Sanity - Judy Colella (best motivational books to read txt) 📗

a pen from a cup of them next to the phone. “It stands for deoxyribonucleic acid. DNA.” She wrote this on a small pad sitting nearby, tore off the sheet and handed it across the desk.

He frowned, staring at the word. Why did it bother him so? “Nuclein… nucleotide units…” he murmured, feeling ill. The term was one he’d known since – ah. During one of the most painful series of experiments, between uncontrollable screams, he’d heard the doctors discussing the possible effect on his DNA of the excruciating chemical flowing through his body. It was going to alter the growth and structure of some of those units, they said, the ones that produced new cells and maintained old ones.

None of their efforts, discoveries or theories amazed him. Only the fact that he was somehow staying alive despite the unending agony that left his throat raw, his ribs sore, his body desperately craving a physical amnesia once the suicide-inciting sensations faded.

DNA. Anathema. “And what does this mean for me?”

“I obtained a sample of your DNA from the agency in Washington that’s been holding the evidence from Weatheridge, and compared it with the sample we took two days ago.”

Ah. The nurse with the alarming cotton swab. “And they matched?”

“They did. I won’t apologize for doubting you, but I will say that I’m in awe of your existence.” She smiled for the first time since he’d come in. “You’re a wonder, Max. Unique in all the world. I have to wonder if this youthful state is permanent, though. I requested a copy of the notes left behind that related to you as P-710 hoping to find out more. This could be a major breakthrough in anti-aging research. I’m just sorry it was at your expense.”

He shook his head. “It’s not permanent. That’s what they told me unless, as was their tendency, they lied.” He looked away. “On this subject, however, I don’t think they did.”

“Meaning that at some point, you’ll finally begin to age?”

“Meaning that at any time I could suddenly reacquire all the years kept at bay until that point, and my body will rapidly fall into decrepitude. Death will occur almost immediately once it begins.” A matter of fact. No regret.

“Does this bother you?”

“Not at all. I’ve already lived far too long, and without the benefit of senility to lessen the intensity of my extended time here. I suppose I could have done away with myself before now, but like I told Anna, I’m a stubborn idiot. Not even the ghosts of those doctors deserve that satisfaction.”

She nodded, uncomfortable, he could tell, with his calm pragmatism. And then some other thought made her sit back, biting her lower lip.

“Is there more?” Now, perhaps, that other thing - ?

“Well, you and Anna - ”

Ah, yes. That other thing. “The recordings?”

“Yes. I was captivated by your narrative, the story of your highly implausible life, but then I had to hear, well, you know what I’m talking about, yes?”

He allowed himself a grin, one free of embarrassment. “Yes. It was…a ‘first’ for me, by the way.”

“Really!”

“Of course. Sex with the insane is a dangerous endeavor, unless you’re a doctor who has the help of drugs, restraints and other doctors to keep yourself from physical harm.” His grin had morphed into something almost ugly. “I stayed away from that.”

She allowed herself a brief laugh. “I guess that gives you the longest period of celibacy on record!”

“Hmm. I guess it does. Was there anything else?”

“No. May I tell others about this?”

“Not if it means they’ll want to start more experiments on me. I will destroy myself if that happens.” The calm voice belied the darkening of his eyes. His ghost was hissing again, this time at Dr. Franco.

“Of course not, Max. I meant Dr. Garner, mainly. He needs to know you aren’t mad.”

He stood up, needing to see Anna, to eat lunch, to do anything but continue this. “I never was sure about that, you know. Good day, Dr. Franco. Thank you for doing your research – and I am glad you believe me now.”

She said nothing as he left, unsure, it seemed, how to respond.

*****

Anna had returned the recorder to Dr. Franco earlier that evening. Her reward was being told the truth about Max. This was the first thing she brought up when he went to his room for the night. As usual, she was sitting on the side of his bed, waiting with the light off.

“What did she say?” he asked, removing his shoes. “How much did she tell you?”

“She told me everything you said was true, that they have DNA proof that you’re the same Maxwell Colson who moved into the asylum with his father in 1906, the same one who was committed there with schizo- phrenia in 1911 and given the designation P-710.” She stood up and went to him, looking up into his eyes with pain in her own. “She also told me that you would start to die one day, and when you did, it would be over very quickly.”

He nodded, never intending to deny it, always intending to tell her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Living so long? Being so beautiful? Making me so happy?” She undid his shirt and kissed his strongly muscled chest. “Oh, Max.”

Later, after they’d exhausted themselves with each other, he stroked her hair absently as she lay curled against him. “What do you do, Anna? How do you always have the time to be here?” So far, no personal questions, no personal surrender. It had been thus with her of necessity, but he had a feeling necessity would soon be altering its course.

