Outlier, Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Get your hands off him.
Reid had started the day being of two minds. One mind was determined never to see Luke Snyder again. No more hair, no more eyes, no more dream fodder. No more existential crisis. This unwanted mental renovation project had gone on long enough - he was done with disruptions and escalating costs and bits of psychic plaster falling into his food. He was sick of workers going through his stuff and cavalierly demolishing load-bearing walls. He was more than ready to fire the contractor he hadn’t remembered hiring (he’d named him Norm). Reid wanted his life back. He wanted everything restored to its rightful place.
Reid’s other mind was currently in control. From its command center located somewhere in the hindbrain, it orchestrated operations in pursuit of a single goal: to see Luke Snyder. To find him, be near him again, within harmonic distance. To banish the memory of a hurt Luke from the hallway, a distant Luke from the board meeting, and a wrong Luke from the previous night’s dream. It was this mind that had directed Reid’s lower motor neurons to move his body in the most likely Luke-direction. Which explained why Reid was now standing outside Noah’s hospital room. During visiting hours.
And it was why Reid was watching them through the blinds - Noah sitting up in bed, Luke beside him in a chair pulled close. They were laughing, leaning into each other, their foreheads touching - close enough for breath to land on open lips. This mind wouldn’t let Reid pull back, refused to give him permission to close his eyes. It forced him to watch a still smiling Noah lift his hand to the back of Luke’s neck.
Get your hands off him.
This, it let Reid think. Or scream, as it was presently the only thought filling his skull and ricocheting around his brain case like a volley of ball bearings. Reid was effectively paralyzed, his vision throbbing as the pressure in his head strained blood vessels to their biomechanical limits.
Then Luke began to turn his head.
Immediately, Reid was released; he spun to one side of the blinds. The other mind, no doubt having become alarmed at the stroke risk, had finally broken through. Reid was free to go. Which he intended to - once he’d finished standing there, his back to the wall separating hallway from room, for an unquantifiable number of minutes. He couldn’t leave, not quite yet - not until he’d been in Luke’s orbit for just a little longer. Even through wood and glass and plaster he could feel his systems soothing. Realigning.
He’d seen Luke. He looked happy.
That was enough.
Almost.
“Dr. Oliver?”
Eyes opening (when had they closed?), Reid pressed away from the wall. He wordlessly took the file from Curly Nurse’s slightly shaking hand and walked down the hall toward his next appointment. He didn’t look back. He didn’t see Luke watch him pass by the window.
______________________________
Reid breathed a long, happy sigh.
He savored the smooth custard, the way it slipped down his throat. He marveled at how its seeming simplicity belied a complex interplay of subtle flavors and gradations of savory and sweet. He tracked the fluctuating activation of taste buds as each bite was processed. He reveled in the relative emptiness of his mind, congratulating himself on finally finding an activity that had no connection to Luke Snyder. He celebrated four-and-a-half minutes of Luke-free thought. Wait…
“Just can’t help yourself, I see.”
Sucking on his spoon, Reid stopped his slow walk toward the nurses’ station. It was either that or have to touch Chris Hughes, who now blocked his path.
Can dimples in isolation be characterized as smug?
“I guess once a thief always a thief.”
Reid’s next sigh was appreciably less happy. “‘Thief.’ Huh. Gonna go out on a limb here and argue in my defense that I didn’t steal your wit so much as offer it asylum. And that would have happened years ago. I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations has run out by now.”
Chris made several starts at speaking before finally finishing one. “Yeah…well…I’m talking about that.” He pointed to the ceramic cup of egg custard in Reid’s hand.
Reid looked at him blankly. “Would you like to see the receipt?”
“Ha ha, you know what I mean. You know that the cup and spoon aren’t supposed to leave the cafeteria.”
Reid took another bite.
“But you can’t help yourself, can you? Always taking things that don’t belong to you. Writing your own rules.”
Reid swallowed, setting the empty cup and spoon on a passing laundry cart. He reached for his wallet.
“What are you doing?”
“Seeing how much cash I have on me. Yeah, sorry - you’re going to have to come back to my office so I can write you a check.” Reid raised his eyebrows at Chris’s stupefied silence. “The Shannon Fellowship? That I so unfairly won on account of my self-evident superiority? Honestly, it’s worth it to me at this point just to give you the money so that we can end this cycle of humiliation. You couldn’t compete with me then, and it’s kind of embarrassing watching you try to compete with me now. There’s just something…I don’t know, unseemly about sparring with someone who has the mental dexterity of a seventh-grader.” Reid shuddered. “So, how ’bout I put you out of your misery? You…you do take checks, right?”
“You’re a douche.”
With a light voice and a dark smile, Reid called after a retreating Chris, “I know you are, but what am I?”
That’s when Reid felt it - a disturbance in the force. Chris, food, direction, self - all forgotten as his awareness was unerringly drawn to the source. Turning toward the nurses’ station, Reid saw him - Luke, leaning against the desk talking to Plastic Nurse. Smiling at her. Though he had seen Luke the previous day at the board meeting, it had been eight days since Reid had last seen that smile. He noted his physiological response - the accelerating heartbeat, perspiring palms. The squeeze.
Speaking of junior high…
No, earlier - he was suddenly struck with a memory from fifth grade, of the day he’d approached JoAnne Tristani during recess. He’d found a treasure - a pill bug - and could think of no one he wanted to share it with more. Her friends had stopped talking as he’d stepped behind her, and she turned, her expression open if noncommittal. Smiling his small smile, he took her hand and dropped into her palm the small grey ball, which immediately unrolled and began to tickle its way across her skin. Startled, shrieking, the girl reflexively dropped the pill bug and tried to crush it with her patent-leather shoe. Reid dropped as well, wrapping both hands around her leg to lift and push. Off-balance, she fell into her friends; Reid didn’t see them run away, didn’t hear what they called him. He was focused on coaxing the creature from under the root where it had been kicked, carefully checking it for damage. Helping it roll back into a ball. He carried it to the edge of the yard, pushing it under the fence, toward the tree line. He whispered to it, told it not to come back. Told it to stay rolled.
