Assimilation

by James Stryker

  “Get my phone. It’s in my side pocket.” Oz tried to sit up, but his stomach screamed at him.

  The technician dug out the phone.

  “Who do you want me to call, the police? I have his license plate written down. They’ll get him.”

  “Dial Andrew and give me the phone.”

  Barty pressed the phone to his ear. He tried to hold it, but his arm felt too heavy to move.

  Please answer. Please, for the love of God answer the fucking phone!

  “Hey, I’m sorry I’m late. I need to finish cleaning a mess and—”

  Thank God. Robert hadn’t been there. Oz closed his eyes. But relief was shortly undermined by an intense fear that turned his swollen stomach into tighter knots.

  “Get out of the house. He knows, and he’s been here.” It hurt to talk, and his sentences were broken.

  “What? Are you okay?”

  “Don’t worry. Just get out. Don’t come here. Go to the gas station two blocks south. I’ll have Santino come for you.”

  “Why can’t you come? Oz, are you okay?” Andrew’s voice sounded panicked.

  “Just get out. Hurry. Leave everything and go.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

  The call disconnected. Barty, intuiting the next call, dialed Santino.

  You said you’d always pick up for me. Answer! I can’t go get him, and he can’t come here. That’s the first place Robert will look.

  “Any time I’m right in the middle of something, the phone rings, and it’s always you. Jesus Christ, Oz. What gutter are you lying in?”

  “You need to go. Get Andrew at the gas station. On 52nd Street.”

  “I’m not your chauffeur. You go get him.”

  “I can’t.”

  There was a pause. He thought the call had cut off. He looked to Barty, who pulled the phone away and confirmed that it was connected.

  “Santino, are you there?”

  “Why can’t you get him?”

  “You know why.” Oz said the words as fast as possible. “And I’ll let you gloat about being right later, but he’s in trouble. Please. Please go get him.”

  He heard keys jingle in the background and a door close.

  “Where do you want me to take him?”

  “To your house. Hide him there until I have a plan.”

  “How badly hurt are you, Oz?”

  Being reminded of his injuries brought them to another level, and the room spun. He fumbled for words, but couldn’t wrap his mouth around any. Barty’s voice sounded a room away.

  “I’m calling an ambulance. I’ll call you when I have more information.”

  Santino made random squawks into the phone. He couldn’t understand them.

  “No, do what he wants first,” said Barty’s far off voice. “Get the boy safe. That man was a maniac.”

  And then Oz’s senses failed him.

  Chapter 40

  When Robert exited the pharmacy fifteen minutes later, the passion still coursed through him. He felt powerful and in control. Sure, things hadn’t gone according to plan. He thought the man might have been badly injured. But it was his own fault.

  I only intended to threaten him. But he provoked me. He dared to provoke me! To laugh at me like this is a joke.

  He got in the car and sped down the street. He should’ve kicked him. Right in his face. He should’ve braced his hands on the wall and kicked until the man’s teeth had broken off and his face was purple and swollen. Until his eyes were black. What quick-witted things could be said through broken, bloody stumps of one’s teeth? And would Natalie want to touch his face then? Yes, he should’ve done more.

  But unlike him, I have restraint. I have morals. Hopefully he learned something.

  Robert had to get home anyway. The man could’ve dragged himself out of the fetal position to try and call Natalie. To “warn” her, maybe. Not that there was anything to warn her about. They were going to have a serious conversation, but he’d never hurt his Natalie.

  I should’ve knocked him out. That wouldn’t have pushed it too far.

  Robert pulled into the parking space. He tightened his fists as he approached the apartment.

  The first thing to go is her cell phone. To burn this last piece of rage and show her I mean business. I’m going to throw it against the wall. Shatter it. You won’t see him. You won’t speak to him. You won’t see or speak to anyone I don’t approve of.

  He unlocked the apartment and listened. Where was she? He walked to the kitchen. There was the dish water on the floor, towels scattered around to sop it up. The pharmacist wasn’t the only cunning one.

  Then he heard Natalie’s panicked breathing from the bedroom.

  So you did call her. How nice. That’s the last time you’re ever going to talk to her. I should’ve kicked you in the throat so many times you couldn’t speak at all. You deserve to have the air ripped out of you.

  Robert thought about storming into the bedroom. But instead, he waited at the entrance of the kitchen, guarding the front door. He was tired of pursuing her. It was time for her to come to him.

  And she did. A small bag in her hand, she hurried past him to leave.

  “Natalie.”

  He saw the color drain from her face in the mirror by the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Her back tensed, and she faced him. She tried to look innocent, a watery smile on her face. But he was no fool. He saw the terror in her eyes. Natalie had looked frightened before, but never to this extent. Every part of her body seemed to be shaking.

  I hate it. Look at what’s happened to you. I’m your husband. You shouldn’t be afraid of me. This is how sick you are.

  “Just out. Nowhere in particular.”

  “With Shelly?”

  “Yes.”

  Robert stepped toward her. He moved slow, deliberate.

  “I know that you know where I’ve been this morning.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She tried to chuckle, but it fell short as he stopped within inches of her. “Why are you acting so strange?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “You have that much audacity to ask me what’s wrong?”

