The Scientist's Experiment: Chapter Twenty-Two

The library was uncomfortably silent, save the odd shuffling of pages or a muffled cough. Zeke looked up from his notes to watch a young page, assistant to the head librarian, fill the stove with fresh coals. She pulled the door shut, wiping sweat from her face. Zeke seemed to sweat sympathetically with her, but he always felt hot lately. He assumed it was due to the various changes his body was going through, as no one else seemed to feel the constant warmth.
“Are you almost done?” Frieda piped up from behind a group of shelves.
“Close. I think I might need Carla to proofread it. Do you think she’d mind?” He said.
“Probably not, but it depends on her workload today. You sure are taking your sweet time.”
“I just want it to be perfect.” He muttered.
Frieda returned to the table empty-handed. She took a chair next to Zeke and glanced over his shoulder. His handwriting was so illegible, she wondered how the medical board would even be able to read it. Though the experiment was still a few months off from being over, Zeke decided to send the preliminary research to the board for review. The sooner he could send it in before the holiday season, the faster their response would return. Upon reviewing his work, Zeke felt as though he were cramming for some university final; he felt slightly younger.
Frieda had followed along to the Middlesport library, hoping to find some books on complicated surgery techniques, to help Carla in her further research on the caesarean method. She found only one surgical manual, and being barren of pictures or diagrams, it wasn’t very helpful. She wasn’t surprised. The library was small, and for the most part, under-stocked. Frieda would need a big city library, or perhaps one belonging to a medical school. This probably would lead to yet another trip back to New York City. Having just recently returned from her Thanksgiving visit home, this sounded exhausting.
Frieda eyed the doctor as he stared intently at one of the many books that lay in front of him.
“Why is your hair…?” She started.
“Frizzy? It’s just the humidity. I’ve been a bit on the warm side, lately.”
“No, it’s…thicker, somehow. Like you have more of it.”
Zeke reached up to feel his red locks. He shrugged, feeling them to be no different, and he pushed the matted hair out of his face. He gathered up the scattered papers of his write-up and his now-chaotic journal and shoved them back into his leather satchel.
“Finished?” Frieda asked.
“I believe so.” Zeke said.
He adjusted his bunched-up sweater vest over his bump. Entering December, his seventh month of the pregnancy, and the third trimester, the change was certainly apparent. Though the baby wasn’t massive, it was more obvious than it used to be. Zeke was forced to take extra steps of precaution, which included a heavy winter coat, in spite of his raised body temperature. He was less than comfortable as of late, but managed to bear it.
“I can return those.” Frieda offered, scooping up the small pile of books Zeke had accumulated.
“I’d appreciate it.” He said. Zeke withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face.
“Still overheated, are you?” Frieda asked.
“Seems so.” Zeke said.
“In this winter cold? I wish I were you.” She slipped the books back into their places.
“No you don’t.” He chuckled.    
“You don’t think it’s a fever, do you?” Frieda inquired, concerned now.
“No. I don’t feel sick otherwise. I suppose it’s some side effect of…all this.” He said, gesturing over the front of his body.
“Well, it hasn’t been the first effect.” Frieda shrugged.  
“And, um, it isn’t the last, either.”  
“How so?”
“There’s something I haven’t mentioned. To you or Carla.” He said.
Frieda looked at him with concern. From the way he was grimacing, it probably wasn’t good.
“Well, what is it?” She asked.
Zeke sighed, pulling her behind one of the bookshelves. He hoped, out of earshot of the librarian and her page. He  glanced over his shoulder.
“What?” Frieda asked. At his beckon, she leaned in closer.
“I’m…I’m lactating.” He whispered.
“WHA-?”
Zeke slapped his palm over her mouth, shushing her. He eyed the librarian, assuring she was still occupied. She hadn’t stirred from her stamping. She hadn’t. Zeke carefully removed his hand from Frieda’s mouth.
“How long has that been going on?” She asked, incredulously.