By the time the memory had finished playing, Reid found himself halfway to Luke. He closed the distance, stepping to within a few feet of Luke’s back. Plastic Nurse stopped talking and moved away, not even pretending to find an excuse. Reid stood there, without words, waiting for Luke to notice him. Finally, Luke turned his head.
And looked at Reid blankly.
Reid’s shoulders slowly hunched.
Luke blinked, swaying slightly, catching the edge of the desk. Reid repressed the urge to help, instead backing away.
“Dr. Oliver…where are you going?” said Luke, too loudly, his voice reverberating against sterile walls.
Reid turned his back to Luke, beginning to walk in the direction from which he’d come. He heard Luke shuffle behind him.
“Dr. Oliver, wait…I just want to-”
Reid didn’t slow. “I don’t engage with drunks.”
It took only another step for Luke to stop him. He held Reid firmly with a hand on his upper arm. “What did you say?”
Reid looked down, away from Luke’s face. “Not that I engage with anyone, of course, but especially not drunks.” He pulled his arm free.
Luke grasped Reid’s arm again, this time with both hands. Reid instructed his brain not to process sensory signals from that side of the body. He refused to feel the warmth being pressed into the stiff fabric of his lab coat, the way the back of his hand was brushing the soft jersey over Luke’s stomach. He told himself that he only imagined the breath on the side of his face, the side of his neck.
“I have not been drinking.” Luke’s voice carried a wound.
Reid had a brief conversation with his temporal lobe.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Snyder. I’m sure it was just accidental hairspray ingestion.”
“I…I don’t drink.” Luke’s fingers tightened. “I’m an alcoholic. You know that.”
Reid’s body froze. In every way. With considerable effort, he managed to turn his head, meeting Luke’s eyes. He spoke slowly. “And just how would I know that?”
Luke frowned. “Um, because I told you.”
The chill intensified. “I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that particular nugget of over-sharing.”
“What? How can you…” Luke released Reid’s arm. “It was, like, two days ago.” A wrong-shaped smile formed. “You said you weren’t surprised, remember? That it fit my personality profile?”
At Reid’s silence, Luke stepped back. “Oh my g…are you seriously going to pretend that it didn’t happen? Seriously.” Luke brought his hand to his mouth, backing away further. “Do I really mean that little to you?” His eyes began to glisten. “I suppose you don’t remember when I told you about my transplant, either?” Luke lifted his shirt to reveal a flash of scar against smooth skin.
Reid was struck by a barrage of disparate but equally disturbing reactions. “Your kidney.”
“Oh, so you do remember that? I’m honored.” Luke suddenly looked above Reid’s head. His mouth opened and closed, the movement of his lips making a soft sound.
Reid extended his arm, touching Luke’s cheek with the back of his hand.
Luke flinched, jerking his head away. “Don’t.”
“Why not?” Reid asked softly.
Luke’s eyes and voice were bruised. “Because you don’t mean it.”
Reid swallowed.
Luke looked down. “You told me you didn’t.”
Reid’s manner was carefully mild. “What else did I tell you?”
Luke listed to one side.
“Mr. Snyder, what else did we talk about?”
Luke smiled distantly. “You told me about Annie.”
Again, Reid swallowed. “Annie?”
“Annie Judd. How much her death meant to you. How you’d almost saved her.” Luke’s eyes focused on Reid’s. “It was like, just for minute, you almost let me see.”
“Mr. Snyder…”
His smile, still dreamy, widened. “And it wasn’t easy, but I totally got you to admit it…that you secretly wanted to try.”
“Try what?”
Now Luke’s look was faintly exasperated. “Riding the bull.”
His eyelids fluttered.
Reid gripped Luke’s arm. He turned to the nurses’ station. “You! Luke Snyder’s medical file. Now.” Plastic Nurse ran down a side corridor. Turning his attention to the male orderly she’d been whispering with, Reid nodded his head toward a nearby examination room. “In there.” The orderly rushed forward and began to lead Luke away.
Curly Nurse’s head appeared in the doorway of the neighboring room; Reid fixed on her next. “You - get me Luke Snyder's nephrologist and two hundred and fifty milligrams of valproic acid.” Nodding, she jogged off.
Luke began to struggle. He leaned toward Reid, his eyes imploring. “I’m not drunk. I’m not.” His voice caught on something jagged. “Please.”
Reid looked at him steadily. “I believe you.”
Luke let himself be led. His eyes stayed on Reid’s as the door closed.
“Luke’s drinking again?”
At some point Chris had reappeared behind Reid. Reid responded without turning. “No.”
“You sound sure.” Though sharp with skepticism, the edges of Chris’s words were no longer intended to cut.
“I am.”
“Fever?”
“No.”
“OK. So why so sure?”
“Because unless he’s secretly been a heavy drinker for months, alcohol intoxication doesn’t generally present with multi-modal hallucinations and absence seizures.”
Reid couldn’t see Chris’s eyes widen. “Holy...are you-how could you tell?”
“Well, among other things, I’ve never had a patient named Annie Judd.”
Now Reid heard Chris’s reaction - a low whistle. “So what does this mean?”
Reid began to walk toward the room where Luke lay. “It means I’m his doctor.”