Day 2
Day Two
On the day following Norman’s return, Jesse and Lally insisted he go to the Hi-Desert Medical Center in Joshua Tree for proper medical tests.
“I don’t need to be prodded and poked,” Norman protested.
Jesse and Lally exchanged looks that were all too easy to decipher: Perhaps he had already been probed by whoever had taken him, an insinuation Norman didn’t like one bit.
“Do it for the baby,” Lally implored when Norman continued to balk. “Look, I won’t even eat fish because of the mercury poisoning.”
Norman recoiled. “You think I could give you mercury poisoning?”
“I don’t know! That’s why we need you to be tested.”
“I’m not a tuna,” Norman objected.
“Obviously,” Jesse said. “But we’re going to get you checked out to your albacore.”
Norman didn’t laugh. “It would be nice if you were on my side.”
“We are,” Lally assured him. “We are on your side.”
“But we still need to look out for ourselves,” Jesse added.
Eventually Norman had to agree that even astronauts were put into quarantine when they returned to Earth.
But Norman felt less and less like he had come back to Earth than like he had landed in the Twilight Zone.
“Okay, fine,” he finally acquiesced. “I’ll see a doctor.
” It was the only way to shut them up. He only hoped he wouldn’t be fitted for a straitjacket.
Norman sat in the back seat as Jesse drove, as it was safer for Lally to sit up front where there were airbags.
He felt very much on the outside. Only Mafalda had welcomed him into the pack without judgment, happy to no longer be the bottom rung on this ladder.
He leaned his head against the cool glass window as he processed his grief.
The divorce, the pregnancy he played no part in, Jesse being a suspected serial killer (!), his whereabouts for a year before he woke up in bed and went to the gym—in short, it was a lot.
He shivered as the air-conditioning blew on full blast for Lally’s benefit.
The car had a familiar vibration, but there was a warmth he was missing but couldn’t describe.
The medical center looked more like a strip mall than a proper hospital, but at least it had ample parking.
And since Norman didn’t really feel the need for actual medical care he didn’t protest, except when Lally suggested they find a wheelchair to push him inside; he approached the hospital on his own two feet.
It wasn’t how he would have designed the building, but it was just one more thing on the list of thoughts he was keeping to himself.
“Is this an actual town hospital?” Lally asked with concerning skepticism, adding that it looked more like a post office than a place to get well.
To which Jesse and Norman replied together, “It’s not a town, it’s a CDP.” For the first time since his return, Norman detected a hint of a smile on Jesse’s face as they began to fall back in sync. He still couldn’t explain where he’d been, but he felt a firmer grasp on where he was.
Together they walked through a door marked Main Lobby/Outpatient Registration, and Lally was right—even the font they chose for the signage was evocative of the USPS.
The lobby was like a lot of things in the desert, sand-colored and nondescript.
Chairs were functional and gray and certainly not comfortable, even for the shortest of waits.
Jesse and Norman argued over whose name to put on the admitting paperwork; Jesse was carrying a full teaching load this upcoming semester and therefore had new health insurance through COD, while Norman’s insurance had lapsed.
They took a seat and debated the pros and cons before ultimately deciding against committing insurance fraud.
“Let me get a picture of us,” Lally said as she held up her phone for a selfie.
“In the waiting room?” Norman asked, not certain this was anything they would want to remember.
But maybe Lally was right, maybe there was something seriously wrong with him and they’d want to capture the last minute before he was diagnosed.
There were others scattered around the waiting room but no one directly behind them whose privacy they would invade, so he didn’t further object.
After she snapped a selfie, Lally handed him her phone to see.
“It’s a good one,” she said, almost like she was trying to stave off his criticism.
Norman zoomed in on himself, almost fascinated by his physical form.
He had, after all, been somewhere. What damage might have been done?
He was spending all of his time processing the mental, but what of the physical?
How might his body have changed? “Have I always had these creases in my earlobes?” Norman looked up from Lally’s phone for an answer.
Jesse, checking over the last of the paperwork before returning it to the admitting desk, did this weird thing where he first furrowed, then raised his brows.
Norman rubbed both of his earlobes. “At first I thought I just slept funny, but I can feel the crease on both sides.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Jesse joked.
