“Oh, jeez,” she sighed, smiling tiredly. “He’s always doing this, ringing the light then going to the bathroom, every five seconds, he’s… well, you’ll see. Anyway, you sure you don’t want a snack or anything?”
Gabriel glanced at her wiry arms and thin waistline. “No, thanks. But you go eat something, Dana. Something iron-rich, preferably, since that will help with your anemia. You’re far too pretty to be starving yourself this way.” Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek, suddenly unsure if it was socially acceptable for him to call out her anemia.
“Um, thanks.” She giggled uncomfortably. “I’ll go do that, Dr. House.”
Dana turned off the call light using the special switch on the wall then left the room. As she stepped into the hallway, the toilet flushed a fourth time. The tap was turned on, then off, then on again. Bernard definitely seemed to have OCD, along with probable Alzheimer’s.
Finally, the bathroom door creaked open. Bernard shuffled into the main room. His awkward gait, as well as his stooped posture, led Gabriel to suspect that the man had osteoporosis. He looked as if he were about to fall any minute, something that would break every bone in his thin, frail body. But he stayed on his feet, as if in stubborn defiance of the laws of gravity. He stopped and gazed at Gabriel.
Evidently, Bernard didn’t wear pants. He was dressed in a pair of pull-ups, slippers, and a white V-neck T-shirt. His pale limbs had long meaty scars that resembled the fat on a piece of marbled beef. His sparse silver hair had that just-rolled-out-of-bed look.
Gabriel stood and cleared his throat. “Hello, Bernard. I’m your new roommate, Gabriel. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
As he walked, Bernard held his arms in front of him, as if grasping an invisible steering wheel. His gaze was blank and unfocused. Gabriel couldn’t tell whether the man was looking at him or at the wall. He never blinked.
“Fruit punch,” Bernard mumbled.
“Pardon?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you the guy with the fruit punch?” Bernard’s expression didn’t change. His eyes didn’t move. He still hadn’t blinked, simply looking at Gabriel with that same vacant expression, occasionally scratching his arms or reaching back to scratch his shoulder blades.
“No, I’m not—”
“Oh. Okay.” Bernard shuffled over to his recliner and pressed his call button. He turned back to Gabriel with that same bland expression. “So who are you?”
“My name is Gabriel. I’m your new roommate.”
“Oh, yeah.” Bernard sounded surprised but not unhappy. “Sure. New roommate. Nice to meet you.”
Gabriel crossed the room and held out his hand. Bernard stared at Gabriel’s open palm for a moment then slowly raised his own hand. He opened his fingers, each digit slowly uncoiling from his palm, then with disconcerting speed, he shook Gabriel’s hand as if he were trying to wrench off his arm.
Bernard released Gabriel’s hand. “Well, welcome aboard, mister!” With no self-consciousness whatsoever, he took off his shirt and threw it in the overflowing hamper. He walked over to his bureau and put on another white V-neck.
Bernard took his laundry hamper out to the hall and dumped it on the floor. Gabriel just stood there, watching, unsure of how to proceed. Bernard then plopped down in his leather recliner, kicked off his slippers, and picked up the TV remote. He turned on a rerun of M*A*S*H and didn’t say another word.
Gabriel walked back to sit at his new desk. He opened the cardboard box, ready to get to work.
“Bernard?” Dana said from the doorway, having been summoned again. “You rang?”
“Fruit punch,” Bernard mumbled.
“Seriously?”
“Yep!”
“Bernard, c’mon. You’ve had like ten fruit punches in the last hour.”
“I don’t know why. My stomach is a bottomless hole.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way, what’s with all those clothes in the hall? Did you just dump them out here?”
“Laundry.”
Gabriel listened to the exchange then resumed his unpacking. First, he got out his graph paper and notebooks. Feeling hot, he started unbuttoning his shirt. He grabbed the bottom button and…
Hmm. Gabriel played with the button a bit, unsure why it wasn’t working properly. It wasn’t coming loose. He tried it a different way. No, it wasn’t working. It wouldn’t fit through the hole. His hands became slippery with sweat. He pushed the button left, right, up, and down. Goddammit, what’s wrong with this thing? How could they design a button-down so ridiculously that you can’t even open it? Idiot designers, idiot button, idiot—
No, it wasn’t the button’s fault. He’d worn the shirt before. He’d unbuttoned the shirt before with no problems whatsoever. Gabriel continued trying to force the little plastic circle out of the hole, perspiration running down his face. No, it wasn’t the button’s fault. It was his fault.
His fault, yes. Because he was the idiot who couldn’t remember how to pop open a goddamn button.
He pushed it, forcefully trying to shove it through the hole. It wouldn’t work. Left. Right. Up. Down. It was insane. He couldn’t believe that he’d lost such an easy ability, so suddenly, with no warning.
His stomach felt queasy. His heart raced faster and faster. There he was, issuing demands and trying to cure a superbug, when he couldn’t even unbutton a damn shirt. Goddammit…
Gabriel stopped and looked down at the button that was torturing him. He forced himself to relax. His heart rate settled back to normal. After a few seconds, Gabriel tried the button again. It popped out of the hole easily.
Gabriel reached into the secret compartment of his briefcase and pulled out the sample of Matthew’s blood. It didn’t look unusual, but that might change once he put it under the lens. He opened a notebook and clicked his pen.
He got to work.
Chapter 17:
Multiplicity
