Robin Cook - Seizure

Recommencing walking, Stephanie promised herself she’d revisit the issue when she had more time. Now she had too much to do with the Turin departure scheduled for that evening. She’d gotten up at the crack of dawn to finish packing. Then she had spent a good part of the morning at the lab with Peter, describing exactly what she wanted him to do with Butler’s culture. Luckily, the cells were progressing commendably. She’d given the culture the name of John Smith, taking the hint from Daniel’s conversation with Spencer Wingate. If Peter had any questions about what was going on regarding why they were going to Nassau, and why he was going to be sending down some of John Smith’s cryopreserved cells, he didn’t mention them.

Stephanie turned left on Prince Street and quickened her pace. This area was even more familiar, especially when she passed her old school. Her childhood house where her parents still lived was half a block beyond the school on the right.

The North End was a safe community, thanks to an unofficial “neighborhood watch.” There was always at least a half dozen people in sight who were socially addicted to knowing what everybody else was doing. The downside as a child was that you couldn’t get away with anything, but at the moment Stephanie savored the sense of security. Although Daniel had seemingly recovered from the intruder the previous afternoon and had dismissed the episode as unimportant in the grand scheme, Stephanie hadn’t gotten over it, at least not completely, and being back in her old surroundings was reassuring. What Stephanie continued to find unsettling was that without an explanation, the incident tended to exacerbate her unease about the Butler affair.

Stopping in front of her old house, Stephanie eyed the fake gray stone that covered the brick on the first floor, the red aluminum awning with white scalloped trim over the front door, and the gaudily painted, plaster statue of a saint that stood in its niche. She smiled at how long it had taken her to recognize how tacky these embellishments were. Prior to that revelation, she hadn’t even noticed them.

Although she had a key, Stephanie knocked and waited. She’d telephoned from the office to say she’d be stopping by, so there was to be no surprise. A moment later, the door was pulled open by her mother, Thea, who welcomed her with open arms. Thea’s grandfather had been Greek, and subsequently female given names had been favored on the family’s maternal side down through the years, Stephanie’s included.

“You must be hungry,” Thea said, pulling back to eye her daughter. With her mother, food was always an issue.

“I could use a sandwich,” Stephanie said, knowing that refusing would be impossible. She followed her mother’s slight frame into the kitchen that was redolent with the aroma of simmering food. “Something smells good.”

“I’m making osso buco, your father’s favorite. Why don’t you stay for dinner? We’ll be eating around two.”

“I can’t, Mom.”

“Say hello to your father.”

Dutifully, Stephanie poked her head into the living room immediately adjacent to the kitchen. Its décor hadn’t changed one iota from Stephanie’s earliest memories. As per usual, prior to a Sunday dinner, her father was hidden behind the Sunday paper clutched in his beefy hands. A brimming beanbag ashtray was perched on one of the La-Z-Boy’s arms.

“Hi, Dad,” Stephanie said cheerfully.

Anthony D’Agostino Sr. lowered the top edge of his paper. He peered at Stephanie over his reading glasses with his mildly rheumy eyes. A halo of cigarette smoke hung around him like thick smog. Despite being athletic in his youth, he was now the picture of corpulent immobility. He had gained considerable weight over the last decade, despite dire warnings from his physicians, even after his heart attack three years ago. As much as her mother lost weight, he gained in an unhealthy inverse proportionality.

“I don’t want you upsetting your mother, you hear me? She’s been feeling good the last few days.”

“I’ll try my best,” Stephanie said.

He raised the paper back into position. So much for conversation, Stephanie thought, as she shrugged and rolled her eyes. She retreated back to the kitchen. Thea had gotten out cheese, bread, Parma ham, and fruit, and was arranging it on the table. Stephanie watched as Thea worked. Her mother had lost more weight since Stephanie had last seen her, which wasn’t a good sign. The bones of her hands and face protruded, with minimal flesh. Two years before, Thea had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Following surgery and chemotherapy, she’d been fine until three months ago, when there had been a relapse. A tumor had been found in one of her lungs. The prognosis was not good.

Stephanie sat down and made herself a sandwich. Her mother got some tea and sat across from her.

“Why can’t you stay for dinner?” Thea asked. “Your older brother is coming.”

“With or without his wife and kids?”

“Without,” Thea said. “He and your father have some business.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Why don’t you stay? We hardly ever get to see you.”

“I’d like to, but I can’t. I’m going away this evening for about a month, which is why I particularly wanted to come over today. I’ve got a lot to do to get ready.”

“Are you going with that man?”

“His name is Daniel, and yes, we are going together.”

“You shouldn’t be living with him. It’s not right. Besides, he’s too old. You should be married to a nice, young man. You’re not so young anymore.”

“Mother, we’ve been over this.”

“Listen to your mother,” Anthony Sr. bellowed from the living room. “She knows what she is talking about.”

Stephanie held her tongue.

“Where are you going?”

“Mostly to Nassau in the Bahamas. We’re going someplace first, but only for a day or so.”

“Is this a vacation?”

“No,” Stephanie said. She told her mother the trip was work-related. She didn’t give any specifics, nor did her mother ask, especially since Stephanie switched the conversation to her nieces and nephews. The grandchildren were Thea’s favorite subject. An hour later, when Stephanie was about to make her exit, the door opened and in walked Anthony Jr.

“Will wonders never cease?” Tony said in mock surprise when he caught sight of Stephanie. He had a strong, cultivated blue-collar accent. “The high-and-mighty Harvard doctor has decided to pay us poor, working slobs a visit.”

Stephanie looked up and smiled at her older brother. She held her tongue like she had earlier with her father. She had long ago learned not to be baited. Tony had always derided Stephanie’s schooling, as did her father, but not entirely for the same reason. With Tony, Stephanie suspected it was more jealousy, since he’d barely made it through high school. Tony’s problem wasn’t a lack of intelligence, but a lack of motivation as a teenager. As an adult, he liked to pretend he didn’t care that he hadn’t gone to college, but Stephanie knew better.

“Mom says your boy is turning out to be quite the hockey player,” Stephanie said, to turn the conversation away from the testy subject of schooling. Tony had a twelve-year-old son and a ten-year-old daughter.

“Yeah, a chip off the old block,” Tony said. He shared Stephanie’s coloring and approximate height, but he was built more squarely, with a thick neck and large hands like their father. And also like their father, Tony projected in Stephanie’s mind an unflattering, chauvinistic male animus, which made her feel sorry for her sister-in-law and worry about her niece.

Tony kissed his mother on both cheeks before stepping into the living room.