Resuscitation (14 page)

“Get over it, Cuz. It’s called being human.”

“You’re wise beyond your years, Emily.”

“And I owe a bunch of it to you.”

Up until four years ago when Emily went to college in San Francisco for her nursing degree, Sami spent a lot of time with her. Sami was more of a surrogate mom than cousin. Recently graduated, Emily now lived in a small studio apartment in East San Diego. “You’ve got your choice. Corona Lite. Dos Equis Amber. Or we can uncork a bottle of Cabernet and really get shit-faced.”

“We can also get shit-faced on the beer,” Emily said. “A Dos Equis sounds great.”

Sami popped the caps on a couple of beers and handed one to Emily. “Here’s to my favorite cousin.” They clicked bottles.

“You mean
only
cousin, don’t you?”

They talked for over an hour about nothing in particular. They were three beers into the conversation, both feeling the effects of the alcohol.

“How’s everything going with school?” Emily asked.

“Good question. To be honest, I’m seriously thinking about dropping out.” Sami couldn’t believe what she’d just said.

“But you’ve got nearly two years invested.”

“More like two years
wasted
.”

“For as long as I can remember you’ve dreamt about being a social worker. And now that you’re almost there you want to flush it down the toilet? I don’t get it.”

“I guess investigating homicides was more in my blood than I thought. Maybe I still feel guilty about bailing out. I’m still a little haunted by my stupidity trying to apprehend a serial killer with no backup. Maybe I can’t deal with breaking a promise to my father just before he died. The fucking walls are closing in and I haven’t a clue what to do.”

“Does Al have any idea how you feel?”

“We’ve talked, and I’ve explained the great divide between my idealistic view of social work and the reality. But I never even hinted that I was thinking about dropping out.”

For several minutes, neither uttered a word.

“Have you discussed this with your therapist?” Emily asked.

“Extensively.”

“And what does she say?”

“She always hits the ball back in my court.”

“If you’re really that unhappy, Sami, maybe you should follow your gut.”

“But what the hell would I do, watch soap operas and eat chocolate bonbons?”

“Have you considered going back to police work?” Emily asked.

“It has been on my mind.”

“Then why are you hesitating?”

“Do you have any idea what I’d have to go through to get reinstated? I don’t think they’d welcome me with open arms.”

“Don’t be so humble. You were one hell of a detective.”

“Yes, I was. But the operative word is
was
.”

“Isn’t Al investigating the murder of that girl they found near Mission Bay?”

“He is. Or at least he was. Who knows how long he’s going to be in Rio?”

“Exactly. This would be the perfect time for you to lobby for your old job.”

“It’s just not that simple, Emily. It’s not like asking to be rehired at some discount clothing store. This is a civil service job with lots of red tape and truckloads of bullshit.”

“Well, I’m not going to nag. But I really think you should go for it.”

“I’ll give it some thought.”

Emily swigged the last of the warm beer. “You still okay with me moving in to take care of Aunt Josephine while she recovers?”

Sami, a little teary-eyed, slipped her arm around Emily and gave her a firm hug. “You’re a sweetheart, Cuz, and I truly appreciate the gesture. But I really can’t ask you to do that.”

“Is it Al?”

“Of course not. He’s all for it. But you had your heart set on taking the summer off before searching for a nursing job. How do you possibly expect to unwind if you’re caring for a cranky old lady who just had major surgery? Trust me. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“You’re really stubborn, Cuz. This is something I
want
to do. Honestly. Who would be a better caretaker than your favorite cousin, who just happens to be a nurse?”

“Let me think about it, Emily.”

“Well, don’t think too long. My offer expires at sunrise.”

Julian awoke from his disturbing nap and felt as though he had just revisited his mother’s death. It wasn’t the first time and he suspected it wouldn’t be the last. To this day, he felt haunted by the whole incident, certain that he had indeed revived his mother. But the incident, as traumatic as it was, proved beneficial. Had he not experienced such a life-changing event, he might be in front of a classroom right now, pointing to a chart of the elements, instead of standing on the threshold of a medical discovery that could fulfill his desire for fame and recognition, and change the lives of one hundred million people worldwide suffering from atrial fibrillation.

He could hear Connor mumbling something under his breath. He made his way to the bed. “Did you say something, Connor?”

“I was praying.”

“For salvation?”

“No. Praying that your balls fall off the next time you take a piss. You’re a pathetic pile of dog shit.”

“Those are some pretty harsh words, Connor.” Julian sat on the side of the bed and gently brushed Connor’s hair out of his eyes.

Connor turned his head in a defiant manner, trying to avoid Julian’s touch. “Don’t you
dare
put your hands on me!”

“Please try to understand that I’m doing this because I have no choice.”

“That’s total bullshit and you know it.”

“What would you say if I told you that you had the power to save thousands of lives every year, to literally change the world?”

“I’d say you’ve been watching way too many science fiction movies.”

“It’s true, Connor. You will be instrumental in the treatment and cure of a debilitating medical condition.”

“And how exactly can I do that?”

“Through some of the experiments we’re going to conduct.”

“What kind of experiments?”

“I can’t give you specific details but you’ll find out soon enough.”

