"It will put you at ease, Cal," Victor had said. All my patients like music."

But he was having trouble paying attention. The music drifted in, then receded on a tide of anesthetics. He dreamed. "Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs..."

It was this afternoon again. They were on the grass. By the lake. He was walking with Mary. His beloved Mary.

"So why did you marry him?"

"We were young...and in love. Passionately. He was so handsome, then. And poetic. I thought we'd love each other like that forever. But I didn't realize what the years, the passage of time, could do to people. He became colder, obsessed with his work, and I became...withdrawn." The setting sun glinted on he auburn hair.

"Why did you stay with him?"

"I was comfortable-people can fall into a terrible comfortableness in marriage. And he had a position. Even in these times, divorce can taint a medical career. It was only when you came along I realized how much I was missing, how much I'd shut myself off."

"You won't have to anymore. We won't have to. I told him about us."

Mary looked across the lake.

"How did he take it?" she asked.

"He seemed disaffected by it, the way he does about everything. I sometimes think he's turned himself into one of the world's foremost minds at the expense of his humanity."

"He didn't seem jealous?"

"No. He didn't."

"Good. I wouldn't have wanted him to get angry with you. When we were younger, he'd get jealous if another man even looked at me. Sometimes it was frightening." Mary shuddered.

"He was exceptionally calm," said Cal. He placed his massive hand on her shoulder. "Nothing happened."

"Oh."

"You're not disappointed are you?" he asked.

"Of course not. It just makes me sad sometimes to think about what Victor and I
lost."

"You still have no desire to save the marriage?"

"No," said Mary. "It wouldn't work. We're different people now. I couldn't change, even if he were willing to."

"Just asking."

"It's you I love now, Cal." She stepped closer and kissed him. For a few moments, he simply held her.

"You're my first and only love," he whispered, "and I'll never stop loving you."

"You shouldn't say never," Mary replied. "Sometimes all we get are moments." She pulled slightly away. "But I like to hear you talk like that. You sound the way he used to sound."

Cal gave a short laugh.

"That's what I was created to be. His superego, his higher self made flesh. I was to be his new Adam."

"You're all that and more," said Mary. "You're all the things he tried to be and fell short at. But there's a nobility about you, a goodness he never had."

"It's too bad he couldn't give me his looks, though."

"Looks aren't everything." She ran her hand over his forehead and smoothed back his wispy hair. "What's inside is more important."

Cal smiled-his uneven teeth making his sallow features strangely Puckish.

"I still wish I knew where he got my brain from."

"It doesn't matter," said Mary. "All that matters is we're together." They drew closer. The sun melted into the lake.

"Smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry..., Cal thought he heard.

Later in the evening, he walked into the surgery. Victor was waiting.

"Still having the migraines, Cal?"

"Yes, and the blackouts are coming more frequently."

"What's their duration?" asked Victor.

"5-10 minutes."

"Well, we'll get you prepped and see what's going on in there. Why don't you get ready while I scrub?"

Victor moved to a sink against the wall and began washing his hands.

Cal sat on a chair, took off his shoes and placed them under it.

Victor shut off the water and dried his hands on a towel.

Cal didn't undress, but stood back up.

Victor glanced at him.

"Listen," Cal began, "I know you said it's a simple procedure, but if anything goes wrong, I want you to know I'm sorry. Mary and I...we shouldn't have carried on behind your back like that."

Victor withdrew a pair of surgical gloves from a cardboard box, then turned fully to Cal. He pulled the gloves on-snapping each one tight as he did so.

"It's not your fault," Victor said. "Mary and I stopped loving each other a long time ago. It was foolish of us to keep the pretenses up."

"She was afraid you'd be jealous."

"Of course not. If I were, I'd have taken measures."

"Or angry."

"No," said Victor, shaking his head. "When we were younger, Mary would try to make me jealous by toying with other men. That led to some unfortunate incidents."

"Perhaps she was trying to get your attention," said Cal.

"Yes, perhaps so," said Victor. For a moment, he considered Cal's words. "It's too bad we didn't communicate better. But I've outgrown her ability to manipulate me. There's hardly anything she could do now that would affect me."

"Even having an affair with me?"

"Certainly not. You're my creation. My masterpiece. How could I be jealous of you?"

He gave Cal a look that was both admiration and dissection-as though remembering the skill it had taken to assemble the parts.

"I thought you might hate me," said Cal. "Even before I told you about Mary and myself, you must have suspected..."

"I could no more hate you than a father could hate his child. Mary and I could never change ourselves. We're both too possessive. That's what drove us apart."

"I wish there was something else to say," said Cal. "I never meant to hurt you."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Then Victor cleared his throat.

"You didn't hurt me. I was proud of you. You needn't feel guilty. I wish you and Mary only happiness, and I'm going to do my utmost to see you get it."

"We're happy already. And no matter what Mary did in the past, she needs me. I've got to try and hang on, for her sake."

Cal looked Victor in the eyes.

"But I want you to know if things don't go right, it's not your fault either. You're not to blame...father."

Victor smiled. His teeth were perfect.

"I'm sure everything will turn out fine. After all, I'm the best in the field. Now, let's get you on the table and see if we can't correct your problems."

"Yes, let's. Mary's waiting for me."

"Mustn't have that," said Victor.

"No," said Cal. He moved to the table. "I'm glad we talked. My conscience is clear."

"Good. That's as it should be. Why don't you take off your clothes and put on the gown now?"

Cal undressed, then carefully folded his clothes on the table and placed them on the chair.

"Don't mind if I keep my socks on, do you? Sometimes my feet get cold."

"I'll fix that too," said Victor.

"You lock the door/And throw away the key/There's someone in my head, but it's
not me."

Cal picked up the gown from the table.

"Does your conscience ever bother you?" he asked, as he put it on.

"Never," said Victor.

"Why not?"

"Because I never let my emotions interfere with my principles."

"Good," said Cal. "There are so few men of principle. So very few." He laid down and was silent.

"When you wake up, you'll be a new man," Victor promised him. "No more migraines, no more blackouts-or cold feet either."

Cal felt a prick on his arm. Then wires were attached to the back of his neck. Victor pulled on a white mask. The music began.

Now, on the quintessential rock album, Waters and Gilmore sang, "You raise the blade, you make the change/You re-arrange me 'till I'm sane."

Victor raised his blade. His hand shook. On the grass by the lake, Caliban went walking with Mary.

The End

Song quotations are from "Brain Damage" and "Breathe" by Pink Flyod, Dark Side of the Moon album, 1973. Lyrics by Roger Waters. Copyright TRO Hampshire House Publishing Corporation.

Copyright c)2001 Terry Weide