“A couple of weeks, perhaps.” He said, his face reddening.
“How do you think it compares to normal secretion?”
“I haven’t the foggiest, but it’s intriguing, isn’t it?”
“To say the least.”
Frieda saw Zeke’s expression to be one of mixed fascination and disgust. And despite her overarching confusion and slight repulsion, she managed a laugh nonetheless.
“This whole thing is beyond me, but as long as you’re still content. Assuming you intend on putting this in your report?” She sighed.
“I have to. I can’t leave out even the most minute detail. Even the temperature changes.”
“Do you think Carla should know about this…change?” Frieda said.
“I doubt it’s urgent, but I’ll mention it to her while dropping this off.” Zeke tapped the top of his satchel.
Frieda donned her heavy winter coat and scarf. Zeke shuddered at the thought of putting his coat back on, but he knew there was no in-between. Either he was too warm, or too cold, and warmth seemed optimal at that moment. He kept his scarf off, much to Frieda’s chagrin, but underneath the jacket, it was like an oven to him. They both stepped outside of the pint-sized library, and into the slushy, frozen streets. His balance not being what it used to be, Zeke graciously took Frieda’s arm for support. The icy road made him anxious.
“How long until you go into hiding?” Frieda asked.
“Hiding?” Zeke said.
“Well, aren’t expectant mothers supposed to hide away shamefully? Lest anyone discover your fragile state?” She said. Zeke could hear the smirk in her voice.
“First of all, let me make something clear,” Zeke stopped their stride, “I am not this child’s ‘mother.’ It has a mother, and it’s not me. Secondly, I barely come out of my house as it is. One would think you’d appreciate not making the trek to my house.”
“Yes, but I am more abled-bodied than you at the moment.” She said.
Frieda had started walking again, and Zeke was forced to scurry to keep up with her stride.
“Well, the coat helps for now. And the bulky clothing.” He said.
“I’m not sure you can wear the same things in the spring.”
“Well, we’ll have to figure it out when…” Zeke’s voice trailed off.
He noticed Montgomery standing over by his cart. He busied himself by lighting his pipe, and flexing his hands to keep them warm.
‘Damn.’ Zeke swore in his head.
“Let’s go.” Frieda said, sensing his anxiety.
She began leading him in the opposite direction of the sinister salesman, when his voice stopped them in their tracks.
“Hello, professor. To what do I owe this afternoon displeasure?” He said.
Zeke turned to face the younger man, trying to hold back a scowl.
“Just an afternoon out. Looking at the festive holiday décor.” Zeke said, forcing politeness. It came off as too polite, inauthentic, and uncharacteristic of him. Otto noticed it immediately.
“You don’t say? You always rubbed me as some kind of Scrooge.” Montgomery’s eyes gleamed eerily.
Zeke ground his teeth, trying to remember why he ever liked his former student.
“What do you want?” Frieda asked.
“Just thought I’d say hello to Middlesport’s famous love affair.” He said.
“We’re not courting!” Frieda said.
“She’s my lab assistant!” Zeke snapped.
“Yes, yes. Of course.” Otto said, in a way that sounded completely unconvinced.
Zeke didn’t like the way Montgomery was looking at him. It was a penetrating glare, disguised only by his eerie smirk. It was as though Otto could see right through him. Zeke’s pulse increased, feeling nervous, but managed to maintain eye contact until Montgomery turned his eyes to Frieda.
“Well, regardless of the father, I’m sure your offspring will be charming.”
“Offspring?” Frieda scowled, eyes completely locked on the young charlatan.
“Oh, you don’t have to hide it. What are you really on the town for? A maternity corset, perhaps?” His eyes gleamed.
“Don’t you dare talk to her that way!” Zeke snapped, stepping forward in a frail attempt to protect his assistant.
Otto turned his eyes to him again, and Zeke felt a chill run down his spine.
“How admirable. Or perhaps you’re out shopping for a ring? Hoping to legitimize this union.” Montgomery said.
