “At least you have some modicum of honor.”

  The strategy of calling off the alarm appeared successful. It was a sign of strength, of wanting to settle the dispute like men.

  “What do you want? To beat the shit out of me like a Neanderthal?”

  “I want to do more than beat you.” Robert leaned his body weight into the shoulder still pinned. “But I won’t have to. You’re going to stay the fuck away from my wife.”

  “I haven’t touched your wife.”

  “Yes. You. Have.” Robert spoke each word separately.

  “I saw your wife one time, two years ago. I haven’t seen her since.” Oz heard that faint voice telling him to stop.

  “You’re a liar.”

  “No, I’m not. Your wife is dead. She died in a car accident.”

  Stop, Oz. Stop.

  “No, she’s alive and you’ve been sleeping with her. But it’s going to stop!”

  “I don’t fuck dead people. I like them warm.”

  Robert drew back his free arm, and hammered a fist into Oz’s stomach. He released his remaining shoulder and Oz sank to the floor. He coughed, gasping for air, though each breath came out twisted.

  “I saw you together!” Robert shouted. “You can’t deny it!”

  He crouched and took Oz by the hair. He pulled his head up and his voice dropped. “It’s going to stop. You stay away from her and my family. Do you hear me?”

  Oz couldn’t breathe, let alone talk, but Robert demanded an answer.

  “I said, do you hear
me? Speak!”

  “It’s hard …” He swallowed. “It’s hard to stop something you never started.”

  Robert released his head and stood. He reeled back his foot and kicked Oz in the abdomen. Oz braced himself with his wrist and coughed several splatters of blood onto the floor. The tails of Robert’s shirt dribbled through the blood as he squatted and grasped Oz’s hair again.

  Why do you do this to yourself, Oz? Why? His entire torso burned.

  “If you ever. Ever. Get within five feet of her. I will kill you.” Robert locked eyes with Oz. “I will tear you limb from limb. I’ll cut you into a thousand pieces and hide you in the walls of every house I build. I’ll dissolve you in acid and mix your sludge with the mortar. I—”

  “The rack, the wheel, the guillotine, the iron maiden, the—”

  Robert drove Oz’s forehead into the floor. His head spun, and when Robert spoke, the words sounded as if they came underwater.

  “You think you’re so funny. And you can go on thinking you are. You’re a waste of time – a pathetic excuse for a human being, let alone a man. Natalie is my wife. Mine. This is your only warning.”

  Robert let go of his hair, and got to his feet. Oz saw him sweep the dust from his knees, roll his shoulders, and walk to the door. Despite his injuries, he couldn’t help himself.

  “Robert,” he groaned.

  The man halted. “You have something else clever to say? Go ahead. See where your cleverness gets you.”

  Oz turned his head. “Don’t hurt him.”

  He closed his eyes when Robert’s shoes approached.

  “She’s a woman.” Robert loudly drew mucus into his mouth and launched it into Oz’s face. “And I would never hurt my wife.”

  He left quickly this time.

  Barty burst through the steel doors and knelt beside Oz.

  “He’s gone, boss, he’s gone. Are you okay?” The young man took off his staff shirt and pressed it to Oz’s face, wiping away the spit and blood. “You need to go to the hospital.”