Immunity

         The room was brightly lit, smelled suspiciously of disinfectant, and while decently adorned with comfy chairs and decorations, still contained the undeniable feeling of emptiness. Don Collinson glanced around at his fellow occupants. He wondered what their stories were. Most of the people just kept their heads down, avoiding eye contact, as if they were embarrassed to be here. But one woman looked directly at him, and it took all of his nerve not to shudder. There was something in her eyes that he didn’t like. He couldn’t place it, but he’d seen it enough times this past couple of months to know it wasn’t something good. Chastened, he slunk down further into his seat. This was all a big mistake.  This was not where he expected to be two years, even one year ago. It wasn’t even remotely close. But yet, now after all he’d been through it seemed to be the most logical answer. Feeling quite shaken, Don unconsciously reached for his neck, to feel for the familiar weight of a necklace, but then remembered that he no longer had it. Remembering this, Don pursed his lips bitterly. There would be no comfort here tonight. Oh well, he was used to being uncomfortable anyway. Perhaps he would just rest before it came time for him. Closing his eyes, he thought back to another time in a place like this when he was an entirely different person. 

         Exhausted with stress and worry, but kept awake by the gnawing fear that whispered through in his mind, Don paced back and forth, heels clicking loudly on the shiny linoleum floor. Clack, clack, clack, they echoed throughout the room. Other men and women stared at him glumly watching him as he walked in what seemed like a symbolic limbo between hope and destruction, but none protested. Like him, they all had the same emotions running through their veins, and it was this connection that gave these virtual strangers common ground for tolerance. Growing even more restless by the second, Don stared back at them, studying the worry lines on these people’s faces, and wondered if his own reflected theirs. But that was irrelevant. All that mattered now was the fact that Alicia, the love of his life, and his one and only joy, lay just down the hall in a cold operating room; her life held in a delicate balance by the hands of a surgeon.

         Overwhelmed, Don sat back down, finally allowing the thoughts he had been trying to block out for the past few hours free reign of his head. They ran through his mind in a haphazard sequence, with no rhyme or reason, like the flashes of a camera. Drunk driver. Alicia. Car crash.  Injured. Possible brain damage. Emergency surgery. Come quickly. And these were the thoughts that plagued his nightmares as he drifted into a forced and uneasy slumber.

         “Mr. Collinson?”

         “Huh?!” Panicked at having fallen asleep, Don looked up to find a plump woman in scrubs standing over him. Straightening up in his chair and hoping the confusion didn’t register on his face, he allowed himself to absorb the situation once more. Suddenly it all came rushing back to him. Alicia! He looked back to the women’s face hoping to find good news hidden in her expression, but when she looked back, all he could see was sadness, pity perhaps. And then he knew. Without her even opening her mouth he knew. Alicia was gone. Lost. Forever.

         The following months after Alicia’s death, his life began crashing down into shambles. When she was alive, she was his light, his moral compass, always steering him in the right direction whenever he strayed, keeping him on the right path.  And now that she was gone, he had no idea where to go. He spent most of his time by himself, poring over scrapbooks full of pictures with them together, laughing, dancing, kissing, hoping that if he stared at the photographs long enough, he could somehow be transported back into happier times. He pushed away all of his friends and family, refusing to be in their company. He didn’t want their superficial sympathy or concern; he just wanted to be left alone. He walked slowly, with no sense of time and became so careless in his work, that he lost his job. But it didn't matter, his heartbreak kept him numb to all the judgment of society even as the bills and late notices started pouring into his mailbox. Until finally, something shocked him, scared him even; enough to shake him out of his stupor.



         The house was dim, illuminated by only a couple of white candles. Don stumbled in the darkness trying to find his bearings. Where was he going? How did he get here? What was happening? Suddenly, he heard what sounded like a low moan and his heart started pounding like a machine gun. He could feel adrenaline pulsing through his veins and with each jagged breath he drew; he could feel his muscles tense up. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but it was no use. His imagination had already taken over, running terrifying possibilities in his mind over and over, a movie in slow motion.

