“How long do we have to wait?” he asked again.
“Until the doctor shows up.”
She had not made an appointment. First, because she hadn’t been sure when she would be stopping by to see him. And second, because after the last visit, she thought it might be wise if no one knew when she was coming.
A little caution never hurt, according to Michael.
She was going to remember that.
The boy grumbled under his breath, then gave himself another spin in the chair.
Teri wandered over to the far wall, where a mix of photographs and community service awards had been mounted quite some time ago by the dust on the frames. 1990 Chairman of the Santa Clara County Health Fair. 1993 Houghton Award for Outstanding Community Service. 1980 Glazier Award for Gerontological Research. Some photographs taken at a lab somewhere, with everyone dressed in white lab jackets. And then something that caught her attention.
It was a photograph of the steps outside the library at U.C. Berkeley. She recognized it immediately. Teri had spent two years at Berkeley in the mid-Seventies. That was where she had met Michael, who was studying as an art major at the time. Standing on the steps, at the middle of a semicircle of men, was Dr. Childs. He was all smiles then, and Teri shook her head, thinking he must have used them all up that year, because as long as she had known the man, he had rarely worn a smile. Never, ever, a warm smile.
Beneath the photo, the caption read: Magical Mystery Tour. Berkeley. 1976.
“Wonder what that’s supposed to mean,” she said.
Behind her, the door to the office swung open.
Dr. Childs, holding a folder in the crook of his arm, stepped through, clearly self-absorbed. He closed the door, turned and only then did he realize he wasn’t alone. Surprise crossed his face. He instantly covered it. “Teri? You startled me. What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d stop by and see what the test results had to say.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“You did say you wanted to see us as early as possible, didn’t you?”
He looked from her to the boy, his expression an unreadable mask, then back to Teri again. “I believe I did at that. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up in my office without an appointment.”
“Well, since we’re already here…”
“Yes, well…” He removed the folder from the crook of his arm, crossed the room, and sat behind the desk. He seemed caught in some sort of bind, as if he didn’t know quite what to say or how to say it. He tossed aside the folder, and looked at Teri with eyes that were a mix of concern and discomfort. He was going to tell her something awful, she thought. Something that would have kept her away if she’d had an inkling that it might be coming.
“I’m not sure where to start,” he said somberly. “Maybe you should sit down, Teri.”
She sat in the chair next to the boy, who had ceased his merry-go-round the moment Childs had entered the room. “I’m not sure I like the way this is starting out.”
“Let me be as straight as I can with you, Teri. Have you ever heard of a disease called Hutchinson-Gilford Syndrome?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“It’s a degenerative disease that afflicts children.” He sighed, not for the first time, and she realized she had begun to hate the sound it made. It was as if he were trying to lose himself in the air around him. “We don’t really know a lot about it. It’s a rare, genetic disease that seems to speed up the aging process.”
“Oh my God,” she said softly. She had seen a talk show on it once, now that she realized what they were talking about. Geraldo or Donahue or one of those other shows. She couldn’t remember which. These children, these tiny little children, had displayed all the outward signs of premature aging: loss of hair, loss of weight, frailty. Teri couldn’t remember what their life expectancy had been, but she thought it was somewhere around fourteen or fifteen.
My God.
It was happening again. Something hideous had come along and swept the boy up in its jaws as if he were nothing more than a paper doll, and now it was going to fly away with him. Just like it had flown away with him before. Only this time, he wouldn’t be coming back.
“I’m sorry,” Childs said.
She shook herself free from the numbness and stared out the window, fighting to hold on to what little control she had left. This close. She had come this close to having her son again, and now, like a strike of lightning, the dream was suddenly in flames. Gabe didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of this. She squeezed the boy’s hand.
“So what do we do?”
“First, I want to correct any misunderstanding I might have given you. Gabe does not have Hutchinson-Gilford Syndrome. What he has are symptoms that closely resemble the disease.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. The bottom line, of course, is that he has begun to age at an accelerated rate. That’s why the gray and the lingering fatigue.”
“How accelerated?”
“That’s difficult to say. I’d really hate to speculate at this point.”
“Is…” A lump caught in her throat. She swallowed it back and tried not to imagine that what she had swallowed would soon begin to grow like a cancer inside her. “Is that the reason he’s having trouble building up his strength?”
“That would be consistent with what we’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh. Well… then where do we go from here?”
“I think that’s largely up to you, Teri. If you’d like, I could make arrangements to have him admitted to a hospital where we could run some additional tests. That would give us an opportunity to get a better feel for what it is we’re up against. That’s my first thought.”
“And if we decide not to do that?”
“We’re talking about his life, Teri.”
“I understand that. All I want to know is what our options are.”
“I’m not sure what to tell you,” Childs said. He tapped the tip of his ball point pen against the desk, and sat back in his chair, searching for the right words. “What seems to be going on here is that something’s interfering with Gabe’s normal cell regeneration. I don’t know what’s causing that. I don’t know if it’s something genetic like Hutchinson-Gilford Syndrome, or something environmental like a virus or an unknown bacteria. It might even be something closer to cancer, where the cells simply start to mutate and multiply at an uncontrollable rate. I can do some research for you, Teri, but beyond that, it seems to me that the best thing for Gabe right now would be a hospital environment where we can keep a closer eye on him and run some additional tests.”
“I guess we need to make some decisions then, don’t we?”
“The sooner, the better, I’m afraid.”
“All right.” She stood up, glancing absently out the window at the parking lot and wondering what they were supposed to do now. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow. How’s that?”
“Don’t put it off too long.”
[47]
Walt woke up sitting on the floor, backed into the corner like a caged animal. He was sweating, the sheet wrapped around him like a cocoon, and as he looked around the room, it took a moment before he was able to recognize his surroundings. This was another motel room: small, generic, the curtains open just enough for him to see that it was dark out.