My First Novel
Chapter One
We had been riding in silence for the last one hundred miles of the three hour drive.
Finally, my dad took the initiative to turn on the radio. He pushed the seek button and the
first station to tune in is 103.4 fm.
"Welcome back to this exciting game for the Coleville Tulips . . ." the deep,
froggy, male radio announcer's voice said. I could hear the synchronized screams of the
cheerleaders, and the chaotic yells and whistles of the crowd around the announcer's
voice.
The warm air from the floor vents of my dad's brand new, navy blue minivan blew
gently at my feet. It felt good, comforting on the chilly October night's drive. I had taken
my sweater off over one hundred fifty miles ago when we had been fighting about the
move. My turtle neck now let in just the right amount of cool air sneaking through the
window.
Mom had decided that her Friday night card club was more important than seeing
the house that might become our new home. Why did I always have to go with? I'd had
to bail on my friends, too. I had promised them that I would finally watch "Friday the
Thirteenth" without my hands over my eyes. But Mom insisted I go with Dad to see the
house. I have to admit, this is the first night that it has really hit me. By the turn of the
next page of the calendar that Dad has pasted on the dash, it will not only be November,
but I will be going to a different school and living in a different town. At lunch I will be
trying to meet new people, instead of the ease of sitting with my good friends, whom I
have known since kindergarten.
"First down, now. The Tulips are driving the football down the field. The score is
fourteen to zip here in the first quarter. . ."
"Just think, Honey, this is going to be your new team --the Coleville Tulips!" Dad
says, distracted by his excitement to see our new town.
"I don't want to be a Tulip. Who would be so stupid as to name their school
mascot after a flower. I would much rather stay a mighty, mighty Buffalo. We're a lot
better than these wimpy flowers. It so contradictory, it's like an oxymoron." I retorted.
"And Hodink makes the big tackle for the Northern County Pines. The Pines are
really looking good this year. The Tulips might not have their conference championship
victory handed to them this year by their biggest rivals."
The lights of the small town of Coleville had seemed so far away when Dad had
first turned on the radio. Now I could already make out the lights of the outdoor football
field on the edge of town. It appeared to be an illuminated utopian event.
As we came closer, I could see that on one side of the field the bleachers were
sparsely covered with blue and, even from the back, I could distinguish the doubled
attendance of the red home side. The lights were so encompassing that it looked like
daylight on the torn up green grass of the field as we passed by. Behind the home side
bleachers was a concession stand just like the one at my school. On top, the radio
announcer would be concealed behind the large glass windows of the second story, as they
glowed like two eyes in the darkness of the blue paint.
"Andy Brigert is just picking his holes in the defense and darting in there and
that's just what he has to do," interrupted the announcer again. I could hear the yells of
the frantic fans in the background of the announcer.
The green city/ population sign finally came within reading distance: Coleville,
population 12,222. Just behind it loomed an illuminated mini -billboard that had two, big,
perfect, full-leaved trees drawn on it, sheltering the words "Welcome to Coleville! Home
of the Coleville Tulips!" The words were perfectly arched over the disconcerting image of
an angry, red Tulip growling at me. Its leaves were twisted into mortal arms, resting
hostiley on its waist.
"Nate Dom collides with the Pines' Gotzke, Dom breaks loose and lands on the
forty -six yard line. Less than four minutes left on the clock in the first quarter and when
you're ahead you want to eat up that time and that's just what the Tulips are doing."
"Jess, could you get that address out of my briefcase. It should be right on top,"
Dad said as he eased off the excelorator slowing to the city speed limit of thirty miles per
hour.
"Okay. It says 8901 Green Grass Lane."
"No Jess, the directions. I think I remember something about turning by a gas
station before we get down to the business district."
"Oh, yeah, here it is: 'Left by the Sinclair station, before the business district. You
should be on Picket Fence Road. Go down to Fifteenth Street and turn right. Go five
blocks and take a left on Green Grass Lane. Go six more blocks. It's a big, beige, two
-story between a blue house and a white house.'"
"Okay, this shouldn't be too hard to find. The real-estate agent said this was a real
keeper. Finished basement, newly resided, big back yard for Kimmer to run in . . ." He
looked like he could already see the house. His eyes were glazed with the image of a
perfectly groomed lawn. His mouth was gapping as he inhaled the scents of future
barbeques with perfect neighbors as guests.
"Dad, Kimmer doesn't need much space to run. She's a Shih Tzu. She has short
legs."
"Okay, then, a big yard for Mom's garden."
The house was huge. Our old house was only a split level, but Dad was feeling his
promotion. He would take nothing less than a big house like the one he grew up in. I
knew how hard Dad had worked for this promotion, but I couldn't help not being happy
about the move. For me, it meant I was sentenced to live in a different town. But, for
Dad, he would now be managing his own branch of the Macthomson Paper Company, Inc.
The agent had left a yellow light burning on the big, old-fashioned, wood porch to
give the house a friendly look. She stood at the end of the sidewalk and opened my door
for me when we pulled up. "Glad you could make it on such short notice. How was the
drive? Oh, I almost forgot! I'm Marsha, with Find-It-Right Real-estate," she said
extending her hand to me. She was wearing a Barbie-pink dress suit, with matching pink
shoes. There was a big black and white target patch on her right breast and a tidy, square
namebag on the other. Her hair was tucked into a round hat, with little whisps, perfectly
curled in Shirley Temple fashion, neatly, and deliberately arranged in front of her ears. It
bothered me to look at them. I tucked my hair behind my ears with my index fingers,
instinctively.
I got out and walked right past her hand. "Long," I sighed. "Sitting in the car for
three hours after sitting in school all day . . ." I took out my frustrations about moving on
the friendly agent. Dad shut off the van and came around to the sidewalk to shake
Marsha's hand.
"I really wish it didn't get dark so soon because the front yard is really lovely. The
bushes have been well maintained and the small circle garden by the mailbox has the most
beautiful red tulips in the spring. Almost every yard in town has a garden like that to
show support for the high school teams. Let's go inside. I just know you'll want to call
this neat old house 'home,'" she explained energetically in her sweet, soprano voice.
The house was impressive. My new room would be huge, with a walk-in closet
and its own bathroom. Mom and Dad would be a whole two floors above me, so I could
play my stereo as loud as I want and I would get the rest of the finished basement to
myself! (My older brother Jeff is already in his third year in college, so Mom said he could
sleep in the guest room if he came home.)
After such a long drive, you would think that we would have stayed for at least an
hour, but Dad was sold on the house in thirty minutes, and he was already anticipating the
three hour drive back home --my real home. "My wife and I will be down next
Wednesday to close the deal and sign the papers," Dad added.
"That would be excellent, Mark! Glad I could help you find your new home. I'll
put the sold signs out before I leave tonight. You two have a safe drive back. Nice to
have met you, Jessica," Marsha said politely.
I slammed the van door just before she said my name. Dad finally came around
and started the van. The game was still on. Now that my fate was sealed, I didn't have
much to say to Dad. It was his fault. If only he hadn't worked so hard.
He called Mom on the cell phone right away to tell her the "good news." I zoned
him out as he began to rant and rave about how fantastic the house was. That's when I
began to appreciate the game being on. At least it was better than listening to him.
"The Coleville Tulips are still on top with fourteen -nothing here at the end of the
third quarter. Tom Cowbert brings in the play for the Tulips. That's just going to make
the fourth down.
"The Pines' Bobbledonk goes wide and tosses to Gotzke. Jim Pepper takes him
down. You have to choose your pass plays carefully. No gain on that one. The Pines
call time-out. I'd just like to take this opportunity to talk about the Tulip's Double
Trouble Twins --Bryan and Myron Douglass. Those two seem to think with the same
brain. Myron sets up the pass, the rest of the team distracts the other team and Bryan
ends up open and carries the pigskin home to the end zone.
"Okay, they're back at it. Kenny 'the Hulk' fumbles the ball. Dom gets his hands
on it just in time. Tulips start on their own twenty-eighth yard line. Myron Douglass is
going back for the pass. Bryan Douglass comes around the back. Douglass gives it to
Douglass, left side. They stop him at the forty yard line. Ten yard gain. First down.
"Douglass has really been doing good things with his delayed hand offs this year.
Like I said before, the Douglass twins work like clock work and are full of surprises.
Bryan Douglass has it again on the left side, breaks a tackle and brings it up to the
Pines' forty-eight yard line."
"Jess, I've gotta stop for gas. You can run in and grab a snack if you want. Don't
worry, I'll hurry." Dad answered in response to my dirty look. I hadn't even heard him end
his call to Mom. I was actually listening to the game! I got out to find that we had only
gotten as far as the Sinclair station we had turned at earlier. The real football game was
only several blocks from the gas station and I could faintly hear the cheers of the crowd
--a crowd I would be part of in less than four weeks. Dad was going to start here before
we even had everything moved, maybe even by the end of next week. The plant was
without a manager right now. Just two weeks ago the previous one had had an
unfortunate accident in the plant and had died almost instantly from his injuries. Mom told
me the night after Dad got the promotion.
I hurried into the little convenience store and got some Jujy fruits, which were my
favorite and a bottle of water. My friends and I always ate them on the fan bus when we
went to away sports games with the school pep band. I always got the yellow ones.
As Dad ran in to pay for the gas, I turned the keys in the ignition so I could hear
more of the game. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
"Call TJ's appliance in downtown Coleville. We have just what you're looking for
in an appliance store! Rooting for the Coleville Tulips in sports action!" A different,
older voice said with an echoey tone.
"Welcome back, score is still stuck at fourteen zero, fourth quarter, ten minutes on
the clock. Tulips have the ball. Douglass is going back for the pass -looks like another
delayed hand off --Oh! Pines are going through a hole. Three of them have collided on
top of the Tulip's quarterback, Myron Douglass. There's a flag on the play." Then the
announcer paused, "The Pines have gotten up, but there seems to be a problem with
Douglass. There's a Tulip down on the field at the Pines' thirty-seventh yard line. The
season is going so well, this certainly isn't a monkey wrench Coach Timmons wants to
see. The clock has been stopped. The ambulance is being called over. Douglass isn't
getting up. We'll take a commercial break and then we'll be back with more high school
football action," the startled announcer said.
As we drove out of town we passed the football field again, with its artificial
daylight. At the other end of the field there was a big crowd of football jerseys standing
near the back of the ambulance. The crowds were still as they watched and waited. The
ambulance lights came on. "I wonder who this Douglass kid is?" I thought. "I hope they
still win their game." I shut the radio off. Dad was off in his own little world, probably
thinking about that stupid house. I rolled my sweater up and put it against the window for
a pillow. I waited until I couldn't see the lights of the football field in my mirror, then I
dozed off to sleep.
* * *
My last day of school was incredibly difficult. I couldn’t believe I’d actually had to
move in the middle of my Junior year. I never thought this would happen to me. My
friends all seemed really distant. They were sad, but it was like I wasn't going to be one of
them anymore, so they stopped investing in the friendship. Ever since I had told them that
Dad bought the house they had been acting wierd like that. The truck came on Friday:
exactly four weeks to the day that I had gone with Dad to look at the house in Coleville.
After spending all week wrapping dishes and taking pictures of Jeff and I as kids off of the
walls, I spent one last night of fun with my friends. We rented Friday the Thirteenth and I
actually watched it without my hands over my eyes. It wasn't as scary as I thought I
would be. As a going away present they gave me a bag full of yellow Jujy fruits. It must
have been at least four boxes worth!
While I was gone having fun with my friends, the movers had loaded up all of our
furniture, including our beds, so Mom and I slept in sleeping bags on the livingroom floor.
We got up at six a.m. the next morning to head out for Coleville. The going away party
was a real severance for me. It was fun and akward at the same time, but it did help
mentally prepare me for the move. I was finally starting to get excited about it.
Mom and I took turns driving there, after going through the drive-thru of the
coffee shop that made the best Mochas in town. Because I’d only had my license a couple
of months, she was eager to give me tips on being a good driver the whole way there.
Dad was glad to see us when we arrived. We hadn't seen much of him since we had
bought the house because he’d been staying in Coleville. He insisted that we all go to
breakfast at the cozy, little, old cafe on Mainstreet first.
When we came back, the movers had already unloaded some of the bigger
furniture and the refridgerator. I started carrying in boxes from Mom's car, mostly stuff
for my room anyway. The basement was bigger than I remembered it, and emptier, too.
After I got my dresser in my room, I started to take stuff out of boxes. Time went fast
once I started looking at all the different things I had acquired: birthday presents from
Grandma, my glass fingerine collection, prom pictures from last year. I hadn't really liked
my date, but at least I had gone.
I was in the middle of reminiscing when Mom came down and said I had a visitor.
"Who could possibly be visiting me? I don't even know anyone here yet," I thought. I ran
up the tan carpeted stairs and into the livingroom, and there I found a really cute guy
standing just inside our front door! I couldn't believe it!
"Hi! I'm Bryan. I live next door. You must be Jess. I thought you guys might
need some help unloading. What would you like me to do?" He was wearing a blue
stocking hat over tousled short brown hair, a snowmobile jacket and knitted grey mittens.
His cheeks were the just slightest color pink from the chill of the early November day. He
was fairly lean, but appeared well-built beneath his thick open jacket, exposing a red
Tulip's Football sweatshirt. His blue eyes twinkled at me distracting me from his slightly
crooked smile, complete with dimples.
I was stunned. "Um . . . There's some boxes in the trunk of my mom's car. The
keys are in the ignition, so you can open the trunk if it isn't open yet. I think they're
mostly my boxes, too, so if you don't mind, could you bring them downstairs?"
"Sure. I'm glad to help out. My brother would be here, too, but he's still laid up
with his broken leg."
I thought to myself as I watched him turn and go out the front door, "Hmmm. I
wonder. Wasn't there a Bryan on the radio that night we came up here to see the house?
Nah, it couldn't be."
He came down the stairs quickly, carrying two large boxes of my old stuffed
animals and Barbie dolls. As I turned around to tell him where to put them, he was
already out the door and back up the stairs. After another ten boxes gathered in the
corner of my room, he finally asked if there was anything else he could do.
"I'll ask my dad. Why don't you come upstairs with me. He should be sorting stuff
out in his office," I said, still hardly comprehending that this tall, dark and handsome
young man was walking up my stairs! Dad had more boxes for him to get out of the van.
The semi-tractor and trailer that had been filled with our furniture was empty by four
o'clock, so the movers headed back to the place I used to call home. By five, Mom had
the kitchen sorted out enough to start preparing supper. She found a jar of spaghetti
sauce and some noodles so she cooked up a quick batch of spaghetti for us.
I helped Mom clean up our new kitchen and empty more boxes of dishes. After
supper, Bryan came downstairs and asked if there was anything I needed help unpacking.
I told him he could help me move my dresser, bed and vanity to the spots I needed them.
"So what do you think of Coleville so far?" Bryan asked.
"It's quaint. It's a lot smaller than the suburb I lived in before," I said
"Yeah, but it'll grow on you. How big was your old school?"
"My class was at least three hundred people."
"Whoa! My class is about one hundred fifty. What year are you?"
"I'm a junior. How about you?" I asked.
"I'm a junior, too." What luck!
"How old is your brother?"
"He's a junior, too. We're twins." Two cute guys just next door? Maybe Coleville
wasn't so bad. At least it was getting off to a good start.
"No way. That's awesome! Which house do you live in?"
"The blue one right next door. You'll have to come over some time and see it,
maybe meet my brother, too." Bryan said.
"I would love to. So what's school here like?"
"I don't know. School is school."
"Are the teachers really nice? Do you have a pep band?"
"Yeah, they're pretty nice. Coach Timmons is the best, though. He teaches math
and he makes it so easy. We do a lot of projects in his class. I'm in physics this quarter
with him. Do you know what classes you're in yet?"
"No, I'm going to register on Monday. What are you doing tomorrow?" I asked.
"Helping you unpack. If that's all right?"
"It sure is! Could you come around one tomorrow afternoon?"
"Sure. Do you think your parents would let you leave for a couple hours
tomorrow so I could show you around town?" He asked, informally.
"Yeah, that would be fun. So I'll see you tomorrow then?" I asked.
"You bet! See you tomorrow, Jess." Bryan said, stopping at my bedroom door
and then going around the corner and up the stairs.
It was really strange sleeping in my new room. Mom and Dad came down to say
good night, which they haven't done since the night before my first day of kindergarten.
The furnace was right in front of my door and I woke up every time it kicked in. When I
looked out my egress window all I saw was the silver of the egress and the tall, brown
weeds frozen in time. It was quite a bit colder in the basement, too. I had to dig out my
flannel pajamas and my electric blanket at about midnight because I was too cold to even
sleep.
Mom came down at nine to wake me up. "Mom, I hate it here! I was so cold I
couldn't sleep unless I had my electric blanket on high!"
"Honey, it will get better. We can turn the furnace up tonight if you want. You
can have a room upstairs if you want, too. You don't have to stay down here by yourself."
"No, I'll be all right. I just miss my friends."
"Why don't you eat some of those Jujy fruits they gave you. You can call them
next weekend, but I don't want you to call them this week. You need to get out and meet
some new people. What about that nice young man that came over yesterday? Maybe he
could show you around today."
"Actually, that's just what he was planning on doing. He said he would come over
after dinner." Mom said that was fine. I took my first shower in my new bathroom and
started to go through my normal morning routine. I don't know how different water could
make a difference, but my normally soft, thick, wavy, light brown hair doesn't usually get
so staticky. I gave up on trying to curl it and pulled it back into a long pony tail. I
decided to not put make-up on, but I hardly ever wore make-up.
It took forever for the clock to get to one. Bryan came five minutes early. It must
have been taking a long time to get to one o'clock for him, too.
"Did you eat lunch yet?" He asked.
"No, not yet."
"Good! Let's go to McDonald's first. After that I can take you by the school and
the movie theater and then we'll see what else there is to do."
The McDonald's was only two blocks from our houses, along with the rest of the
downtown businesses. The school was pretty new. Bryan insisted on showing me the
new outdoor football field, too. He drove up on the grassy field behind the home side. It
was really quiet and empty compared to that first night Dad and I had driven past it. He
held my hand and took me right out onto the field. "Hey, Bryan?"
"Yeah?"
"How did your brother break his leg?" I asked curiously.
"On the thirty-seventh yard line, when three guys on the other team sacked him.
He's the quarterback. It was my fault. I should have been there, covering that hole.