         Creeaak…

         Jumping, Don turned to see a door open, revealing a threatening figure. Its face looked pale and sharp in the candlelight, angles accentuated in the shadows. Its hair wild and untamed.  Its mouth drawn into a straight line, stubborn, as if ready to face down anything, and its eyes…oh its eyes. They were a piercing blue, the color you would expect to see in the ocean on a winter morning: cold, intense, impenetrable, unforgiving. Those eyes were ones that you could get lost in, that you knew behind them held a story of pain and hopelessness you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

         Don knew he had to act quickly. It was obvious that this stranger was a dangerous person and could very well harm him. It was clear anyway, that he wasn’t going to be moving anytime soon. Don tried to run from the figure, but wherever he turned there it was again, that same intense look watching his every move. Don was running out of options. He had to get out of there but he didn’t know how. Panicking, Don sprinted down a corridor and turned to see the stranger following right on his tail.

         “Why are you doing this?” he screamed at the top of his lungs, but there was no reply.

         By now, Don had already realized he couldn’t keep it up much longer. His stamina was waning and he could see he was approaching a dead end. Instinctively, he reached for the cold metal that hung against his chest, right next to his heart. Gently he held it up, and watched as it glistened in the dim light. Alicia’s engagement ring. He had almost forgotten about it in all this chaos. Under different circumstances, if she had safely made it to dinner that night, would she be wearing it right now instead of him carrying it in vain, merely an unfulfilled promise? I’ll never know…he thought vaguely as he broke the chain and threw it at the stranger…The idea of something so minute, nothing more than a piece of metal, actually causing any damage was preposterous, but he was out of options, and yet, as though a miracle…

         Crash! A million pieces of glass shattered flying through the air, cutting and scraping him as he collapsed, falling….



         “Aaaaahhhh!” when Don woke up, he nearly fell out of bed, wrapped in a cocoon of sheets and clutching onto his pillow. Gingerly, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, and untangled himself as he went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He needed to collect his thoughts. Flipping on the lights, and allowing the faucet to run for a couple of seconds, he stood there pondering the meaning of his dream and why it disturbed him so. He’d had far worse nightmares in the past couple of months. Why was this one in particular sticking with him? Drying off his face with a towel he looked into the mirror and gasped. The stranger of his dream was standing right in front of him. The stranger was him.

         Shocked he stared at his reflection, trying to make sense of it all. He barely recognized himself. Had he really let himself go this long? What happened to him? Feeling the walls closing in, he clutched the sink for support. Something had to be done. Wallowing in this misery was the lifestyle he neither needed nor wanted. But how could he possibly let go of Alicia’s memory? Her voice, her face, it was all embedded in his memory, unable to be removed from the depths of his subconscious. Look at him; he still wore her engagement ring around his neck on a chain, literally linking him to all that they had shared. But no. He would find a way to move on. Don was ashamed that he had gotten this low and frankly, he was a little scared too. Tomorrow morning he would look for a job, any job and pull himself back together. He would pay all of his bills, take care of himself again, and find a way to pick up the pieces of his life. As for his friends and family, they were disposable, having abandoned him in his moment of need. Who needed them?

         “It’s just us against the world, now,” he told his reflection laughing on the edge of hysterics, “and we’re not going to stop for anybody else.”



         Six months later, Don had found himself launched into the world of human experimentation. In return for him testing out companies’ new pharmaceutical products, he was offered food, boarding, and decent compensation. And while it wasn’t the best job, it did pay the bills and fill him with the closest thing he could find to happiness. It gave him a strange feeling of satisfaction to have all the attention that the scientists paid him, even if it was only for a study. Sometimes, he would pretend that when they would scribble down notes on their clipboard as they asked him questions, he was a famous movie star being interviewed for People magazine, instead of just an experiment gerbil spewing out data. Because even though he didn’t let it on, Don was still very, very lonely. While he still had the house and was paying off his debts, he still felt consumed by the emptiness that filled his heart. Oftentimes he would sit and wonder if there was anything in the world that could take the place of Alicia, or at least numb the pain.  He had struggled in vain for almost a year to find a way to cure himself: psychology, online dating, religion. But nothing had helped him. All these things had done were remind him of the fact that the battle between head and heart was one that was constant and uncontrollable with no cure in sight. Or so it had seemed.

