As always, she leads the way, and I follow her a couple steps behind to the small clinic my parents purchased a couple years back. Nestled in the corner of an elegant brick building, its large windows trimmed in white stand out against the warm brown of the walls.
Mom unlocks the door while I use the remote to open the rolling security shutters.
We step inside. Mom turns on the lights, as it’s still a little dark, given the early hour and the heavy clouds. I take in the familiar sight of our flawless waiting room. A futuristic white glass counter divides the space into two areas, with shelves of meticulously organized dental supplies behind it. A half dozen trendy plastic chairs are arranged along the wall. I straighten and space them out evenly.
As we set up for the day, Mom tells me about her plans with Dad for the weekend. And like every weekend, they’ll go hiking. This time it’ll be a three-hour trek around Lake Annecy. They love legging it in the wilderness, especially in the nature reserve of the Bauges Massif. They tried to get me to share in their passion, but they failed. As soon as I was old enough to say no to my parents, I began to opt out of their weekend plans, especially in winter.
What can I say?I don’t mind communing with nature in the summer. But in the winter, I’d rather read a book or watch a movie than trudge in the snow. The other thing my parents love about hiking is that after they climb a geographic and spiritual height, they reward themselves with the earthliest of things—a delicious meal. They grab a gastronomic dinner in one of the many good restaurants in the area before heading home.
It must’ve been during a hike that they stumbled upon Darrel.
If he hadn’t begged me to hold off, I would’ve mustered the courage by now to ask Mom or Dad about him. But he told me his life depended on menotconfronting my parents. He also offered a handsome reward if I call a man called Adam, whose number he gave me, and explain where to find him. He swore that Adam would get him without denouncing my parents to the police or causing them any harm.
What a load of bull!
It goes without saying that I don’t believe a word of it. I haven’t called Adam, nor do I intend to do so. I’m 99 percent sure he’s manipulating and gaslighting me.
The trouble is the remaining 1 percent.
Because of that reasonable doubt and because Darrel fascinates me the way no one ever has, I keep visiting him.
Over the last week I made four more forays to the basement. I went there in the wee hours of the morning, after checking that my parents were asleep. It was risky, so I didn’t stay long. What I did was empty and refill Darrel’s water bottle. I also smuggled in ham and cheese. He was sick of the pureed vegetables, which were the only food my parents were feeding him.
“They do it because vegetables are good for you,” I told him. “It’s the healthiest diet.”
“They do it because a protein-free diet keeps me weak,” he countered.
The other bootleg thing I got him was a secondhand electric watch. He hid it from my parents by sticking it into a small tear in the mattress between his bed and the wall. The watch shows not only the time but also the date and day of the week. Before I showed up, Darrel had been using my parents’ twice daily visits, and his own sleep-wake and hunger cycles to track the passage of time. It wasn’t a very accurate method, even though his estimate was surprisingly not too far off.
He claimed I saved his sanity by getting him that watch.
After much hesitation, I also ordered the tiny covert camera he’d asked for, and I fixed it high up, in one of the moldy areas of the wall, like he’d instructed me to.
With both of his legs still fractured, Darrel can’t stand up. But he can use his arms now. My parents change his bandages and clothes regularly. They also keep him clean. He looks healthier—and, unfortunately for me, sexier—with every visit.
Mom’s voice yanks me back into the present. “You’re welcome to join us for the hike. It’ll make us happy.”
I decline, as always. “Gaby and I have plans.”
She arches her eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be having plans with Philippe now that you are engaged?”
“He’s on a business trip to Zurich through Monday.”
Mom grins with visible relief. “Oh, Lana didn’t tell me. But good for him! Maybe a promotion coming up.”
Philippe’s mother, Lana, is Mom’s bestie, just as his father Bertrand is Dad’s closest friend. The four of them are beyond delighted with our engagement. The match had been a cherished dream of theirs for as long as I can remember.
Mom retreats to the examination room in the back, and I move to my post behind the counter. At nine sharp, our first patient arrives. A strapping Monsieur Coutet, for a routine checkup and scaling.
After I type his information into the computer, I invite him to have a seat. “Dr. Jezequel will be with you shortly.”
Three minutes later, Mom comes out to greet him and escorts him to the dental chair.
When I join them, the patient’s quiet demeanor has given way to visible discomfort. His eyes keep darting around the room.Scared of the dentist, are we?Call me a weirdo, but I love seeing patients like that. I’m scared of my own shadow, but dentists are the one thing I have never feared, no doubt because of my mother. So, when the eyes of a jacked adult man widen in terror at the sight of the tools in the top drawer, my chest swells with pride.
Mom puts on her gloves. “Don’t worry; we’ll do our best to make sure you’re comfortable.”
For the next half hour, Mom and I work in an efficient, precise, well-oiled routine. She checks and scales Monsieur Coutet’s teeth. I assist her, making sure the tools she needs are in the right place and ready for use, passing them to her and keeping the patient’s mouth dry.
