by Andrea Ring
“What?”
Erica swallows hard. “What if you can’t fix the Huntington’s?”
“I’m close, Erica. Depending on what comes up, I’ll be able to heal both of you in less than a month. But even if there wasn’t a cure, I’d marry Tessa anyway.”
She drains her cup and stands. “I hope to God that’s true.”
I watch her gather her keys and leave.
Tessa comes in as I’m pouring myself a warm-up.
“Was that Mom?” she asks.
I nod. “I just had a talk with her about us.”
Tessa raises an eyebrow. “And?”
“She’s on board. She doesn’t like it, but she’s okay with it.”
Tessa hugs me. “Did she say what the problem was?”
“Not exactly,” I say, “but I think it’s the fact that you have Huntington’s. She’s afraid of what’ll happen if I can’t fix it.”
Tessa rolls her eyes. “She’s not afraid of your dad leaving. She’s a hypocrite. She wants to deny me the very thing she has.”
“Your dad checked out when things got too tough for him,” I say. “She’s just projecting that onto me. Let’s stop worrying about it. She agreed to support the marriage, or at least to not try to stop us. That’s the best we’re going to get right now.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Tessa says. “Maybe her Huntington’s is affecting her. We don’t really see her as sick since she doesn’t show any symptoms, but as long as she’s not healed, it has to be affecting her.”
“You’re right,” I say. “I haven’t talked with Dad about it, but you’re right. A lot of her neural connections have probably been compromised. Let’s keep an eye on her. I need to spend every waking minute in the lab.”
***
I spend the day working on my immune suppression drug. The concept is that the drug alters the immune system to recognize a specific sequence I alter on all the DNA I want to insert. That way, no matter what DNA I use or how it’s otherwise coded, the immune system won’t attack it. I should have it perfected by the end of next week.
As I’m cleaning up for the day, I get my anticipated call from Dacey.
“Yo!” he yells.
I hold the phone away from my ear. I slowly move it back into place. “Yo?”
Dacey laughs. “Yo! You asked for a call?”
I can hear loud music and laughter in the background. “You sound a little busy,” I say. “Do you want to call me later?”
“Why, when you have me on the phone now?” he asks, his words slurring on the end.
Great. He’s drunk.
“Dacey, I appreciate the call, but this is rather important. I’d rather speak to you when you’re sober.”
He whistles. “Woo, hoo! Somebody’s got his panties in a twist.”
“Dacey, I just—”
“Listen, Thomas, you asked me to call and I did. Take it or leave it.”
I blow out a loud breath. “Fine. I’d like for you to come work with me at the Planarian Institute.”
“Hell, no. Next question.”
“Dacey, please. I need your help. You don’t even know what I’m working on.”
“And I don’t care,” he says. “My days of science are over.”
“Is this how Vivian would want you to live your life?” I ask him.
He pauses. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Don’t waste it,” I say. “Don’t make a mockery of her sacrifice. Don’t—” And my phone beeps.
Dacey hung up on me.
Then my phone vibrates.
“Dacey, listen, I’m sorry, but this is too important—”
“Dacey? Thomas, it’s Jack.”
“Oh. Hey, Jack. Sorry, I just lost my connection to Dacey and I thought you were him calling me back.”
“How’s he doing?”
“The same. What’s up?”
“Oh,” she says, “I just thought I’d fill you in on my date with Tyrion.”
“Do tell,” I say.
“Let me ask you a question first. You said that maybe it’s possible he has a soul and I can’t see it. Do you still believe that?”
I take a seat on a stool and lean my elbows on the worktable. “Anything’s possible. The question is, is it probable?”
“Probable, no,” she says with a laugh. “I’ve never met anyone else without a visible soul. But let’s assume it’s true. Why can’t I see it?”
“Maybe it’s so fresh it hasn’t become visible yet,” I suggest.
“Okay. Then something is keeping it invisible, since even newborns have visible souls. Maybe…his character hasn’t been decided yet. Maybe Tyrion’s still coming into his own.”