Yeah, it was a really nasty break: it broke right through the skin. It's still casted --he's
really sick of crutches. Why do you ask?"
"Then it was you two! You see, my dad and I came up here to look at the house
and right when we were coming into town he turned on the local radio station and the
game was on. I didn't listen at first, but after we looked at the house I was so mad at him
for liking it that I listened to the game while he talked to Mom on the cell phone. Just as
we were leaving town, a player was injured. I never heard what happened, but when we
drove out of town, the ambulance was already on the field. So your last name is Douglass
then?"
"Yeah. Wow! That is so wierd. Now you have to meet him! I told him about
you last night," he said, getting this big grin on his face and his dipples appeared magically.
We got back to his house just before six. Bryan took me straight downstairs to
meet Myron. Myron was sitting in a reclining chair playing Nintendo. I could see the size
of his big, clumsy cast, on his right leg, through his wind pants which were stretched tight
around it.
In his smooth, low voice he said "This is my brother, Myron. Myron, this is Jess.
She's our new neighbor. The one I told you about last night."
"Nice to meet you, Jess. Where are you from originally?" Myron said in Bryan's
same voice. They looked exactly alike. They even parted their dark brown, clean cut hair
on the same side.
"I'm from a suburb, down by the Twin Cities." The house was eerily quiet. I
asked Bryan where his parents were. It was met by a long face and then a change of
subject. It bothered me.
“Well, would you like to see my room?” Bryan asked.
“Sure!” We headed back up the stairs. All the lights in the house were off except
for the basement lights. It felt as if no one was home. As we walked down the hall, Bryan
pointed out the bathroom, Myron’s room and his mom’s room. His mom’s room door
was shut.
It wasn't quite as big as my new house, but it definitely wasn't small. Their
basement was finished, too. He had a smaller room than Myron, but it was still large
enough to hold a big desk, a chest of drawers and a single bed. He had a Navy blue
theme, with blue walls, blue comforter, and a soft grey rug in the center of the wood floor.
He said he couldn't show me his and Myron's bathroom because it wouldn't be appropriate
for a girl to see that. I sat on his bed and he took out his yearbook. While he was digging
in his desk drawers, I noticed a small picture frame on his nightstand.
"Hey, Bryan, who's this?" I asked, staring at the middle-aged man hugging a
younger woman, both had big smiles.
"That's my dad." He paused and his mood suddenly became a little solemn.
"How come he isn't here? Are your parents divorced?" I asked.
"No, they're not divorced. He's dead." He said it comfortably, respectfully, as if
he had accepted the fact that his dad had died. As I gazed at the picture I began to realize
the strong resemblance. I could see this man must have been one of those dads that would
spend Sunday afternoons playing tackle football with his young sons. His friendly smile
yeilded the same adorable dimples that Bryan and Myron had, only there were a few extra
creases in his grin. "He passed away just this September. In fact, tomorrow it will already
have been a full two months since the accident. That was a really hard week." I didn't
want to be nosy and ask what happened, but Bryan must have felt comfortable enough
with me to talk about it.
After a short pause he continued, "He got a call in his office that one of the
employees had gotten his shirt caught in one of the machines the employee operated. So
Dad went down into the factory to see if he could get him out. He knew those machines
like the back of his hand. He had worked for the company for almost twenty years,
starting at the bottom right after high school and working his way up to plant manager just
last spring. When he got down there, it wasn't only the man's shirt, but his whole hand.
Dad was familiar with a safety release, but it was down inside the machine. He must not
have anticipated the counter-reaction of the valve’s release because the machine
practically cut him right in half.
“The ambulance was already on its way for the employee, but they ended up taking
my dad. He died in the hospital of his injuries within four hours. The employee was
released from the machine because of my dad and they saved his hand, with a little
reconstructive surgery. He was never conscious again.” He paused. There was a loud
thump against his bedroom wall. It sounded like something glass hitting the wall. When
he continued, he voice became deeper and he spoke more slowly, “Mom hasn’t been the
same since. She’s been in and out of the hospital for depression. They have her on
medication, but Myron and I have caught her taking it with shots of Vodka." He chuckled
sarcastically at the tragedy. I set the picture back on the nightstand.
He picked up last year's yearbook and opened it to the first page of his sophomore
year class pictures. He pointed out some of his friends, his ex-girlfriend, and some people
he thought I would probably like. Next he went to the football pictures. He showed me
the group picture and the scores. They had done well last year, but he said they would
have done even better this year if Myron hadn't gotten hurt.
I stayed until nine p.m. when my parents called wondering where I was. I had told
them I was going to stay for supper, but they were concerned I wouldn't get my proper
rest before my first day at a new school. Mom and Dad were already in bed, but they had
left the porch light on so I could let myself in.
As I lay in bed that night, all I could think about was how terrible it was that Bryan
and Myron lost their dad. Then I had an especially excruciating thought: Their dad was
my dad's predecessor. He had been the one that died in the accident. He was probably the
reason my dad got the promotion. I got a heavy feeling in my gut. Bryan and Myron
probably knew that my dad was their dad's replacement by now, too. The furnace didn't
keep me awake this night: it was my own whirling thoughts.
The next morning, when I got up for school, Dad was already gone. I left him a
message at work saying I loved him and that he should be careful. I spent the first hour at
school waiting to talk to the principal about my transfer. I finally had my schedule by the
time second period started, so I headed off into the maze of hallways to find my locker.
In my old school, I remember when we used to laugh after the teachers
pronounced the new students' last names wrong. Practically all the teachers pronounced
my last name wrong. I didn't think it was funny anymore. I was having a really horrible
day. I was so glad when I found the lunch room and the only two faces that were familiar
to me in the entire school.
I went through the traditional lunch line, being there weren't any al a carte options,
and received my wonderfully nutritious school meal. I walked to the other side of the
lunch room and sat down by Bryan and Myron, who were at a crowded table. It turned
out they were both really well liked and they had a lot of common friends, especially
football players.
"How's school going?" Myron asked as I sat down. Bryan was sitting next to him,
with his back toward us, talking to some of his teammates.
"It's going pretty good." I lied, not wanting to bother him with my new-school
blues. Bryan turned around the instant he heard my voice.
"What's your schedule for your afternoon classes?" Myron asked, Bryan looked up
wanting to know, too.
"Fifth hour I have English, sixth hour I have History and seventh hour I have
Math."
"Darn! I don't have any classes with you." Bryan said flustered.
"I have Math with you seventh hour with Mr. Timmons. He's really cool. He's the
football coach. He helped me with my delayed hand-offs this fall. I'm the quarterback."
Myron added proudly.
"What position do you play, Bryan?" I asked curiously.
"I'm a running back. I kick pretty good, too, so sometimes coach lets me punt
kick." Bryan remarked. His eyes seemed completely focused on mine. It appeared that he
had almost completely zoned out the restless noise of the lunchroom surrounding us. As I
returned his starry gaze, I could almost hear the silence that engulfed him. It was as if we
had connected: love at first sight. "Hey, Jess, would you like a ride home from school?"
he said returning us to full awareness. It might have been just me, but it felt like the whole
lunch room halted, waiting for my reply.
"Yeah, I'd like that." I answered, a quick smile rose to my lips.
"I'll pick you up in front of school," he confirmed casually.
Lunch went too fast. I wished that I had had more classes with them. I couldn't
believe my bad luck. Not a single class with Bryan. Knowing that I had promised to stop
by my English teacher's room, I quickly apologized, "I hate to eat and run, but I wanted to
talk to my English teacher before class, about being on the school newspaper, so I'll talk to
you seventh hour, Myron, and I'll see you after school, Bryan. Bye.”
Bryan was early, waiting at the curb for me in his older, yet sharp, black two-door
Chevy. I felt privileged to sit in the front seat of the car with Bryan driving and Myron in
the back seat. All I could think about was that the football players in my old school had
given me a second glance and here, in Coleville, I had befriended the two cutest football
players right off the bat!
On the way home, at one of the few red lights that cluttered Main Street, I turned
to look at Bryan's silhouette. His deep, dark, blue eyes turned and met mine. His pupils
were so enlarged that they swallowed the intense blue iris of his eye. Our eyes were
locked for only a second, but it felt like much longer.
"Hey, are you going to go? The light's green!" Myron interrupted from the back
seat.
"Yeah, I'm going. I just wanted to be sure nobody was running the red," Bryan
covered up.
The next couple of weeks went as slow as a visit to the dentist, but on Friday I
bumped into Bryan on my way to second hour. He asked if he could carry my books. I
was relieved he had offered to carry my books because I had several resource books with
me, not just my normal textbook and note book. It was really neat watching other
people's faces when they saw who I was with. I was surprised he was so popular, yet so
down to earth. It was really heavy, but Bryan carried the miniature library's worth of
books all the way up to the third floor with no problem.
"Where's Myron today? I haven't seen him yet and I usually see him right after first
hour." I asked, concerned.
"He had to go to the doctor for a checkup. Because they tried some new
experimental procedure when they put him back together, he's been getting checkups once
a week." Bryan conveyed.
"I hope he's okay." I said. Even though I had only known him a week, we had
spent so much time together before and after school that I felt like I knew him better than
I knew my own brother!
"He'll be fine." Bryan answered, but I picked up on the uncertainty in his voice.
He stared straight ahead, avoiding my eyes, and changed the subject to the difficult
Spanish class he was heading to.
After supper I went over to Bryan's house as was the ritual. I was just glad to
have something to do on a cold, rainy Friday night in a new town. He had told me he'd
help me with my math. The class was a little over my head and I didn't want to fall behind.
Besides, Bryan was smart. He was already in Geometry while Myron and I were only in
Advanced Algebra. He brought me into his room and cleared off his desk. It looked like
he had just taken a shower and his hair wasn't yet combed. It surprised me that he was
comfortable enough with me to not have to worry about looking good. As he turned
around to get another chair, I was looking at his adorable, almost black hair, when I
noticed an imperfection. On the back of his head he had a small bald spot. I debated
whether or not to ask him about it, then decided I would.
"How come you have a bald spot?" I asked innocently, teasingly.
"It's from when we were babies." He chuckled, remembering. "We were siamese
twins. That's where Myron was connected to me when we were born." He started to
cover it up self-consciously. I was embarrassed I had asked. "Where would you like to
start?" He continued.
"On lesson eight. I don't understand any of it to be honest. I was nearly this far
into geometry in my old school. We were just studying hypotenuses."
"That's all right. We have plenty of time." He answered charmingly, his dimples
winking at me again.
We had worked for about a half hour when we heard knocking at the front door. I
figured it was probably my parents, wondering why I'm never home. Bryan ran to answer
the door, mumbling something about his mom being in the hospital tonight. I could hear
the deep voice of the man at the door speaking in urgent hospital jargon. Bryan said little
in response, but asked him to wait and he would return. When he returned to his room,
his mood had changed drastically.
"Jess, Myron's checkup didn't go so good." As he spoke my face fell, "He's been
having some allergic reactions to the plates and screws they used in his leg. There's one of
his doctors in the kitchen waiting to take us to a clinic that specializes in experimental
medicine. He says they're the only people who can help Myron. You see, Dad’s insurance
wouldn’t cover Myron’s sports injury, some loop hole or something, so the only way we
could afford to have the surgery done was to go the experimental medicine route. That
way they paid for everything: the surgery, the after-care, everything. But one stipulation
of the contract was that if there were complications we would be relocated to the MRA
for any additional procedures. We basically owe our lives to the MRA --we’re legally
bound servants of theirs if there’s any complications. The man at the door says there have
been complications and now we have to go with him. Jess, I don’t know what they will do
with Myron and me. Without my parents here to stick up for us, we’re like goldfish living
in a kitchen sink! Will you come with us?" Bryan was scared. I had never seen him like
this before. I had never even imagined someone as confident and content as him being
actually scared before.
"I'll call them. I'm sure it won't be a problem, but why would they need you to go
with? Can't we just stay here and keep working on homework?" I didn't understand. I
guess the thought never entered my mind.
"They need my blood," he said. "When Myron was injured on the field, they took
me with in the ambulance because they wanted to start taking my blood to use for the
surgery. He ended up losing a lot of blood on the way there because the bone had broken
through the skin. They took blood until I passed out. I woke up in a hospital bed a few
hours later and Myron was still in surgery. That’s when my parents told me that they had
signed a contract with the MRA. They said everything would be all right; everything
would be taken care of.
It ended up taking all night to get the break and the wound surgically repaired.
Then he had to stay in the hospital an extra week afterward to fight an infection he was
having trouble with. To make matters worse, they had trouble with him being allergic to
some of the drugs they had tried to use and even some of the sterilization solutions they
had used on the instruments. It was pretty complicated. Mom and Dad were really glad
they had signed the contract because the MRA is the leading edge of the medical field.”
"Holy Cow!”
“There's no way I would ever let anything I could prevent happen to Myron. I've
already let him down once, which is once too many. I should have been there to block
that hole. He should have never been sacked.
"I think we'd better go get him. The doctor is waiting in his car to take us there
immediately.”
“Does Myron know?”
“Funny you should ask . . . Mom and Dad never told him because they didn’t want
him to feel like they’d let him down because they couldn’t afford the procedure.”
I was apalled that Bryan had had to live with this terrible secret. “Didn’t Myron
think it was funny that he had to go in for all those checkups?”
“No, he thought it was just normal procedure. I’ll tell you more later. We have to
get going.”
First we went to the phone in the kitchen to call my parents. I told them I would
be home tomorrow morning. Then I followed him down the already familiar stairs to the
room where they had their Nintendo set up. Bryan walked casually to the outlet and
unplugged it.
"What are you doing? I was on the eighth level! We've never made it that far on
this game before!" Myron was pretty angry. He had a right to be angry about it under
normal circumstances, but Nintendo games were unimportant now.
"Myron, we need to get you upstairs and out to the car." Bryan said sternly, his
concern turned to frustration.
“Why? What’s the problem? Where do we have to go?” Myron sat in the recliner
with controller still in his lap.
“Your checkup didn’t go very well and now we have to do something about it so it
doesn’t get worse next time.”
“Why do we have to go now? I can go back to the hospital in the morning.”
“No, we have to go now. There are some things Mom and Dad didn’t tell you
about the operation you had. There is a man from the MRA waiting upstairs to take us to
the MRA headquarters. We have to go with him.”
“Why?” Myron was a bit critical of this entire idea of leaving home in the middle of
the night. Bryan didn’t answer. I didn’t say anything. This wasn’t between me and
Myron, this was between them. Myron continued, “What, are they going to have to re-do
the surgery?”
“I don’t know.” Myron finally began to cooperate with Bryan. Myron stood up
and Bryan carried him up the stairs in haste. I followed them up the stairs, carrying
Myron’s crutches. I helped him put on his shoe and his red Tulip's letterman jacket, then
handed him his crutches.
I followed Bryan and Myron out the door. We got into the doctor's expensive
luxury car quietly. Bryan opened the rear passenger door and helped Myron down gently
onto the leather interior. Then we walked around to the other side and he stood aside,
gesturing for me to get in first. I didn't want to sit between them, but I was not going to
argue. The almost frozen puddle at the end of the driveway made a crisp splash as the
doctor backed his cushy Cadillac out of their driveway. By the time we had turned by the
Sinclair station I could feel the warmth of their body heat seeping through my jeans. I felt
so wonderfully secure, yet so alone.
The doctor spoke few words to us. He had little interest in the cargo he towed.
He was a plump man with white hair. He was wearing jeans, a white T-shirt that said
“Aloha from Hawaii” and a casual tan jacket which must have been uncomfortably cool
for the cold November evening. He had the radio tuned to a station that played music
from the forties, but it wasn’t loud enough for us to hear clearly from the back seat. I
couldn’t believe the “MRA” would send someone with so few people skills to collect
Bryan and Myron. As my first impression with the MRA, I wasn’t impressed with him.
The two and a half hour ride was quiet and sharply painful with anxiety. Myron
was jittery in the car. He just couldn’t seem to sit still. If I’d had to look forward to
possibly having surgery, I’m sure I would have been a lot less composed than he was,
though. I’d never even had a broken bone, let alone surgery.
Bryan sat in solemn silence, looking out the window. The cold car window was
foggy from his breath, so I knew he wasn't looking at anything in particular. The few times
he dared make eye contact with me I could see the depth of his fear in his eyes. I put my
left hand on his right hand which resting on his leg. His hand was absolutely rigid. I
caressed it with my fingertips until he relaxed the hand enough for me to move it and then
I held it the entire ride.
He feared the new horrors that he knew awaited Myron. I felt like a wedge
between the brothers. It felt as if they were trying to communicate nonverbally, in a way
that only twins can, and I was the insulation that prevented the contact.
It was dark outside and the lullaby of the car's tires on the shiny, wet road
eventually had an affect on me. My head became so heavy that it finally succumbed to
sleeping on Bryan’s shoulder. Myron began to give Bryan dirty looks like football passes
for not telling him. I know Bryan was only trying to protect him.
I lifted my head from Bryan's hard, tense shoulder when I felt the car stop. We
were there.
Chapter Two
The doctor was the first to get out of the car. He walked to the sidewalk and
waited. Bryan was next. He opened his door, got out, stood up, and read the illuminated
sign on the well kept dormant lawn: M.R.A., Medical Researchers’ Association. Then he
walked around to the other side of the car to help Myron get out of the safe, warm car and
onto his crutches.
Myron's letterman jacket reminded me that he was an athlete and proud to be one.
It bothered me that he had had to endure so much pain for doing something he loved.
Myron read the sign several times before shutting the car door and hobbling up to stand
next to the doctor, who was waiting on the sidewalk. Bryan and I followed. The building
in front of us was a modern, three-story, white building with no windows except for the
two tinted-glass doors at the end of the sidewalk. It wasn't a yellow brick road, we
weren't in Kansas and, unfortunately, there wasn't a wizard at the end of the sidewalk to
solve all of our problems, but it was what we were all wishing for.
The doctor began walking towards the doors and Bryan and Myron followed him.
I stayed behind Bryan and Myron. The cool air and the dark sky were dense with
possibilities. The stars even seemed to shone an enigmatic fortune. As I glanced up, I
picked out the Princess Andromeda. I remember my science teacher telling us the
romantic story of how she was chained to a cliff by an evil monster and then Prince
Perseus came to her rescue and killed the monster.
