The Perfect Clone (3 page)

“My dad’s party is tonight. I wanted to make sure you were still coming.”

Only God, if there was one, knew how much she missed her husband during times like these. With his good looks, honest laugh, and knack for conversation, Cliff had been the boy next door. He’d been the life of any gathering, whether social or professional. He’d always gently held her arm in the crook of his elbow and led her through the niceties. In turn, she had always dressed impeccably, smiled warmly, commenting when appropriate, and gently squeezing his arm when she’d had her fill and wanted to leave. He had definitely made up for her lack of social graces. Without Cliff, she felt like a rabbit in the wolf’s den whenever she had to attend events. Her father’s party was no exception.

Roger was a good friend. He’d been so supportive after the accident. Immediately after she’d left the hospital, Roger had moved into her guest room. Having been Cliff’s best friend since high school, and the best man at their wedding, he’d also grieved. Roger had been her rock during the most horrible time of her life. He had been there for her, to lend his shoulder, wipe her tears, and share stories.

He had watched the same home movies over and over again. Not once had he complained about it. She’d spent three weeks in emotional shut down, while struggling to physically recover, until Roger had finally had enough. He’d insisted that she rejoin the world of the living.

Even though they had always been good friends, it wasn’t until Cliff’s death that Roger had truly become the brother she’d never had. He was a friend she hoped never to loose.

Two months after Roger had moved in to help her, he had moved back out. Their friendship had continued to blossom. She couldn’t imagine what she would have become, in all her despair, if not for his gentle insistence and care.

Recognizing the look in Laura’s eyes, Roger knew his friend was slipping into the past. He removed his glasses, wiped them on his coat, and then with a cocked eyebrow replied, “I don’t think that I’ll be able to attend this party, unless of course, there are large quantities of food involved. I am starving!”

Laura laughed, thankful for Roger’s dry humor. “I think I can manage some nourishment.”

Roger put his glasses in his coat pocket. “Well, in that case, let me finish up here and I’ll meet you at your dad’s place.”

Laura breathed a sigh of relief. Their friendship was a tightrope that she kept expecting to fall off of. He was unaware of the secrets that she’d kept hidden from him all these years, but she couldn’t think about that now. “Thanks Roger, I owe you.” With a quick hug, Laura grabbed the elevator and headed to the parking garage.

Hitting the unlock button on her key ring, Laura looked at her aging car and felt the emptiness enter her heart again. Cliff had purchased the red Volvo shortly after their wedding, insisting that safety was of the utmost importance. If only they had been driving it instead of their other car, maybe he’d still be alive.

The flickering lights buzzed overhead, expressing their desire to rest. Laura looked up at them, feeling the same way. She could definitely use a few nights of undisturbed sleep.

The countless hours dedicated to fulfilling her passion, combined with the sleepless nights caused by her nightmares, were beginning to take their toll. When her private project was complete, she’d get plenty of sleep, or at least enough. Until then, she’d continue to push forward.

For now though, she would focus on the present. There was a party to attend.

Chapter 3

Dr. Hamstein was at the top of his game. When it came to artificial insemination, he was the man to know and he didn’t make any bones about his vast knowledge.

He’d spent a large amount of his adult life dedicated to knowing everything there was to know about in vitro fertilization.

In the lamented hearts and souls of those that sought his medicinal touch, Dr. Hamstein was considered a god. He was professionally successful at making life obtainable, at times when nature attempted to thwart it. Sure, he was abrasive and unyielding with his staff, direct and thorough with his patients, but anything less than excellence was intolerable.

With the highly qualified staff working under his direction, Dr. Hamstein was accountable for over 138 improbable human inceptions which carried to full term and delivery. That number did not include what
he
considered to be normal inceptions.

He had also been on the advisory board which had made the conception of animal embryonic clones a reality. His various successes and research had been published in several medical journals, and he had appeared as guest speaker at too many medical conferences to mention. The only professional accomplishment he had yet to realize was the Nobel Peace Prize, although he’d been nominated several times.

Clapping his gloved hands together, the doctor announced, “That’s it ladies and gentlemen. I expect we’ll receive a call within a few months from this patient thanking us for making the improbable, possible.” 

Dr. Hamstein removed the blue surgical gown followed by mask and gloves, disposing of them in the appropriate red biohazard basket. Dictating to the head nurse his strategy for the patient’s recovery, he watched the remaining staff begin the tedious task of cleaning up and preparing the patient for transfer. Appreciatively thanking the team for another smooth procedure, the doctor quietly exited the room while the others solemnly continued with their duties.

Like all the other procedures before, this one too was of utmost importance, not only to his patient but to him as well. Dr. Hamstein took the construction of life very seriously and knew that he was the last ray of hope for many people. Possessing the power to erase a childless woman’s distress was a feat not to be taken frivolously. He had accepted his severe responsibility decades ago and would never go easy or demand less than everything from his staff—or himself.

Knowledge, perfection, insight: three of his favorite words.

Thankfully, the immense knowledge he possessed, had largely reduced the number of his unethical experiences to just three. It was those three that drove him to continually strive to remain on the cutting edge of his profession. The decision to handle those cases in the manner in which he had, originated from his own personal brush with defeat.

He had also attempted to have children of his own and failed miserably. He’d be damned if any patient left his care with unanswered prayers. There was a solution to every problem whether morally satisfactory or not. Personal ethical analysis was of no consequence to him as long as his patients received the desired results and consented to the techniques.

After checking in with his assistant to confirm that business was finished for the day, Igor left instructions to hold all calls. He did not wish to be disturbed. There was a personal matter that needed his attention.