“I’m a student. My classes are early in the morning, and since I live on campus, I can do what I like with my nights.”

“Where is the school?”

“About six blocks away.”

His habit of rooting himself to one place had prevented exploration of the areas surrounding the hospital. “That close?”

“Yup. My family lives in another state. We don’t really get along, so when I told them I wanted to continue taking classes through the summer, they didn’t object.”

He knew so little about families. His own had been together only briefly, although he imagined it had been a happy one, based on his memories. It saddened him that hers was not. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

“It’s okay, Max. I’m happy enough.”

That spark of instinctive comprehension that enabled her to understand him so very well flared outward with these words and ignited something he’d been trying to keep safely away from emotional fires. He stared at her in the semi-darkness, the blue shades of night turning her features into art on a living canvas. Unable to tear his gaze away, he fought what was rising in his chest, failed, and the tidal wave broke, spilling out through his eyes.

“What is it? Why are you crying?” She raised a hand to brush at the tears with gentle fingers.

“No.” He took her hand, moving it away, and kissed her deeply. There was nothing else for it. She responded and they made love once more, but this time his actions were urgent, almost violent, his mouth never leaving hers until they both had to cry out as the crest of their passion broke simultaneously. As deep echoes in a vast canyon, they recovered in a slow, lingering fade to normal.

Then she looked at him in wonder, at last able to speak. “What – what was that, Max? What just happened?”

Should he tell her? Could he? He answered her with his eyes only. They said, “I fell in love with you, Anna.” Then went silent so his voice could say, “I – I’m not sure.”

He could never tell her, not now. She didn’t need to feel the ache of their inevitable separation any more deeply. Yes, it would hurt her, but not nearly as much as it would if she knew how he felt. Once he admitted to love, she might admit to the same. From that would come the heavier pain, the sorrow he wished to spare her.

Typical of her nature, he was certain, she let it go. “All right. Let’s get some sleep.” She kissed his hand and curled into him once more, pulling up the blanket against the air-conditioner’s arbitrary atmosphere.

VII

“I don’t…my God, Elyse, is this what I think it is?” Dr. Garner looked up from the sheaf of papers before him on the desk. He’d skimmed through them the first time, time needed for his credulity centers to catch up with his eyes. The second time took much longer. “Is this incontrovertible proof that Max really isn’t…no. How is such a thing possible?”

“Oh, come on. You know damn well it’s possible.”

“No, not the science – the timing. How could they have accomplished this so long ago? And so effectively that he’s still alive and – and youthful? I’m practically speechless!”

“Apparently not.” Her tone was dry but not accusatory. “Look, I felt the same way when I got the results. I even asked the lab to run the test again to be sure.”

“They had no idea what it was for, did they?”

“Of course not. Oh, no, Will, don’t even think about it!” She hadn’t missed a sudden calculating look in his eyes. “Max has been through enough!”

Thrusting out his jaw, Garner weighed her words. “Yeah.” He reluctantly acquiesced to her compassion. “I guess he has. Enough for about two lifetimes, give or take a decade.”

“Must have felt like more.”

“I wonder if he ever loved anyone or had any relationships over the years.”

“You never asked him during your therapy sessions?” She was surprised.

“We haven’t gotten that far yet.” He gave her a questioning shrug. “It’d be good for him, though, don’t you think?”

Her glance slid sideways. She shrugged back not answering.

The clock on his desk ticked once, twice…”Elyse, don’t tell me!”

“For God’s sake, Will, what are you thinking! I wouldn’t do that and you damn well know it. No, it’s Anna.”

He sat back, seeming to be shocked at first, but then started to chuckle. “Good for him. Her, too. She’s a really nice kid.”

“And he’s over a hundred years old.” But for some reason, this fact turned unexpectedly amusing, where before it had been a concern. She found herself laughing, Garner’s chuckles expanding to join her level of hilarity.

“Incredible,” said Will when he could talk again. He wiped at his eyes. “I just hope they’re using protection.”

“Well, she might, but I’m not sure he even knows about that.”

Will blew out a long breath. “So now what? He isn’t suffering from any kind of mental illness. Should we release him?”

“Release…where would he go? All he knows is here and the asylum – and that’s about to get demolished by the City.”

“Yeah, I heard. Does he know?”

She wasn’t sure and said so. “Don’t make him leave,” she added. “I don’t think he’d survive.”

Despite all they’d learned about the things Max had endured, neither of them could see him making a new life in this century. They didn’t have to voice their agreement, a nod sufficed from each, settling the matter. Max would stay at The Pavilion until he either asked to move out, or died. No one could ever make up for all he’d