Once inside the sterile building we walked down a white hall. The floor tiles were
a shiny, waxed white, the walls were white, and even the high ceiling was white. At the
first hallway intersection, two middle-aged men wearing white lab coats,
intelligent-looking spectacles, and black cuffed dress pants were waiting for us. “Bryan,
Myron, what a pleasure to meet the faces behind the names. We’ve spent a good deal of
time preparing for your arrival. Myron, we’re going to need to make some corrections to
the plate in your hip. You are reacting to it unsatisfactorily. Bryan, we’d like you to help
supply the blood for the surgery. Because you’ll be our lone donor, we’re going to try
something new to see if we can get more than just the normal pint the Red Cross takes.”
“I’m willing to do what ever I have to do to get Myron well again. I know he’d do
the same for me.” He glanced only briefly at Myron while he spoke. Bryan’s voice
sounded unnaturally authoritative
They spoke to the doctor quietly, then one asked me to follow him. The guys
were told to follow the other doctor. I went down one wide hallway, they were led down
another. I turned around to watch where they were going, but their hall turned and ours
didn't.
I arrived at a small office with orange carpeting that was connected to a small
lounge that was probably a break room, but to me it was a waiting room.
As I sat I wondered about the forms that their parents had signed. I wondered
how binding they were and how much power they had give the MRA, especially in life or
death decision making. I assumed they were probably the kind of forms that prevented a
lawsuit, rendering people like Ginny Douglass helpless if anything went wrong.
Bryan and Myron were led to a small, empty, white room with a cold tile floor on
the first floor: number 102. The narrow room had long, white counters on both sides, a
sterile, metal, unfriendly surgical table and a gurney spaced only a little more than an arm's
length away from each other. Bryan and Myron were each told to take off their shirts and
to lay down on the tables. Bryan helped Myron take off his jacket and sweatshirt
automatically. Then he took off his own shirt, exposing his rippled abdomen (the lingering
result of intense football training) to the doctors. The doctors helped Myron onto the
gurney. After they both had laid down, the technicians put the daggling black nylon straps
gently around Bryan's wrists, clasped together by cold metal buckles, and tightened to the
table by reinforced metal loops around its edge. Bryan's strong, muscular right arm lay
still in surrender, exposing its sensitive underside like a Crustacean without its protective
shell, as the technician tugged on the straps around his wrist. His left wrist was secured
palm down, creating a surface for an IV. It was imperative that he lie completely still.
Bryan laid very still and cooperated with the lab technicians. Then he heard Myron say,
"Uh oh."
"Myron? Are you all right?" Bryan asked, trying to see Myron.
A white-coated man stood in his way. "Your brother is fine," he said firmly.
Myron was getting an anesthetic shot. Myron had always hated shots, even before
his injury he had hated shots. Other technicians hooked up a fluid bag to an IV pole,
which was given to Myron. When the man in Bryan's way finally moved, Myron was lying
unmoving on the table across from him.
"Myron? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm tougher than you think I am. I think that shot I just got was
an anesthetic. I'm already feeling it." Myron answered, already slurring his words
drowsily just a bit.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Bryan asked as they began moving Myron's table
out of the room.
"I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."
Now Bryan was the center of attention. They inserted an IV on his left hand, then
quickly injected two different medications into the IV line. He felt very vulnerable as he
watched the yellow fluid approach his hand in the clear tube. He thought, “I don’t even
know what they’re injecting into me!” In his right arm, they inserted a line in the delicate
crease of his elbow. He knew he was giving blood again, but he couldn't figure out why
he'd been given two shots. He laid quietly while they began sticking electrodes to his head
and chest to monitor brain waves and bodily functions, all precautionary measures because
of the shots. Beeps began to fill the previously soundless room. After a while they
injected a sedative into his IV and put an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.
They needed Bryan to give at least two pints of blood, immediately, for use in
Myron's surgery. He needed to be asleep because the first two shots they had given him
were an experimental drug called Mytosquits. It was a drug that stimulated his body to
produce adrenalin, which works along with the other constituents of the injection making
his body become a blood factory. The increased adrenalin could double the normal
amount of blood made. The only draw back to this procedure was that he needed to be
kept sedated for twenty -four hours after there were no traces of Mytosquits left in his
blood or brain damage was possible. All in all, this was a very risky procedure that could
have killed him had he not been in good physical condition with such a powerful young
heart.
As the seasoned surgeons began their trek with Myron, in the third floor room
301, things went fairly well. They could see the afflicted muscles, swollen and irritated by
the plate and screws. The surgery, although long and laborious, was an easy one. One
hour into surgery, the first pint of Bryan's blood intravenously entered Myron's body. A
short time later another pint was transfused. The doctors had proportionated the exact
amount of blood Myron had needed by careful calculation and informed guessing.
The surgeons worked a good portion of the night on Myron. Bryan was left to
rest comfortably shortly after two A.M. In response to the information I was provided
about their medical status, I was just completely numb and unbelieving. This nightmare
couldn't be real. I'm still the new girl in town.
Myron's anesthesia started wearing off right after noon the following day. He was
in a familiar pain all over again. The doctors weren't done yet, though. They had decided
to see how things healed up first and then add some finishing touches in another short
procedure in a couple of days. All that I cared about was that they were both all right for
now.
After a nice meal in the small, private cafeteria, a nurse came and asked me if I
would like to see Bryan and Myron. I was ecstatic at the opportunity to see them! I’d
been miserable ever since we’d been separated.
The nurse made me put on a white lab coat and a hair net, then I had to wash my
hands thoroughly before I could see either of them. I was allowed to see Myron first.
The ride in the elevator to Myron's third floor room was silent, but I could have
asked any one of thousands of questions I had.
"Wait here, I'll see if he's ready to see you." The nurse said as she left me outside
his door.
I could see Myron's head and mouth moving through the window. He had a cloth
hospital gown on and an oxygen tube under his nose. He looked as if he wanted to see
me. The nurse returned and told me I could visit.
"Hi, Myron. How are you feeling?" I asked cautiously. The somber and
monotonous sounds of monitors beeping and hissing was aggravating at first. I sat stiffly
on the uncomfortable folding chair the nurse had set next to Myron’s bed for me.
"I'm doing okay, I guess. Where's Bryan? I thought he'd probably come with
you." Myron answered, still some what weary.
“He's still asleep now and I guess he will be for some time yet. I'm going to go see
him after I'm done visiting you. He chose to take the drug and give his blood."
"That's what he did when I first broke my hip, too. He came out of the game and
volunteered to give me blood. He argued that it eliminated the risk of getting
contaminated blood. They didn't give him any medication then, though. When is he
supposed to wake up?"
"I don't know yet. I thought they said something about tomorrow, but I'm not
sure. I guess it kind of depends on when you have your next surgery.”
“What next surgery? Aren't I in enough pain already?” Myron rolled his eyes as
his face expressed disbelief.
“They said they wanted you to heal a bit before they did some final procedures."
“You don't think they'll take Bryan's blood again, do you?”
“I suppose they'll have to. What other donor would be available?” Myron glared
at me.
“I would do it, but I don't have the same type as you guys.”
“What did he do to deserve this?” I didn't know how to respond to what Myron
had said, so I let the silence consume the room.
"Well, I had better let you get your rest." I said. He seemed a bit wore out.
"Hey Jess, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure. What?”
“Can you tell Bryan thanks for me when you talk to him?" Myron said, his eyes
heavy .
"I'm going to go now, but I'll be back soon Myron." I left the room quietly as
Myron started to doze off. I was glad that Myron was okay, but I feared that Bryan
would be worse than I had first imagined.
Chapter Three
The nurse that had led me to Myron's room was still waiting at the door when I
came out. As we began to walk to Bryan's room, I noticed an obvious decrease in her
pace. Bryan was in room 102 on the first floor. As we came nearer to the door the nurse
said, "He may not look as well as you expect him to, but don't be alarmed. The doctors
have told me he's stabilizing slowly now. He has quite a few electrodes hooked to him for
monitoring purposes, but those are for his well-being. The doctors have decided they may
keep him sedated for a while longer so they can experiment with the drug they used on
him last night. He responded beautifully and it won't do him any harm, so you have
nothing to worry about. I'll tell you now that he's restrained to the table, but only so his
arms remain stationary for the entire procedure.
“Now, try to be careful in the room. You may touch him, and no he's not dead.
He's just sleeping." the nurse said, attempting to make eye-contact with my wandering
eyes.
"I know." I was getting sick of this woman treating me like a little kid. I grabbed
the door handle and walked cautiously into the room. The room wasn't as big as Myron's
room. All the beeping and scribbling monitors were lined haphazardly along the walls.
Then I saw him in the center of the room.
I was relieved to find that he was no longer restrained to the table, but yet I was
not ready for what I saw. The nurse hadn't even come close to preparing me for this. He
must have been dead. He was as pale as the drab, white, lifeless hallways. He had
electrodes everywhere: a few on his face, some on his arms, and his chest seemed to be
inundated with them. His left hand was slightly bruised. His intricate blood vessels had
been conquered by the triumphant IV, which was still situated comfortably upon its host
like a parasite.
A technician opened a squeaky folding chair and set it beside his table for me to sit
on. My eyes started welling up with tears. I sat down thinking, "This couldn't possibly be
the guy that was patiently helping me with my homework just last night." He looked so
motionless. I had to be sure he was still alive. I looked over toward the doctors watching
from the small, square window in the door. Then I very gently slid my hand under his left
hand. His hand was limp, but it was nice and warm. The room was cool. I knew he was
alive.
I wanted to talk to him so badly but I knew he couldn't even acknowledge my
presence. This bothered me terribly. I felt so helpless. There was nothing I could do to
protect him or save him from any of this. All I could do was just sit and think and know
that he was all right for the moment. I thought about him and me and the fun week we
had had. It was all I had been thinking about the entire night.
I must have sat holding his hand for an hour or so, then they came back in and said
they wanted to keep working with him so they could finish by the time Myron's next
surgery was.
"Sir," I interrupted, tapping a friendly looking technician on the shoulder."When is
he going to be alive again?"
He looked at me for a minute then said,"He'll be fine. We might let him wake up
for a couple of hours tomorrow, but that would be the soonest. We'll let you know.
Don't you worry your little head about that. We'll take good care of him." The gentleman
said it with actual concern for my needs.
I went back down the hall to the office to talk to the secretary that had kept me
company before while I was waiting. She said the staff had readied a room for me to use
to catch up on my rest. I said I wasn't tired, but they insisted.
In the small, empty room was a cot with cotton blankets and a pillow. I guess I
was sleepier than I thought I was because once my head hit the pillow, I couldn't hold my
heavy eyelids open any longer. I slept steadily for a couple of hours, but every time I
would wake and try to fall back to sleep, it got harder and harder. Just the thought of
time passing, and not knowing what was happening to them was scary.
"How am I supposed to sleep at a time like this?" I thought. I couldn’t tolerate
lying there any longer so I got up and went to the door.
All the windowless halls were dark, leaving only the green exit signs to light the
empty white halls. The day shift must have gone home already. I quietly tip-toed back to
the office I had spent the last day in. The secretary at the desk didn't have any new
information for me.
"Could I go see Bryan again?" I begged.
"I think they're still busy in room 102, but I'll check." The secretary went to the
back of the office and called room 102 on the intra-office phone. She spoke softly and
held the receiver tight to her ear so that I wouldn't hear what they were saying.
"He said they're just cleaning him up a little and that you can go see him in about a
half an hour."
"Why do they have to clean him up?" I asked curiously.
"I wasn't informed why." The secretary answered back, bothered by my nosy
remark.
When I finally got to his room, only a dim desk light shone over the cluttered
counter. The monitors were beeping a soft lullaby and glowing pleasantly like Christmas
lights. I pulled out the folding chair from its hiding place and set it along the right side of
the table. He was wearing a hospital gown now, and he had a long blue surgical sheet
covering him. I picked up his warm right hand, the one without the IV, and brought my
cheek down to rest upon it. I fell fast asleep within minutes. I didn't awake until the next
morning when the doctors turned the lights on. They seemed pretty surprised to see me.
"Have you been in here all night?" one asked.
"You didn't touch anything, did you?" another accused.
"How did you get in here?" still another asked.
I had just woken up and I wasn't ready to be bombarded with all of these
questions. The doctor that had spoken nicely to me before came over to me. He asked
me the same questions in a gentle voice and I told him that I couldn't get to sleep last night
unless I knew Bryan was all right.
"That's okay, you just have to be very careful around Bryan right now. He's in a
fragile condition after the testing yesterday. He's been working hard for us, so we want to
be sure he comes out of this safely. You can come back later this afternoon when he
wakes up, but right now we need to check some things and be sure he's maintained his
stable condition." This man knew how to talk to a girl. I actually felt better after I left, but
when I glanced back through the window in the door, they were attacking him with
syringes and stethescopes like a pack of starved teenagers on pizza.
I went back to the office feeling like I shouldn't have left him. I quickly grabbed a
bite to eat in the cafeteria. I talked with the staff for a while, then I excused myself to go
check on Bryan again. The secretary at the desk said nothing had changed and I wouldn't
be allowed in yet but that I could visit after lunch. It took a long time for after lunch to
come. When I walked in the door, there were fewer doctors in the room. I was relieved.
"You're early." said a doctor.
"Still?! I've already been waiting all morning. How much longer will it be?"
"I'm just kidding. You can visit him now, but if you wait for another half an hour
or so you'll get to see him awake. Have you seen Myron yet? I'm sure he'd like a visit."
"Really?! He’ll be awake in half an hour? It will take forever! Yeah, I’ll go visit
Myron. I’ll be back in thirty minutes flat, though!" I smiled happily as I trotted out of the
room.
I walked down the hall to the elevator that would take me to third floor. Luckily
it didn't take long for it to arrive. When I arrived on third floor, I went directly to room
301. Myron was awake as ever and extremely bored. He looked about the same, except
that a few electrodes were gone and the oxygen tube was gone.
"Hey, Jess! How come you haven't visited me for so long?"
"I slept for a while yesterday afternoon, and I spent some time with Bryan."
"You did?! How is he? Is he going to come and see me?" he asked eagerly.
"No, he's still asleep, Myron. When I saw him just this morning he was still
completely sedated." I said regretfully.
"Hey, Jess, did he have an I.D. Bracelet?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Did it look sorta like this?" Myron held out his arm and showed me his bracelet,
which was identical to Bryan's, with the exception of the first name.
"Yep."
"I found it yesterday when they were checking on me. Is he going to wake up
soon?"
"Well, he's supposed to in a little while, but I'm not sure how long he'll be awake.
They sounded as if it wouldn't be very long. Hopefully he can stay awake.” Myron and I
chatted for what I thought was a short while, then I saw on the clock that it hadn't been
short! I had talked to Myron for almost an hour! I quickly apologized for having to leave
and said good-bye. I hopped into the elevator and rushed to Bryan's room.
"Jessica! You're just in time. It won't be long now, just remember we can't keep
him awake very long. His body is still playing catch-up from yesterday and the day before;
therefore, he's going to be extremely weak. If he's irritable don't be surprised. I think he'll
calm down after we tell him what has happened."
"I understand. I'm ready. Will it be soon?" I asked anxiously.
"Yes, in a few minutes. Just keep watching him for subtle movements."
After ten more minutes of waiting, I finally noticed his head move. I stared in awe
waiting for more. Next his eyelids started twitching and then he blinked. He tried to
move his hands up to rub his eyes, but they had restrained him again. When he was
half-awake he seemed to be scared of his changed surroundings. The doctors thought it
would be best if he saw a familiar face first, so I was the first one he saw. He looked so
vulnerable with the wrist restraints and IV’s attached to him.
"Jess? Where am I?" Bryan talked in just barely a whisper and his eyes were half-
closed.
"You're at the M.R.A. You're still in the same room as you were before, only there
is a lot more equipment in here now. Don't worry: you're going to be all right. The
hardest part is over."
"Where's Myron?" He seemed concerned.
I held his hand gently and tried to break it to him as mildly as I could. His eyes
were fixated on mine. I felt I was entrapped in his stare until I finished speaking.
All he said when I had finished explaning what had happend was 'Oh.' I wanted to
know how he felt about it. I wanted him to ask me questions and be curious. All he had
said was 'Oh.' and then he sighed a long, slow, restful sigh. I scrambled my brain for
something to say, anything to cease the silence. Then I remembered what Myron had said.
"Myron said to tell you thanks for the blood." The last word lingered on my
tongue. I felt slightly uncomfortable talking about the liquid that was flowing through his
veins.
"Yeah, well, tell him any time. Besides, that's what big brothers are for." He said,
a small grin peaking through on his face.
Again silence.
He wasn't afraid anymore. Although his physical body seemed beyond his control.
It was as if his body had been taken over and he was no longer the pilot who decided if the
plane flew or crashed.
"I feel like I've woken up in the middle of an operation and I'm trapped in the
operating room." He said, abruptly. It struck me like lightning. At least I had some idea
as to how he was feeling now. I chuckled at his quick remark.
"Don't worry. I don't think you'll be conscious much longer. The doctors
mentioned something about putting you back to sleep in a little while. They said you still
had quite a bit of recovering to do before the next operation."
"What next operation?" He said sternly, his eyes gleaming with disbelief.
"They wanted to fix Myron's leg in two surgeries because they felt he would do
better in the long run."
"Oh." There was that indefinite answer again, leaving me hanging in wonder. As I
sat there wondering again what I should say, a doctor came over to me and said that I
should probably finish up.
"Bryan, he said I have to leave now. He said it would be another day or two
before you wake up again, but after that you'll get to stay conscious so you can fully
recover."
"Then what will happen?" I was surprised he answered me.
"I don't know. I suppose in a week or two you'll both get to go home."
"I don't know why, but for some reason I don't believe you."
"Why? I'm not lying. I've told you all I know."
"No, I don't think you're lying, but I don't think we'll be going home that soon.” He
changed the subject, continuing, “Well, I guess this is good bye for now." He made eye
contact for just a second. It struck me that he felt uncomfortable with me seeing him lying
there in a hospital gown. They had put it on him backwards, so they could easily access
his chest by untying the gown. The gown was tied, but there were several electrode codes
trailing out of the neckline of it.
"Don't worry Bryan. You'll be okay." I kissed him softly on the forehead to
formally finish my stay. I wondered what his reaction would be because it was the first
time I had ever kissed him. When I rose from the kiss, his eyes followed me and he smiled
weakly. Although he spoke no words, it was the most he had said all day. Afterward, the
doctors quickly shooed me out of the room. I watched through the small window in the
door as they sedated him again. One of the technicians picked up his IV and jabbed the
hypodermic needle into the small plastic piece that was midway down from the bag of
clear fluid. He blinked only five more times before the chemical overtook his body,
mingling with his healthy blood cells. I felt sorry for him, being that he was completely
healthy, yet he had to lie there as if he were ill.
