PALINDROME (14 page)

The phone rang while he was still preparing
himself to call his elderly patient. He answered without looking at
the caller ID. He was expecting the requisite call from the
pharmacy in the basement. “Hi, Stan, closing up?” he asked. Rosen
owned the medical building and its contents, which included his
practice, a physical therapy center, and the pharmacy.

“Sam, why are you still there?” The voice
that came over the line belonged to his wife. Her voice was filled
with rage as it had been for the past two years. She sounded
nothing like the woman he knew and loved. “Sam, I’m packed and
ready to go.”

He thought for a minute, quickly switching
gears. The revelation struck him along with a pounding headache:
the long drive to Seabrook House in Pennsylvania where his son was
an inpatient in the drug rehab center. His half-eaten sandwich was
still sitting on his desk since noon along with a cold cup of
coffee. He drank the remaining cold coffee in one gulp. He checked
his watch before he replied. “I’m sorry, Honey. I’ll be home by
nine-thirty. That’s the best I can do.”

“Nine-thirty! You’ve got to be kidding, Sam,
it’s a six-hour ride. You were supposed to be home an hour
ago.”

“I know,” he said as he massaged his temple.
“I’ve been running behind all day. I’ve still got calls to
return.”

“And your son is back in rehab for the third
time. We’ve been talking about this all week.”

“I know, I know, I’ll get there as soon as I
can.” His wife was falling apart. Their marriage was, too. They had
endured two years of unending misery. At first it was difficult for
them to figure out: the fall-off in Scott’s grades, the missing
money from his bank account, and the elaborate stories he had
concocted to cover the lies, two years in and out of rehab clinics,
and the endless promises that were never kept.

“He’s your son, Sam, and he’s alone in a
rehab clinic in rural Pennsylvania.”

“Stop it, Lenore. I know Scott’s my son, just
as I know Joshua is also my son and Sophia is my daughter. I’ll be
at Seabrook in the morning if I have to drive all night. Meanwhile
the twins are ringing up $120,000 a year at Cornell, and someone
has to pay for it. If you don’t want to wait for me, drive up on
your own, and I’ll meet you at the hotel in the morning.”

That was the end of the conversation. His
wife simply huffed and hung up, the huff representing the scope of
her enormous exasperation. Rosen replaced the phone on the cradle.
At that moment, he noticed a shadow filling the doorway.
What
now?
“Yes, can I help you?” he said in an exhausted voice.

A man stepped in through the doorway. “Robert
Gerkin.” He fumbled in his pocket and slowly withdrew his
credentials. “Internal Revenue Service.”

“Oh Christ!” Rosen said, unable to contain
his outburst.”

“Yeah,” Gerkin said, “I get that a lot. Can I
sit down?”

Rosen gestured to a chair. “Please. How can I
help you, Agent Gerkin?”

“Long day.” Gerkin said. He reached into his
pocket and withdrew a bag of shelled pistachios. “Hope you don’t
mind.” He popped a few in his mouth and began chewing. “I skip a
lot of meals. Sometimes you just can’t wait any longer.”

Rosen pointed at the half-eaten sandwich on
his desk. “I know.”

“Rough business yours and mine. I guess
nothing’s easy these days.”

“So, how can I help you? Am I in some kind of
trouble?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Isn’t this unorthodox? Don’t you people
usually send out a notice or something and give people a chance to
explain their tax returns?”

“Not in cases like these.”

“Cases like what?”

“C’mon, doctor, don’t play games. I don’t
have a lot of respect for people who try to bullshit me.”

“All right, look, whatever it is, just say it
already. I’ve got work to do and—”

“I know. You’ve got to visit your son in
rehab. You see, doctor, we know a lot about you. We know that
you’ve got a son with a serious drug addiction problem and two
other kids whose college bills are costing you every cent you make
and more. So I figure that’s why you’ve turned your medical
practice into a pill mill.”

Sweat appeared on Rosen’s forehead. He
reached for the phone. “I think I’ll call my attorney.”

“Go ahead. In fact, I don’t care if you call
Moses down from Mount Sinai because we’ve got you dead to rights:
tax evasion, prescription fraud, sale and illegal distribution of
controlled substances . . .”

