“Would you want to go see a movie?” Ophelia asked sweetly as she swung her eyes back onto Clive.
“I can’t date my patients. You know that!” He said, trying to regain back some of his charismatic charm. He was concerned at what she let slip but he could tell she had already mentally moved on and he wasn’t going to be getting anything else out of her.
After Ophelia got her water, Clive proceeded to the other patient rooms. Every other patient seemed to be taking to the treatment very well and didn’t have any alarming relapses. It was beginning to look like the hospital would be able to offer this sort of treatment to more people suffering from mental illness just as planned. People would be clamoring for the chip when they heard what it was capable of. If Clive had struggled with mental illness himself, he would’ve gladly gotten it.
The rest of the day soared by but he didn’t get any downtime. His lunchtime came and went without a morsel of food. As he neared the end of the day, he figured he should make a call to the technology company manufacturing the chip implants. With the pending mass manufacturing of the chip to larger populations, it wouldn't be good to have a poor relationship with the manufacturers. Whatever had happened with the nurse earlier in the morning seemed odd to him and he wanted to get to the bottom of the situation.
Miraculously, he made it to his office with no detours or nurses stopping him to demand that he deal with their issue first. He shut the door behind him and was greeted by the smell of cinnamon and cloves. Sitting in his chair was Tonya.
“Clive, you’re right on time.” Her voice was dark and velvety. Nothing she said ever sounded like it was full of good intentions.
“Of course. People are waiting on me.” His eyes flickered over the parts of her that were visible. Shoulder pads. A silky curtain of straight black hair. Eyes the color of the river of Styx. Tanned skin. Elegant, perfectly shaped brows. A long pointed nose over lips painted red. Those lips curved into a knowing smile and she stood to loop her way around the desk. As she rounded the sharp corner, she took his breath away with how beautiful she was. This was a path he kept going down.
“Of course. You’re their savior.”
The use of the word “savior” made the Catholic part of him cringe. Saying it out loud made him have to face the fact that he thought he was doing far more good in the world than the Lord.
“God has gifted me in this area. People are happy for the first time in years.”
“Which God?” She cooed as her arms wrapped themselves around his neck.
She untied his mask and leaned over to sit it in a wooden chair in the corner of the room. He liked when she spoke about things he didn’t agree with. It felt forbidden. He also felt alive when with her.
***
Clive tried to regain enough focus to make the call to the microchip manufacturers. After his encounter with Tonya, he was distracted and not in the mood to work. He placed his thumb over the home button and the screen flashed to life with an audible “click”. His long, skilled fingers navigated through the device until he found the main line for Sherwood Servers.
“Theresa Clark, how may I direct your call?”
Sherwood Servers always surprised Clive with their personal touch to doing business. While most advanced technology companies were moving to 100% automation, Owen Sherwood’s company legacy continued to employ live humans to handle day-to-day operations.
“Hello, Theresa.” Clive responded warmly, a smile accompanying his phone voice. “This is Dr. Clive Evers…I…”
“Oh, wonderful! It’s an honor, Doctor.” Her tone went from sounding slightly bored to absolutely glowing in a matter of seconds.
“Thank you.” He was most comfortable listening to people sing his praises. He had worked hard to reach this point in his life and it encouraged him that he was doing well. “You’re too kind. Truly.”
“What can I help you with, Dr. Evers?”
Clive explained the situation to Theresa and requested to speak with whoever had visited the hospital. “So, we think there might be a mix-up.”
“Oh no.” She breathed. There was a significant pause then she said, “Can I do some digging and reach back out to you? Currently, none of our sales or delivery staff are in the office. They are finishing up for the day so I will need to call them.”
“Certainly.” Clive sounded kind but he was put out by the delay. “If I had called earlier.” The image of Tonya flashed into his mind and he ran his left hand through his hair as if to erase the thought from his mind. “Thank you for all your help.”
“Of course, Doctor. Have a great day!”
“You as well.” Clive ended the call and then felt the heaviness of his thoughts rest over him like a weighted blanket. He knew he would have to go to confession before heading home.