I left the window when I saw Bryan's eyes fall shut. I got on the elevator and
headed for Myron's room. I couldn't wait to talk to him. I still had an adrenalin rush from
kissing Bryan, but of course I wouldn't tell Myron that one detail.
I noticed a sparkle in his eyes the instant I stepped in the door.
"Hey, Myron. How's it going?"
"It's going. So....?"
"So what?" I said making him wait.
"So how is he?" He spit out, annoyed at my hesitation.
I told him every word we had said and every movement he had made, withholding
that one detail. He seemed satisfied with what I had said.
"I wish they wouldn't have done that to him. I wish he could be conscious at
least."
"Yeah, me too."
"Did you notice they took away one of the IV 's?" I nodded 'no.' "Yep, and the
nurses said they might even give me some semisolid food tonight."
"So is Bryan really your big brother?" I blurted out.
"Well, you see since we were connected at our heads, his feet came out first, then
our heads, and then my feet. His birth time is even recorded as being a minute sooner than
mine." He said as if that final fact proved it was possible. We talked for only a half an
hour or so, then I decided I had better keep going.
"Myron, I'm sorry I have to leave again, but I wanted to talk to the secretary about
Bryan."
"That's fine. I understand. Just don't forget to come back!" He said jestfully.
"I'll come back. I don't have anything to do, either, except visit you and Bryan."
I was getting hungry now, after skipping lunch because of my nervous stomach, so
I headed for the first floor cafeteria. The food wasn't too bad, but I was glad they had
good, old- fashioned vending machines available.
"So, how did you find them?" the secretary inquired.
"Satisfactory, I guess."
"Hmm . . . you don’t sound very sure of yourself.”
“Well, they’re as good as they could be for the situation they’re in. It would be
better if we were thinking about school tomorrow instead of another operation and more
testing.”
The secretary disliked my response and went back to her book work. I couldn't
believe my weekend had gone so fast. I finally got the courage to call my parents and tell
them that I was staying until Bryan and Myron went home. There would be nothing to
decide. That's just what was going to happen. They were concerned. They weren't happy
at all about my missing school, but they said I could stay until the end of the week when
Bryan and Myron would most likely be recovering at home.
Chapter Four
It was pretty boring over the next two days while we waited for the next surgery
and for Bryan to wake up. All I did was go and see Myron, eat in the cafeteria, and
sometimes take short naps. I visited Bryan by myself a few times, even though he was
asleep. It was reassuring just to know that he was still alive. Sometimes the sound of his
steady breathing was just what I needed to calm my nerves. I didn't know what I would
do without him. He was practically a brother to me.
Myron longed to see his brother and the nurses said if he rested for these two more
days he could go and visit him. Bryan was scheduled to wake up on Tuesday, right after
noon hour, but Myron wasn't coming until the next day, so I was the first one he saw
again.
It was about twelve-thirty when I got to Bryan's room. I was disappointed when
they told me he wouldn't wake up until one, but I didn't want to leave this time. The
doctors didn't say anything about me being there, as long as I stayed out of the way. I was
glad I had stayed because he woke up sooner than they had planned. This time he showed
very little movement. He just suddenly began opening his eyes drowsily. When he finally
held them open, I caught myself smiling with delight. After he looked up at me, he took a
big, deep breath and sighed a long sigh.
"Welcome back sleepy head!" I whispered softly, as the peaceful feeling of relief
came over me. I thought about what we would be doing if we hadn't been here. I would
probably be in English class and they would be in their classes, being lectured or being
given homework of some kind. Then my eyes wandered to his left hand, which still had
some bruises from the IV As he seemed to become more alert, I asked him how he was
feeling.
"I'm still pretty tired, but I'll make it, I guess." He still seemed miserable. "How
long do I get to stay awake for this time?" His voice was as quiet as before, but he seemed
a bit stronger.
"You'll be awake for several days before Myron's next surgery, on Thursday."
"Good. By the way, what is today?" He asked.
"I'm sorry, it's Tuesday."
"Hey, how's Myron doing?"
"Myron's doing a lot better and we’ve planned for him to come and visit you
tomorrow."
"He’s coming to visit me tomorrow?!" He said with the excitement of a young
birthday boy.
"Yes. Myron's been waiting to see you since he woke up on Saturday."
"So Myron is coming to see me here?"
"Yeah, I thought you'd be happy to see him." I said, puzzled.
"Of course I am, but I don't want my brother to see me like this." I guess I hadn't
thought that Bryan wouldn't want to see Myron, least likely for that reason.
"Are you sure you don't want to see Myron? He won't care about any of this. He
wants to see you. If these two straps bother you, maybe it would help knowing that
they're there because they didn't want you bumping anything. I'm sure they're not worried
about you running away."
"No, I could never leave Myron in an awful place like this." He looked away,
thinking about something.
"Bryan, you shouldn't say things like that. They saved Myron's ability to walk
using their new techniques and medications."
"Yeah, I sure like those new medications. Staying unconscious is my favorite
thing to do." Satire thick in his voice, he continued, "Who knows what they've been doing
to me while I've been knocked out. All I was supposed to be doing was giving blood to
Myron. None of this was necessary." He said, trying to look down at his chest. What
Bryan said made perfect sense, but what they had told me about the experimental drug
made sense, too.
I was in despair. Bryan was scaring me with his talk. I didn't want anything to
happen to him that didn't need to happen to him. I interrupted a doctor to find out what
was going on. He said that they had found it an opportune time to further the
development of their new drug and it had been okayed in the contracts his parents had
signed at the time of Myron’s surgery from his football injury. I told him to tell Bryan
what he had told me. I watched as Bryan nodded his head in agreement, but his thoughts
appeared newly fueled.
"I'm sorry I scared you, Jess. Please stay awhile yet. I want to talk to you."
“Thank goodness the pep talk had changed his tone!” I thought. Then I responded
to him, “Okay, I'll stay for a little while yet. You know, they could have these off by
tomorrow." I said resting my hand on the strap around his wrist.
"I doubt it." He paused, thinking of something mellow to talk about, "So what
have you been up to while I was out of it?"
"I go to the cafeteria a couple of times a day and I've been visiting you and Myron
off and on . . ."
"You have? You came here to see me even though I was asleep?" Bryan was
impressed.
"Well, yeah, I missed you. I was worried about you. That first night I couldn't
sleep until I knew for myself that you were all right."
"Jess, I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me. I can handle this." He said,
reassuringly.
"I know, but I had to look out for you while you were sleeping." I paused
momentarily to collect my thoughts, "Bryan, I think I'm going to go now. Myron wanted
to talk to me. Is there anything I should tell him for you?"
"Yeah, tell him I'll see him tomorrow." He answered as if he had always wanted
him to come.
"I will. Be nice to the doctors and I'll see you later." I blew him a kiss as I went
out the door, but I don’t think he saw me do it. I didn't know if he remembered the other
kiss I had given him, but I would never forget it.
When I stepped into Myron's room, two nurses were checking his sutures.
"Bryan's excited to see you tomorrow," I told him in excitement.
"He is?! I can't wait. This night is going to take forever."
"He was kind of embarrassed you'd have to see him like he is."
"Why would he be embarrassed? What would he have to be embarrassed about?
He’s seen me in worse condition than he’s probably in now. I don't care. I want to see
him. I wouldn't care if his head was shaved and he was loony. He's the only brother I
have and he's saved my life. . . twice." Myron said with sincerity.
"That's kind of what I told him." As I looked at the few electrodes on his forhead
I wondered what they felt like. I wanted to find out, and I decided I would feel more
comfortable asking Myron than Bryan.
"Well, they're just there." Myron answered. "I don't know. What do you mean
what are they like?"
"How do they feel?"
"They don't really feel like anything, once you forget about them. It smarts when
they take 'em off though."
Poor Bryan. He had so many because of that experimental drug. I certainly wasn't
going to tell him that they hurt when they were taken off. Myron and I talked for a while,
then I went to talk to the secretary again. I didn't see Bryan again until the next day,
before Myron came.
Finally the day came when they would visit Bryan. Myron woke up before the
morning nurse even came to check on him because he was so excited. Ginny had been
excited, too. She asked me questions about him until the wee hours of the morning. I
was anxious, also. I got up and went to see him before I had breakfast. When I got there
the doctors were getting the room ready for visitors, so I just looked through the window.
It appeared Bryan was still asleep. I didn't know how he could possibly sleep with all of
those doctors and techs making so much racket, but finding everything satisfactory I
headed off toward the cafeteria.
Myron was going to be visiting at twelve-thirty. He came right on time. Myron
was still wearing a hospital gown and he was in a wheelchair, but that didn't seem to
bother him at all. He rolled his chair right up to Bryan's bedside. As soon as Myron
reached the table he patted Bryan on the shoulder, symbolizing a hug, and personally
thanked him for all he had done. After that they talked and talked and talked. Bryan's
voice was back to normal now and he seemed to be feeling a lot better. It took all
afternoon for them to catch up on the five days they hadn't seen each other. I stood
against the wall near Bryan’s feet. It was so good to see them together again. They spent
most of the afternoon giving each other a hard time and laughing. I loved every minute of
it.
Chapter Five
The rest of the day went super fast. I spent my time doing my usual routine, only I
felt more like a carrier pigeon, carrying messages back and forth between Bryan and
Myron. At least it was better than just sitting around worrying about them, not knowing
if they were all right or not.
Later that Wednesday evening, the doctors closed Bryan's door and said that I
couldn't come in any more for a while. They said he had regained enough strength and
that they wanted to begin drawing blood from him for Myron's second surgery, which was
tomorrow. I watched through the window as they gave him the double dose of
Mytosquits and a sedative. I assumed that the two shots were that experimental drug,
Mytosquits, that they had used before.
With Bryan out of the rotation, I went to catch up on the latest with the secretary.
"You realize that after Bryan and Myron recover they won’t be returning to
Coleville, right?”
“What do you mean not returning to Coleville? They’ll have to go back to school.
They’re going to have tons of make-up work.”
“No, they won’t be returning to school until the second semester begins in the
middle of January.”
“What do you mean? They have to go back to school. It’s the law!”
“The MRA is federally funded and operated. We’re above the law. We’ve already
contacted the school. The contract their parents signed allows us to collect payment for
services in optimum health days (OHD’s) of the patients.” She stopped, knowing I
wouldn’t understand what she meant. I stared blankly at her and she continued, “We get
to keep them for experimental testing three times the number of days they are in care.
They will be here approximately fourteen days each which allows us forty-two OHD’s.”
“So you’re going to keep them here over Christmas, all the way to the end of the
first semester to do medical experiments on them?” I was so apalled I could hardly spit my
words out clearly.
“Yes, that is correct. This will be a great opportunity for us because having
identical twins allows for a control group in the data collection.”
“And what about me?”
“You’ll have to leave. We’ve been generous to let you stay this long. We’ve
already called your parents and they’ll be picking you up tomorrow.”
“No way! I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here.”
“We’ve already considered you’re reaction. We will let you stay on one condition:
that you work for us while you are here. This would require signing a contract for
employment. You would also be required to have a tutor so you can keep up with your
studies. We wouldn’t be able to exempt you like we can the twins.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"You actually received a measurable discount for the experimenting you allowed
on Bryan, but the cost of medications and medical care is just so extremely expensive, it
really diminishes the value of the discount. What we had in mind was this: If you would
allow us to 'borrow' the twins, your sons, because they are such a rare and priceless
medical researching possession being they allow for an identical control specimen, we
would completely erase all previous debts." She said it as if it was a sheer kindness, not a
cruel punishment.
"You mean you want to use my guys for experimental testing?!" Ginny obviously
thought this was as absurd as I did. She would never give up her life --her twin guys.
"Yes, but only for three months and with the promise that they would be
completely healthly when released. And by the way, we won't be completing the second
surgery until this form is signed." The secretary finished with a devil's grin shiny upon her
face.
It seemed to hit Ginny like a ton of bricks. Her sons' lives hanging in the balance,
it seemed inevitable. If Myron didn't have the second surgery, he would never be able to
walk normally again. And the inadequate Coleville hospital wouldn't know where to begin
if they saw him, now.
I hoped she wouldn't sign it. I would stay here with Bryan and Myron if she did
sign it. My parents wouldn't care. I would make them not care. After she had thought
about her life-changing decision for a whole twenty minutes, she finally responded,
"You're right. I won't be able to pay the bill any other way, but I have to go back to
Coleville. I can't stay here with them for more than another three days to watch over
them."
"You have no cause to worry. Our staff will take excellent care of them and you
can visit on the weekends." The secretary said, swallowing Ginny's motherly right of
seeing her sons everyday of the week.
"They won't be kept strapped to tables like Bryan is now, will they?"
"Very little, if any, time. We would make up a room for them to stay in like the
room you and Jessica slept in." I thought back to the tiny room and the uncomfortable
cots. I couldn't imagine trading my comfortable, luxurious bedroom for that.
Then, with tears in her eyes, she signed away her most prized possessions, for
three months of their lives. Her signature turned custody over to the M.R.A., allowing
them to do what ever they pleased to her sons, as long as there was no endangerment of
their lives.
As the secretary took the precious form and tucked it safely away, she said,
"Ginny, I just received a report from the doctors and they said Bryan is doing a beautiful
job of supplying the blood and Myron is just being prepared for his second surgery."
I was awe struck. I couldn't believe she had done it. I was so angry at her, but I
knew she didn't need me giving her more pressure. "Why did you do that to her!" I fumed
at the woman, after Ginny had left the office.
"It was necessary to be sure we weren't taken advantage of." The secretary
answered snobbishly.
"You didn't have to do it now! You knew that if you approached her now she
would for sure sign it. You are cruel and inhuman."
"I am just doing my job."
"I hope that you sleep well tonight, after throwing your conscience into a firy pit of
manipulation. I would just like you to know that I'm staying here, with Bryan and Myron,
and watching every move you make. Send my parents the forms they need and I'll send
them a personal note explaining why I must do this." I gave her my address and my
parents' names. I found Mrs. Douglass in our room, crying until she no longer had tears
to weep with.
Chapter Six
The next two days were some of the longest of my life. With Myron and Bryan
out of commission for now, and Ginny having a mid-life crisis, I wandered the halls in a
state of semi-awareness. Bryan and Myron didn't even know what had happened and I
would have to tell them. Bryan would be devastated. He had been right. He wasn't going
to be going home for a long time.
Bryan recovered more quickly this time. He woke up Friday night. I couldn't visit
him yet. I was still figuring out how I was going to tell him. The doctors told me he was
asking for me, but I couldn't go. I couldn't even eat or sleep. Mrs. Douglass had insisted I
tell them. She was ashamed because she had been forced to make that horrible decision.
She didn't think they would want to see her after that, so she made plans to leave that
evening. She was wrong. They were devastated she was planning to leave them.
Saturday morning, around six a.m., I went to Bryan's room. I was alleviated some
to find him still asleep. I sat there, watching him breathe, glad to find that he was still
secured beneath the familiar nylon straps. He opened his eyes around eight and was
startled to find me there. I stood up and straddled his body with my arms, my head
casting a shadow on his face as I spoke to him.
"Bryan, I have some bad news." My melancholy expression was uncontrollably
painful.
"Myron's all right isn't he?"
"Yes, Myron's fine."
"Whew!"
"Your prediction was right."
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"You and Myron aren't going home any time soon."
“You're teasing, right? Jess?" He looked at me in total disbelief, but my mouth
wouldn't move. I nodded ‘no.’ "Oh, my God." That was all he said, but he looked as if he
was in worse emotional pain than he was in physical discomfort. I put my hand on his and
tears sneaked out of the corners of both our eyes. I gently caressed the side of his face
with my index finger. His tear has slide right down to his ear. I looked at my wet finger
in amazement that I was holding one of Bryan's tears. We sniffled back and forth for an
hour.
After some time had passed, I told him how Ginny had been practically forced into
signing the form. He didn't blame her and he seemed to already be preparing himself for
what was to come. I didn't leave his side until later that afternoon. It made me feel better
talking with Bryan about it, but I realized I was only half done.
Myron was very weak after his second surgery. He had an IV and an oxygen tube
under his nose. He seemed more uncomfortable now than after his first surgery. The
second surgery had been more intense.
"Hi, Myron. How are you?" I asked cautiously, yet optimistically.
"Let's just say I know how Bryan was feeling now."
"It'll get better. Bryan is awake already. He looks pretty good."
"Well, I'm glad at least one of us came out of this all right." He had meant for me
to chuckle, but I couldn't; not until I had this terrible news out of my tense throat.
"Myron, I have some bad news. . ." I started and I didn't stop until I had finished.
He took it pretty well. Not as good as Bryan had, though. As I was telling him, I could
tell his blood pressure was rising, by the sound of a monitor close to his bed. The nurses,
seeing how I was upsetting him, came in and politely asked me to leave. I think Myron
would have calmed down if they had allowed me to just talk to him about it for a while,
like I did with Bryan.
After my work was done, I went to my room to quietly think by myself in the dark.
Before she left she went to each of her sons, apologized and kissed them. They
forgave her and told her to visit often. She left solemnly that evening in a taxi. I waved
through the modern, glass, front doors and she blew me a kiss, as if to say, "Thank you for
staying with them. Take good care of them."
As I had planned, my parents let me stay, but it took more convincing than I
thought it would. The school put us on the permanent absent list and said that we
wouldn't graduate with our regular class because of all the school we would miss. I didn't
care because without Bryan and Myron it wouldn't be any fun anyway.
Slowly Bryan recovered and gradually the monitors were unhooked completely.
He recovered quite a bit faster than Myron; it took him less than a week to recover from
the lost blood. They made a room for the guys, and Bryan and I spent our days with
Myron since he was still in bed
Myron's recovery was slow and tedious. Even after they let him go with Bryan
and I, he had to go for physical therapy several hours a day. They encouraged Myron to
walk as normally as possible. They had repaired the break by using a new technique they
referred to as “bone fusion.” They had removed the plate and screws and reset the bone
during the first surgery and during the second surgery they had fused the bones’ fractures
so that his leg was as good as new.