         One day, after he was leaving yet another trial, one of the scientists, Dr. Bouton approached him. Over the past couple of weeks, Don had gotten to know the doctor fairly well, and the two would often talk after Don’s interviews were over. Don would tell him of Alicia, and the troubled times he was going through, and Dr. Bouton would sit and listen, nodding sympathetically all the while.

         “Hey Don?!” he had called, as he strode towards Don, clipboard in tow. “How would you like to have another job next month?”

         “What kind of a job?” Don replied. Though he was still in need of money, Don had set some limits of what he would put his body through.

         “A vaccine.”

         “Hmm…what kind of vaccine? Flu?”

         “No. A new kind, one that shows great potential. One that will rid the world of the greatest disease ever inflicted upon mankind. And one that I thought would be particularly interesting to you.”

         “Oh really, and what would that be?” Don inquired raising his eyebrow quizzically.

         “Mr. Collinson, I believe that my colleague at the university, Dr. Schmitt may have discovered a vaccine against love.”

         “LOVE!?”

         “Well, hypothetically. You see, it originally began as a study of what attracted female mice to their potential mates. Through a series of experiments, Schmitt discovered the biochemistry that makes these mice, as well as people…well, fall in love. He also discovered that by suppressing these certain chemicals in the mice, they did not so much as appear somewhat interested in mating, therefore enabling him to conclude that he had discovered the vaccine against love.”

         Don was at a loss for words. Bouton took this as his cue to continue.

         “Now, I know that you’re still mourning the loss of your girlfriend, Alicia, and I respect that, but…if I may be forward with you? I can see how it’s holding you back. I can sense that palpable longing that you feel everyday keeping you from furthering your lifestyle or your success. If this works, Don, imagine! You’ll be able to do almost anything, no boundaries, no emotions of the past to cloud your reasoning. And what innovations this will bring to society! No unwanted pregnancies, breakups, divorces, families split apart, because those relationships would never have occurred in the first place. The pains of the heart, would be replaced with the logic of the head, never burdening us with unkempt feelings again!”

         Don stood there, paralyzed, unsure what to think.

         “Now, I know this is a lot to ask of you, and I realize that you’ll need to think it over. But I'm sure that you're the man for this job,” Bouton took a stack of paperwork out of his portfolio and handed it to Don, “here are the forms for you to fill out. Just think about it Don! Think of all that you could be!”

         And with that he left Don to himself.

         Don didn’t know what to do. Take away the pains of longing? Could he do that? But then again, didn’t the products that he tested do just that?  They helped cure disease, or take away physical agony. People took these painkillers and medications all the time, without second thoughts to help them through headaches and sickness. Why shouldn’t there something like that to cure him of his disease? Of his heartbreak. Yet still there was a question that kept him unsure. What would Alicia say if she were still alive?

         But Alicia isn’t alive, you fool, said a nagging voice in the back of his head.

         By thinking such a question you have just proved that you need this vaccine more than anything. Bouton is right, look what all of this has reduced you to. You’re nothing but a shell of what you used to be. A pebble on the sands of time. If Alicia could see you now, she’d want you to move on. She’d want you to be a MAN. You’re acting like a little girl, with absolutely no drive. And here’s a cure, falling right into your hands, if you’ll only reach out and grab it. What’s there to lose? You can’t possibly get any worse off than you are now. It’s time to let go. It’s time to walk into the future. Come on, let her go.

         Nervously, Don fingered the ring that hung from his neck.

         Maybe it is time I let her go, Don contemplated.

         I can’t stay in love with nothing but a ghost. Alicia is gone for good and I would be a fool to hold on.

         And suddenly, Don started running. Running faster than he’d ever run in his life. From where or whom, he did not know, and frankly, he didn’t want to think about it. He just needed to clear his mind. So on the swiftest on feet, he ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. Until finally he stopped. Wiping away the beads of perspiration as they rained down his head, Don looked around to get his bearings.

         Of course,he thought sarcastically, looking down.

         Out of all the places to go you end up here, the place the carries the most sadness for you.

         Kneeling down, he turned to face the tombstone of Alicia Fontina. He looked at the flowers that had been recently placed by her grave, and inhaled their musty scent.