To finish out the day, he completed some dictation notes and by 6 pm he was mentally tapped out. He then locked up his office, did pass-on for the night shift doctor, then left the hospital in his fully charged car.
Not too far from the hospital was the Immaculate Heart Cathedral. Dr. Clive Evers attended most Sundays, tithed once a month, and regularly went to confession. Being a good Catholic was a full-time job but it was all that he knew. In such an uncertain world, Catholicism was certain. His faith was the only thing that was beautiful and perfect consistently.
Taking a deep maskless breath as he walked into the sanctuary, he felt the prick of tears beginning when he looked at Mother Mary in her stained-glass form bowing at the feet of an angel. A few sisters sat scattered throughout the pews. What was lovely is that the Catholic Church just accepted whoever you were, which took away some of the pressure to appear virtuous by always wearing a mask.
Each step he made down the aisle echoed eerily yet nobody turned around to look since they were deep in prayer. The confessional stood off-set from the pulpit looking ominous in the semi-darkness. As Clive wrapped his fingers around the door handle it felt cool to the touch and he could almost taste the metal at the back of his throat. That was possibly just his schoolboy nerves coming back to haunt him.
As the door clicked behind him, he said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was a week ago today.” As he listed each sin, the shame disappeared. “Thank you, Father.” Clive finished. Barely perceptible, the figure on the other side of the confessional seemed to shift slightly in acknowledgment.
A self-satisfied smile blossomed across his face as he left the confessional. It was a wonder to him why everybody didn’t convert to Catholicism. There was so much beauty in the grace and forgiveness that permeated his beliefs.
On the drive home, the exhaustion tugged at the corner of his eyes tempting him to close them. This was the first night in a week that he had time in the evening, which was a relief since he was so tired. Most of his drive kept him alert because of traffic and the bright lights of downtown Kimber. It was truly magnificent as you drove through tunnels well-lit with LEDs and quickly rose over a bridge that was level with skyscrapers and perfect rows of maple trees lining quaint city streets.
The second half of the drive is when he tended to get distracted after a long day. Once off the main highway, each street that passed by organized subdivisions looked nearly identical to one another. His home was down a road called Dermont Lane which only had a couple of large Craftsmen style homes and a long gravel driveway leading to Dr. Evers’ farmhouse-style home. Behind it was two acres of apple orchards. He parked his car in the two-car garage and unlocked the door leading from the garage to the kitchen. The light over the range was on as well as a lamp in the corner of the living room. Sitting on the counter next to the sink was Mayre. Her legs were crossed and her torso leaned forward to peer into his face with pursed lips.
“Hello, honey.” He whispered.
CHAPTER TWO
SOMETIMES THE SCREAMING in Pat Sherwood’s mind stopped long enough for him to feel human again. These were moments he treasured like a perfect cup of coffee or a stimulating conversation, which were also rare because the coffee at work tasted like muddy water filtered through a bag of pennies, and the people he worked with were about as socially adept as logs. Pat did not always have a low opinion of his peers or work environment, but something had changed in him since he took over Sherwood Servers at nineteen years old. This was the same year in which he had become a widower.
On this particular day mid-autumn, Pat was feeling very human. He had no idea how long this feeling would last and he did not want to try to guess. He was afraid that if he thought too much about it, the screaming would start again. Or worse; that he would see his wife.
He untangled himself from the layers of blankets and the copper frame king-sized bed squeaked as all 120 pounds of him left the mattress and landed barefoot on the cherry wood floors. He couldn’t figure out why this type of cold flooring was in style now.
“The point of being technologically advanced is to keep advancing and not go backward.” Pat muttered to himself as his feet padded to the on-suite master bathroom.
Even more rustic decor peppered this room. The vanity was covered in white paint that had been sanded to appear as though it was much older. The round mirrors were framed with plastic but spray-painted gold to appear more ornate than they were. The sink basins were copper to match the bed frame. The intentionally distressed pieces were supposed to mesh with the modern walk-in shower, top-of-the-line toilet, and perfectly sealed second-floor windows but to Pat, it seemed like society was trying too hard to appear like salt of the earth without callouses to show for it.