Entering his private office, the doctor locked the door. The furnishings in the expansive space had cost a mere fortune, but then again the entire building had. His success rate was not a secret. As a result, clients were more than eager to pay top dollar for his services. Money, however, had become non-consequential. All the fortune and luxuries in the universe could not bring back his beloved Mary.

Needing time to clear his head before making the tedious drive to his empty house, Igor grabbed a bottle of Scotch and a crystal glass from his desk drawer. After tossing in a few ice cubes from the mini-fridge, he quickly downed the liquid and poured another round. This time however, he took a moment to admire the amber liquid as it swirled in the glass. Mary’s eyes had been amber.

Striding over to the large bookshelf which housed his precious collection of medical and personal books, he delicately allowed his fingers to glide over their spines until they stopped on a small edition of poetry. Mary’s favorite.

Igor allowed himself to fall into an oversized leather chair. Gently turning the worn pages until he reached his destination, he removed a folded sheet of aging paper that had been tucked inside. Carefully, so as not to damage it, Igor opened the last note Mary had written to him. Staring at words that he’d committed to memory long ago, unrestricted tears slid down his cheeks as thoughts of the past consumed him.

****************

The two had started dating their junior year of high school and quickly realized that their souls were bound by destiny. An indescribable need to remain together influenced them to attend the same university.

Shortly after receiving their much desired diplomas, and with the blessing of both families, they had married in a simple ceremony at a local bed and breakfast.

Immediately afterwards, they had sent their medical school applications out, wishing beyond reasonable hope that they could both attend the same school. They also realized that the probabilities of that happening were slim.

During the honeymoon, Mary had made Igor promise that if he was accepted without her, he’d go. She wasn’t beyond opening a day care if necessary, as long as they were together. Their union was more important to her than any career path she’d chosen. He‘d promised, but knew deep in his soul that as long as he lived, he could never bear to spend a night away from her. They were inseparable. The day care didn’t happen. They were both accepted into the same school. The wheels of fate were set into motion.

Mary’s undying love for children, added to the kind and gentle touch she possessed, directed her into the field of pediatrics.

Following in his father’s footsteps, Igor had chosen neurosurgery.

After completing their residencies, they purchased a beautiful colonial brick home with plenty of room to raise children. Mary had fallen in love with the house immediately; claiming that the large fenced-in backyard would be perfect for outdoor birthday parties when they had kids. Every decision Mary made, was based around having children. Even their SUV had been purchased with children in mind. Wanting to give her all the happiness in the world, Igor agreed to begin a family as soon as their individual practices were firmly established.

The three years it took for each of them to feel satisfied that they had built reliable practices, gave them the time they needed to solidify their marriage and their routines. They were ready to start having kids.

What an amazing time they had trying. Time away from work was filled with afternoon rendezvous, sensual love making in the pool, double showers, and romantic trips to their cabin on the lake. It all just confirmed and reestablished their love for one another.

Soon though, it all began to change. Lovemaking became a desperate plea. No matter how hard or often they tried, month after month the tears came. Disappointment turned their bed into an arena of desperation and lost dreams. 

A year later, they sought the help of a well-known fertility doctor. Two more years and countless procedures and pills later, Mary became engulfed with depression. She began to second guess everything she did. ‘Maybe she was eating the wrong foods’ or ‘walked up the steps too quickly.’ ‘Maybe she worked too many hours.’ She questioned everything.

Igor suggested adoption, but for Mary, it was not an option. Mary longed for…scratch that…needed to feel a life growing within her own womb. She wanted to experience the pain and joy of child birth for herself.

After years of angst, Mary was no longer able to bear the heartache of caring for other people’s children. Despair and anguish grabbed her by the horns, dragging her into the depths of secluded sorrow. Convincing herself that self-induced bed rest would help, Mary sold her practice and spent countless days asking the heavens what she’d done to deserve such punishment. Days turned into endless nights as tears stained her pillows.

Igor took his wife to therapists, self-help clinics, support groups, but nothing could snap her out of the deep hole she had buried herself in. She eventually asked him to move into another room. He’d done so, hoping the privacy would help her come to terms with their situation.

As the clinical depression intensified, the once vivacious woman became a hollow shell, paralyzed by misery.

It was decided that Donna, Mary’s sister, should come stay with her when Igor was at work. The two were afraid to leave Mary alone, knowing that she wouldn’t eat if someone didn’t coax her. Her weight was dropping. Her body was frail. Mary had given up on life.

Always sleeping, or just lying in bed staring into the distance, Mary refused to talk to anyone. Donna tried amusing her with pop culture and world news during the day, while Igor read poetry to her at night before retiring to his room. Not once did Mary respond.

One afternoon, as Donna was in the middle of a political tangent, Mary slowly turned her head and actually looked at the woman beside her. With a weak voice, a simple request was made, “I think I’d like a bath now.” The request was barely a whisper but it got her sister’s full attention.

Donna jumped up from the bedside recliner and knelt down next to the bed. “Yes, let’s get you a bath.”

Excited that Mary had broken the extended silence, Donna was ready to give her sister anything she wanted.

After filling the tub with warm water, Donna helped her sister out of bed. Together they made the slow trek into the bathroom, neither of them saying a word. While helping her undress and positioning her in the tub, Donna excitedly broke the silence, “Can I get you a warm cup of tea?”

Mary’s attempt at a smile was unsuccessful. “No. You’ve done so much already. But there is one favor I’d like to ask.”