Zeke grappled for a response, but he felt oddly paralyzed. Otto had never been so intimidating, nor Zeke so anxious. Frieda looked on, ready to step in when needed.
He strode forward, and Zeke shuffled backwards. Montgomery was significantly taller than Zeke, and he loomed over the doctor ominously. Otto reached out to grip Zeke’s shoulder, and the scientist slipped and fell in the snow, landing hard on his back.
“Ah!” Zeke gasped, the ice wetting his coat.
The baby squirmed furiously at the sudden and rough movement. Zeke took it as a reminder of his condition, and scrambled to get the bulk of the coat over his midriff in a surreptitious manner, but it wasn’t subtle enough. Otto had noticed, and looked upon the doctor with a gleaming stare. Frieda yanked Montgomery out of her way, rushing to help Zeke to his feet. Once he was balanced, she turned to give a few choice words to the con man, but he had dashed off down the street.
“Are you hurt?” Frieda asked, brushing the snow off of his coat.
“My back may bruise, but no, not seriously.” He said, still looking for Montgomery in the crowd. He was nowhere to be seen. Zeke massaged his stomach, trying to calm the destressed fetus.
“Good. Then…HOW-DID-HE-KNOW?!” Frieda said, repeatedly slapping Zeke across the shoulder with his own satchel.
“Stop that! I don’t know! He’s just so…observant.” He said, snatching his bag from her hands.
The encounter had frightened Zeke just as much as it did Frieda, but he didn’t want to let on. He knew, deep down, that he’d let something slip. One little action or another in the past had signaled to Otto that something was off. But Zeke hadn’t the foggiest what that might have been. The forgetfulness, a symptom that had arisen from the pregnancy as of late, didn’t help.
“I’ve just been so careful…” He muttered.
“Not careful enough, I suppose.” Frieda huffed.
“We can’t fret over it now. Come on; let’s get to the clinic.” Zeke said, then took off shuffling down the street.
As the duo hurried to see Dr. Wilkins, Otto Montgomery watched them from the safety of his pedaling cart. He smoked his pipe thoughtfully, cradling the bottle of Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup that Zeke had picked up all those weeks ago. He eyed the woods, thinking of Zeke’s now-empty abode, and trying to piece together the doctor’s secret.
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“How does that feel?” Dr. Wilkins asked, placing her hand against Zeke’s bare flank.
“Ah…not great.” He grimaced.
“Yep, I think that’s going to be a bruise.” She said, pulling his shirt back down.  
“But nothing worse?” Frieda asked, and Zeke raised a brow.
“Nothing worse. The rest of the physical looked fine, baby sounds good. You said he pushed you?” Carla said.
“No. I slipped, but he reached out like he might.” He said.
“Well, it sounds like a scary encounter, but merely that. If I could have a Christmas wish, it’d be for Montgomery to drop dead.” Carla scowled.
“Now, now.” Frieda said.
“I mean it!” Carla snapped.
“Shh.”
“I don’t like him, Frieda! He’s so unnerving! Every time I look at him, his eyes are just…so cold…” Carla said, sounding worked up.
“Alright, just calm down. Frieda’s fine, I’m fine. Neither of us got hurt.” Zeke said.
“But you could be! You said it yourself. You don’t know what he’s capable of.” Carla said.
Zeke opened his mouth, but said nothing. He bit his thumbnail, thinking. He decided to change the subject, hoping to quell her fears.  
“Will you kindly review my paper?”
Dr. Wilkins sighed and shook her head.
“I can’t. Not now, anyway. I’m far too busy. I only let you in here because you’re a priority case.”
Carla sat down at her desk and rubbed her forehead. She was exhausted. Winter was one of her worst seasons. There were too many cases of frostbite, too many deaths from the cold, and too many cases that were just too complicated for her to handle. Even Frieda had to skimp on Zeke a bit just to help with Carla’s workload.