“Except the way I understand it,” I say, “we’re born a certain way. Sure, we can evolve, but we’re born with a certain character. Or do I have it wrong?”
“No,” she says. “You’re right. A soul’s colors will change over a lifetime, or at least the portion of a lifetime I’ve been able to observe, but every baby I’ve ever met already has some kind of color, or character, or whatever you want to call it.”
“Okay,” I say, “so that idea’s out. Maybe you’re not meant to see Tyrion’s soul.”
“Why would that be?”
“Maybe…maybe God’s discouraging us from growing human beings in the lab. Maybe he wants things the old-fashioned way.”
“I don’t think God intervenes that much,” Jack says.
“Maybe your future is tied to Tyrion’s, and that’s why you can’t see his soul,” I say. “You said you’ve seen your own soul. Do you know, I mean, have you seen your own death, Jack?”
She hesitates. “Pieces. Only pieces. The reading’s vague.”
“I thought you always get a time and date and cause.”
“Not always,” she says. “If I get a date and time, it’s right. But the rest of it can sometimes be open to interpretation.”
“Then that seems the most likely scenario,” I say. “Maybe Tyrion’s your soulmate, the one man you’re supposed to be with. Maybe God’s finally giving you a break.”
“I don’t know, Thomas,” she says. “God’s never given me a break before.”
The sadness in her voice gets to me. I blink hard to keep my eyes from tearing. “Jack, I know your faith’s been tested many times, and I know Tyrion’s existence is testing it again. Just…keep an open mind. I believe your abilities have a purpose. They don’t exist just to torture you.”
“You don’t know that,” she says. “I mean, my faith is…shaky, yeah, and I probably don’t believe I’m being tortured…but you don’t know. I don’t know. No one does.”
“You’re right,” I say. “We don’t know. But I have faith. I believe Tyrion has some kind of soul and you just can’t see it. I believe you’re a good person who God put his trust in, that you’re strong enough to handle your abilities and any shit life throws at you. I believe those things one hundred percent. Call me crazy.”
“You’re crazy,” she says with a laugh.
“We can speculate all night long. Forget it for now, and tell me about your date.”
Jack sighs. “It was nice.”
“Just nice?”
“Yeah, and nice is nice. We just cooked and ate and talked. It was nice.”
I laugh. “So Tyrion didn’t try anything funny?”
I feel her smile. “Nope. He gave me a kiss on the back of my hand at the end of the night and asked me out again.”
“That’s great. When are you seeing him?”
“Tonight.”
I laugh again. “Well, Tyrion’s car is going to be putting on some miles. Or are you driving down?”
“He’s insisting on coming up here,” she says. “I told him I’d drive since I’m not working right now, but his code of chivalry is pretty strong.”
“You deserve it, Jack,” I say. “You deserve to have someone make an effort for you.”
“Thanks, Thomas,” she says
.
Chapter Fourteen
“They have the best carrot cake here,” Tessa says as we settle into our chairs at Robin’s Egg Bistro. Kate and Kenneth sit opposite us, and Kate leans in.
“Okay, okay!” she squeals. “Show me!”
Tessa holds out her left hand, and Kate grabs it to examine the ring. She sighs. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Tessa and I say at the same time, and we both laugh.
“So have you guys set a date?” Kate asks.
“We have,” Tessa says, and I raise an eyebrow at her. She smiles. “I want to finish high school first—” and I choke on my own tongue and have a small coughing fit while Tessa pats my back, “—which I’ll do this summer, and I need a little time to plan, but we want to do it as soon as possible…so I chose October 4th. It’s a Saturday.”
“Why October 4th?” Kate asks.
“Fall’s our favorite time of year, and there are so many summer weddings that it’s almost a cliché, you know, June wedding, at the beach, blah, blah, blah. Plus I wanted to pick a date we’d both remember easily.”
“What’s special about October 4th?” I ask. “Am I forgetting something?”
Tessa smiles. “No. But it’s easy to remember: Ten-four, little buddy!”