Things didn't start to change until the middle of December. That's when I really
noticed that they were taking ownership of them. On the fifteenth of December, they gave
them a schedule that was followed seven days a week. They had three meal breaks,
several different testing sessions, and very little free time.
I didn't like the schedule, but neither did Bryan and Myron. We just made the best
of the time we had together. The M.R.A. gave them each a white pair of shorts and a
white T-shirt, which they were supposed to wear to all the testing sessions. They gave me
a white lab coat to wear, but I didn't use it much because I didn't go with them to testing
sessions. The M.R.A. kept them on a very strict diet. I could usually order anything I
wanted, but I couldn't stand eating something they couldn't have, like a candy bar, in front
of them, so I ordered the same food they were given. They said it didn't bother them if I
ate something they couldn't have, but I couldn't be that mean anyway.
In the first couple of testing sessions all the researchers were doing was trying to
get a feel for their medical history. They did allergy tests on both of them.
Bryan and Myron's room was across from my room, so after the last testing
session of the day, I would sneak over there and we would talk for a while. They would
never talk about what went on during the sessions with me, but I think they talked about it
amongst themselves all the time.
One night, after about a week of the blood and allergy tests, Bryan said he was
getting homesick and wanted to try to run away. I knew with such a modern facility they
had to have an excellent security system. I also guessed that when Bryan was caught, they
wouldn't have a problem punishing him. Trying to get him to change his mind, I said I
wouldn't be a part of it. After I was out of the scheme, Myron said he didn't think it was
such a good idea either. Bryan was still determined to do it and he wasn't leaving Myron
here either.
Chapter Seven
A couple of nights later, after we were sure Bryan had forgotten all about
escaping, he had perfected his plan. He sneaked a couple of sedative pills out of the lab
that day and put them in Myron's food when he wasn't looking. The sedatives didn't start
to work until six, when they were at testing. The researchers couldn't figure out why
Myron was so tired, so they took a blood sample and sent him to bed. When Bryan
returned to his room, Myron was sound asleep. As usual, I sneaked over to their room
but Bryan said he was tired and wanted to hit the hay early, too. I found this very unusual
and that's what helped me to figure out that he was going to execute his plan that night.
He carried Myron down the hall and slipped out a garbage chute in the cafeteria.
There he made a makeshift wagon out of an old cardboard box he found in the dumpster.
After that he pulled Myron along the fence to the spot where it met some trees and
stopped. He slipped Myron through and had to fold the wagon to get it through, but he
managed. After putting the wagon back together, he headed down the highway in the
direction he thought was correct.
The next morning when they found he was gone they questioned me. I told them
all I knew, but it wasn't much. Then they turned to the blood sample they had taken from
Myron. When they found the sedative in it, it didn't take them long to figure out what
Bryan had ultimately planned. They sent out a twenty-four person security team to find
them. I watched as they marched military-style across the parking lot, carrying two long
wooden boards that they were planning to bring them back on.
When they found them at a wayside rest a few miles from the building, Myron was
still asleep. Since Myron was still asleep, they knew he couldn't have been at fault. Bryan
was pretty upset when they caught him. He put up a fight and it took three men and a
muscle relaxer injection to get him secured onto the board.
They brought Myron back to his room at eight-thirty that morning. They brought
Bryan to the third floor office of Dr. Schmied. He was the head doctor and the person
who was in charge of their custody, so it was his responsibility to punish Bryan. The
security team carried Bryan into his office and stood the board he was secured to upright,
in front of Dr. Schmied's desk.
"Why did you attempt to run away?" asked Dr. Schmied, as he curled the ends of
his villainous moustache with his fingertip.
"Because I want to go home!" Bryan yelled, angrily.
"Don't yell at me, young man!" Dr. Schmied yelled back, as he stood from his
chair. Then he sat back down and continued. "I hope you realize you will have to be
punished. Since we have your custody, we are inclined to punish you how we see fit. Do
you understand?"
"Yes, sir." Bryan yielded to the doctor's temper.
"We feel this is a severe disobedience, therefore we feel it should be countered by
a severe punishment."
"Yes, sir. I understand, but please don't punish Myron. He had nothing to do with
this. It was all my idea."
"We already know that." Dr. Schmied stood from behind his desk again and
walked slowly around to stand in front of Bryan. "Your punishment will be: . . ." Bryan
starred back into the doctor's eyes, "To be in a room, strapped to a table, by yourself.
And that's not all! You will be fed interveniously and tested on all day. This treatment
shall continue for three days. Your brother and Jessica will be allowed to see you for ten
minutes a day, no more. After your punishment is through you will be given a sedative at
night to be sure you sleep, for the rest of your stay here. Do you understand?" He
concluded, heading back to his desk.
"Yes, but haven't I spent enough time strapped to a table in a room by myself?
This won't be anything new." The punishment was worse than Bryan had expected. He
was devastated.
"Did you just talk back to me?" Dr. Schmied turned around abruptly. Bryan just
shook his head. "In addition, I will assign you the perfect attendent, Dr. Mitchell."
Then the men carried him away.
* * *
When Myron found out what Bryan had done he was pretty upset. He had under
estimated Bryan's determination. He was sure Bryan had forgotten all about it. He was
very scared that they would hurt Bryan, or even kill him. I reassured him that they
wouldn't do something like that, but deep inside I wondered myself.
We both thought the punishment was too harsh for what he had done but we were
glad that we would still get to see him, even if it was only for ten minutes a day. Myron
still had to follow the schedule, so we used some of our afternoon free time to visit Bryan.
The room he was in was on second floor, so they gave me the identification card I
would need to get the elevator to stop on second floor. The whole second floor seemed
to be a giant biology class room, divided into four corridors with eight rooms on each.
Myron knew his way around, so I let him lead the way to room 212. It was a small room
with only a table in the middle of the room. It had two doorways: one from the hall and
one that led to a small lab room.
Bryan looked uncomfortable on the metal table and the straps seemed to be much
tighter than when he had been strapped down before. He had an IV in his arm and he
looked quite pale. He was wearing his white shorts and a T-shirt. At first he seemed a
little drugged, but then he came around.
"Bryan?" Myron asked carefully.
"Yeah, Myron." He answered with a cracky voice.
"They aren't hurting you, are they?"
"Well, the straps are a little tight, but no, I'm okay." Bryan said, trying to make
Myron feel better.
"What is the IV for?" I asked, now feeling more comfortable in the unfamiliar
surroundings.
"I'm not really sure. It doesn't hurt. It is supposed to be some kind of nutrient
fluid. Part of the punishment was to be fed interveniously." He seemed to be taking his
punishment in stride. I was somewhat surprised at his temperament. I thought he would
still be raging mad. I guessed that the humility of his helpless position had affected his ego
some.
"So what have they all done to you?" Myron asked, now more curious than
worried.
"Not too much. They gave me this IV right away, then after a little while they
gave me some pills. At first when they rammed them down my throat I tried to spit them
out, but then I figured it was a waste of time to fight it. I know they can't give me
anything that could kill me, so what does it matter? The worst part of the whole deal is
that I don't have a watch and there aren't any windows, so I have no idea how much time
has passed. Could you guys come at the same time every day so I know when it's been
twenty-four hours?" He presented us with a question of something we took for granted
--knowing the time. If we hadn't been allowed to see him, they would have been able to
keep him there indefinitely, without him realizing the passage of time.
"Which doctor is looking after you?" Myron asked.
"Dr. Mitchell is."
"Really?! Aren't you worried?" Myron asked, obviously concerned.
"Why waste time worrying about it. I would go crazy if I did."
"Who was Dr. Mitchell?" I thought to myself. I would definitely have to ask
Myron about him after we left. I didn't want to waste any of our precious visiting time on
that, now.
"What are you up to lately, Jess?" Bryan asked me, but I didn't really hear him at
first. I was too consumed in my own reverie. Myron got my attention and repeated it.
"Not much. Just following Myron around. Oh, and I got my I.D. card today!"
"Really?! That's great! Now you can come with us to second floor!"
"I don't know if I'll get to keep it after you're out of here, though." My last
statement hushed the room. I couldn't tell if it was just a seven minute conversation lull or
what I had said.
In the midst of the silence, a doctor, presumably Dr. Mitchell, came into the room
from the small lab. I hadn't even noticed him in there. He walked over to the IV and
checked the fluid level. Then he brought something out of his lab coat pocket --a small
flashlight. He looked into Bryan's eyes, then put the flashlight back in his pocket and
exchanged it for a small eye dropper bottle. He leaned over Bryan's face, looking intently
at each eye, then dropped two drops in each, while carefully holding them open. He left
the room as abruptly as he had come, leaving Bryan to blink wildly as the fluid encased his
eyes.
"Bryan, are you all right?" Myron asked as soon as the door shut.
"These drops really sting. It just won't go away. I wish my hands were free so I
could wipe my eyes." Myron reached his identical hand up to rub the mirrored image of
his own eyes. "Thanks, but it still stings and now my eyes are getting blurry. Is the light
getting dimmer, too?" As Myron and I watched in horror we saw his pupils shrinking to
tiny black dots. The room was well lit, but only the drops could have made that big of a
difference. His eyes were wide open, yet he claimed he couldn't see anything but
blackness.
Myron, being a protective little brother, ran towards the door to the small lab. I
ran after him quickly, hoping I could catch him before he made a regrettable mistake. He
pounded hard at the door, screaming, "What did you do to him!!!"
I stepped back from him and the door as I saw the doctor rising from his chair. I
had been too late. Suddenly I heard Bryan saying, "Jess, what is he doing? Tell him to
stop! He doesn't know what he's getting into! This will happen to him, too!" I turned
around to look at him and he lay starring up at the ceiling. I turned back around just in
time to see the doctor open the door and thrust a hypodermic needle into Myron's
abdomen. It appeared to happen in slow motion. First, Myron bent over at the pain of the
stick. Then, Myron started falling to the floor and the doctor put his hand behind Myron's
back to catch him as he quickly pushed the plunger down with his other hand, the needle
still buried within Myron.
"No!" I shrieked.
Dr. Mitchell laid Myron's unmoving body on the floor. Bryan didn't say a word.
He just laid there starring at the ceiling.
"What have you done to him?" I asked horrified.
"He'll be fine in a couple of hours." Then he went back into his office and called
somebody. After he had hung up, he sat down at his desk again and started working on
some paperwork, as if nothing had happened. In a short time the security team came and
loaded up Myron on a carrying board. His eyes were wide open, but not looking at
anything. I couldn't understand what the drug had done to him. I followed the men down
the hall a way, then turned back and went to Bryan's room. The door was locked. Now I
knew what kind of a person Dr. Mitchell was and why Myron had been concerned. I felt
lost, so I went to the only place I could think of: the office Ginny and I had spent so many
hours together in.
The secretary didn't know much, but at least she was willing to help me find out
what was going on. She called a few people then gave me the prognosis.
"Myron, having misbehaved, is being reprimanded by the head doctor."
"What is he going to do to him?"
"I wasn't informed." I hated that answer. I wished Ginny were here, then I
thought again how upset she would be if she was and then I was glad she wasn't here. She
was lucky. She didn't have to go through this. I went back to my room. I felt sick but I
wasn't going to tell anyone. I had no one to tell, both of my companions were gone. It
was bad enough when Bryan got caught, now Myron, too.
I must have cried myself to sleep because I woke up suddenly from a nightmare. I
was covered with sweat and my pillow and blanket were on the floor next to my cot. I
had dreamt that the M.R.A. was going to reach into my chest and grab my heart with its
bear hands. Bryan, trying to stop it, stepped in front of me just as they were reaching for
my heart. They took his instead and he was slowly bleeding to death in my arms when I
woke up. I was terrified.
Once fully awake again I headed toward the office. She told me I wouldn't be
seeing Myron for a day or two, but I could see Bryan again in the morning.
The night seemed longer than a night should be. The next morning I couldn't stand
to eat breakfast. I wasn't hungry. I hurried to the elevator and got in. My I.D. card
wouldn't work, so I went to the office, trying to figure out what happened. The secretary
told me they had canceled my number because they didn't want me on second floor until I
had talked with the head doctor, Dr. Schmied.
I walked to the elevator slowly this time. The ride to third floor seemed to be
shorter than I remembered. Since the third floor only had one U-shaped corridor, I
walked along until I found the right door. I couldn't believe how quiet it was on third
floor. There was always a lot of hustle and bustle on the first two floors. There weren't
even any paging speakers in the hall, which was dimly lit and and had that clean, unused
feeling to it.
After wandering all the way around to the other side, I finally found a plain door
that had the name plate 'Dr. Schmied' on it. After knocking and entering, behind the huge,
neatly organized desk I found an intelligent-looking, middle-aged man.
"Come in, please." His voice seemed to fill the room with it's deep, powerful tone.
I walked timidly across the long room and stood next to the old leather chair in front of his
desk. He gestured for me to sit down.
"Do you know why I’ve summoned you?"
"Yes, well, no, well, it's gotta' be about Bryan and Myron." I stammered finally.
"Correct. It is about them." He said, almost amiably, "To be more specific, it's
about their punishment. I would like to know how you feel about the way Bryan is being
punished."
I scrambled for words and felt my hands begin to sweat. I didn't know if I should
say what I truly felt, or what he wanted to hear. "I think it's a severe punishment." I said
safely.
"Do you agree or disagree that it fits the crime?"
"I think it shouldn't have been that harsh. You have to understand his fear of the
unknown. He didn't feel safe here . . ."
"That doesn't matter." He swiftly interrupted. “What would you have done if you
were in a position such as the one I hold?” He questioned, curiously.
"I would have put him in a room by himself for one day to think about what he had
done."
"That wouldn't have worked because then a day of usefulness would have been
wasted. What about Myron? Did the episode in Bryan's room scare you?"
"I was very frightened and I still am! Is he all right? The doctor just shoved that
needle right into his stomach!" I said, taking the opportunity to find out my concerns.
"Don't be frightened. Dr. Mitchell is an excellent addition to our medical staff. He
knows his anatomy very well, especially Bryan and Myron's. Besides, he would never
endanger the lives of two people who are very important to us."
"Then what did he put in Bryan's eyes and why did Myron look dead?"
"He's taking care of his own records and won't be turning them in to me until
Bryan's punishment is through. As for Myron, he was given a drug that paralyzes all
voluntary muscles, even the eyelids and mouth muscles. It gives its victims a 'dead'
appearance, but it wears off quickly. I spoke to Myron last evening about his behavior.
The drug does allow the victim total consciousness and awareness of his surroundings.
He is going to have a similar punishment to Bryan's, but his will only be for one day.
"He's connected to an IV of the drug he was given yesterday so it will stay in effect
until later tonight. Then we will give him a shot of a drug that will control his energy, just
in case he has his brother's temper which I've already been acquainted with. Tomorrow
the schedule will resume as usual and you will both be allowed to see Bryan, but again at
lunch time Myron will take a pill so he doesn't go out of control while he is visiting. I
have told Myron all I have told you. I'm quite sure he understands.
"Now, on to you. Your card was taken away so I could explain the situation to
you, myself. Here is your new card. You may go with Bryan and Myron when they go to
second floor from now on. In fact, one of my nurses suggested to me that they thought
you could be a help in the lab and a distraction from the pricks and pokes of the harmless
experiments for Bryan and Myron. Do you have any questions?"
"Yes, I was wondering if I could see Myron some time today?" I was exasperated
from being on an emotional roller coaster. I couldn't believe he gave me my card back
either!
"I suppose you could. He's in room 221. It's in the red corridor on second floor."
"Thank you for all of the information, Dr. Schmied." I walked to the door
withholding my excitement, but once his office door was closed, I skipped down the hall
with anticipation.
I found Myron's room quickly. I peeked through the small, square window at the
top of the door to get an idea of what to expect. From what I saw, I knew I couldn't
expect much.
I stepped inside the temperate room and stood next to Myron's bed. He looked
the same as he had when he first was given the shot: his body limp and his eyes starring
into nothingness. He was still wearing his regular clothes, instead of the white shorts and
shirt. They had his long sleeve rolled up and the IV rested on the top of his hand. He
seemed to be comfortable at least.
"Myron? Dr. Schmied told me that you can still hear me, so I hope you can." I
paused as if waiting for a response, having received none, I continued. I told him about
my visit with Dr. Schmied and how I had gotten my card back. Seeing a body identical to
Bryan's lying on that table reminded me of when Bryan had looked dead. It gave me the
willies. I told Myron I would talk to him in the morning and I headed off to Bryan's room.
I was relieved to find that Bryan's eyes were back to normal, when I leaned over
his face.
"Hey, Jess! What are you doing?"
"I was just checking to see if your eyes were better."
"That cleared up last night sometime."
"How did you know it was night?"
"Dr. Mitchell locked the lab and shut the lights off. I didn't find out they were
back to normal until this morning, when he turned the lights back on." He answered,
seeming to be in good spirits.
"Did you hear about Myron?"
"Yeah, last night that devil, Dr. Schmied, came in here and told me about it. He's
been lucky I've been restrained the few times I've seen him."
"He really is intimidating. I talked with him just before I came here."
"Did you see Myron?"
"Yeah, he looks like he's sleeping with his eyes open. He's going to be coming to
see you tomorrow, though."
"That's good. This morning Dr. Mitchell hasn't done too many tests, besides
drawing some blood. He did something to my chest, too. He lifted my shirt over my head
so I couldn't see what he was doing. It felt like a cold salve or something. My chest has
been tingly ever since."
"I would check for you, but he's still sitting in the lab. I wouldn't want to get
caught."
“I know. I wasn't expecting you to.” He gazed at me with a soft smile, then
continued, “I miss the fun we had together that week, Jess.”
"I do too. I think I would give anything to go back in time to my first week at
Coleville. But if the same thing would happen again with Myron and you, I wouldn't
change anything. I like being here with you, Bryan."
"I'm glad you're here." I felt his fingers grasping for my hand, a wrist strap limiting
his movement. I put my hand in his and smiled. I could have stood there like that all day.
Dr. Mitchell walked in and I readied myself for whatever was to come. He gave Bryan an
injection in his arm. Bryan didn't even wince. He didn't seem to notice it at all. He just
stared into my eyes. I think his mind had retreated back to Coleville. That and he must
have been getting used to being a human pin cushion. Dr. Mitchell went back to his room
and shut the door.
"Bryan, didn't that hurt?"
"It was only a little needle. I don't mind the shots. It's not knowing what the drug
in the syringe is going to do to me that scares me."