  “Well, you’re obviously upset.”

  “A person does get upset when he finds out his wife has been lying to him for weeks. That she’s been cheating on him.”

  She twisted to face the door. And then she laughed.

  “You’re ridiculous, Robert. Do you hear yourself speak?”

  Robert wasn’t sure if what made him snap was that she was still trying to lie. That she’d turned away from him. Made fun of him. The laughter. That she’d been so corrupted to not understand what she was doing. It could’ve been all these things.

  He grabbed her roughly by the arm, wrenching her around.

  “Don’t turn from me when I’m talking to you, Natalie!”

  She tried to pull away, but he had her arm squeezed too tightly.

  “Robert, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

  “I’m hurting you?” He jerked her arm. “What about you hurting me? What about you treating me like garbage? What about you trying to poison our son? What about you running around with another man? I understand you’re grieving, but what you’ve done is terrible! To me, to Simon, to our family! How could you do this to us? Answer me!”

  But she was too terrified. Too intent on freeing herself. She struggled and struggled until he grabbed her other arm and held her still. He forced her to look at him, almost picking her off the ground.

  “I saved you! It’s because of me that you’re alive! I sacrificed for you! You were dead, and I brought you back!”

  “I didn’t ask you to bring me back!” Natalie yelled. “I’m miserable! I’m miserable with myself! I’m miserable with you! I’m miserable with everyone except him!”

  He’d been adamant that he could keep cool with her. She was his beautiful Natalie, even after the horrible things she’d do
ne. She was sick, very sick. But—

  “You shut your mouth!”

  Robert struck her across the face. The blow knocked her to the carpet and he stood above her. Unstoppable.

  And when she looked at him with quivering eyes, her hand to her red cheek, he felt no mercy. He wanted her to hurt. Like he’d been hurting. For over a year. And for nothing more than simply wanting his family back. From the last time he’d kissed her goodbye the morning of the car accident, he’d been a building mass of pain! She was miserable? She didn’t know misery.

  “I am your husband and provider, Natalie.” Robert lowered his voice. “And I’ve had enough. It’s time you started acting like my wife and give me the respect I deserve. If I need to show you what your place is, I will. I’m tired of waiting for you to find it.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and he could see she was trying not to make a sound. Not a sob. Not a sniffle. She was paralyzed with fear. She was his. As it should be.

  “Get up.”

  Natalie struggled to rise, her legs ungainly and movements clumsy. Before, he would’ve offered his hand, but he was through being a gentleman. She needed to earn his trust and generosity.

  “Come on!” He yanked her arm, and she stumbled upright. He dragged her toward the bedroom.

  When she saw where they were going, her strength returned. She fought him, her legs kicking and her nails tearing across his skin.

  “No! Robert, no! Let me go!”

  Her reaction infuriated him further. He got her to the door and moved her in front of himself. Then he pushed her shoulders hard and sent her flying back. She hit the floor, and her head knocked against the bench of her vanity.

  “What? Do you think I want you when you look how he wants you to? You’re not his. You’re mine.” Robert’s fists shook as he towered over her. “Put on real clothes! Put on your fucking clothes, Natalie!”

  He ripped open the closet door and tore out hangers. He threw the clothes at her as she cried on the floor.

  “I don’t care what you wear as long as it’s yours. As long as it’s not his!”

  He spun around. She hadn’t moved. She cowered on the floor surrounded by plastic hangers and garments.

  “What are you waiting for? What part of what I said did you not understand? Put on your clothes, Natalie! You are not a man. You are a woman! You will dress and act like one. Put something on!”

  He folded his arms and watched her frightened movements as she picked a blouse and skirt from the clothing massacre. She glanced at him, her shoulders pushed forward. She was waiting for him to hit her again. Which he was prepared to do. He didn’t want to, but the force had been effective in getting her attention. Finally, she was listening.

  Progress.

  Robert watched her peel off the men’s clothing. She tried to cover herself and hide her body from him.

  “I told you not to turn away from me, Natalie,” he warned. “You show yourself to that dirty pharmacist every day. You can damn well show yourself to your husband.”

  Natalie complied. She was still crying, but part of him was excited by the vulnerability. He considered taking her right there. She needed to realize that she only had control over what he allowed.

  If I want you, I will have you. You don’t get to decide if you’re going to fulfill my expectations anymore.

  He didn’t need Brigman’s prescription. He could easily overpower her. Make her accept him. And she might scream at first, but in the end it was necessary.

  But no. Not here. It wasn’t safe. The pharmacist might storm in and try to win her back. Robert needed to take her out of Savannah and hole up for a week or so. He’d talk some sense into her now that she was frightened enough to obey. And he’d do it there.

  Natalie finished dressing and shrank on the floor. He pulled a suitcase from the closet and threw it on the bed.

  “Pack something.”

  “What … what do you want me to pack?”

  “Clothes. And everything on your vanity. We’re going away. And hurry. Move!” Robert commanded as she crawled across the carpet and piled random clothes into the suitcase.

