The Optogram

by Noelle Jeffreys

  “Oh,” he said, disappointed to learn it was Agnes. “Wait. My insurance got canceled? Let me see if you’ve got the right information.”

  The girl handed him her clipboard where she had clamped the card and a generated form beneath the metal bar. Everything appeared correct. “Can you try again?” he asked.

  “We tried several times. We even called the school. They’re the ones who verified you’d canceled your insurance two days ago.”

  Dothan laughed. “That’s bullshit.”

  “Well, that’s between you and the insurance company. In the meantime, we need to arrange a deposit for your hospital charges. You’re scheduled to be discharged today, so you have to pay one-hundred fifty dollars now. You’ll have thirty days to take care of whatever issues are occurring with your health insurance and pay the rest in full.”

  Great, he thought. There goes my money until the next student loan payout. “Sure, I think my wallet is on that counter by the mirror. Can you get it for me?”

  He handed the clerk his debit card, and she ran it through her handheld card reader. She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, it says they’ve declined it.”

  Dothan encouraged her to try again, with the same result. He gave her his three credit cards, and all were declined.

  “No fucking way!”

  Agnes walked through the door. “You must be feeling better with that kind of language,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  “My goddam cards are all declining my hospital charges, and my insurance is totally fucked.”

  “I swear if you don’t watch that mouth, I’m going to wash it out with soap.” Agnes turned to the girl. “How much does he owe?”

  “One-hundred fifty dollars as a deposit,” said the young woman, “and then he has thirty days to—”

  “Yes, yes. All I asked you is how much he owed. I don’t need the entire speech.” Agnes drew out her wallet and paid.

  The billing clerk frowned and dropped the printed receipt into Agnes’s hand before marching from the room.

  Dothan objected, but Agnes waved at him. “Consider it a loan,” she said. “You can pay me once you get back to work. The nurse said you’re being discharged today?”

  “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “It’s weird. Just before all this sh…stuff happened, I got my student loan money and paid those cards. I don’t even know how the school got the idea I’d canceled my health insurance.”

  “Well, thousands of people have had their identity hacked. You’re not immune.”

  Hacked.

  He had not done VprKlU’s project despite being warned there would be retaliation. Dothan dug through his texts. There, dated the night he went to the playpen, was an anonymous message displaying a smiley on its side and X’s for eyes.

  “Oh, crap,” said Dothan, pressing his palms to his face. “It was him.”

  “Who?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “Whatever,” said Agnes. She sat in the chair beside his bed. “Thought you’d like to know, they arraigned Althea today. Just like she predicted, the judge fell for her battered woman thing. She bailed out because he didn’t consider her a danger to society. Guess who’s in the papers proclaiming victory for abused women?”

  “You’re kidding,” said Dothan. “She’s a freaking worm. Have you heard anything at all about January?”

  Agnes shook her head. “Nothing. I keep telling you that woman is no good. Move on, Dothan. Althea made it clear January exploited and almost killed you.”

  “Althea is a total nutball. My guess is January is hiding from her, and she’ll find me when it’s safe.”

  “Mother of mercy, you really are an idiot.”

  The doctor arrived, informing Dothan the lab could find no trace of any drug in his system. As he refused to give his medical history and had no insurance, they would discharge him within the hour.

  A flurry of nurses and clerks flew through the tiny room. A pretty hospital volunteer entered the room with a wheelchair to assist in

  his exit from the hospital.

  As he slid into the bucket seat of Agnes’s car, Dothan tucked the giggling girl’s cellphone number into his jacket.

  They rode in silence until they turned into the parking lot.

  He stared at the apartment window. “I wonder if January’s waiting for me in there,” he said.

  Agnes shook her head and frowned. “I’d almost bet she’s not, but you go ahead and live in la-la land. If you ever need anything, call me, okay? I mean that.”

  He smiled and nodded. “I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me, but thanks.”

  Agnes patted his shoulder and smiled. “Whether or not we like it, I think we’re friends, and that’s what friends do.”

  Dothan blushed and waved goodbye to her. He mounted the rickety metal stairs and found a piece of paper taped to the apartment door.

  14 DAY NOTICE TO PAY RENT OR VACATE

  What the fuck?

  How could this happen when his rent was always paid by automatic debit?

  Goddam it VprKlU.

  Dothan smashed his fist into the fiberglass panel. With no idea how to resolve his money issues, he was on the road to eviction.

  He opened the door and scanned the living room. Someone had pushed the refrigerator into the middle of the kitchen and removed the thin metal plate covering the back. After throwing it across the room, they had taken the thumb drive from its tape enclosure, leaving nothing but a few bits of sticky plastic.

  After throwing his backpack to the floor, he dashed into the bedroom. The closet and dresser no longer held January’s clothes, and Dothan sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the empty drawers.

  The room spun in dizzying confusion.

  Why would she do this to me? How could she just take everything and walk away without a word? Agnes was right. Maybe she never loved me at all.

  He scrolled to the screenshot of the sales data he had retrieved from Ainsley Bennett Auctions. It was time to tell the detective the truth about this woman who promised to marry him and then tried to destroy him.

