Toxic chemistry, p.3
Toxic Chemistry, page 3
The nutty aroma of chicory and freshly ground coffee beans greeted me each night when I buzzed through the entrance, beckoning me to wake up and change the world. And every night, even on weekends when I didn’t have to come in, I would pour myself a cup and grip the mug in my hands, warming my palms from the cold rush of air blowing through our dusty vents.
I tapped the back of my knuckles against Jacques’s metal door. “Sir?”
“It’s open,” Jacques replied.
I pushed it ajar with a squeak and shuffled across the worn, thin carpet to the empty armchair in front of his desk.
“Please, sit. I don’t have long to discuss this urgent matter with you before our patient arrives.” He set his elbows on his desk and leaned forward.
Behind him was a shelf stacked with books, tools, and one nicked human skull. A dark shadow of dust coated the objects with a thick, powdery film.
“Patient? Is this about the medical marijuana we’re testing?” I dropped down in the chair and leaned forward, matching his posture. The mottled brown leather spread apart at the crease, revealing a rip in the seam. I ran my hand along the tear and pinched it together.
We’d had three new interns in the last several months, all vying for my position. One intern, Miquel, had weaseled his way into our boss’s good graces after he successfully trapped fourteen toads for his latest experiment. I had no such luck. The only test subjects gracing my corner of the laboratory were the bloodsucking mosquitoes that had set me on this new career path.
“No. This is a top-secret project that doesn’t leave this room. In fact, sign.” He peered over the crook of his nose and pushed a folder toward me. “It’s a nondisclosure agreement.”
I reached for the folder and thumbed through the pages, scanning legal terminology I didn’t understand.
“Just sign it. You know it’s all legal jargon that I have to put in there to cover my bases. Nothing more.” He made a steeple with his fingers and pressed them under his chin.
I nodded, plucking the pen from my pocket, and signed my name at the bottom.
“Good. Now then,” he said, reaching across the desk for the folder and stashing it inside a padlocked drawer, “she’ll be here any minute. Her name is Catherine Chatham.”
I nodded again.
“Do you remember when we had that conversation about creating artificial hearts?”
“You mean, when we had whiskey and joked about Frankenstein?”
A wide grin spread across his face. “Precisely,” he said.
“You’re not serious, are you? You actually found someone to volunteer for this?”
“She doesn’t know all of the details, but I’m paying her enough not to question it.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.
“But it’s dangerous,” I said, rubbing the back of my stiff neck.
“She doesn’t know that, and she won’t. You just signed that contract to keep your mouth shut.” His eyes darted to the paper in front of me. “Besides, we aren’t rushing into the big experiment. We’re sending her through plenty of testing first. We’ll induce a night of deep sleep and monitor her through different trials to get a feel for her consciousness. That sort of thing.”
“And when the time comes for the big experiment, we’ll tell her then, right?”
“Of course.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
When I had been younger, I’d had my heart set on becoming a doctor. But after losing my mother to a rare disease, I’d changed my course to working behind the scenes. I wanted to cure illness, not treat it.
“And how did you find her?” I asked.
“She served me at a restaurant not long ago, and, well, I grew quite fond of her. There’s something about her that makes me feel,” he said, tapping his finger on his chin, “alive.”
“Oh. I see.” I felt my cheeks warm.
I didn’t know a thing about women. Since I’d arrived in New Orleans a few years ago, the closest I’d gotten to flirting was when a prostitute chased me down Bourbon Street. Nevertheless, I’d brushed off her advances like a true gentleman. But the thought of losing my virginity just for the sake of losing my virginity weighed heavy on my chest.
At twenty-two, I should have a girlfriend—or at least gotten laid. Countless nights, I fantasized about the way I would take the first woman who captured my attention, and countless nights, I spent my time alone because I buried my head in my work instead of between a pair of silky thighs. I dreamed about lifting her hips to mine while I made love to her on the bed in my apartment. Or sometimes, I would entertain the idea of us rushing through the door, shedding our clothes, and fucking on the floor in a fit of impatient passion.