Rosen sank back into his chair. His face
turned a lifeless shade of white.

“That’s it? You’ve got nothing to say?”

“No, not a word.”

“Okay.” Gerkin reached into his jacket pocket
and placed three white plastic bottles on Rosen’s desk. “Pure
oxycodone from a Canadian laboratory—not American-made,
filler-adulterated OxyContin, but pure oxycodone, sometimes called
hillbilly heroin. You know what kids do with this stuff? Well, let
me tell you. They crush it, dissolve it, and inject it when they
can’t score heroin on the street. But you already know that
because, let’s see . . . oh, that’s right, you’re a drug
dealer.”

Rosen sat lifelessly in his chair, watching
his life shrivel up and die before him.

“As we speak, Dr. Rosen, the US Federal
Marshal and the DEA are tearing apart your pharmacy.” He reached
into his jacket pocket and pulled out his handcuffs. “And these,
Dr. Rosen, are for you.”

Twenty-three: Reality

I
guess nothing lasts forever. I was
on the Long Island Railroad riding back home to Suffolk County and
an existence I now had little interest in returning to. My short
vacation in New York City had changed my perspective on life
completely. I was quickly being converted from a Suffolk County
girl to a Manhattanite and loving every minute of it. I had been to
the city many times before but had never felt the love for it I
felt now. Emilio had shown me a side of the cosmopolitan city I
liked and yearned to embrace.

It was a little after noon. The train was
mostly empty. I gazed out the window and watched the city disappear
as we emerged from the tunnel that connected Manhattan with Queens.
As I watched, skyscrapers were replaced by residential homes. I
compiled a list in my head of the things that tied me to my
existence on Long Island and what I would have to give up if I made
the jump to the city. The list was quite short. There was Ax and
Gabi, and the degree I was so close to attaining. I could complete
my degree anywhere, and despite my recent rift with Gabi, I knew we
would be friends forever. Now Ax, that was entirely something else.
The conversation alone would be an ordeal. He had always been Ax
the protector, Ax the wise, and he would challenge the very air I
breathed before he agreed to my new life’s plan.

Of course, Emilio was part and parcel to my
new life. Was it the aura of New York City I liked so much or was
it Emilio? Was Manhattan everything I wanted or was it because I
now saw it through his eyes that made it so overwhelmingly
appealing? And then the big one hit me. I had been Allie for days
and had only changed back to Lexa after I checked out of the hotel.
If there was Emilio, there was no place for Lexa. Emilio knew me
only as Allie, the girl he had met as a result of a legal issue.
Allie and Emilio were a couple. Lexa had no place in the
relationship. So the question was, could I be Allie forever?

The railroad car was air-conditioned, and the
cold air blowing through the vents raised goose bumps on my arms as
I stared out the window. The train was delayed at Jamaica Station.
I whittled away the time watching the chaos outside the Queens
Center Shopping Mall. The store complex was bustling and crowded
but not in the same way as Manhattan—I felt no excitement. The
train finally chugged away from Jamaica Station.

I heard the railroad car door slide open. I
looked up to see Ax walking through the door that connected my car
to the next. I felt my heart accelerate clumsily, skipping beats
and pounding in my chest.

“Ax, what the hell? What are you doing
here?”

He didn’t answer until he was in the seat
next to me. He immediately checked out the other passengers to see
if we had privacy. The crowd looked pretty unassuming: a couple of
seniors and a group of young girls, which I figured were on their
way out to the beach. “I asked you what the hell you’re doing
here.”

“Relax, I never intruded on your
privacy.”

“Bullshit! You followed me the whole
time.”

“Off and on, just enough to keep tabs.” Ax
looked down at my feet. “That was considerate of the lawyer to buy
those for you. They look
pretty
,” he said, teasing me.

“Just on and off, huh? You’re so full of
crap. You watched me the whole time I was in Manhattan.”

“I can’t see through walls. I watched when I
could. Just enough to know that you were safe.”