Norman pulled out his own phone and googled it. “It’s either a natural sign of aging, or I have pretty serious heart disease.”
“That’s good!” Jesse said, but Norman didn’t see how. Jesse explained they’d see him faster that way, heart issues always took precedent in the ER. “Anything else we should list?”
Norman couldn’t think of anything, other than he hadn’t taken a multivitamin in a year, and who knows what he’d done for nutrition. But before he could mention that, Lally blurted, “Government experiments.”
“Government experiments?” Jesse repeated, confused.
Lally nodded. “See if they’ve done any. And have them check for radiation. Alpha, beta, gamma.”
“I’m not sure they do that here,” Jesse said with genuine disappointment. “But a complete mental examination is probably a good idea, he could have had a psychotic break.”
Norman shook his head. “This is becoming less and less fun for me by the minute, and it wasn’t all that fun to begin with.”
Jesse actually seemed to sympathize with him, and reached for his hand across Lally’s lap.
“Maybe we should see if I was unplugged from the Matrix.”
Jesse turned to look directly at Norman, and Lally leaned back so as not to obstruct his view. “What is the last thing you remember?”
“Oh, that’s good,” Lally concurred, and they both looked at her for explanation. “Spending time with Harlan has taught me it’s productive to focus on the concrete.”
Concrete, Norman thought. The last thing he remembered was going to bed, annoyed by some scam email.
From Union Bonk, no…Bonk of America. He was restless at first, he remembered that; sleep did not easily come.
Norman watched as Lally turned to Jesse for confirmation, which was insulting. Why couldn’t she just believe him?
“And then what?”
Norman couldn’t remember. “And then I slept quite soundly, it felt like the best night’s sleep of my life.
” He woke with a profound sense of gratitude, for Jesse, for his life.
He’d dreamed of the moment they met, how perfect it was, the collision a chain reaction, hot and beautiful in ways that kept exploding.
He wished that at least Jesse could see.
And then he woke up and went to the gym.
“But you admit that’s not all that happened.” Jesse looked down on him with eyes up, wanting him to confirm.
Yes, he had come to acknowledge that. Too much had happened, too much had changed.
He was surprisingly accepting of the pool—who doesn’t love a pool—even if he thought that first evening that perhaps they were part of an ambush home makeover show for HGTV in which, under the cover of darkness, a crew redesigned a couple’s yard in one night while they slept.
But the dog? The pregnancy? “There’s more that I want to remember,” Norman finally admitted. “It all feels just out of grasp.”
Jesse let go of Norman’s hand, patting him twice on the knee. “Then let’s get you checked out.” He stood up and took the clipboard to the attendant at the front desk.
Norman liked this Jesse. Shock was giving way to genuine concern. He was happy to be at the doctor if instead of feeling contaminated he felt cared for. He smiled at Lally, who gave him a side hug. When he glanced up Jesse was deep in conversation with the admitting nurse.
“Oh, and he has a heart condition,” Jesse finally said.
“Are you sure?” the nurse asked. At a casual glance Norman seemed fine.
“Yes,” Jesse insisted. “Just take a look at his earlobes.”
After hours of waiting and a barrage of tests from a team of doctors who seemed just as confused as he was, Norman was given the all clear; there was nothing wrong with him medically speaking—other than losing a year.
He moved, he bled, he responded, he had excellent blood pressure, a good resting pulse, low cholesterol, and the reflexes of a man half his age.
He wasn’t radioactive, a clone, a cyborg, a pod person, some sort of Trojan horse, or anything likewise to be scared of.
They offered to keep Norman for observation, but Jesse muttered something about not wanting to lose him again.
Even Lally was impressed, and let her brother put his hand on her growing stomach.
This was Norman, their Norman. To reward him for being such a good sport, they treated for dinner at the Tiny Pony.
“Hot daddy is back,” their waiter said when he locked eyes with Norman.
He grabbed three menus and showed them to an out-of-the-way table.
He then leaned over to Jesse as he sat, and added, “Does this mean you’re done with that cute otter you’ve been bringing around?
Maybe you could give me his number.” Norman stared at Jesse, who turned red.
“We’ll see” was all he could stammer, clearly wanting the interaction done.
“Young what?” Norman asked.