  Barclay had still not replied to his text. The detective had to be aware by now of the death of Joseph Harrington. He might have even gone to the crime scene and viewed Sibella’s table. Dothan dialed the detective’s cellphone, but it clicked over to voice-mail. He considered leaving a message, but this was something that needed to be done face-to-face.

  After searching for the number to Seattle Homicide, he dialed.

  “Lieutenant Solomon.”

  “Um, hi,” said Dothan. “I need to speak to Detective John Barclay.”

  “What’s this regarding?”

  “It’s private. May I speak to him please?”

  “Have you tried his cell?” asked Lt. Solomon.

  “Yes, but I’ve not been able to reach him.”

  “I can leave him a message. What’s your name?”

  Dothan froze.

  January had been in the room when that text arrived from Barclay. What if she had read it and found him?

  An incoming call flashed in, identifying the caller as the detective. Relieved, Dothan cut off the call to Lt. Solomon and answered.

  “Detective. Are you okay?”

  “Shut up and listen. I know who you really are, Dothan. I know all about the incident at Conscentiam’s playpen and your involvement with January Kinsie. For the time being, don’t contact me or tell anyone about our investigation. When it’s safe, I’ll find you. And for what it’s worth, try not to be such a goddam fool.”

  There was a click and silence.

  “Detective Barclay? Are you still there? Hello?”

  He moved to the bedroom in a daze. After replacing the aluminum screen in the frame, he shut the window and closed the flimsy blinds. Daylight was waning an
d Dothan flicked the light switch, but the bulb remained dark. He checked the plugs and other switches with a groan.

  They had cut the power.

  I guess it’s fortunate that hacking bastard couldn’t get to the apartment’s water system.

  He stared at his phone, wondering why VprKlU had left it alone.

  Of course. How else could the little shit rub his victory into my face if he shut off my service?

  He called Agnes and left a voice message. “Hey, guess what? I’m being kicked out of my place and my power got cut. Can I crash with you for a couple of days until I can get all this shit worked out? Yeah, yeah, I know. Watch my language.”

  Agnes texted him that her couch was open whenever he needed it.

  Dothan fell back on the bed. He stared at the yellowing paint streaked across the ceiling. His entire world had collapsed overnight. Just a few days earlier, he held January Kinsie in his arms and slipped his mother’s ring on her finger. Today, he could not even keep things cold in his refrigerator.

  He spied the broken bottle of perfume January had dropped in the trash can before she left that awful night. With gentle care, he retrieved it from beneath the various discarded items. Dothan lay on the bed beside the imprint of her body on the sheet. He inhaled the sweet musky scent from the vial, and despite his confusion and anger, memories of their passion and shared words of love gripped at his heart. His hand clenched the pillow on which her thick mass of dark curls had lain in wild profusion.

  As he pressed his face against the soft fabric, Dothan cried himself to sleep.

  ***

  His eyes flew open to the bedroom bathed in darkness. He squinted, trying to read the illuminated dial of his watch. Three o’clock. He stripped off the clothes he’d worn to the playpen and the hospital, throwing on a pair of sweats and t-shirt.

  A loud crack and pinch against his heel caused him to stumble. Near his feet lay the empty yellow prescription bottle, and he trembled as the familiar cravings gripped his chest. He yearned for an escape to this nightmare, but without funds, he had no way of scoring a buy.

  Using his phone for light, he made his way to the dark kitchen and attempted to brew instant coffee with tap water. The result was cold and putrid, but better than nothing.

  As he sat in the darkened room, he considered storming January’s condo, but remembered the key codes changed after the break-in and attack. That so-called attack. Was it possible January had staged it to convince him of her vulnerability?

  Dothan drank the foul coffee and paced between the darkened rooms until the first pale gray hues showed themselves over the distant housetops. A ping announced the receipt of email, and he opened his inbox to find a secure message from his student loan provider.

  “Oh no,” he whispered.

  His heart sank as he read the document. Per his request, they had discontinued his student loan as he would fund tuition through his own means.

  Dothan shook his head and fell to his knees in raucous laughter until his sides hurt.

  VprKlU had wiped out his assets and removed all access to funds, outside of the pittance he received for Saturday work at Sunshine Warehouse. He wanted to be angry. This faceless person had destroyed his life in a matter of hours. Instead, he found a weird sense of admiration for the creep.

  “Touche, Vpr,“ he whispered, wiping his eyes, “for the moment.”

  Dothan opened his phone and returned to the private messages exchanged between him and VprKlU.

  “Respect, man,” he wrote.

  Dothan prepared for work as if he facing an interview. He would have to be at his best, since it was obvious Nilesh intended to remove him from the internship. After rehearsing the perfect excuses, he was ready to defend each of them. He needed to show self-confidence and stay in control of the conversation to complete the last two weeks of his summer placement. After that, he never had to see that dump again.

  As he entered Dunlevy, Dothan tried to smile at Bekkii, but she turned away as he passed her desk. While he had expected her reaction, the sight of her jerked his heart and he knew he had to win her back. He could not understand it, but there was something about her he needed.

  He turned along the corridor to Nilesh’s office and knocked on the half-open laminate door.