“You watched us having dinner. You watched
him rubbing my feet? You’ve crossed the line, Ax. I’m an adult.” I
was getting loud. Ax surveyed the railroad car and then put his
finger to his lips, signaling for me to lower my voice. “This is
too much. Maybe we should separate for a while.”

“Calm down, Lexa. Are you Lexa or Allie
today? He tugged my sunglasses down. “Your eyes—” I could see him
studying them. He continued to look without speaking.

“My God, Ax, what are you looking at. You’re
making me uncomfortable.”

Ax sighed as if he was resigning himself to
something unhappy. “Your eyes, Lexa. Your eyes are both hazel. Both
of your eyes are Allie’s now.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in.
“What?” I wasn’t expecting an answer. I dug into my bag and found
my mirror. I gasped as I looked into it. “Oh no.”

“You’re getting sloppy.”

“Give me a break, will you. I have a lot on
my mind.”

“Can you change them?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you wonder why I have to look after
you.”

“Back off!” I focused on my image in the tiny
mirror, concentrating and straining.
Come on. Come on.
I
wanted to scream. “Damn it.”

“Just relax, you’re pumping too much
adrenaline to do anything. Put your sunglasses back on and
relax.”

“Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know. I’m your brother, not a
molecular biologist. Why are we able to do anything we do?”

I filled my lungs with air and blew out,
hoping to find a better perspective. “I don’t need this now.”

“At least both eyes are the same color.” He
chuckled for my benefit.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Have you thought about taking the Chinese
medicine? You really need to find your center. I know it will
help.”

“No, Confucius, I haven’t. Would you stop
pushing that crap on me? Not everyone buys the Zen philosophy.”

“Just trying to help, sis. You’ve been
struggling with this a long time. Your yin and yang are out of
balance.”

“My entire life is out of balance.”

“Is that a clumsy segue to telling me that
you want to move to the city?”

“Would you please stay the hell out my head?
What makes you say that?” I said wondering if something I said had
given it away. Ax was very observant and very strategic. I wasn’t
sure if he picked up on something I said or not. He reached into
his backpack and pulled out a bottle of homebrewed green tea. He
unscrewed the top and offered it to me. “No thanks.”

He took a long swallow and then screwed the
top back on. “It’s not so hard to see. You had a good time with a
man who you obviously like. He’s in the city, so you want to be
there with him. I know our lifestyle leaves a lot to be desired. It
makes sense that you’d want a change, especially now that you’ve
got some money to play with. You’ve been restless for a long
time.”

I turned away from Ax while I thought about
what he had said. We were already past the Hicksville Station and
only about thirty minutes from Central Islip. Ax was a big part of
me. I was still mad at him, but there was no questioning his
motives. “You’ve got to change your MO. This ninja boy, following
me everywhere, and hiding in the shadows routine is too much for
me. I never know if I’m alone or if you’re standing right next to
me. It’s unnerving.”

“Come on, you know when I’m there and when
I’m not.”

“No, I don’t. I can’t tell if you’re around
if you look like someone else. I don’t have a built-in brother
detector.”

“I only follow you when I think you might be
unsafe.”

“You always think I’m in danger. I’m
surprised you don’t follow me into the bathroom.”

“You didn’t complain when that creep was
about to—”

“Enough! I know you saved my ass from that
jerk, Vincent. What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything. I’ll know
when you’re strong enough to be left alone.”

“How about when
I
want to be left
alone?” I said pointedly.

Ax stuffed his green tea bottle back into his
backpack. “Do you need a ride home?”

I shook my head.

“All right then. I get the message.”

The electronic announcement sounded, stating
that the next stop was Deer Park. I was just a few stops from
home.

“You know, Ax, I’m not sure that you do.”

Twenty-four: Batman Returns

Batman
was reliable. His beat-up town
car was parked at the foot of the stairway. He saluted me as I
walked off the railroad car. He took my rolling suitcase at the
foot of the stairs and threw it in the trunk. The trunk was
cavernous. It was a mess, filled with jumper cables, flares, and
God only knew what else. There was an assortment of cartons within,
the tops crossed, flap-over-flap, so that they could easily be
opened and resealed without tape.

“Man, you’ve got a lot of stuff in there,” I
said.