But these fantasies were just that—fantasies. My research was my wife, and any woman who’d crossed my path didn’t interest me enough to stray. Jacques, on the other hand, had a different woman every evening. When I watched him work his magic with a potential date, even I became enthralled with his charm.
“So, that’s settled then.” Jacques pushed himself from his chair and walked to a nearby cabinet, grabbing a champagne bottle from inside. “To this new adventure that is going to change the world.” He popped the top and poured a glass before handing it to me.
“How exactly are we changing the world with the Heartless Theory?” I took the bottle from his hand and drank from it instead.
“We’re going to make people. Or bring them back to life. They’ll be able to solve their own murders, tell their loved ones about the other side, or who knows?! We’re going to create hearts. Real, live, beating hearts. We’re going to play God.” He set the glass of champagne down without drinking.
I’d never seen Jacques drink or eat anything other than the red wine he sipped at his place. I attributed his slim figure to his vigorous nutritional routine.
“Play God,” I repeated, taking an even bigger gulp of champagne. It bubbled inside my nose before warming my belly. Thoughts of bringing my mother back raced through my brain, nearly choking me with an urgent punch of grief straight to my ribs.
The front door buzzed, interrupting our celebration.
“She’s here.” He adjusted the lapels on his jacket and stepped outside of his office.
I exited the chair and peered through the open blinds covering the glass wall that looked out over the lobby. From my vantage point, I could see who was coming, who was leaving, and who was milling about the coffeepot more than working.
“Catherine! I’m so glad you came. Did you have trouble finding our laboratory?” He swung the door open and swept his hand aside, ushering her through.
“Right next to the colorful city mural, tucked between the used bookstore and the coffee shop in the French Quarter. Your directions were precise. It was easy-peasy, and there’s virtually no traffic around this part of town at this hour,” a petite, dark figure said, stepping from the shadows and walking into the harsh halogen lights hanging overhead.
She wore a baggy, oversize black T-shirt over a pair of skinny jeans. On her thin arms were more bangles and beads than I could count.
A soft gasp escaped my lips as I did a double take.
“Wonderful! Well, let’s get you to the fun stuff. My assistant, Finn, will be working with you tonight.” Jacques laid a hand on the small of her back and pushed her toward his office.
I caught a glimpse of disappointment flash across her face.
“Oh. Will Monsieur St. Germaine not be partaking in whatever this little experiment entails?” Her fingers fluttered to her neck, toying with a locket draped across her collar.
“I’m sorry. I have some urgent business to attend to. But I think you’ll find Finn delightful and easy to work with. He’ll be performing a sleep study on you this evening.” Jacques paused in the doorway, motioning for me.
“Hello. I’m Finn.” I rounded the corner and stuck out my hand before I even came close to her. So, I let my hand hang in the air and awkwardly walked forward.
Her mossy-green eyes shot back and forth, exchanging glances between my boss and me.
“Hi. Pleased to meet you. I’m Catherine,” she said, sticking out her hand and lifting her gaze to mine.
Our palms collided in a clammy clash. She lingered in the handshake a moment too long and didn’t break eye contact. Her lips parted in a crooked smile, disarming me in an instant.
“I’m sorry. I’m not really dressed for bed. I came straight from work. I had no idea I was coming in for the sleep study already. I thought you were just taking my stats tonight.” Her hands reached straight to the messy bun of auburn hair tied on top of her head. Loose tendrils escaped her ponytail holder, softening her high marble cheekbones. She pulled the holder off and shook out her curls. They fell down her shoulders with a limp bounce. “There. Not so messy now.” Her Cajun accent grew heavier. Sultry. Hot and sticky as New Orleans heat.
I picked my jaw up and stammered, “Let’s get you settled.”
Jacques fiddled with his watch, unaware of the chemistry building between us.