  “Come in, Dothan,” said Nilesh, his expression neutral. “Shut the door and have a seat, would you?”

  With a smile, Dothan said, “So, first off, let me tell you everything that happened and why I wasn’t in touch as I should have been.”

  Nilesh lifted his hand and shook his head. “There’s no need to explain. You’re a bright young man who still may have a promising future ahead of him, but I’m afraid that won’t be with Dunlevy. During your internship, you’ve given us sub-par work and ignored the ticket system. I gave you a lot of leeway in the beginning, but between your unexcused absences and lack of responsibility, it’s best that we call it a day. If you could give me your laptop, HR should be in touch with you about your last paycheck. Security will escort you out of the building, and we’ll send anything you still have downstairs onto the address we have on file.”

  “Nilesh, I swear to you it won’t happen again. There’s only a couple of weeks left until it’s done and I need this internship to graduate. I’d make up the time I missed without pay, and my production would be stellar.”

  “I’m sorry, Dothan, but this is out of my hands. I told you the day you got here the CTO was watching this project.”

  Dothan sat for a moment, unprepared for this outcome. He took a breath and unzipped his backpack, removed the scuffed and battered laptop from its sheath and handed it to Nilesh.

  Nilesh stood and extended his hand. “Good luck.”

  Dothan turned and walked out of the office. Sid, the security guard, hobbled toward him at the end of the corridor, the light glinting off of his unshaven white whiskers.

  “Okay, son,” said Sid. “Let’s get you to the door.”

  Sid grabbed his elbow, but Dothan pulled it away. As they turned the corner and passed the reception area, Bekkii’s entire countenance radiated with pity. His face grew hot with humiliation, but he would not lose the last chance to talk to her.

  He turned to Sid and asked, “Can I talk to Bekkii before we head out the door?”

  “Sure, sure,” said the old man. “I’ll go rest my knee. You take your time.”

  Dothan turned to the reception desk, trying to smile. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for so long. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I was an asshole, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  Bekkii’s eyes lowered, and she fidgeted with her lip ring. “I’m not mad, Dothan. I wish it could’ve been different is all.”

  “It still can. You have to know I… I love you. I really do.”

  Her eyes flew to his in obvious surprise. “What?”

  He nodded with a smile. “You’ve been on my mind nonstop since that night in the parking lot. I was wrong. We could make this work if you give me another chance. I’ll even bring Bavarian creams to you every day for the rest of your life, if you say you forgive me and we can be together.”

  Bekkii’s hand dropped from her mouth. “I…Dothan…I,” she stammered.

  There was a slap on his shoulder. “Hallo, friend.”

  A wave of fury flew through Dothan. He pivoted toward the voice, and there, with his wide, toothy smile, stood Jürgen, the German researcher he’d shunned on his first day at work.

  “What do you want?” snapped Dothan.

  Oblivious, Jürgen turned to Bekkii and lifted his hand. He pranced behind the semi-circle desk and kissed her on the cheek. “And hallo to you, mein Leibling.” As his arm wrapped around her shoulder, Bekkii’s face reddened in obvious discomfort within Jürgen’s embrace.

  Dothan’s throat tightened as a strange sense of sadness descended. It was unfathomable tha
t Bekkii had moved on without giving him a single chance to fix his mistake.

  Beckoning to Sid, he turned his back on Bekkii and walked out through the door of Dunlevy Ocular Research for the last time.

  He took some of his dwindling cash for a bus pass and boarded the articulated behemoth. As he slumped into a seat, the vehicle jerked and shuddered on its way through Seattle. A drunken man dropped next to him along the bench seat. Dothan tried to stare into the moving landscape, but could not process any passing point of interest.

  “Them Twelves. They never did,” said the drunk, talking to himself. “No, they never did. Them Twelves.”

  Dothan crossed his arms and pulled as far away from the man as he could. Leaning his head on the window, his anger grew.

  “Hey,” said the man to Dothan. “Hey. Did you see that?” The drunk slapped him on the arm, and shouted, “Did you see that?”

  “Get off of me!” Dothan growled and pounded on the drunk, unleashing a hurricane of vehement anger.

  The drunk fell to the floor, scampered to the other side of the bus and whimpered.

  The driver pulled the bus to the side of the road. “You two: out!”

  “What the fuck, man?” said Dothan. “This dirtbag hit me first.”

  “Out or I’m calling the transit police.”

  Dothan glared at the driver as he stepped off of the bus, then watched the drunk singing as he swayed along the street in the opposite direction.

  He checked his phone and found another bus would pass within ten minutes. Sitting upon a long, metal bar doubling as a narrow bench, he sifted through his email. One subject line stood out and Dothan’s heart sunk.

  “No,” cried Dothan, “no, no, no!”

  Email From: Academic Advising & Orientation Office

  To: Dothan Knox

  Subject: Academic Probation Notification

  Dear Mr. Knox,

  Based upon your current academic record, this communication serves as notification that you are on ACADEMIC PROBATION. You are subject to a hold on your next registration cycle…

  The email offered contact details of a Ms. Juniper Pepper, his advisor on this issue. He picked up the phone, dialed the woman’s number, but ended the call before it connected.