         “Alicia,” he murmured. And for the first time almost a year, Don Collison allowed himself to cry. He wept for Alicia, for him, for the happiness they shared and never got to share. For what he had become, what she could’ve become, and what they would never be. He lay there and cried for some time, until finally he could cry no more. And suddenly, it was clear to him what his decision would be. Unlatching the chain by from his neck, gently Don placed her engagement ring on to the soft earth.

         “Goodbye, Alicia,” he said tenderly, and then he walked away.



*          And there he sat, waiting, as it seemed he had been for an eternity, to finally rid himself of all of this suffering. Ready to start anew. It seemed appropriate that the very chapter that had begun in a place such as this was also ending here. But was he truly ready? Would he be able to shed the plague that had become his identity?

         No, he told himself.

         You’re good. You’re ready for this. You are not getting cold feet, Don. The paper work is signed, and there is nothing you can do to stop this from happening. It’s been decided and that’s that. Now go in there with no hesitation and take your vaccine.

         “Mr. Collinson,” Don jumped up and realized he was next.

         “Dr. Schmitt is ready for you in room four.”

         “Of course,” Don replied following the nurse down the hall.

         “Hello there, Mr. Collinson! My name is Dr. Schmitt. And how are you doing on this fine day?”

         “Pretty good,” he replied, even though his gut was telling him just the opposite.

         Everything seemed wrong. The place, the doctor, the situation in general. He looked at the doctor. While Dr.  Schmitt seemed like a nice guy, with wireframe glasses and graying hair, Don highly doubted that the good doctor would appreciate him backing out on his experiment at the last minute. That paperwork that he’d signed was binding after all, and even if he let Don back out, you could almost bet there’d be a lawsuit in court. And if that were the case, Don could almost guarantee he’d lose it, along with his house and his livelihood, or whatever was left of it. No, he’d have to go through with this. In another time, he would’ve fought it. But Don Collinson was a man tired of fighting the fates and now merely just a pawn of destiny. So he had no choice but to watch silently as Dr. Schmitt, injected the vaccine into his right arm. 

         “This will just prick for a second,” Schmitt said cheerfully, as he injected the needle. Smiling, he dabbed the injection site with a cotton ball, and placed a bandage on Don’s arm. “Have a nice day, Mr. Collinson. We’ll see you in about a week to check on the progress of your vaccine.”

         “Yes, thank you, Dr. Schmitt,” Don replied mechanically, dazed and uncertain when he would begin to feel the injection’s effect. He could already feel he’d made a horrible mistake. As he left the office, instead of feeling lighter as he’d expected, he felt unchanged, almost heavier if possible. Getting into his car, he sat and stared the steering wheel.

         “What have I done!?” he moaned, disgusted with himself for allowing such a thing to happen. He had to return to Alicia’s grave to find some answers and quickly. When he’d left Alicia’s tombstone, he’d thought he was making the right decision, by leaving her behind and starting with a clean slate. But now he realized. When he had gotten that vaccine, he wasn’t erasing the love that they had shared, but all the potential feelings of affection he could’ve had in the future. Nothing would ever make him forget how much he cared for Alicia, not matter how much he wished it. And now he realized that perhaps the loss he felt with Alicia’s death was not a curse, but a gift.  Wasn’t there an old adage that clearly stated: “Tis’ better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all?” All this time when he had been trying to rid himself of this feeling, he should’ve been trying to become closer to people who loved him, and people that he cared for in return. But now it was too late! He had treated all his closest friends and family so horribly that they may as well be dead, since he would never regain their affections. And he had just willingly thrown away his capacity to love. What a fool he was!  He remembered in college a professor commenting on how humans are wired to survive on love, and wondered how long he would last. Death seemed like a nicer alternative than what he would have to deal with now. But, he decided, suicide would not be the answer. He had made a decision and now he would live with the consequences. This would be his penance for having gotten to such a point in his life. 

         At least I won’t mess up in that department, he thought glumly.

         When he arrived to the graveyard, as he slowly approached Alicia’s headstone, he saw somebody standing over it. As he went to turn away, he realized it was too late. Alicia’s mother had spotted him. Squinting at him with old eyes, she called out to him.