“All right. Good luck with the test. Finn, let me know the results first thing tomorrow evening. You can have Peggy prepare a report and leave it on my desk. Catherine, I hate to rush off, but please don’t hesitate to ask Finn if you need anything. We’re here to keep you comfortable. We’ll catch up soon.” Jacques turned on his heels and strode to the door, plucking his hat from the metal coat rack.
Nothing in our office was made from anything other than metal, plastic, glass, stone, or brick—not even the floor. Jacques had worried about fire hazards with all of our explosive chemicals. He’d made sure every piece of furniture and every small fixture didn’t contain a splinter of wood in the material.
“See you tomorrow!” I called out, but he had already shut the door behind him.
“So, about this sleep study. You’re going to be watching me sleep?” she asked with a hint of hesitation in her voice.
“Yes. After I collect a few samples from you.” I headed down the hall, letting her fall in step behind me.
“That’s kind of creepy. I’ve never had anyone watch me sleep before. This isn’t like one of those sleep fetish things, is it? I mean, you can tell me if it is. I don’t mind what people fantasize about as long as I’m asleep and I don’t know about it. Jacques did offer me a very nice check for each trial. Will they be walking in and viewing me? Like I’m a show?”
“Huh?” I paused, turning on my heels toward her.
She scrunched her forehead and itched the tip of her classic nose, bringing my attention to her midface. She had a heart-shaped mouth, complete with the most perfect Cupid’s bow I’d ever seen.
“The sleep fetish pervs. Will they filter inside my room or something while I sleep? They won’t get close enough to touch me, right?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I can promise you this: no one will be in the room, except you and me.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” I turned on my heels again and opened the door at the end of the hallway.
“But first, as I said, I need samples.” I pulled a chair from the corner and set it next to a tall metal cabinet used to store syringes and bloodletting supplies. “Have a seat, please.”
She shuffled toward the chair and dropped down with a plop. It barely squeaked under her weight.
“What are you, a hundred ten pounds?” I asked, pulling out my pen and notepad.
“I beg your pardon! You can’t ask a lady that!” She pulled a loose string from her jeans and wound it around her finger.
“It’s for your medical records. I’m assuming Peggy called you and got all of your details, but I need to know your height and weight, so I can give you the proper dose of this medicine. It will make you tired.” I stood, pen above pad, and waited.
“Oh. Right. Yes. I’m exactly one hundred sixteen pounds. But the last time I weighed myself, I had this chunky sweater on and clunky, oversize heels. So, I’d say your guess of one ten seems about right,” she said.
I worked a calculation in my head while scribbling her details down. Her fragile, thin body wouldn’t need much to knock her out. I decided to ease her into sleep with a melatonin cocktail I’d used to get me through the nights after I moved to the city. The constant noise on the streets below my apartment had kept me up most nights until I grew used to it.
“Would you like a gown?” I asked, setting my notebook and pen down and opening the cabinet. I rifled through the jars and bottles until I found the magic ingredients—melatonin, a little absinthe, and valerian.
“I think I’d prefer to sleep in my own clothes. Thanks.” She tugged her T-shirt down and stared at the cocktail I’d begun to mix.
“That’s a heavy Cajun accent you got there. Where ya from?” I stirred the mixture in a Styrofoam cup and handed it to her.
“My family owns a swamp tour in Lafitte.” She took the cup from my hand and paused. “Is this going to counteract my vitamins? I listed everything I took on the form Peggy had me fill out. It’s mostly basic things like vitamin B12, primrose oil, sage wood, yohimbe … and stuff.” She turned away from me, holding the cup to her lips.
“Everything in that sleep cocktail is natural. You’ll be okay. But don’t blame me if you sprout another eyeball on your left butt cheek. My potion wouldn’t do that. It would be the garden of hogwash that you take.”
“Did you just call my herbal supplements hogwash?”
“I think I did.” I scooped my index finger under my collar and tugged it, letting a rush of air down my sweaty chest.
She threw her head back and swallowed the tonic whole before wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.