  She was taking too long. He walked to the vanity and grabbed different makeup cases and her hair brush. He took a bottle of her perfume and a couple pairs of shoes. She flinched when he came near her and dumped everything in on top of the clothes.

  “That’s good enough.” He zipped the suitcase and picked it up in one hand.

  With the other, he took her wrist. “And if you make any scene on the way, it’ll be much worse for you. I promise you that.”

  Robert slung the bag she’d been trying to run away with over his shoulder and pulled her out of the apartment.

  Chapter 41

  Oz woke in a hospital room. The space around his bed was lined with a curtain, and that was all he could see – the pale yellow fabric with honeycomb shaped mesh at the top. He tried to swivel his head to look around as he felt for the controls on the railing.

  “Don’t move. You have a concussion and three skull fractures. And that’s just your head.”

  What grogginess he’d felt vanished. He turned and winced, the sharp movement sending a razor through his brain.

  “One would think that over thirty years of ignoring my direction would’ve taught you to listen. Yet here you are, in another mess you could’ve avoided were it not for your poor judgment.”

  “What are you doing here?” Oz brought his palms to his face and covered his eyes. His head was killing him. Worse than a hangover. “Get out. I’m in no mood to listen to your bullshit.”

  Rather than leaving, Brigman seemed to settle further into the chair by Oz’s bed. He crossed one leg over the other and spoke without facing him. “I was going to visit you anyway, so I’ll thank you for delivering yourself to me. I’m a busy man.”

  “Too many brains to scramble and far too little time. Ruining lives is more than a full-time occupation.”

  “I’m very disappointed in you, Osborne.”

  Oz lay his head back on the pillow and answered in a monotone voice. “I can’t convey how mind-blowing that statement is. If my mind were my dick, I’d be calling you Cinnamon and slipping you a fifty.”

  “Do you understand you could’ve been seriously harming people by tampering with medication?”

  “Here’s a fun fact – I could’ve been seriously harming people while you frequently and with no intentions of stopping, continue to seriously harm people.”

  “If you wanted to prescribe medication, you should’ve become a real doctor. Your behavior is unethical, illegal—”

  “Yes, I’ve been a naughty, naughty boy. Can you cut the shit, Sister Agnes? Give me my penance and get the fuck out.”

  Brigman glanced at him. “Are you that arrogant to think you’re going to get away with this?”

  “I just don’t care anymore.” It wasn’t true. Perhaps a week or so ago it had been, but now that there was Andrew, there was a great deal to care about. He’d have to come up with a plan to get out of this situation, but first he needed to call Santino to make sure Andrew was safe. “For the third time, get out.”

  But the doctor still didn’t move. “I’ve decided to forgive you. I wasn’t going to, but I will.”

  Every muscle in his face hurt, but Oz laughed anyway. “You are going to forgive me? After you robbed me of everything, you’re going to forgive me?”

  “I did the right thing even though you feel I’ve wronged you. My only mistake was in not providing you more guidance after I brought you back to help you adjust. For that I’m sorry. But for saving you when you were on the verge of death? I won’t apologize for that.”

  “People are so afraid of dying. So afraid of the end. You know what goes on forever? Numbers. Numbers go on forever. It’s immortality, and the only discipline that deals in the infinite.”

  “No one wants to die. Even you didn’t want to die. Don’t lie to yourself.”

  “See, this is what you’ve always fai
led to fucking understand. Every other creative expression will fade with the ages – languages and music change, the meanings of paintings change. But mathematics and a great mathematician transcend time and lives forever.” Oz glared at him. “Someday your fucking ‘advances’ will be forgotten. Supplanted. But the truth behind geometry, behind topology is eternal. You may think you helped, but I had my chance at immortality, and you took it away from me.”

  The doctor stood, a file in his hand.

  Thank God. Oz lifted his head, slower this time, and looked at the side table. Where was his phone? And his cigarettes.

  “So actually, if you’ve lost your opportunity to figuratively exist forever, you should thank me for continuing to buy you time to make yourself less of an embarrassment.” Brigman removed two glossy documents and approached him. “It really was convenient for you to not only come see me, but to do so with a head injury. Go ahead, take a peek, although it won’t mean anything to you.”

  Oz accepted the documents and turned them over. There were two MRI brain scans – one sagittal, the other axial. And Brigman was right, any anomalies that may have existed blended into the normal structures. Not that it mattered. He could take a guess.

  “Have you been having some difficulty with your hands? Those scans tell me you have.”

  Here we go. Oz tossed the papers off the bed and folded his arms as the old clock resumed its ticking. How much time? More than before, since it was being diagnosed earlier. But how would he tell Andrew? And how long should he wait until he bowed out like he should’ve done previously? One big, glorious explosion.

  “So that’s why you’re going to forgive my transgressions? You’ll be rid of me anyway? How about thanking me for that convenience too.”

  And he should thank Robert. If the man hadn’t lost his fucking mind and given Oz three skull fractures and a concussion, he would’ve kept rationalizing and ignoring the signs. Now he could plan for the inevitable.

  “No, I’m going to forgive you because you’re my son. I’ll always care about you, no matter how difficult you make it.”