         “Donald!? Oh, Donald! I haven’t seen you in ages! Come over here and give this old soul a hug.”

         Despite himself, Don had to smile. Gloria had always been an optimist and it was no surprise to him at all her daughter’s death hadn’t kept her bitter.

         “So where have you been off to, honey?” she inquired, wizened face beaming.

         “Oh, just here and there, Gloria.” She had no idea.

         “Very good, very good. I haven’t heard from you in ages. We were starting to worry about you.”

         “We?”

         “Why of course, Mr. Fontina and I were hoping you’d come and visit, but you never did. We were worried you felt you weren’t welcome after, well…,”she let her voice trail off for a second.

         “But no matter, our door is always open; you’re like a son to us and we love you, no matter what happens.”

         And with that she gave him another hug. Don breathed in, taking in her scent of lilacs and hairspray. He had missed Alicia’s parents. His own had died before he’d met her, and her parents had seemed to take the place of his.

         “Okay, maybe I will, Gloria. It was nice seeing you again.”

         “You too, and Don?”

         “Yes?” He turned around and saw her expression, soft, somewhat sorrowful, and at peace.

         “I just want you to know, you made my daughter so very happy, and I thank you for that.”

         Don felt his throat tighten.

         “You’re welcome.”





         A week later after many a thoughtful night, Don went back to Dr. Schmitt and reported how the last week had gone.

         “Okay, Mr. Collinson, it’s nice to see you again. Now tell me. Have you shown any change in the last week?”

         “You know doctor, I thought this vaccine would take away all of my feelings of pain, and burden, but it only seemed to make them heavier. And then I realized, that was because I no longer chose not to love; now I believed myself incapable of loving at all. But then, my views changed once again, though this time for the better. About five days after you gave me the shot, I realized something when I went to visit my girlfriend’s parents. Love isn’t something that you can just put under a microscope and examine, it’s something more. Something special, you know?  And I realized that no matter what you try to do, if you try to suppress it with vaccines, or create a shield of anger to avoid it, love will find you when you least expect it. So I believe that I have a choice to love again. I thought it was lost, but it actually it’s been within me all along. And nothing not even the most advanced science in the world can stop that.”

         And with that Don sat back in his chair, a carefree look on his face, the happiest he had been since Alicia’s death. It was clear that he was a truly changed man. Not showing any expression, Dr. Schmitt nodded and wrote Don’s statement on the clipboard, along with a few comments of his own. Then he gave Don his payment, and helped him to the door.

         “It was nice working with you, Mr. Collinson,” Dr. Schmitt said kindly, as he closed the door behind him.

         “Same to you, Dr. Schmitt,” replied Don jovially as he walked out the door, step much more youthful than the last time he had left. As Don walked to his car, he whistled a tune, and realized that he was finally able to move on with his life. Not only had he triumphed over his own inner demons, but also in the battle of love over science.

         Smiling to himself as he pulled away, he thought about Dr. Schmitt. What a life, studying a way to rid oneself of an emotion so special that it can’t be classified like a piece of DNA or suppressed like an unwanted gene. It made him almost pity the doctor.

         “Poor man doesn’t know a thing about life,” he muttered to himself as he headed home. 



         Back at the hospital, Dr. Schmitt looked at his notes, discussing Don’s progress with Dr. Bouton.

         “And he said that the vaccine had done just the opposite?” inquired Bouton, aghast.

         “Yes, the fellow believed that although he had been injected he still had control over his capacity to love.”

         “Astounding! Well this changes everything!” Bouton looked genuinely shocked.

         “Not so my dear Bouton, not so.”

         “Oh and how is that?”

         “Well you see, Mr. Collinson was given a placebo.”

          “Really!? So that is why he didn’t suffer the effects of the real vaccine. He never had even a drop of the actual thing in his veins.”

         “That’s correct.”

         “But yet he had the audacity to believe something as abstract as love could triumph over such advanced sciences?!” Bouton scoffed.

         “Yes, yes indeed. I have a feeling that he’ll go through life believing that he overcame such technology with the power of his own heart, like a child in a fairytale,” Schmitt said wistfully.

         Bouton shook his head sadly.

         “Poor man doesn’t know a thing about life.”