“I’ll have you know that hogwash keeps me healthy and sane. For the most part anyway. It’s better than the pharmaceuticals pushed on us at doctor offices and hospitals. I prefer a good dose of sunshine, my herbal teas, and grounding my bare feet into Mother Earth. It’s the best medicine, Dr. Man.”
I returned to the cabinet and fished out the alcohol, a syringe, gauze, and a Band-Aid.
“I’m no doctor, but I’m not saying I believe you either. There’s a lot to be said about modern science and our advancements in health. I’m sure all those herbs have their place. I know some of them do work. We use them in modern medicines today. But I’m a scientist. Show me facts, lab reports, proof. Not some placebo.”
I picked up her arm and tied a tourniquet right above her elbow. Her delicate skin pinched beneath the fabric, instantly blushing.
She shut her eyes tight, gritted her teeth, and breathed harsh breaths through her nose until I eased the needle in the crook of her arm and drew out four vials of blood.
“There’s no such thing as a placebo. It’s us. We are the placebo. Mind over matter, science nerd.”
“Did you just call me a science nerd?”
I secured a cotton ball and bandage across the wound. Her skin returned pale, nearly translucent.
“Payback for calling my vitamins hogwash and for that little stick you just gave me.” She pressed her fingertips to the spot I’d pricked and narrowed her eyes.
“Fair enough. Would you like a lollipop for your troubles?” I teased.
“No. But I would like a pair of headphones if you have them and some soft music. I can’t sleep in silence. I … have excellent hearing. Music will drown out anything, and then you can be a creeper and watch me as I slumber.”
“Wow. Now, I’m a nerd and a creeper. So much for me making a good impression.” I extended my arm and helped her from the chair.
She laughed, pushing herself up. She only reached the tip of my shoulders.
“It’s been a long night at the diner. Rude customers, old men pinching my butt, and barely any tips. I guess I’m feeling a bit defeated and picking on you. I’m sorry if I offended you,” she said.
Her breath smelled sweet, like she’d nibbled a pastry before she arrived. She even had a speck of powdered sugar clinging to her lipstick. Before I knew what I was doing, I reached out and wiped it away with the fleshy part of my thumb.
She stared at me, wide-eyed.
“Sorry. No, you didn’t offend me. I … I was distracted by … you had a crumb on your lip, madam. I should have given you a napkin, but obviously, it’s late, and I’m also a bit defeated. I think I’ll grab some more coffee once I get you settled into bed. This way.” I left the room without letting her respond.
She followed behind me in silence. Her small feet pitter-pattered across the floor as we made our way back up the hall and into a room closer to the lobby. The room was split into two with a glass wall acting as a separator toward the back of the room. Behind that wall was the viewing chamber, complete with a desk, computer, and nothing else. Distractions were an unforgivable offense to Jacques.
But inside the sleeping chamber, Catherine had an old cot with a pile of even older books beside it. The sterile white sheets looked as if they had been freshly laundered and smelled like the same detergent I purchased at the Laundromat below my apartment. I guessed Peggy had known more about this experiment than I did.
“This doesn’t look very cozy.” She waved her hand through the air.
“Hang on,” I said, holding my finger up.
I disappeared back to my desk and returned with my headphones in hand. “Here. They’re my personal ones, so if you drool on them in your sleep, you owe me.”
I handed them to her and walked her over to the bed. She climbed on top and plucked them from my hand. Her icy fingers shook, knocking against mine.
“I don’t drool … I think.” Her teeth chattered.
“I’ll turn the air-conditioning down and set the headphones to play something soothing from my phone. Okay? I don’t want you to worry about anything. Just sleep.” I rolled a machine from the corner and powered it on while she settled beneath the blankets.
“Okay.” She yawned as I began to attach several electrodes to her head and neck.
“I, uh … I need to put two of these over your chest. Can you lift your blouse, please? Or would you like to place them yourself? They go right above the heart.” I pointed to my chest, where I wanted her to place them.