"That scares me, too, especially after yesterday.” I paused, waiting for something
to happen. “How do you feel? Is it doing anything yet?" I asked.
"No, I feel fine yet. It'll take a few minutes to kick in. I don't have any idea what
it could be. On normal testing days they tell us what to expect, but they don’t tell us
which one of us is the control group. Jess, maybe you’d better go. I don't want to scare
you if this is a weird one or something. I'll see you tomorrow."
I didn't want to leave. I still had two minutes left. I gave him a peck on the cheek.
He gave me a big appreciative smile. I left, already anxious for tomorrow when I would
get my guys back.
I had some trouble getting to sleep, but after that the night went fast. When I got
up the next morning, Myron was waiting in front of his door for me. I walked over and
gave him a big hug. I was so glad he was normal again.
I should have waited before I assumed he was completely back to normal. The
second medication they had given him, the one to control his temper, gave him limited
control of his muscles. He had to concentrate hard to walk and his speech was a bit
slurred. He seemed to be completely normal mentally and it was obviously frustrating for
him not being able to have complete control of his body. When we got to the cafeteria the
cooks gave us cold cereal with fruit, juice, toast, and sausages. Myron attempted to eat
his breakfast, but was embarrassed when he dribbled his juice on his shirt because he
couldn't form his mouth right to drink it. At exercise that morning they wanted us to run a
few laps around the room. When they saw how much trouble Myron was having they
decided Yoga would suffice for today's exercise.
As the morning continued he seemed to get better control of his muscles because
the drug gradually started to wear off. He was even beginning to talk normally, which
was when I started dreading lunch time, when he would have to take his pill.
I went with him to the second floor for his testing for the first time. I met a lot of
new people: Nurse Jones was in charge of giving them their daily medications and seeing
that results from tests were recorded accurately; Dr. Nyseth was the mad scientist type
and it was he who thought up most of the experiments; Kelly was a lab technician that
analyzed blood work and other lab tests; Dr. Ransoon was the one who carried out the
experiments. They all treated Myron with respect and care. Nurse Jones caringly asked
him how he was doing after such a traumatic experience. They were all curious about
Bryan, too, because they hadn't been allowed to visit him.
Since it was the first time I had been there with him during testing I felt a certain
amount of awkwardness, even though they tried to make me comfortable. I tried to stand
out of the way while they checked Myron out to see if he had had any strange reactions to
the drugs. I over heard Kelly and Nurse Jones say they felt that the second medication Dr.
Schmied had ordered for Myron was unnecessary. I couldn't have agreed more.
With testing over with for the morning, we headed to the cafeteria again to have
lunch. It was a good meal - crisp lettuce salad, a slice of tender roast beef, a soft dinner
roll and a glass of milk. Myron could eat and talk normally again, so I asked if he could
remember me visiting. I couldn't believe he really could. He even knew what I had said.
Myron ate quickly because he was excited to see Bryan again. I think he was
hoping that they would forget to give him his pill as much as I was. Good-old-reliable Dr.
Schmied hadn't forgotten. He came down to the cafeteria himself to give Myron the pill.
He had with him two security officers. He approached the table suddenly and startled me.
I think Myron had seen him coming.
"Myron, I believe you remember the terms of the punishment. Here is your pill
and a glass of water. Take it." Dr. Schmied held it out for Myron to take.
"Dr. Schmied, I'm sorry I acted that way the last time I visited. I won't do it again.
Please don't make me take that pill." Myron said, looking bravely into Dr. Schmied's eyes.
I was about to stick up for Myron, but as if Dr. Schmied had telepathy he turned his head
to glance at me with his ice cold eyes, removing the words from my lips.
"Myron, don't make this difficult for yourself. Just take the pill, then I'll leave and
you can continue your day."
Myron took the glass of water and the pill. He set it on the table. "I'll take it when
I'm finished eating." Myron compromised.
"Do I appear a fool to you? Take it now, or I will assist you."
"I said I'll take it after I'm finished." Then Dr. Schmied motioned to the men
standing behind Myron. One held his arms behind the chair and the other held his head
and squeezed his cheeks, opening his mouth. Dr. Schmied picked up the pill and lightly
tossed it to the back of his throat. He poured half of the large glass of water into his
mouth, most of it spilling back out onto Myron's shirt, then Dr. Schmied told him to
swallow. The man holding his mouth moved his hands to the top of Myron's head and his
chin, holding his mouth closed. Myron swallowed hard on the large amount of water in
his mouth. The man holding his head let go, the other one still holding his arms tight.
"Open your mouth!" Dr. Schmied commanded, when Myron appeared to be done.
He stuck his rubber-gloved finger roughly into Myron's mouth, inspecting it for the pill.
He was quite thorough checking both cheeks, under his tongue and around the inside of
his lips. When he found no pill he seemed to be satisfied, but then he held the glass to
Myron's lips and made him drink the whole glass, taking no chances. He motioned to the
men and they followed him, leaving Myron to finish his meal.
I sat across from him in astonishment. Myron started spitting when we heard the
cafeteria door close. Myron was the first to speak, "Rubber gloves taste horrible!"
He had lightened the tension, so I chuckled. "Did you take it?" I asked, hopefully.
"Yes." He answered, solemnly realizing his fate. He courteously had lightened the
mood, then I had proceeded to tighten it again. We finished eating in silence.
As we left the cafeteria I noticed he was starting to have trouble walking. By the
time we made it to Bryan's room, Myron was as bad off as he had been in the morning.
I started out our visit, greeting Bryan.
Myron hobbled to Bryan's side. "I-Ryan" Myron slurred, unable to form his mouth
correctly.
Bryan pretended not to notice and responded normally to Myron's attempt.
"I'm so glad to see you, Myron! I missed you yesterday. Thanks for sticking up
for me the other day." Bryan said appreciatively. Bryan knew Myron was uncomfortable,
and he blamed himself.
Bryan looked pretty good that day. He seemed upbeat and ready to get out of that
room! I stood on the other side of Bryan, holding his hand.
"When is your sentence over Bryan?" I inquired.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning, right before breakfast." he said.
I wondered what mean Dr. Mitchell was up to now. I could see him sitting at his
desk through the window. That was one thing all of us wondered. He always seemed to
come in in the middle of our stay. As I had predicted, he got up from his chair and started
preparing something on the counter.
"Myron, Bryan, I think he's gonna come in here again." I warned
"I'm-ot-aving. I'm-say-righ-ear." Myron said. I decoded it to mean: 'I'm not
leaving. I'm staying right here.' If that's what Myron wanted, I wasn't going to disrespect
him and tell him otherwise. So we just stood there waiting.
This time Dr. Mitchell was carrying a small tray. There was a cotton ball, a
bandage, a rubber cord, an empty syringe and an empty test tube. We all recognized the
tools as the necessities for drawing blood.
"Excuse me." Dr. Mitchell said to Myron. Myron hobbled over to my side. We
weren't budging. He continued with his procedure, unaffected by our glaring eyes. Bryan
laid still, watching him prepare his left arm for withdrawal. The red liquid flowed
helplessly into the syringe. When he was finished drawing blood, he squirted it into the
test tube. He left quietly and glanced at Myron as he shut the door to the small lab, as if
daring him to try again. I grabbed Myron's tense arm swiftly, reminding not to react.
Bryan continued to talk to Myron and I. I didn't feel like talking any more. Bryan
talked incessantly to Myron, to avoid having Myron speak. The visit seemed to linger on,
as did the rest of the day.
Myron's medication started wearing off around supper time, allowing him to eat
normally again. I was glad the day was over when I went to bed.
Chapter Eight
The next morning Bryan was standing in the hall waiting for Myron and I to wake
up. I came out to the hall first. I had gotten up a few minutes earlier because I couldn't
wait to see him again. I stepped out of my door and we met in the middle of the hall for a
hug. It felt so good to be able to hold him again, but he pulled back from the hug
abruptly.
"Jess, I'm sorry I can't hug you longer or tighter, but the other day, you know
when I told you my chest felt tingly? Well that was the anesthetic. Dr. Mitchell cut a
small, semi -deep line on my chest and then stitched me back up with only an anesthetic
salve. I don't think he cut very deep, but its pretty sore. I would have told you yesterday,
but I don't want Myron to know." He said quietly. He lifted up his blue shirt and on his
chest were three stitches, over his left ribs.
"Omigod, Bryan! He did that to you while you were conscious?!"
"Yeah, I didn't even realize it until this morning when I was changing clothes."
Bryan chuckled at his naivete.
"What didn't you realize?" Myron had come into the hall and heard the last
sentence Bryan had said.
"I didn't realize that those straps would make such big marks!" Bryan lied, showing
Myron a strap mark on his wrist. Myron was satisfied with Bryan's answer so we headed
off to the cafeteria for breakfast.
When we headed up to second floor for testing that morning, Bryan and Myron let
me use my card in the elevator. They really seemed to enjoy having me with that day.
Nurse Jones began teaching me how to give shots. She gave me a syringe filled with
water and an orange. It kept me busy while the guys were getting sampled and medicated.
That afternoon Nurse Jones gave me a small booklet of information so I could
learn more about giving shots to humans, the correct way. Dr. Ransoon checked Bryan's
stitches in front of Myron, so Myron couldn't help but notice them.
"Bryan, what happened?"
"Dr. Mitchell gave them to me the day you were gone."
"Do they hurt?"
"No, it's just a little sore."
Myron seemed a bit offended that Bryan hadn't told him.
* * *
Things went well over the next two weeks. I got better and better at giving shots
and I even got to practice on a life- like doll. I enjoyed learning how to give shots, but I
couldn't figure out why they taught me how. There were plenty of people that could have
done it.
On a Friday near the end of December, I finally found out why.
"Jess, you're finally going to get to put your skills to work for us." Nurse Jones
said, "We're going to be giving Bryan and Myron shots of Mytosquits twice a week, and
then taking half a pint of blood once a week for most of January, starting this week . We
would like to have an adequate supply for a test we're planning in the end of February. It's
a complex surgery and it's going to take both your guys to pull it off. Since we're still in
the planning stages you can't utter a word to Bryan or Myron. They will ask I'm sure, but
you can't tell them anything! If anyone were to find out, if you did tell them, you surely
would be punished --probably in a way similar to Myron's punishment. Do you
understand?" Nurse Jones questioned, sternly.
"Yeah, I get it. You're saying I'll have to give Bryan and Myron shots?!" I
accused.
"Yes, twice a week." Nurse Jones added, comfortably.
"I can't do that!! Their my friends for pete sakes! I can just bearily watch someone
else give them a shot!" I said, completely blown away at the idea of giving them shots.
"You can start out slow. I'm sure the guys won't mind. They're pretty used to it
now." Nurse Jones reassured.
"Is that all they're going to be doing until the surgery?" I asked, beginning to get
used to the idea and looking for positvie aspects already.
"No, next week they're going to be taking bone marrow samples from both of
them."
"How do they do that? Bone marrow is inside your bones isn't it?" I asked.
"It's a quick procedure, takes about an hour. They stick a needle down through
the skin and bone in their hip and draw a small sample out."
"Ouch! That's gotta hurt!"
"They'll be sore, but we'll give them some pain medication to help them feel
better."
"Is that all they'll be doing until the surgery?"
"Probably. We don't want to wear them down. Especially since they're going to
be getting the Mytosquits. Just that drug alone will be hard on their bodies. We're going
to be allowing them an afternoon nap from now on, instead of afternoon testing."
"Hey, Jess! Ready to go to dinner?" Bryan said, striding into the room, Myron
behind him.
"Yeah, I'm coming. Good-bye Nurse Jones. I'll talk to you this afternoon."
"Okay. Have a nice meal!" She said, almost an after thought.
Have a nice meal. How could I do that! She just told me I'd have to give my best
friends shots for a few weeks, with medicine that would wear them down, and then they
were going to be operated on. I played with my food on the plate. I couldn't eat a thing.
I tried to concentrate on something else, but I kept thinking about what was going to
happen.
"Jess, what's wrong? You haven't eaten anything." Bryan asked, concerned.
"Nothing, I just don't like spaghetti." I lied. I loved spaghetti. I always begged my
mom to make it for supper when I was younger. Since I had gotten older, I frequently
made it for the whole family. I had a special recipe given to me by my aunt Becky. It had
a form of garlic as a secret ingredient. Although the cafeteria's spaghetti wasn't bad, I
continued to play with it on my plate.
During free time that day, they wanted to sit in their room and talk. They each
asked me numerous times what was wrong. I felt like I was betraying them by not telling
them.
When we returned to testing that afternoon, Bryan and Myron both went to room
203, the room they most frequently were in. It had two tables, a refrigerator, a lot of
cabinets --both filled with little glass bottles--, a lot of counter space, and drawers of
painful tools. I didn't care for the place myself. I went to room 210, where I had been
earlier that morning. Nurse Jones was ready for me.
"In order to give someone else a shot, you have to know what they're going
through, so roll up your sleeve."
"What?! No way! You aren't touching me with that thing!" I said, watching her
unwrap a sterile package containing a syringe.
"It won't hurt at all. I'm doing this for your benefit, so you'll feel more confident
about giving shots." She said. I began rolling up the sleeve on my left arm. I could
remember having a sore arm after a shot from the immunizations I'd received at school. It
wasn't something I wanted now, for no reason other than to remember what it felt like.
"What's in the shot?" I asked, hoping it was nothing special.
"Just a little bit of water. It won't hurt you. Now, if you can, I want you to watch.
I realize it's harder to watch when it's your arm, but at least try." Was this lady insane?! I
couldn't watch that! She held my arm gently, but firmly with her hand. "Jess, you have to
relax a bit. It will hurt worse if you're tensed up like this. Think about lying on a beach
with the sun shining on your face." I thought about it and I could picture it quite vividly.
It reminded me of the time my family and I had been vacationing in Costa Rica. The
beautiful white sand beach and the sound of the water lapping up on the shore. My mom
had gotten sun poisoning and I ended up getting so sun burned that I couldn't go outside
for over half of our vacation. "All done."
"You are? Oh, no! I forgot to watch! Hey, it didn't hurt!"
"That's all right. I'm glad I got your mind off things. Now I want you to give me a
shot."
"You? Do I have to?"
"Yes. Here's a new syringe. I already have it prepared." Nurse Jones said rolling
up her sleeve. "I've been watching you give the doll shots and you do fine. Just pretend
I'm a doll!" She said, chuckling at the funny thought. She watched my every move very
closely. When I was finished, I was so relieved. "Good job. You did it just perfectly. I
want you to practice preparing shots and giving them to the doll. When Dr. Ransoon
finishes with Bryan and Myron I want you to give them a practice injection before you
leave today."
Now I had something to worry about. What if I screwed up and hit a nerve or
something horrible like that. I practiced very hard, trying to perfect my skill in the limited
time I had. I tried to picture the doll as Bryan or Myron. I couldn't believe how fast the
time had gone when I heard Bryan and Myron enter the room, chatting and joking about
what had gone on in the testing session.
"Good afternoon Bryan, Myron." Nurse said, greeting each individually.
"Dr. Ransoon said you wanted to see us?" Bryan asked politely.
"Yes. As part of a future experiment we're going to be needing some blood from
both of you." She informed them.
"Okay." Bryan said willingly, starting to roll up his sleeve.
"No, no, not now. We're going to be giving you weekly shots of Mytosquits to
increase the level of blood your bodies produce. Then, at the end of the week we'll take a
half-pint and put it in storage, for future use. What I need you for today is for Jess." They
turned and looked at me.
"Surprise, surprise!" I said meekly, already getting nervous.
"Yes, I'm sure it is for them. As you know, she's been working diligently on
learning how to give shots. She's the one who's going to be giving you the Mytosquits
shots. The only problem is she isn't very experienced with real people. She does wonders
for the doll, though. I was wondering if you could let her practice with a shot of water on
you two?"
"Sure. I will." Bryan answered immediately, turning and giving Myron the evil eye
until he said yes, too.
"Good. Thank you so much. Jess appreciates this a lot. Don't you Jess?"
"Yeah." I answered half-heartedly.
"Go start preparing the shots, Jess. You guys can have a seat on the counter and
roll your sleeves up. I'll put the antiseptic on."
I carefully primed the syringes, trying to get all the air out. I glanced over to the
counter they were sitting on, Nurse Jones rubbing the antiseptic on their arms. Why did I
have to do this? I put the syringes on a tray and carried them over to the counter.
Bryan knew I was up tight about the whole thing. "Jess, you can do me first. I
always wanted a pretty girl to give me a shot. I know you'll do great." His confident smile
put me at ease and his gentle eyes looked right through me as I slowly lowered the
plunger.
Bryan was a good patient. He didn't jump at the prick and sat completely still. I
felt more confident after I had given him a shot.
"It didn't hurt a bit. You're pretty good." Bryan complimented.
Myron was a little more nervous, but he was good about it, too.
"I'll clean up and you three can go to supper." Nurse Jones offered.
I felt great! What a rush! My hunger kicked in as my nervous stomach subsided
and I realized I was starving. I ate like a pig at supper. I thanked Bryan and Myron for
being so good about the practice shots.
The next morning at testing I practiced some more on the doll. That afternoon I
had to give Bryan and Myron real Mytosquits shots -a whole fifteen cc's. Nurse Jones
helped me get just the right amount in the syringe. She watched me very carefully as I
pushed the air out of the barrel.
They came in the room talking about something -probably something Dr. Ransoon
had done.
"Okay, guys. Today is the day you will receive your first Mytosquits injection. I
believe Jess's ready for you, so you can have a seat on the counter again." Nurse Jones
said.
"Mytosquits? That sounds familiar. Isn't that the same stuff they used on me
before, so I could give more blood?" Bryan asked.
"Yes, it is. After the study they did on you, after the first surgery, the researchers
feel they have arranged the injections so that you will produce an adequate amount of
blood and not experience so many of the negative effects."
"What study?" Bryan asked.
"The opportunity was available so they did some testing with the drug to see what
kinds of volumes worked the best, and how frequent the dosage needed to be to get the
best results. Your mother signed giving them the okay."
"Oh, that study." Bryan replied solemnly.
"Hey Bryan. Hey, Myron. I'm sorry I have to do this. Nurse has insisted I do it,
otherwise I wouldn't." I said, glaring at Nurse from the corner of my eye. They lifted their
sleeves again and I put the antiseptic on. Nurse Jones stood by me, watching every move
I made with a hawk's eye. I carried the tray back over to the counter and set it next to
Bryan. "All right, who wants to be first?" I asked, hoping Bryan would speak up.