Zeke slid off of the exam table and sat in the chair facing Carla’s desk. He took the bundle of papers that was his report and slid them across the table.
“You don’t have to do it right now. Perhaps in the near future?”
Dr. Wilkins scowled at him. She hadn’t forgotten about Otto, but wished she could. She reluctantly pulled the report towards herself, signaling a “I’ll do it later.” Zeke smiled gratefully.
“Now, about this incident with Montgomery.” Dr. Wilkins started.
“It wasn’t an incident. Not really, at least.”
“He knows.” Frieda blurted out before Zeke could stop her.
“What?” Carla said, expression darkening.
“He does not! At least, I think he doesn’t…”  Zeke said hastily.
“Who are you trying to fool? He definitely knows about the baby.” Frieda continued.
“Not…exactly. He thinks Frieda and I may be courting, or even in the midst of some affair.” Zeke said.
“He assumed I was the one with-child.”
“That isn’t far from the truth, you realize! At the very least, it isn’t good!” Carla snapped, scowling at Zeke.
“Don’t you think I know that?! I didn’t want anyone to find out about this, least of all Otto Montgomery!” He said, angrily tapping his bump.
“Well what will you do about it?” Dr. Wilkins said.
“I haven’t the slightest notion,” Zeke sighed. “Anything I could think of to keep him quiet would make him even more suspicious. He won’t want money or any bribe. He enjoys watching me suffer, or at the very least, squirm.”  
“Great. How can this possibly be remedied now?” Carla said.
They both turned to Frieda for suggestions, but she appeared deep in thought.
“What?” Carla asked her.
“Well, he could leave.” She said.
Zeke chuckled in amusement.
“I’m serious.” Frieda said.
“And go where, pray tell? I’m not exactly the definition of ‘mister inconspicuous’!” He said.
“Doctor.” Carla corrected him, to which he returned a scowl.
“My point being,” he continued, “I don’t feel it safe to travel in my current condition. And we still haven’t corrected the matter of the destination!”
“If you’d let me finish, I was getting to that.” Frieda said.
Both persons immediately fell silent, and Zeke turned around in his chair. Frieda muttered a “thanks” under her breath.
“I know you’re receiving mail from your brother. You may not return any messages, but he’s sending you letters. Invitations, even. I’m assuming you’ve received a notice about a Christmas dinner or something to that effect.”
“No.” Zeke said.
“You haven’t?” She asked.
“No, I have. I meant I’m not going! I haven’t had contact with my brother in years.”
“But it seems like he’d be happy to see you. Seeing as how he’s sending you letters.” Carla interjected.
“I’m not ready. I’m not ready to talk to him.”
“When will you be? Don’t you think it’d be weird for him to show up one day and find that you now have a child?” Frieda added.
“He won’t come calling. If William hasn’t visited in all this time, he won’t do it in the near future. Besides, I’m in no condition for travel, and William lives all the way in D.C.”
“He has a point.” Carla said.
“Which would you rather risk? Being away from home, or Otto putting everything together just by you sticking around? Listen, I’d rather you be out of town with family and hopefully quelling Montgomery’s suspicions, rather than staying put and feeding his rumors. The more time we’re apart, the better.” Frieda said.
Zeke mulled this over for a minute.
“I don’t want William to know about this experiment. He wouldn’t understand.”
“He doesn’t have to. You’re only twenty-six weeks along. It’s almost the third trimester, yes, but it can still pass for weight. Besides, he hasn’t seen you in so long, he wouldn’t know the difference.” Carla said.
“But I’ve always been on the thin side.”
“Now you’re just making excuses, and like Carla said there’s no obligation to tell him. I’ll even buy you the ticket.” Frieda said.
“No, no. Money isn’t the issue. It’s just…it’s been so long since I’ve even spoken to my brother. And…well…there’s the pregnancy.” Zeke folded his hands under his chin.
