John Saul - Brain Child

“Fine,” he echoed. “Just fine.” Then, exhausted, he let himself drift back into sleep.

“You can spend the day here if you want to,” Torres told them when they were back in his office. “But you won’t be allowed to see Alex again until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Marsh asked. “But why? What if he wakes up? What if he asks for us?”

“He won’t wake up again,” Torres replied. “I’m going to look at him once more, and then give him a sedative.”

Marsh’s eyes suddenly clouded. “A sedative? He just came out of a coma. You don’t give that kind of patient a sedative — you try to keep them awake.”

Torres’s face seemed cut from stone. “I don’t believe I asked for your advice or your opinions, Dr. Lonsdale,” he said.

“But—”

“Nor am I interested in hearing them,” Torres went on, ignoring the interruption. “Frankly, I don’t have time to listen to what you have to say, and I’d just as soon you kept whatever thoughts you might have to yourself. Alex is my patient, and I have my own methods. I made that clear day before yesterday. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He opened the door in his habitual gesture of dismissal.

“But he’s our son,” Marsh protested. “Surely we can—”

“No, Marsh,” Ellen interrupted. “We’ll do whatever Raymond wants us to do.”

Marsh gazed at his wife in silence for a moment, his jaw tightening with anger. But her obvious anguish washed his rage away, and when he turned back to Torres, he had regained his composure. “I’m sorry — I was out of line.” He offered Raymond Torres a crooked smile. “From now on I’ll try to remember that I’m not the doctor here. I’ve dealt with enough worried parents to know how difficult they can be.”

Torres’s demeanor thawed only slightly. “Thank you,” he replied. “I’m afraid I have few patients, and no patience, but I do know what I’m doing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to get back to Alex.”

But as Ellen led him toward the lounge, Marsh’s anger surged back. “I’ve never heard of such a thing — he as much as told us he doesn’t want us around!”

“Apparently he doesn’t,” Ellen agreed.

“But I’m Alex’s father, dammit!”

Exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her, Ellen regarded her husband with oddly detached curiosity. Wasn’t he even pleased with what Raymond Torres had accomplished? “He’s Alex’s doctor,” she said. “And without him, we wouldn’t even have Alex anymore. We owe Raymond Alex’s life, Marsh, and I don’t intend to forget that.”

“Raymond,” Marsh repeated. “Since when are you on a first-name basis with him?”

Ellen gazed at him in puzzlement. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not,” Marsh countered.

Her confusion deepened. What on earth was the matter with him? And suddenly the answer came to her. “Marsh, are you jealous of him?”

“Of course not,” Marsh replied, too quickly. “I just don’t like the man, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Ellen said, a distinct chill in her voice. “But he did save our son’s life, and even if you don’t like him, you should be grateful to him.”

Her words struck home, and once again Marsh’s anger evaporated. “I am,” he said quietly. “And you were right back there. He did perform a miracle, and it’s one I couldn’t have performed myself. Maybe I am a little jealous.” He slipped his arms around her. “Promise me you won’t fall in love with him?”

For just a moment, Ellen wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but then she smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “I promise. Now, let’s tell everyone the good news.”

They stepped into the lounge to find Carol and Lisa Cochran pacing anxiously. “Is it true?” Lisa asked eagerly. “Is he really awake?”

Ellen gathered Lisa into her arms and hugged her. “It’s true,” she said. “He woke up, and he can talk, and he recognized me.”

“Thank God,” Carol breathed. “The girl at the desk told us, but we could hardly believe it.”

“And,” Marsh told her, “we’ve just been thrown out. Don’t ask me why, but Torres wants to put him to sleep again, and says we can’t see him until tomorrow.”

Carol stared at him with incredulous eyes. “You’re kidding, of course.”

“I wish I were,” Marsh replied. “I think it’s crazy, but around here, I’m not the doctor. Let’s get out of here and go home. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I don’t think Ellen got any.”

As they stepped out into the bright sunlight of the May morning, Ellen paused and looked around as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked. “The grounds, and the building — it’s just lovely!”

Carol Cochran grinned at her. “This morning, anything would look lovely to you!”

For the first time since Alex’s accident, a truly happy smile covered Ellen’s face. “And why shouldn’t it?” she asked. “Everything’s going to be fine. I just know it!” Impulsively she hugged Lisa close. “We’ve got him back!” she cried. “We’ve got him back, and he’s going to be all right.”

“Alex?” Raymond Torres waited for a moment, then spoke again. “Alex, can you hear me?”

Alex’s eyes fluttered for a second, then opened, but he said nothing.

“Alex, do you think you can answer a couple of questions?”

Alex struggled for the right words, then spoke carefully: “I don’t know. I’ll try.”

“Good. That’s all I want you to do. Now, try to think, Alex. Do you know why you didn’t recognize your father?”

There was a long silence; then: “After he told me he was my father, I knew who he was.”

“But when you first saw him, Alex, did he look familiar?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“But you recognized your mother, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So she did look familiar?”

“No.”

Torres frowned. “Then how did you recognize her?”

Alex fell silent for a moment, then spoke again, his words strained, as if he weren’t sure he was using the right ones.

“I … I thought she had to be my mother if he was my father. I thought about it, and decided that if my father was here, then my mother was here too. After I decided she was my mother, she started to look familiar.”

“So you didn’t recognize either of them until you knew who they were?”

“No.”

“All right. Now, I’m going to give you something that’s going to put you to sleep, and when you wake up again, I’ll come to see you.” He slid a hypodermic needle under the skin of Alex’s right arm and pressed the plunger. As he swabbed the puncture with a wad of cotton soaked with alcohol, he asked Alex if the needle had hurt.

“No.”

“Did you feel it at all?”

“Yes.”

“What did it feel like?”

“I … I don’t know,” Alex said.

“All right,” Torres told him. “Go to sleep now, Alex, and I’ll see you later.”

Alex closed his eyes, and Torres watched him for a moment, then stepped to the monitors at the head of the bed and made some adjustments. Before leaving the room, he checked Alex once more.

Alex’s eyelids were twitching rapidly. Torres wished there were a way to know exactly what was happening inside the boy’s mind.

But there were still some mysteries that even he hadn’t yet unraveled.

Alex glanced at the clock on Raymond Torres’s desk, and, as he always did, Torres took careful note of the action.

“Two more hours,” he said. “Getting excited?”