We all laugh, and Kenneth actually hoots. “That’s awesome,” he says. “I love it! ‘Ten-four, little buddy!’”
“So no beach?” Kate says.
Tessa shakes her head. “No. We haven’t discussed where, and probably most places are booked, but definitely not the beach.”
“Wherever you have it, it will be perfect,” Kate says. “I’m so happy for you both.”
Tessa takes my hand and squeezes it. “Me, too.”
Our meal is superb, and we end it with carrot cake. One fork.
“You guys up for coffee?” Kenneth asks as we head out. “It’s still early.”
Tessa rubs her eyes and hides a yawn behind her hand. “Sorry,” she says with a giggle. “I think I’m beat. Is that okay with you, Thomas?”
It’s only nine-thirty, and Tessa’s a night owl, but she’s probably still recovering from her cold. “Of course. We can do coffee any time. Let’s get you to bed.”
We exchange thank yous and kisses and hugs, and we wish Kate and Kenneth a safe drive home.
***
“Did you hear from Dacey yet?” Tessa asks when we get in the car.
“Dacey?”
“Isn’t he the one you were going to ask to work with you?”
I smile. “How did you know that?”
“He’s the only one I know of who can do anything close to what you do. And he’s sort of free at the moment, so I assumed you’d ask him.”
I sigh. “Yeah, I asked. Didn’t go so hot. He’s determined to avoid the lab.”
“I don’t get that,” Tessa says. “Wouldn’t he want to do amazing things with this second chance?”
“It’s guilt,” I say. “He feels guilty, and he misses Vivian, and he’s just not ready. I don’t know if he’ll ever be ready.”
Tessa is quiet for a moment. “I know how he feels.”
I don’t reply.
“If something happened to you while you were working on the Huntington’s cure, I just…I don’t know, Thomas. I don’t think I could stand it.”
“Don’t,” I say. “You promised you wouldn’t bring this up.”
“I’m not,” she says. “At least, I’m not talking about us, I’m talking about Dacey. I understand the guilt. What I don’t understand is his behavior.”
I squeeze Tessa’s knee as we pull onto Dad’s street. “Me either. Let’s just hope he comes to his senses before he really hurts himself.”
As I cruise up to the house, I see the devil himself stagger out of his car and up the porch to our front door.
“Is that Dacey?” Tessa asks.
“Yep.” I park on the street and turn off my ignition. “Maybe you should stay in the car.”
Tessa looks at me. “Are you afraid Dacey will hurt me?”
“Not you, specifically, but he’s probably drunk and pissed off. Not a good combination.”
“But Mom’s there and Em…”
We watch Dacey pound on the front door. The kitchen light comes on, and Dad wrenches the door open.
“Stay here,” I repeat, and I hustle up to the house. “Dacey!”
Dacey spins in place and almost falls. He puts a hand out and steadies himself on the porch rail. “You!”
“It’s me,” I say. I stop a few feet away, out of reach. “I got this, Dad. Go back to bed.”
Dad gives me a look over Dacey’s head, like, “Really? You’ve handled a lot of drunks in your time, have you?” He folds his arms over his chest and smirks. I shake my head.
“You!” Dacey spits out again.
“Me,” I say.
“How dare you!”
“How dare I what?”
Dacey narrows his eyes. “I’m never going to work for you. I’m done, you hear me? Done.”
“I need your help, Dacey,” I say. “There are sick people who need your help.”
“I can’t help them!” he screams. “I won’t.”
“Why not?” I try to project as much sympathy and understanding in my voice as I can muster.
Dacey pushes off the railing and sways. Then he rights himself and looks me in the eye. “Stay away from me. Both of you. I’m not doing this.”
“You said that on the phone,” I say. “You didn’t need to show up here to repeat yourself.”
“I just want to make sure you get it! Get off my back and stay the hell away from me.”
“We can help you,” I whisper.
Dacey clenches his fists. “And what, do you suppose, do I need help with?”