“I see no reason why you can’t travel. Like I said, the physical was normal. I think it’d be fine if you decided to go out of town, but only for a couple of weeks. Maximum.” Dr. Wilkins said.
“And I was going to spend the holiday with Carla anyway. There’s no point in you being all secluded up in that big house of yours. It isn’t healthy.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll consider it! Just give me a while to mull things over, is that fair?” Zeke said, pushing himself out of his seat.
“Of course.” Carla said.
“We just want you safe.” Frieda added.
Zeke blushed at the kind gesture, or perhaps it was his body temperature, but he flushed nonetheless. He pulled his heavy coat on and snatched up his satchel.
“Please read the paper. Please?” Zeke said.  
Carla nodded dismissively, trying to subdue the doctor’s tightened nerves. Zeke choked for words to say next, but he couldn’t stop thinking about his bruising back. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he left the office without another word.  
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Zeke watched the steam rise from the brimming bathtub. The warm soak he’d drawn for himself would be sure to calm his psyche. His thoughts were frayed ever since the incident with Montgomery, and he was altogether quite frazzled. He slowly disrobed beside the bathtub, eyeing himself in the full-length mirror every few seconds. His back was dotted with various blotchy bruises, none of which seemed very severe.
‘It could have been a lot worse.’ He told himself, glancing down at his stomach.
It was dizzying to Zeke to think about just how far he’d come in the pregnancy. The third trimester was around the corner, stretch marks were beginning to crop up, the more intense fetal movement, and now the puzzling secretion of breast milk. In the early weeks he’d been a skinny waif, but those days were far behind him, and he was pleased by the healthy amount of weight he’d put on.
Zeke carefully slipped into the warm tub, stretching his sore muscles. Everything was beginning to ache at this point in the gestation. He tried to remind himself that it was all part of the process, and it would all be worth it when the forty weeks were up. Still, the nightly soaks in the bath helped the pains. He tried not to look at the rust-red line that ringed around the rim of the tub. He knew what it was from, and it made his heart ache. It immediately turned his thoughts to the locked door across the hall.
“I’m not ready to think about that, yet.” He whispered aloud, and he pushed it from his chaotic mind, distracting himself with soaping his arms and hair.  
A winter wind rattled the windowpanes, and Zeke noticed it’d started snowing again. In spite of the cold outside, Zeke’s whole body was flushed with heat. The tub made it doubly so. He folded his hands across his ample stomach, leaning back against the porcelain tub. He found himself floating a little on the surface of the water, adding to his sense of inner-calm. Taking a deep breath, he dunked his entire head under, watching the little bubbles trickling from his nose and mouth. It was all so serene, as though Zeke himself were in his own temporary womb of sorts. And as the baby shifted beneath his skin, he felt a surreal connection to the mysterious being nesting within him.
As Zeke came gasping up for air, the moment of oneness and tranquility faded, and he was just sitting in a lukewarm bathtub again. His mind turned to the card his brother had sent him. As Frieda had surmised, William had mailed him a special holiday greeting card, complete with an invitation to Christmas dinner. Zeke had received one for previous holidays, but this one felt a bit different. Maybe it was because Zeke was actually considering going, but the request felt more urgent. Not that his brother hadn’t been serious about the several other invitations, but this one seemed even more so. Zeke knew it would be quite a task to get himself to Washington D. C. He’d have to pack light, one suitcase, maybe two, yet even so it would be a drudgery. He wouldn’t sleep well on a train, especially not being with-child. The baby would kick all night, and irritability was a sure result for the next few days. Zeke wasn’t sure if he could handle it all.
‘Still…’ He thought.
He missed William. Zeke had tried to hold up the wall of the grudge he’d held for his brother, but it was quickly crumbling. Being estranged from his younger brother only added to Zeke’s loneliness. William missed him, Zeke could tell from his letters, and this formed a deep pit of guilt inside him. He weighed out the delight of being connected to family again versus the trouble he’d have to go to in order to get there.
‘Alright,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’ll go.’