“It isn’t safe.” His tone no longer concealed his irritation.
“I realize you’re the boss, but I’ve explained several times. The lab rats have all died. You pay me for my expertise. I’m telling you, it’s too soon. It won’t work and it isn’t just a matter of dosage.”
There was another pause. This time, a loud voice on the other end of the line shouted. I couldn’t make out what the other person said, but he seemed angry.
“That isn’t necessary. Don’t do that. I’ll work harder,” Brandon said.
He no longer sounded confident.
“I don’t appreciate threats.” There was a pause. “Another month. Give me that long. Two, maximum. But, the human subjects have to know the possibility that it won’t work. You’ll need to pay them. Waivers and full disclosure. I’ll work on an antidote in case we need to reverse the effects.”
I shifted, and the floor creaked. He stopped talking. I held my breath and didn’t move.
“I know you don’t think that’s important. It’s just a precaution.”
There was more yelling from the phone.
“You don’t have to do that. I won’t let you down.”
The call was over, and something in the bedroom crashed. I was terrified by the violent outburst and needed to get back to the kitchen before I was caught. Taking a breath, I crept away, silent as a mouse. Last time, I’d overheard only the middle and had slunk away. Part of me wished I’d done the same this time. Whatever Brandon was involved in sounded dangerous. Who was this mystery boss? Brandon hadn’t discussed this kind of pressure to succeed before. Perhaps his boss was someone new.
I played with Ember in the kitchen, dragging a toy across the tile floor. Her tail swished, and she pounced. I flicked her mouse away. It was several minutes before Brandon joined us.
“Do you need to bring that cat with you when you stay overnight?” He slammed a cupboard door when he got a glass. Stalking to the fridge, he poured himself some water.
What a grouch. He didn’t need to take it out on my kitten.
“Ember’s a baby. I don’t like to leave her home alone overnight.” We’d talked before. He didn’t allow her inside the bedroom, but at least she was here.
“Everything ok?”
He didn’t look okay. He was flushed and his usual well-groomed hair stood on end, while his forehead glistened as he glanced at his screen with a frown.
“Of course. It was my mom. There was a problem with the delivery of the flooring they chose for their place in Florida.” He set the half-empty glass on the counter. “Let’s watch that movie.”
I let him have the lie because I didn’t want to fight. I wanted tonight to have a different outcome than it had years ago. Last time we’d argued.
We watched TV, but he was no longer present. We sat on opposite ends of the couch, Ember on my lap, with no-man’s-land between us. Brandon didn’t pay attention to the show and shut it off five minutes before the end. I pretended not to notice. When we went to bed, he didn’t touch me. He yawned, kissed the atmosphere near my cheek, and rolled away.
Sleep eluded me and I stared at his white stucco ceiling. This evening had played out the same as last time. While I hadn’t asked about the human trials, and we hadn’t fought about my listening when it was none of my business, nothing else had changed. For a few brief hours, I’d forgotten my extreme loneliness. This was almost as lonely as my life in 2022. I controlled my feelings, not letting them get the best of me.
When I was sure Brandon was sound asleep, I slid out of bed and slunk out of the bedroom. I snuck into the kitchen and tapped in the password on his phone. With my phone, I snapped photos of the numbers that had called him today. There were three. One had called five times. Flipping to his messages, I read everything recent. Four were from me and another couple from his brother. I shouldn’t be snooping, but I did. They’d rescheduled their sacred beer night twice. At least he’d brushed off Christopher, too.
A new message arrived while I held his phone. It included a date and an address in Reno. It matched one caller. I took a picture, then marked it as unread. I would examine them later.
I returned his phone to the counter and slipped into his home office, wincing as the door creaked. My heart pounded as I froze. No sound emerged from the bedroom, so I continued. Anything could be a clue, so I took pictures of everything. I had less success with his laptop than his phone. I couldn’t sign in. My heart lodged in my throat throughout my self-imposed mission, and I listened so hard my ears ached. I didn’t have an excuse if I was caught.
Just before I gave up, I found a thin file in his desk drawer with his company logo. Inside were memos that mentioned results and time intervals before death for several sets of animal trials. I took pictures. When I finished, I tiptoed back through the dark apartment and climbed into bed, hoping my time away had been unnoticed. Eventually, I fell into an exhausted sleep.
The next morning, I acted like nothing was wrong, though he was distant. When he dropped me off at the museum, Ember once more in tow, I kissed him. I held back my tears, hoping it wasn’t the last time I would see him. Five years ago, I wished I’d known that it was the last time. This go around, I feared the outcome, and it wasn’t easier. Other than not fighting, events were about to play out in the exact the same way. How long did I have to prevent the coma and save his life?
His last words were, “Lunch on Thursday. Usual place?”
I nodded and watched his car until it was out of sight. The same final words as before. I’d tormented myself with them a thousand times.
Brandon and I had a standing lunch date twice a week. He’d canceled Tuesday but had made it up with the dinner. We’d been together for two years, but seldom spent more than two lunches, a mid-week dinner, and Saturdays together. How well did I really know him? Not as well as I’d thought. He’d kept me at arm’s length and I hadn’t noticed until now. I’d believed everything was rosy until it had come crashing apart. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
On Thursday, he wasn’t at the usual Mexican restaurant for takeout. He didn’t come and didn’t text. I waited twenty minutes, hoping he’d arrive at the last minute, but he didn’t. When I gave up and ate, my tacos tasted like ash. Despite my hope, it was the same.
