The Last Mountain Gorilla(5)
“Beautiful,” Billy said as he gazed out over the valley and watched the sun sink below a distant range of mountains.
Claire made eye contact with her husband and saw his determination rise to a new level. Jenson placed his pipette in a wire rack and walked over to his brother who greeted him with a beaming smile. “It’s beautiful isn’t it, Brian?”
Jenson looked out the window. “Yes,” he said, “it’s beautiful.”
Billy had nothing more to say and appeared satisfied to view the vista.
Jenson turned to Claire. “You see why this is so important?”
Claire didn’t say a word. They’d argued this point for so long that she’d lost her appetite for the fight.
“He’s the reason I go on,” Jenson said.
Here it comes, Claire thought. The evasive conversation.
“Just once,” Jenson said, “I’d like to have a meaningful conversation with him. Just once.”
She bit her lower lip.
“How can I stop when I know I can reverse his condition,” Jenson continued. “I might be the only person on the planet who can help him.”
That was enough for Claire. She’d had his obsession intrude on their lives for too long.
“Do you know what he has that you don’t?” Claire said.
Jenson waited. His face was rippled with tension.
“Freedom,” Claire said. “He’s free to express himself however he chooses. He enjoys every little thing he does.”
“Oh, come on, Claire. Just look at him, he’s—”
“Yes, look at him. He’s the only one in this laboratory who’s appreciating the Arizona sunset. He’s the most caring and sentient person in the building.”
As if on cue Billy added another, “Beautiful.”
Claire sat next to Billy and reached her arm around his shoulder. He leaned into her and smiled as she delicately moved aside loose strands of hair from his drooping eyes.
“What did you need to talk about?” Jenson asked.
Claire sighed. She touched Billy’s face. “I came to tell you that I’ll always be there for him.”
Jenson’s eyebrows rose. “And?”
Claire looked at Jenson straight on. “I’m not sure I can say the same about you.”
Jenson stood motionless.
“I’m thirty-six,” she said. “I love Billy and I’ll always be there for him. But I deserve to have kids of my own. I deserve to have a husband there to help me raise them. I always thought that person was going to be you, but now . . .” Her thought dissipated into the purified laboratory air.
“Oh, come on, Claire. I’m on the threshold of reversing the effects of OTC and you’re threatening to leave me?”
“No,” she said, “I’m not threatening anything. You left me a long time ago. Only your body remains behind.”
“What are you saying then?”
Claire rubbed her temple. “I don’t know, I’m just having a discussion. That’s what husbands and wives do—they discuss their issues and come to resolutions, but you don’t do that. With you everything is black and white. We put everything off until you’re finished with your work. Except you’re never finished with your work.”
“Please don’t,” Jenson said.
Claire wanted to stop, but there was too much history. “You handle me like a test tube, Brian. Only more clinical. You know more about your nude mice than you do me.”
Jenson sighed.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “What color are my eyes?”
She waited. As the silence lingered, she heard a sniffle. She opened her eyes to see tears trickling down her husband’s cheeks.
“I am so sorry, Claire.” He pulled off his latex gloves and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I don’t know how to shut my brain down. Even when I try to get four or five hours of sleep I lay there with my neurons going warp speed. I’ve tried every anti-anxiety, every anti-depressant and they all give me side effects. I can’t afford to have my senses dulled, yet I can’t keep going on like this. I need help. I know it.”
Claire had never seen her husband cry before. Never. It only confirmed the fact that he was losing it. The stress was killing him. She stood and approached him.
Jenson pulled her into a hug. Drops of sorry seeped down his face and she could feel them settle into the base of her neck. He trembled in her arms.
“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered.
Claire didn’t want to let the emotion of the moment skew her plans. She remained quiet.
“Claire?”
“You used to say you needed me,” she said. “All you need now is a molecule and a microscope.”