I open my mouth to speak, but Dad butts in. “Dace, what’s wrong? What did Thomas ask you to do?”
Dacey spins around to face Dad. “He wants my help!”
“And you came to yell at him for asking you for help?”
“No! Yes! He said…screw this. I’m outta here.” Dacey turns around to leave, his ankle twists, and he falls down the porch steps and to the ground. I kneel beside him.
“Let us help you,” I say, taking his arm.
He wrenches it away from me. “You can’t.”
“I can.”
“You can’t.”
“I can.” We both look up at Tessa, who squats down next to Dacey and brushes his hair out of his eyes. “I can help you, Dacey.”
He simply looks at her.
“I get it. Thomas works every day, putting his life in danger, to save me from Huntington’s disease. I don’t breathe until he walks through the door.”
Dacey hangs his head.
“But it’s his choice. Thomas is deciding to do this, and I can’t stop him.”
“She shouldn’t have sacrificed herself for me,” Dacey whispers. “I’m not worth it.”
“Vivian thought differently,” Tessa says, and Dacey cringes as she speaks Vivian’s name. “She thought you were worth it.”
Dacey hiccoughs. “I just want…I want to be with her. I want her here with me.”
“She is with you,” Tessa says. “She’s inside you. She is you.”
Tears well in his eyes. “I thought…if I played fast and loose, she’d appear, her soul, you know? I thought…she’ll try to stop me. She’ll tell me what I fuck-up I am. But she’s not here.”
Tessa glances up at me, and I shrug. “I don’t know if that’s how it works. I don’t know if souls are hanging around. But you’re killing yourself, Dacey, living like this. Is that what you want? To commit suicide?”
“No,” he whispers, horrified. “No! I’d never…it would be like killing her all over again.”
Tessa puts a finger under Dacey’s chin and lifts. She looks him in the eye. “Then what the hell are you doing?”
Dacey squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them. He nods slowly.
Tessa helps him to
his feet.
Dad comes out and puts an arm over Dacey’s shoulder. “I miss her, too, man,” he says. “So fucking much. She loved you enough to leave us.”
“You need to get your ass back in the lab,” Tessa says. “Help her save someone else. Help her…save me.”
Dacey raises his eyes to Tessa. Then he bursts into tears.
Dad holds him.
And when his tears quiet, Dacey swipes his eyes and looks at Dad. “I’m AWOL.”
Dad shakes his head. “I got you leave.”
Dacey nods. “I’ll be in touch,” he says.
And he walks straight and proud to his car.
***
“I’m gonna drive him home,” Dad says, hustling after Dacey. “Tell Erica I’ll be a while.”
Tessa folds herself into my arms.
“Thank you,” I whisper into the top of her head. She smiles into my chest. “Let’s get some rest. Sam’s coming back on Sunday. Lots to do tomorrow.”
Tessa steps back and rubs her eyes. “Excellent. Another person to help take care of Em. I think the lack of sleep is getting to me. I can’t wait.”
Off to bed, then.
Chapter Fifteen
My phone rings as I pour my morning coffee. Everyone else is sound asleep, and I fumble with the phone as I try to quiet it as quickly as possible. “Hey, Tyrion,” I whisper. I slip out the front door so I can talk at a normal volume.
“The demon that possessed me has taken over Dacey,” he whispers back.
“What was that?” I ask. I heard him clearly enough, but he’s making no sense again.
“I cannot speak any louder—I do not want him to hear me. I said, he is possessed.”
I chuckle. “We’ve been over this, Tyrion. No one’s possessed. You mean Dacey’s behavior has changed?”
“Yes! He woke up an hour ago!”
“That’s good, right?” I ask. “Maybe he won’t be hitting the bars tonight.”
“You sound unaffected by this news,” Tyrion says. “Do you know something about it?”
“A bit,” I confess. “I asked Dacey to come work with me at the Planarian Institute. Tessa convinced him to do it, I think.”
“What? But how? I have been trying to get him to return to the Attic for months!”