“And if I’m not interested in being a lab rat?”

“Sorry. You don’t have that option.”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut and tears leaked out of the corners. “You’re going to fucking kill me, aren’t you?”

“The needs of the many,” Julian said, sounding like an echo in his own ears—did he even believe it? Did he have a choice?—“outweigh the needs of the few.”

Slightly hung over from her evening with Emily, her mind whirling with conflicting thoughts, Sami lay in bed waiting for the Excedrin to kick in. She checked the clock radio and wondered why she hadn’t heard from Al yet. He, needless to say, had his hands full, but she had hoped to hear something by now.

Just as she was about to roll over and hopefully get a little more sleep, her cell phone played “No Ordinary Love,” Al’s exclusive ring.

“You must be a mind reader,” Sami said, sitting upright and swinging her legs to the side of the bed. “Please tell me you have good news about Aleta.”

“It’s not good.” His voice sounded weak and raspy. “She’s been in a coma since the accident and she suffered a massive concussion. Her brain is severely swollen. She’s on a respirator and the only good news is that she has strong brain activity.”

“What are the doctors saying?”

“Only that they’ve done everything they could. Now it’s just a wait-and-see situation.” Al breathed heavily into the phone. “How you holding up? How’s your mom?”

“I’m pretty much a basket case but my mom is doing okay. Her surgery is scheduled for nine tomorrow morning.”

“Send her my love.”

It wasn’t the ideal time, but Sami had to ask. “Can I run something by you, Al?”

“As long as it’s not too heavy. Don’t think I could handle much more.”

Sami gathered her thoughts. “Emily slept over last night and we got to talking about mom’s surgery and recovery. Remember when we talked about her moving in temporarily while my mom recovers? You still okay with that arrangement?”

“Absolutely. It would be good for your mom, good for Emily, fantastic for Angelina, not to mention that it would keep us out of the looney bin.”

“Thanks for being so supportive.”

“Hey, we’re a partnership. Remember?”

“Please call me if anything changes with your sister.”

“And call me after your mom has her surgery.”

“I will.”

She could hear him breathing into the cell phone. “You still there?”

“I don’t think I can deal with this without unraveling. It all seems so surreal. I look at my sister lying in that hospital bed, tubes coming out of everywhere, and I can’t believe it’s her. I can’t believe this is happening. What am I going to do if she…doesn’t make it? How will I function? Aleta is my only living relative. If she dies…”

“I wish I had the answer for you. But all I can tell you is that you have to be strong for
her
. You have to keep the faith for
her
. Otherwise you’re going to self-destruct.”

“Love you,” Al said.

“Love you more.”

Julian tried to focus his attention on Connor and the impending experiments, but found himself too distracted for surgical procedures that required his undivided attention and a rock-steady hand. No matter how hard he tried, he could not free himself from disturbing visions of Genevieve or the events soon to take place with Connor. The internal struggles were beyond anything he could deal with on his own. There had to be a way for him to cleanse his mind and concentrate on the task at hand. There was too much at stake.

Julian walked over to the bed, gave Connor another mild sedative, and walked out the door.

Saint Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church was only a fifteen-minute drive from Julian’s loft. Born and raised Catholic, he, like so many other young people, drifted away from God and his faith when he was a teenager. But through his life experiences, he had learned that he could always find solace in the quiet solitude of church. Faith or not, it was spiritually therapeutic, like salve for the soul.

When Julian walked into the church on this cloudy Saturday afternoon, he expected it to be nearly empty. But surprisingly, he noticed a dozen or so people scattered about. Some knelt in pews desperately praying for God to heal a loved one, others sat quietly, lost in their own misery, and a few stood in line just outside the confession booth.

Confession?

Julian hadn’t been to confession in decades. He always thought it was a silly ritual designed for the truly naïve. How could a priest—a flesh and blood human—forgive your sins by telling you to say ten Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers and blessing you with the sign of the cross? The arrogance of this so-called sacrament bothered Julian even as a child.

As he sat there, trying to sort out his troubling thoughts, something occurred to him. He’d been taught that a priest is bound to secrecy regarding sins revealed to him in sacramental confession. He cannot divulge them directly or indirectly by giving information based on what he learns through confession.

Silly ritual or not, perhaps this was the sanctuary Julian needed to purge his guilt without the risk of consequence. In the shelter of confession, Julian could tell all, without editing or whitewashing the details. And the priest would go to his grave with Julian’s confession. Maybe confession was just what he needed to deal with his troubled conscience. He didn’t care about divine forgiveness; he just needed a sympathetic ear.

Next in line for the confessional, Julian anxiously waited. As much as this exercise violated everything that he believed to be true about religion, God, and the hereafter, Julian felt it was the only possible way for him to continue with his research without distraction.

He glanced at the woman standing behind him. Bent forward, her wrinkled hands clutching rosary beads, a kerchief covering her head, she paid little attention to him.

Guessing that the old woman had a difficult time standing, he asked her if she wanted to go ahead of him.

“Thank you, Honey, but no.” She held up the rosary. “I’d like to finish praying before I go in.”

The door opened on the confession booth and a young man stepped out and headed for the front door. Julian took a couple of steps toward the booth but stopped.