Chapter 5: Figures
I'm expecting Christian back to work this afternoon. He wanted to come in the morning, but I told him I didn't need him until the more complicated facial implant surgery at three o'clock. In fact, I don't want him to come in until the workmen didn't put back up the repaired sign on the wall that symbolises our partnership, which they promised to finish by noon. Not wanting to work in the noise created by the handymen, I find myself parking my car in front of Christian's apartment house building, just like I did every morning for the last week, when I went to see how he was doing. While we're struggling to make our relationship feel a bit warmer, I don't see any real change in his mood yet. He's on his second type of antidepressants, since the first ones, that were also supposed to reduce sex drive, upset his stomach as a quite common side effect. It's at least two weeks before tricyclic antidepressants fully kick the brain's chemical balance into the right direction and he only started taking Celexa two days ago. We were out for that beer I promised him as he attended his first therapy session. It felt like treating him like a child with the reward, but I was hoping it will make him happier. Unfortunately, it happened exactly at the time when he had the stomach upset, so I ended up taking him back home very early and without much having been said between us. I'm hoping this time we will have a better shot at it, since I'm bringing news. I reconciled with Julia last night. I can't punish everybody because of my pride, the children need their mother. She's very humble now, I probably can make her do anything for me for a while. I'm having the crazy thought of bringing her over to Christian's as she managed to cheer him up many times in the past as I look for the spare key for his apartment in my pocket, that I had since he bought this place. I had for the kitchen to put down the croissants and the butter I brought him as I'm not sure he would've bothered going out to fill up his fridge yesterday. I still don't understand when did he get this deep. If me threatening to split up the practice was only the last straw, why didn't I notice anything unusual? Of course, it was hard to notice anything unusual with him, as there always was something up. Then I had my own problems with the car accident and the family. Munching absent-mindedly on my own croissant, I wander into the kitchen to experience the full view of the back side of a Creole naked woman with muscles to spare emptying the coffee filter into the garbage.
"How strong do you take it?" She asked, naturally assuming that the noise of somebody coming in would be made by Christian.
"He hardly ever drinks coffee," I tell her and she turns around, startled, gives a little shriek, and pulls the dish cloths in front of her, just about managing to cover her intimate parts. I know her. Or at least, I saw Dr. Mula a few times on the night I tried to make sure Christian stays with the living, "what are you doing here?" I holler at her, "are you not a doctor to understand that filling somebody's sex addiction is not going to make them less suicidal on the long term?"
"Chris has a sex addiction?" she asks innocently, eyes wide.
"Chris?" I first react to the seldom used, but intimate name she calls Christian, then, "don't you read medical files?"
"I'm an emergency room intern, not a psychiatrist."
"Still, I rephrase the question, you treat a suicide by wandering into their lives for a few hours and leaving?" I confront her.
"What is it exactly you're accusing me of?" She asks confused, but she stops, looking towards the door behind me.
Christian walks in leisurely, barefoot and in his bathrobe, ignoring the fact we are so obviously speaking about him, drying his wet hair with a towel, "buena mañana, mi querida," he kisses her softly, "necesita esta?" He means the towel he has in his hand that he wraps around her waist, giving her better cover from me. He touches under her jaw, leaning close to her for a soft kiss, but I can still see some tongue action briefly, leaving me speechless for a moment.
"What's going on, Christian?" I recover at last, trying to look straight in his eyes as he turns.
"What does it look like?" He takes his arrogant attitude, wasting no time to respond to my comment and I wonder if it's a good sign. He's not talking to me about what really matters, he is even offensive with me, but at least it's how he used to be before his suicide attempt.
"It's maybe better if I talk to you later. I'll come round tonight, after my shift?" Cassidy Mula is finding the situation very awkward and ducks out besides me, picks up her clothes on the way to the bathroom.
I look back at Christian disapprovingly, "this is not the time to be carrying on like…"
"Come on, where's your sense of adventure? Not many times I get to have a woman because he pities me…" He added sarcastically, "besides, she came here."
"Oh, yes, it's never you, it's always the women that throw themselves at you."
"Well," he straightens up, with an allure that I would've mistaken for overconfidence just a couple of weeks ago, but I'm getting more and more convinced that it's an act, an attempt to mainly confuse his own mind with self contradiction, which, to my surprise, usually works with him. He's not hiding well enough behind the self righteous mask yet, but he probably will be able to very soon. Again, it's doubtful, if that's beneficial, or not.