"Me, me! I want to be first!" Bryan said, waving his hand in the air. He made me
laugh."Is it gonna' hurt, Dr. Jess?" Bryan asked in a little boy's voice.
"Nope. It won't hurt a bit!" I assured, not believing a word I had said. I looked at
the syringe and then his arm. There was more fluid in the barrel than yesterday. I hoped it
would be okay. Bryan watched as I jabbed the small needle into his arm. He observed the
fluid going down the barrel, pushed by the plunger, through the tiny needle, into his body.
It bothered me that he watched. I didn't tell him so, though.
Myron was next. He didn't watch. In fact, he shut his eyes. Again he sat still for
me. I don't think I could have done it to someone who was any more afraid than Myron.
"Remember, you don't have to come back this afternoon!" Nurse Jones said, as we
headed for lunch.
"All right! A longer free time!" Myron proclaimed, once in the elevator. I was
hoping what Nurse had told me was wrong about them getting tired from the drug.
She was right. It was one o'clock in the afternoon and Bryan and Myron both said
they were sleepy. So they went to their room and slept until five o'clock.
That's what happened again on Thursday, except that that was the day that they
had blood taken, too. I gave them the shots in the morning and then around one they
were both tired and went to bed. It left me with a lot of time on my hands and it made me
hate giving them the shots.
Most of the time I would go to second floor and help with experiments, or chart
results --anything to keep busy. The researchers actually grew quite fond of me. They
enjoyed the extra help. Then the next week came.
Bryan and Myron were scheduled to have the bone marrow samples taken on
Wednesday. Tuesday they weren't allowed to eat anything after supper. Wednesday
morning they had to take a pill without water. The tests were at eight, right away in the
morning. They didn't seem to be scared, being it was such a minor procedure. It took
about an hour. They had it done at the same time, so they were done at about the same
time.
I ended up eating lunch by myself. The researchers kept them on second floor
until the next day.
I met them at breakfast and they seemed okay. Then I realized it was Thursday,
and that made me eat slower. I had to give them shots again today.
They came in the room normally again, greeting Nurse politely. She always
seemed to be in the vicinity when it came time to give shots.
"Jess, do you have the shots ready?" Nurse Jones asked.
"Yep. All ready." I rubbed the antiseptic on their arms and it already felt like a
routine thing, not like something I had just learned last week.
"Hey, Jess?" Myron asked, unexpectedly.
"What Myron?"
"Can I be first?" He inquired, innocently enough.
"Huh?! You want to be first?!" He nodded in response,"Well, if that's what you
want?" I answered. Then I noticed something. Myron was sitting on the side Bryan
usually sits. I inserted the needle into his arm and instead of closing his eyes, he watched
as I pushed the plunger down steadily. Then I gave Bryan his shot and he didn't watch, he
closed his eyes. "What's going on here?"
"What do you mean?" They asked in unison.
"Come on guys! How dumb do you think I am?"
"What?" They answered, again in unison.
"You can't pull the old 'I'm him and he's me' stuff on me. I know which is which."
I stated confidently.
"Oh, really?" They said, in unison.
"Then who am I?" I think Myron said.
"And who am I?" I think Bryan said.
I thought, for just a moment, about how to tell them apart. It made me realize
how alike they were. I hadn't noticed since the day I first had met them. I could always
tell who Bryan was because he always wore a blue shirt. Myron always wore red. This
time it was different though, because they were both wearing their white shirts and shorts.
Then I figured out how. I would kiss them! Since I had kissed Bryan before he would
probably kiss me longer and be more relaxed. Myron would probably tense up like a
board.
So I tried it. The one I thought had acted like Bryan when I gave the shots, acted
like Myron would have and the other, likewise. "All right! What's the big idea?"
"Can't you tell us apart, Jess?" They said, in unison.
"Nope. I guess not. I give up. Which is which?"
"Try to figure us out one more time. Please?" They begged.
Then I remembered the scar on Bryan's chest. The guy with the scar was Bryan.
It would be a definite. I lifted up the front of 'Myron's' shirt, no scar. Then 'Bryan's' shirt,
no scar again.
"That's impossible!! How can neither of you have a scar?"
"Guess one last time. Please? Just tell us who you think is who." One of them
asked. I figured Myron wouldn't say something like that and so I picked him as being
Bryan.
"Nope! I'm Myron!" He said.
"Bryan?" I inquired cautiously to the other one.
"We fooled you. Didn't we Jess?!" Bryan said.
"You sure did! Where's your scar?"
"Gone! Dr. Ransoon has this little electronic laser and it erases scars. What ever
reason Dr. Mitchell had for giving me those stitches, they're gone now. Isn't it neat!
Myron and I are completely identical again because he erased all of Myron's scars, too!"
Bryan said excitedly.
"I wouldn't have even checked your scar, but it really screwed me up when Myron
asked to have his shot first. I would have never expected it." I replied," We better get
going to dinner, or our food will be cold."
They both agreed and we left for a scrumptious meal of turkey, mashed potatoes,
gravy, a warm finger roll and corn.
Three weekends into the next experiment, Mrs. Douglass came to visit. We were
all glad to see her. She brought some more clothes for Bryan and Myron, and she had
even went to my house and got some clothes for me. I was very thankful. She brought a
big batch of her chocolate-chip cookies for us to share. Home baked goodies tasted so
good after all the cafeteria food we had to eat!
"Mom, how come you haven't visited sooner?" Myron asked her. The question
seemed to make her feel uncomfortable.
"Well, honey, I've been very busy with my job. I've thought about you every single
day. I miss the sounds of you two in the kitchen in the morning, and making supper for
you at night. I try to believe that you're all right. I've wanted to come more often, but
when I think back to the horrid experience we've had here.... I just can't stand to look
myself in the mirror any more, for leaving you here. I've haven't slept a good night's rest
since last summer it seems.
"Dr. Schmied has been sending me updates on you. I get a letter every Monday
morning in the mail. I heard you tried to run away, Bryan. I'm sorry you feel like a
captive here. Try to make the best of it. You'll be coming home in another couple of
weeks." Mrs. Douglass seemed emotionally exhausted by the time she said the last
sentence. She obviously regretted her pressured decision.
She stayed for only a few hours on that afternoon. It was very hard for her to
come- both emotionally and mentally. She mentioned she would write, but she said she
probably wouldn't be visiting again.
Chapter Nine
In the last week of November we were finally informed of the experiment that we
had been preparing for, for over a month. Although when they told us, we weren't at all
prepared for what they had to say. They planned to put Bryan and Myron into surgery
simultaneously, again.
They had observed the physical differences of Bryan and Myron. They found that
Myron was a minute percentage smaller than Bryan, which is common among identical
twins. They wanted to steal a small portion of Bryan's heart, annex it with Myron's heart,
and then observe the reaction of Myron's body to the change. After the hour long lecture
given to Bryan, Myron and me, they asked if we had any questions. I had millions of them
zooming through my mind all at the same time, but they were questions that I felt too
uncomfortable to ask with the guys still in the room.
"When are you going to do it?" was the only question I dared utter.
Their answer was some what of a relief. "Because we have taken so much blood,
we feel that you all need a week to recuperate from the strain that Mytosquits has had on
your bodies. After the physical we did last week, we became aware of this. The drug
seems to have had a larger impact on you, Bryan, for a reason that is unknown to us at
this time. One theory that has been suggested is that the high concentration of it used
when you first came has made you more susceptible to the negative affects of the
Mytosquits. We feel that one week is an adequate amount of rest. During the upcoming
week you may do anything you like, no mischief mind you. You do not have to report for
testing unless we personally come to you and tell you when and where we need you to be.
In exactly seven days you must be present in this room awaiting the surgery that will
commence." The head doctor spoke in facts, not maybe's or if's, about what would
happen.
It was startling to hear what the surgery involved, but I was alleviated by the fact that we
would still have a week to try to accept that the surgery was going to happen.
Bryan hadn't spoken a word since we found out. He looked stunned and
uncomprehending. The reason for such a severe and dangerous surgical experiment was
unfathomable to the three of us. Myron looked awe stricken. He always seemed a little
more jostled about the medical procedures he had faced, while Bryan appeared to be more
angry and betrayed. Bryan could withstand more physical pain than Myron, too. They
both were usually macho about taking the pain, but Myron's fear just seemed to lie closer
to the surface.
We went back to our quarters and tried to forget what we had just been told. The
only good part about it, that we could come up with, would be that it was going to be the
final experiment. There would be no more poking or prodding, sampling or x-raying, or
test tubes. All of that would be over, forever- after this one small obstacle staring us in
the face was finished.
The week was flowing along quickly like a dangerously swift river current pulling
you under, unfeeling as it swallows your suffocating body. Bryan refused to let us talk
about the surgery during the week. When Myron would bring it up, Bryan would get
extremely angry and isolate himself from us, so as not to be reminded of the fate that
awaited them.
Two days before the surgery, my mind could not withstand any more uncertainty.
I sneaked up to third floor after giving Bryan and Myron the lame excuse that I had to go
to the bathroom. I struggled to muster up my confidence as I walked down the long
U-shaped hall. I hadn't been up there since Bryan had finished his punishment. I knocked
timidly at first, but with no response I knocked harder.
"Come in." The unreadable voice boomed. I went through my questions in my
mind as I turned the door knob, so I wouldn't look like a fool. I walked across the long
room and stood next to the large, old, leather chair. "Be seated." He gestured kindly.
"Now, what can I do for you?"
My body stiffened slightly. His power and size scared and intimidated me. "I have
some questions..ab..ab..about th..th..the surgery." I said stumbling over my words.
"Yes, yes, very well, continue." Dr. Schmied answered.
"I was wondering how bad this will hurt them? They've been through a lot, but
this sounds so severe, so permanent, so risky!"
"I understand your concerns, but we will be using some of the best surgeons in the
country. I know they will be completely safe in their hands or I wouldn't have allowed
such a risky procedure to commence."
"Do you have to operate on both of them? Why can't you just connect part of a
donated heart to Myron's heart!" I stopped short. I couldn't believe I was hearing myself
say that out loud. I knew the operation was just as risky for Myron as Bryan.
"Ahhh, do I sense a favoritism towards Bryan? Do you prefer Bryan?" Dr.
Schmied asked curiously.
"Well, no.. I mean yes.. no, that's none of your business!!"
"So you do prefer Bryan over Myron. It must have hurt you badly to see the
punishments he endured. I apologize for any pain I have given you unknowingly. I'm
aware that you were not in the contract, but I felt the reprimand he was given was equal to
the offense."
"What about the contract?!" I turned his words against him, "Didn't it say that you
couldn't perform life threatening procedures?"
"Yes, it did." He pondered silently for a moment.
"Well, isn't open heart surgery life threatening?"
"Not when it is performed by such knowledgeable individuals, such as I have."
"Will this affect Bryan in any bad way?" I inquired boldly, with my secret exposed.
"It may for a while. It may even seem to switch their roles of stronger and weaker,
but we don't know that yet. That is why we must do it, so we can find out." He spoke
calmly and slowly which made me more impatient. There had to be some reason so great
that it could cancel the surgery permanently.
It was hopeless. He had a counter statement for every question I brought up.
"You have to talk to Bryan and Myron before you do this. Answer their
questions, too. They're scared to death. Bryan holds his fear inside, and Myron shows his
on the outside, but they're both terrified. They need to talk to someone at least." I
begged. I felt I had betrayed them, but I knew it was all I could do for them now.
"I will talk to them tomorrow. I was unaware of their fears. Thank you for
bringing it to my attention. Will you please tell them to report to second floor room
two-ten at seven this evening, also. The surgeons would like to do some preparatory tests
to make the procedure go more smoothly."
"But you said they wouldn't have to report for testing any more this week?!"
"Unless I instructed it to be so."
"Oh."
"I will see you in two days. Good bye." He said, formally asking me to leave.
I walked back to the elevator trying to decide how to tell them what I had learned.
After being gone "to the bathroom" for twenty minutes they would never believe my
excuse. I found them playing cards in their room.
"Hey, Jess. What took you so long?" Bryan asked in a concerned voice.
"I went up to third floor and talked to Dr. Schmied." I answered back casually.
"What!" They said simultaneously.
"You went to Dr. Schmied's office!?" Bryan restated.
"I needed to talk to him about your operation." I could sense Bryan becoming
uneasy at the mention of the operation.
"What did he say?" Myron asked curiously, taking advantage of his opportunity to
talk about it.
"He answered my questions and he told me he would like to talk to you tomorrow,
in his office. He also told me to tell you to go to room two-ten at seven, tonight."
"Good one, Jess. Now we have to go get poked on again." Bryan said sincerely,
but I knew it was his fear talking.
"He said it was only so the surgeons could become more familiar with you."
"Yeah, that sounds typical. Well, let's get back to playing cards. We have an hour
yet."
The elevator carried an ominous mood as we rode to second floor. Bryan used his
code- card in the elevator and got off first. He seemed to feel that he had to protect us-
volunteering first for experiments and taking reprimands. We walked to room 210 and
found Nurse Jones and another familiar nurse waiting for us.
"Jess! I'm glad you came. We could use your help. A lot of the staff wanted off
for Thanksgiving tonight. Bryan, Myron, you can sit on the examining table. The first
thing we need to do is get a new blood sample. We want to see how much residue from
the Mytosquits is in your blood. Jess, you can sterilize their arms while I get the supplies
prepared." Nurse Jones said.
Bryan and Myron were as comfortable getting blood taken as getting shots. I
found the iodine and sterilized cotton and set it next to Bryan first. He held his arm out to
me and I held it gently while applying the iodine. I could feel the tension in his muscles
that his face hid so well. His veins protruded slightly on the interior of his arm and I could
see tiny scars near his wrist where he had had so many IV's. I could tell he was watching
my hand stain his skin. When I had finished the simple task, he rested his arm on the table
and looked deep into my eyes as he had done at the stoplight last summer. Again, I was
hypnotized by the depth of his eyes. I broke the trance as Nurse Jones began preparing his
arm. Myron was somewhat relaxed at the moment. He was not afraid and I could tell he
felt safe in my hands. Nurse Jones continued with Myron.
"Next we need to get a few more x-rays from you two."
I had never been to the x-ray room before. It had a large domed room with an
MRI machine in the center of it. I stayed in an adjacent room with a radiation-proof
window and watched them get x-rayed in different positions. They were very patient with
the other nurse and complied with her wishes. It took about an hour for them to get done,
but I watched the whole time. A lot of the positions looked uncomfortable, and I admired
their endurance.
Next we went to room two-oh-five. They were both told to lie on their backs on
the tables. The surgeons appeared to be older and well practiced. They said little to
Bryan and Myron, but talked constantly amongst themselves in medical jargon. They felt
and touched and poked and rubbed on Bryan and Myrons' chests. After an hour of being
rubbed and poked they finally let us go back to our rooms. Bryan and Myron both
complained about the doctors' cold hands.
As before, Bryan entered his stony mood and wanted to go to bed instead of
talking.
The next day, there was an obvious rise in the pre-surgical anxiety. They were
called up to Dr. Schmied's office after breakfast. I was not allowed in the room while they
talked to him. I sat against the wall opposite the door. Every once and awhile I could
hear Dr. Schmied's booming voice. I could hear Bryan or Myron talking too, but only as a
mumble.
After hearing Dr. Schmied talk for a long time, his voice became extremely loud,
he must have been yelling. Then I heard Bryan or Myron yell back. The word I could
depict the clearest was a long yell of 'Guards!!' from Dr. Schmied. It aroused my curiosity
immensely, but I dared not enter the room. A short time later Myron came out, alone. I
had an idea of what had happened but I asked him anyway.
"Bryan started trying to give Dr. Schmied a piece of his mind. He's really scared
that this operation will kill me." Myron confided, "He let's it show through his anger and
hatred for Dr. Schmied, but I heard him saying something about me dieing in his sleep last
night."
"Is he okay? Is he coming to dinner with us?"
"I think he'll be okay. They made him take some pills and then they restrained him
for the rest of the lecture."
"Lecture? I thought he was going to let you guys ask him your concerns?"
"Well, that is if you call him talking and us listening 'asking our concerns'"
We rode silently down the elevator to lunch. It was chicken nuggets and mashed
potatoes. I wasn't hungry. If I would have eaten, I wouldn't have kept it down long. My
mind couldn't grasp the source of Bryan's turmoil- Myron might die. Bryan was so selfless
at times that I couldn't help being selfish for him.
It came slowly to me, but gradually I allowed the thought to enter my mind, as
Bryan had- one or both could die. I contended with my fears and the reassurances that
Dr. Schmied had told me.
While Myron ate, a secretary came to our table and handed a note to me. It said:
Jess and Myron,
Bryan will not be joining you for lunch.
You will see him tomorrow morning,
before the surgery.
-Dr. Schmied
I couldn't believe that he had the nerve and heartlessness to do that to us. Just
when we needed Bryan's strength the most, he took him from us. I read it to Myron, and
Myron was so preoccupied that I don't think the content of the note really sank in.
Myron and I talked for a while, and then we skipped supper together; me because I
wasn't hungry, Myron because he couldn't eat before surgery. They gave him a sleeping
pill at nine o'clock P.M. so he would be able to sleep through the night. He was out like a
light in minutes, but I was in need of the same treatment if I was going to get any sleep,
too.
The next morning they woke us at four-thirty in the morning. The surgery was
scheduled for seven a.m. Myron was excited to see Bryan again. Luckily, they let him
talk with us for a half hour. We started with a group hug. It was very comforting, even
though we all were choking back tears of fear. The doctors kept reassuring us that
everything was going to be fine, then they let us have a few minutes alone.
When Nurse Jones came to get them for pre-ops, Bryan helped lead a disturbed
Myron out of the room. Just as Bryan approached the door I jumped from my seat and
ran to him, catching his arm and pulling him back into the room. "Bryan...." I said
speechlessly.
"Yeah?" He answered with anticipation.
"I love you!" I said, the words lingering on my lips.
"I love you, too." Then he kissed me long, passionately, and romantically.
Nurse Jones hurried him out the door while I was still paralyzed with emotion. I
followed them down the hall to the pre-op room. I didn't care for preoperative measures
any more than they did. They had to lay down on gurneys while the nurses inserted IV's.
Then the surgeons came in and made them take their sterile white shirts off, so they could
draw in the lines they would cut on. It didn't bother me to see them with their shirts off. I
enjoyed seeing their identical firm, shapely chests and rippled abdomens. As the amount
of lines increased I couldn't stand to think that incisions would replace the harmless lines.
Every once and awhile Bryan or Myron would giggle, saying that it tickled. I stood
against the wall and watched every move the surgeons made with a cat's eye.
After the pre-ops, they were wheeled helplessly and already a little drowsy, to the
operating room. It was a long room with a curtain as a temporary wall in the middle. It
gave me the willies to think that part of Bryan's body would pass across the place where
the curtain now hanged, on the way to Myron's unneeding body. They were still
conscious as the electrodes were being placed. The room was filled with two of every
kind of monitor, including two heart and lung machines. I hated the appearance of the
artificial life machines.
As I watched, Bryan and Myron lost their battle for consciousness with the
anesthetic. Then I finally became consciously aware of all the beeps that had been going
on for over half an hour. I stepped out of the room as I noticed the surgeons start to get
ready. I didn't want to watch my best friends be mutilated. I walked slowly down the hall
to the waiting room. Once in the waiting room I sat in the uncomfortable chair and
thought about the kiss Bryan had given me. I relived it over and over again in my mind,
each time the wonderful feeling getting weaker and weaker. I forced myself to stop
thinking about it, so I could savor it again someday.
After I had been waiting, more or less sleeping, for over three hours, Nurse Jones
came in and woke me up. She insisted that I come and help read monitors, because they
hadn't planned enough staff for the operation.
"Which room would you rather be in? Bryan's or Myron's? We need help in
both."
"I don't know. How far into the procedure are they?"
"They've just switched Bryan over to the heart and lung machine, and they're
preparing Myron for the transition. Why don't you come with me to Bryan's room. Then
I can show you how to read two of the monitors." She said deciding for me. I was
content with her decision.
She carefully meandered around the other room occupants and stopped in front of
a simple machine connected to some of the electrodes. She gestured for me to sit on the
stool in front of it.
"This monitor is easy to read, but extremely important to watch. It shows his brain
activity. And this one shows his blood/ oxygen levels." I stared at the meaningless gages
wondering how a little thing stuck to his forehead could provide so much information
when translated by a machine. "The important thing about this one is to be sure his blood/
oxygen level stays at this point. As long as it doesn't go below that line, you won't have to
worry about the other one which shows his brain activity. Once his blood/ oxygen levels
drop, it can starve his brain for oxygen and cause permanent brain damage. Got it?"
"Yeah, but what should I do if they do go below the levels?"
"Get my attention or someone's attention as soon as possible!!" She emphasized
the end of the sentence with importance. She walked away casually, and sat down near
some more complicated machines.
"All right, Jess. This isn't too hard. You can handle this." I thought to myself.
The doctors were very busy and I could see why I had been needed. After becoming
comfortable with reading the gages, I started to glance around just a little and noticed that
I was seated right next to Bryan's head. The huge blue cloth curtain at the nape of his
neck kept me from watching the bloody details and shadowed his face just slightly. The
tube down his throat and the tube under his nose disfigured his face slightly, but not
enough so as to not be able to see his sharp facial features and gently closed eyes. He
looked very peaceful and comfortable, obviously oblivious to the fact that part of his heart
was being permanently removed from his body. He didn't look like he was in pain, and the
anesthetic portrayed a very still, utopian image of sleep.
Everything went just fine. I watched the monitors and gages and they stayed way
above the danger levels. They had already begun annexing part of Bryan's heart to
Myron's. It was a relief knowing that Bryan had made it through the hardest part okay.
One of the resident surgeons began stitching up the complex and deep incisions that had
once only been harmless lines. Most of the other surgeons and nurses were helping with
Myron now, since Bryan had pulled through all right. He remained on the heart and lung
machine after they had finished with Myron. They were both in good condition at the end
of the operation, which had taken almost twelve hours.
The end of the operation- it felt so good to say that, to know that.
The end of the operation- two unblemished, perfect bodies, now scarred
horrifically. That wouldn't be the worst, though, because they could fix the scars with
laser plastic surgery. The end of the operation- two healthy individuals, now at the
beginning of the long process of healing.
It happened while I was watching the stillness of his face and the automatic
breathing pattern of the machine, when I carelessly glanced back at the gage and it was in
the red zone. I couldn't think and all of my breath was gone instantly, not allowing me to
utter a sound. I jumped up frantically and got the attention of the researcher in the room.
Within minutes the serene room bounced with chaos. As more professionals filed in, I was
shooed out of the way.
I waited for what seemed like an eternity in the waiting room. When one of the
researchers came in, I automatically plugged my ears. I knew it could be good news, but
it could also be bad. I didn't want to risk the possibility that it would be bad news, even
though I assumed it would be good.
"Jess," He said, carefully unplugging my ears, "It's okay Jess. I just came in to
give you an update on what's happening. The heart surgeons are working with Bryan
now, and Myron's doing all right."
"How is Bryan?"
"They put him in a drug induced coma to prevent further brain damage. He'll
probably stay like that for a couple of days, until he's stabilized again. It's a good thing
you were watching that gage because if you hadn't, he could be dead."
"You said further brain damage. Does that mean that some brain damage has
already occurred?"
"Yes, some brain damage has occurred, but it isn't severe. We can't tell for sure
how it will affect him, but we think it may slur his speech a little, at the least. We'll have
to wait until he wakes up to find out for sure." Then he left.
After another long period of time, Nurse Jones came in. "Hi, Jess." She said
cautiously, "Are you all right?"
"I think so, but I just won't let myself believe that this nightmare is real."
"Why don't you come with me and take a look at him. He doesn't look any
different than he did during the operation."
I hesitated because I didn't want to believe it. Seeing him would bring the reality
of it to my conscious mind.
"It's okay. Doc says he just needs a little rest to regain his strength. The operation
was harder on his body than we had expected it would be, so he's still on the heart and
lung machine, but that won't be for much longer, I'm sure."
"How's Myron?"
"He's doing fine. They moved him down the hall to the Intensive Care Unit after
closing the incision. Would you like to see Myron?"
"I don't know."
She took my hand and led me down the hall to Myron's room. I stood at the foot
of his bed for a few minutes, then Nurse Jones left the room allowing me privacy. The
first thought that entered my mind was the unmistakable resemblance he had to Bryan.
Maybe this was Bryan, not Myron, whose heart was beating strongly without a machine.
I stared at the bandaged chest and a burst of irrational thoughts came to me. My
anger was trying to tell my hands to reach into Myron's chest, take back the part of
Bryan's heart and return it to its rightful owner. I swallowed my anger and left the room.
Then I slowly headed down the hall towards Bryan's room.
He still carried that peaceful, painless expression on his face, but watching the
mechanical breathing rhythm was scary. I wanted to hold his hand again. It would be
warm and reassuring for me, but his color was very pale so I didn't. My eyes lost control
and heavy, wet, salty tears began to roll down my cheeks. A few fell on his arm and one
fell on his hand. Without thinking I wiped it off with my finger and was appalled to find
his hand was cold.
"Ohmigod!!...Somebody help me! He's dieing!! Help!" I screamed in terror.
Nurse Jones came running down the hall and asked what was wrong.
"He's cold! Don't let him die!! You can't let him die! Use your fancy machines-
save him!" I was crying and yelling out of control. As I was jumping around hysterically
someone injected me with something that made me calm down very quickly, and suddenly
I didn't care about the situation any more.
Chapter Ten
I woke up in the waiting room. I was resting on Nurse Jones' lap, sprawled out on
the couch. I was groggy and unalert when I heard her say quite simply, "Bryan isn't
suffering anymore, Jess."
I was still intoxicated by the drug, so I looked up at her and passed out again.
Then next time I woke up, it was about three hours later, and I was lying in the
waiting room by myself. I could hear people talking in the hall, but they were mumbly and
uncomprehendable. Then I heard someone cry out painfully so I sat up, but I didn't
remember what Nurse Jones had said. I walked into the hall and in silhouette I could see
three people, two of which appeared to be women.
I walked cautiously toward them, while something in my mind told me not to. I
began to feel afraid of walking toward them, as if I knew it was going to hurt me. I forced
myself to continue and finally I could make out Mrs. Hoath's form, with her head leaned
on Nurse Jones' shoulder. I could hear her muffled sobs, and still I continued, unaware of
the source of her sorrow.
"Jess? Is that you?" Mrs. Douglass said, lifting her head suddenly, starring at a
formless shape in the dark hall. "Oh, Jess! Come here! I'm sorry, hunny. I'll miss him,
too." She uttered between sobs. Then it hit me. I cried into her shoulder and she into
mine. We formed a four- legged sob machine. But my tears were different than hers. My
tears were not those of loss, but of anger and disbelief.
"Why did you hurt him? He was fine, then you and your stupid experiments-
WHY?!!" I screamed, breaking my embrace with Mrs. Douglass to direct my anger at
Nurse Jones. She unexpectedly lunged at me and held my arms tightly to my sides.
"Jess, get a hold of yourself. You're all right. Bryan's dead. He's not coming
back!" Her harsh words encouraged my anger and I threw one last physical outburst, and
then relaxed in her safe arms, and let myself cry until I couldn't any more.
I had cried for over an hour before any one spoke. My painful sobs had been
reduced to muffled shuddering, and now to slow deep breaths. Nurse Jones was the one
who spoke, saying, "Jess, I know this is a hard time for you, but I think it would be helpful
if you would view the body. It would help you believe it has happened. It would be good
for you too, Mrs. Douglass."
"I don't know if I'm ready for that yet. I couldn't stand to view my husband until
the day of the wake. It will take me a few more days of mental preparation before that, I
think. Jess, you go ahead though. Nurse is right. I think you're ready for it."
"I don't know. I couldn't go without you, Mrs. Douglass. He probably won't even
look like himself, I...I...just don't think I could do it."
"Jess, I've been through many parished relatives. I think you're ready. You're a
strong girl, and you knew Bryan well. Trust me, you'll probably feel better and move to
the next stage of grief- accepting his death." She said the words gently and with honesty,
so after a short thought, I agreed to go.
I followed her to the elevator and got in. Once the doors were closed she opened
the small door to the control panel, next to the buttons. In it was the wiring for the
elevator and an isolated red elevator button labeled "basement". I shivered at the word- it
meant cold, dank, damp, dark, scary, dead. It was a word I had feared as a little girl
because our old house had an unfinished basement, since it had been built in the early
twentieth century. I stood quietly against the wall of the elevator, awaiting "the
basement".
The doors opened to a nicely finished white hall, with a red exit light dimly lighting
the way. Nurse stepped out first and turned on the incandescent light bulbs, all the way
down the hall. It was a short hall, with only four doors. The first two doors appeared to
be regular offices. Which meant that Bryan was behind one of the other two, near the end
of the hall. Nurse stopped in front of the one that said "MORGUE: Authorized Personnel
Only!"
"This is the place. I think you're ready, because you came with me, but I want to
be sure. Are you ready?"
"Yeah, I think so. I don't really know what to expect. I haven't had any one close
to me die since I was two, when my grandma and grandpa died in a car accident. I don't
remember it though."
"Well, I'll warn you, it's a bit chilly in there because it preserves the bodies, some
of which have been donated to science development. Death is cold and lifeless, and you'll
probably see that in Bryan."
I stood outside the door for a moment while she turned on the light. There was a
mental examining table in the middle of the long room and the bottom of the far wall had
two rows of square stainless steel doors across it, evenly spaced. Out of the corner of my
eye I could see Nurse Jones looking in a file cabinet on the wall, so I walked half way into
the room, letting the examining table stay between me and the wall.
Finding Bryan's file, she walked over to the wall and stuck her key in the handle of
one of the doors in the top middle of the wall. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." I said as I closed my eyes.
I heard something roll along well greased wheels and then come to a stop. Then a
loud zipper noise, and plastic rustling. "It's okay, Jess. Come and take a look."
"No, I can't do this!" I couldn't force my eyelids to open.
"Yes, you can, Jess. I know you. You're a strong girl. Try opening one at a
time." I felt her arms on my shoulders. I forced myself to open them both, but I only
allowed myself to look ahead. Then Nurse moved into my field of vision and told me to
look down at him, very slowly.
I did. I could see the top of his head and the orange plastic bag encasing him. It
was only unzipped to the base of his neck. I watched from this perspective for a moment,
and then I willed myself to step forward, around the examining table. His body was level
with my waist. I stood above him for a short while, beginning to realize how dead and
final, yet peaceful, he looked. "Can I touch him?"
"Yes, very gently though."
I let my hand carefully caress his cool, pale, cheek. I longed for his eyes to open,
so I could stare into the brown softness of them, but his body was cold and rigid. His hair
was a mess. He would have never left it like that if he had woken up. I lightly combed it
into place with my hand, moving it just enough to make it look right. I took one last look
at his face, memorizing every feature, then I kissed my fingers and placed them on his lips.
"I'm ready now." I said as I walked out of the room and waited for Nurse to close
the drawer. We rode silently back to the main floor in the elevator. She had been right. I
did feel better. I felt at peace. I still wished he could be recovering in a room next to
Myron, but some how I felt better.
I found Mrs. Douglass in Myron's recovery room. She wasn't crying any longer;
just sitting there, watching Myron's chest go up and down, as he inhaled and exhaled. "It
feels so good to see Myron breathing." She said, startling me. I had entered the room
silently, so as not to disturb her, and was unaware that she knew of my presence.
"Yes, it does feel good. Underneath the sheet his chest is deformed with stitches,
but at least he's resting comfortably. When will he be waking up?"
"The surgeons were in here to check on him and they seemed to think it would be
very soon." She spoke in fragile, simple phrases as she expressed her thoughts. I knew
she would be unable to tolerate any harsh words, and at the moment I had mixed feelings
for Myron, so I quietly excused myself.
The next day came and Mrs. Douglass decided to return home to start preparing
for Bryan's funeral. I reluctantly decided to accompany her. Bryan had been the reason I
had decided to stay. I had always been angry with Myron any way. He was the cause of
Bryan's pain. Although my mind thought this, I knew it was an irrational thought, so I
suppressed it as often as possible, but it got the best of me when it came to returning
home. I checked in on Myron before leaving, and he was doing better, but still not awake.
The car ride home was long and noiseless. Behind the taxi was a black hurse
carrying Bryan's body to the coroner's office back home. It gave me an eerie feeling. He
should have been riding in the taxi with me. He should not have died.
My parents were glad to see me and gave me a nice welcome home party. I was
tired, so I went to bed and they had to tell the neighbors the party was canceled. I felt
bad, but not really. My emotions had been woren down to a point of numbness. I
couldn't feel anything.
The next day came and went and suddenly it was the day of the wake. I had
helped Mrs. Douglass organize a picture board for display. It was mostly made up of
sports pictures, but it was neat seeing him as a little kid. Mrs. Douglass appreciated the
time to remember and grieve.
At the wake Mrs. Douglass and I took on zombie like appearances and watched
everyone cry; a lot of the high school kids were there. They didn't really understand how
he died except that he had died in an operation. The captains of the local sports teams
expressed their sympathy with a bouquet of flowers in their teams' colors. His football
coach brought his jersey, and gave it to Mrs. Douglass, explaining that they would be
retiring his jersey number.
I slept at Mrs. Douglass's house that night; on the floor, next to her bed. My
family didn't understand. We hadn't experienced a loss like this yet, so Mrs. Douglass was
my comfort.
The next day the funeral was at two o' clock in the afternoon. It was a big funeral.
Myron couldn't be there. He was conscious, but they still hadn't told him that his brother
had died. They felt he wouldn't be able to handle it, and that telling him might be critical
for his recovery. I didn't understand the logic of it, but I did understand that they needed
to keep a close eye on his progress during this crucial time.
In the days after the funeral, I was constantly at Mrs. Hoath's house listening to
stories and looking at pictures, and sorting through his stuff. In his school bag I found a
note. It had my name on it, so I opened it and read it. It said:
Jessica-
How are you? I am fine. The homecoming game is coming up in two weeks. I hope
we win. We usually have a homecoming dance afterward and I was wondering if maybe
you might want to go with me? Tell me if you want to tomorrow at lunch.
Your friend, Bryan
I would treasure it forever.
I cried for a little while, then I slipped it into my pocket, out of sight. How
different things would be if Myron hadn't become ill. We probably would have went to
the dance and had a wonderful time celebrating our football team's homecoming victory,
that the twins would have helped win. If it had happened that way then, we probably
would be planning on attending the End of the Semester Formal Wear dance together. By
the summer we would be deeply in love with each other, scared to spend even one painful
moment apart. He wouldn't be dead. I wouldn't have attended his funeral yesterday, and I
wouldn't be sitting here in his room wondering about the 'what if's.'
Chapter Eleven
A week after the funeral, the M.R.A. called, wanting permission to cover the
scars on Myron's chest. She granted permission quickly and asked when Myron would be
well enough to come home. If it had been my son, I doubt I would have been as kind and
understanding.
We didn't hear from the M.R.A. until almost two weeks later. They called to tell
us that Myron was being released. We took a taxi up to the M.R.A right away in the
morning the next day. We stayed in the waiting room while the doctors went to get him.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw him. He came promptly, wearing the clothes Ginny
had sent him the first week we were there and his hair was combed neatly. He looked just
like Bryan. I rose from my chair and I hugged him very hard. For a moment I even forgot
it was Myron I was hugging instead of Bryan.
The nurse told us that the psychiatrists had told Myron of Bryan's noble death. I
withheld my sarcastic laughter for Myron's sake. Bryan's death wasn't noble, it was
senseless. We left within the hour, beginning our uncomfortable journey home. As we
started down the highway I took one last look at a place I never wanted to see again.
That evening when we arrived home, we took Myron to Bryan's grave. It was hard
to watch Bryan's mirrored image face Bryan's death. We both unconsentingly felt that part
of ourselves were buried with him.
He had a beautiful headstone, given to him by the M.R.A., but that didn't make up
for what they had done to him or Mrs. Douglass. Some of the forms she had signed in
hysterics stated that she could not sue the M.R.A. or even publish any accusations in any
form of speech. She had been trapped in a small box, helpless to the uncaring world.
This is a peice of fiction: the only way to let the truth be known, if you can believe that it
is true.
Mrs. Douglass, I wrote this for you and for Bryan. May noone suffer again what
we have suffered.
The End
Copyright 2003 by Jennifer Mertz