"Why do you want it so badly?" I confront him, "do you have some kind of wish for trouble?"
"I just need to."
"Why!"
"Because I have to," he says angrily, "you really think it's that easy?"
"Talk to me. I'm all ears."
He winces at the thought," there's nothing to talk about. Last thing I need is one of your lectures."
"Okay, you know what? Fine!" I gesticulate angrily as I walk towards the door, having had enough of my conversation with the wall. How much more can a person try and help his friend? I'm damn sure he didn't tell anything the therapist either, "I'll be late from work," I step out on a less angry note, but quite sure that I'm taking my hands off him. He seems to be back to his own self, which spirals out of control once in a while, but there's no need for continuous baby sitting. I have my own problems to worry about. Such as finally finding the tone with Julia and Matt. More likely that I can influence him, give him a good start in life, then I can manipulate Christian. The family is the most important thing for me. What else could be more important, than reproduction? Not biological reproduction, as it stands, but procreation at some level at least. That, along with helping people, like I do at the surgery. Enough responsibilities without having to borrow additional ones, all more important than Christian, I fizz. Who does he think he is, claiming that much of my time? People who don't wanna be helped, can't be helped. I had enough, entirely, completely and definitely enough! I know that's a selfish way to think. But I can't help the way I feel. And I don't want to. How about a little bit of self assertion here?
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It was painfully obvious to all parts involved that we were avoiding each other for a whole week, doing surgeries separately as much as it was possible, interviewing patients independently. Not as if it didn't happen before. It was standard practice between us, that when one of us did something that bothered the other, usually Christian, we simply stayed out of each other's way till feelings settled. Perhaps it was best settling into old ways of functioning. Despite all my trouble and intentions though, I found myself over obsessing about finding out the contents of the medicine cabinet each day. Of course he still had the keys. We had no right and there was no point in taking them away from him, since there were other ways of killing yourself if you really wanted to, but at least checking the drugs helped my own conscience a little. My partner, in the meantime, charming as ever, swept all our female patients off their feet, all wanting their surgery to be performed by him. Found one girl making an appointment just to see him, she didn't want anything done and was very disappointed I interviewed her and wouldn't tell her which bar will Christian be at tonight. It doesn't surprise me, nothing surprises when it comes to his women. His activities could be harmful to the practice again, so, I maybe going to have another word with him. It's even harder now, I have to make sure I don't hurt him too much with my criticism. But what's too much is too much. I decisevely walk towards his office, but I get fazed by the scene on the corridor. Matt and Christian. This is the first time I see them together since I found out the big secret.
"Don't worry about it, I'll sort everything out," I hear Christian. What is it that Matt entrusted him with again, instead of discussing it with me? Usually it would be something I don't agree with. It's not just the fact that they do away with me in the process, but I also don't like Christian's influence on my boy. The impact of his genes will be enough to deal with, thank you very much.
Matt stoops down on the floor, but Christian shouts at him and tosses him out the way, "I said I'll deal with it! Some of this is contaminated! I'll get gloves," he disappears in one of the rooms and I can see several shattered blood samples on the floor.
Matt sees me, and meekly explains, "sorry dad, it's my fault, I came to talk to you, but I managed to handle the door in a way I flung all those out of Christian's hands."
"They were already tested, Sean, we don't need to take blood samples from the patients again," Christian assures me and starts to clear up the mess. Now that I don't feel threatened by the two going behind my back, for the first time I see his shyness in front of the boy, he hardly looks at him as Matt apologises again. He has no idea how he should change his behaviour, now that we all know their real relationship. For a moment I feel sorry for him, I had so much more practice at these things. At first, I didn't know myself if I should change how I behaved towards the boy, but soon I realised, the less change, the better for everyone. Of course, mine isn't the same situation as Christian's. The opposite in fact. Nevertheless, I am completely aware that, despite everything, I'm still better off, with my family behind me. And I intend to keep it that way.
"Something wrong, Matt?" I concentrate on my son. He's already passing me, heading into my office and I'm happy when I can shot the door behind us. Not any other time in the world did it feel so good discussing family matters in private. It's like claiming my son back.
By the time I get through the automatic cue system of the bank, figure out why Matt's student account has been restricted and lift limitations, I realise I'm late from the operation room. It doesn't matter. We are supposed to perform rhinoplasty together. I have to say, missing out on the get washed in for surgery together is part of the plan nowadays.
tbc