Baseline

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Sergei asked, pulling up to my front door.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I said, my voice quivering. I gave him a side-eye, in part hoping he’d do something to stop me from leaving. Would take me somewhere where all my questions will be answered. But Sergei didn’t notice.

“You know, I kinda miss Greenfield.” He said instead. He then added,

“I’ll try to get you that appointment soon, alright?”

“Sure.” I nodded and walked up the steps.

“Love you, lil bro,” I heard Sergei say.

“Yeah.” I mumbled back.

Once back at home, I sat on the couch and thought about what to do next. I needed to find out what was going on, whether I still worked at the Lab, why I kept seeing the same people, Kate, Ben, Dawn in different contexts. There had to be a trace of my employment somewhere. And then it hit me. Of course! My bank account! I’d been making good money and had been saving it.

It better still be there, I thought, rushing to the drawer where I kept all the papers. I pulled it out and the pile of papers spilled out on the floor. There were several bills, the lease signed over to me by Sergei, and then I nearly leaped in excitement, a December bank statement from Smiths Bank.

I’d had an account there ever since getting my job at the pizza place. The transactions’ history showed two deposits, on December 1 and December 15th, from the Vista Communications payroll. Each one for $1100. The total amount in my bank account was five hundred dollars. This was nowhere near the generous earnings from The Lab.

I stared at the paper in disbelief, then threw it down on the floor. Right then, my phone pinged.

It was a text from Ben.

“Hey, man, sorry about Foxy’s. Hope you got home alright. See you tomorrow.”

I guess I didn’t get fired from Vista; I thought and texted Ben back,

“All good. See you tomorrow.”

I stared at the other papers, sifted them one more time, then stuffed them back into a drawer. And then I saw it. Mama’s death certificate. I’d never seen it before, but Sergei must have forgotten it when he was moving out. Mama. I looked at the papers, tears welling up in my eyes. I started calculating what age Mama would have been had she lived. And then I noticed a line that read ‘cause of death.’ It said: ‘Acute liver failure.’ I clenched my fists.

No, Mama’s cause of death was Phil. “He will pay for killing Mama,” I thought and walked to the shelf where I’d kept the hunting knife. It was sitting right there, and I took it out from the case, running my finger along its surface. Rodion Likharev. I read my grandfather’s name in Russian. My name. I took it into my hand, feeling its weight, then examined the blade. I felt it with the tip of my finger. I should get it sharpened. The thought crossed my mind. But if I took it anywhere to get sharpened, someone might remember me. And then I thought of April’s aunt and her husband, Mike. Now that was someone who would help me sharpen the hunting knife.

All of a sudden, I felt so bone-tired from the strange events of that day that I dropped on the couch. I didn’t care what came next. I got the console out and played. It was the car chase game and was the best to clear my mind. The sound of the game, the race through the streets, everything about it was therapeutic. And for a moment, it didn’t matter that I had no recollection of what had happened to me in the last six months. I was winning. Clearing levels. Moving up the virtual world.

***

The following afternoon, just as Ben and I were wrapping up for the day, I got a text from my brother.

“Rodion, I got you an appointment. 4pm today. She had a cancellation.”

“Who?” I texted back.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Dr. Matucci. I’ll come get you at 3:30.”

I got home and changed, and exactly at 3:30 I heard the sound of Sergei’s car outside.

On the way to Dr. Matucci’s office, Sergei was in a good mood.

“Rodion, listen, don’t worry about this first session, alright? I’ll cover it.”

“Thank you.”

“And for the bachelor party, Jimmy and Nate got it all worked out. We’re heading out to near Seven Springs. A shooting range and go karting course.”

“Nice.”

“Yes, it’ll be just the four of us, so remember, on Friday morning. You’re our designated driver, Rodion.”

“Of course.”

“You know what? I’m excited to get married. I hope Tammy can be like a big sister to you, Rodion. What do you say?” Sergei turned to me. His face looked so eager, so hopeful.

“Of course.” I nodded. I hadn’t been paying attention to where we were heading. My brother had mentioned ‘Oakland,’ and for a moment I wondered if the office was in the Upper Hill Psych building, which dominated the Northern part of Oakland. It was a large, sprawling construction, fifteen stories high, which occupied a whole city block.

But our car stopped on Forbes Avenue, across from the Carnegie Mellon campus.

“Alright, here we are.” Sergei said. I recognized the familiar block. “It’s this house right here.” Sergei pointed at the mansion where The Lab was.

“Which one is it?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

“The burgundy one. 5252 Forbes Avenue.”

“Alright.” I stared at the building. Should I tell him? I wondered. I better not. He already thinks I’m nuts.“

Listen, you just go in past the reception to the second floor. She’s expecting you. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“Are you sure it’s the right address?” I asked, hoping, against all odds, this was a mistake.

“Yes. It definitely is. I know it looks like a regular house, but that’s where she sees her patients. Not quite sure if she lives there or what.”

I stepped out of the car. What was happening? Was I about to go to The Lab?

I walked up to the familiar building, feeing as if my knees were buckling underneath me. The same door, the same set of steps. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again and waited. Still no answer.

I’ll just leave. It’s not too late, flashed in my mind. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sergei’s car idling, a way to escape still a possibility. I knocked again and this time the door opened on its own. I entered.

Inside, the place looked exactly the same. The same setup, the living room with the white couches, the dining room, and in the back I saw the kitchen. I froze at the bottom of the stairs, deciding what to do next, when I heard the creaking of the steps and saw Dr. Matucci descending the stairs.

She looked exactly the same. The psychiatrist was wrapped in what looked like a handmade shawl, knitted in blocks of bright colors, orange and yellow, intermixing. On her feet, she had enormous red platform boots that extended her short legs.

“Hello,” she greeted me, stopping midway, so that she stood several steps above me. “You must be Mr. Likharev.”

“Hi,” I said, tugging at the sleeves of my hoodie. I was grateful I’d had time to change and was wearing my regular clothes rather than the Vista uniform.

“Let’s go into my office,” she turned and walked back upstairs, not waiting for me to answer. I followed her up the steps. I held my breath in anticipation of a miracle. It was like watching a remake of a horror movie. Dr. Matucci walked to the second door and led me inside. The same office as before. The set-up was the same. The same couches, the colorful tapestries on the wall. Red and orange, yellow and gray. A statue of a Buddah on a cabinet.

“Pick a seat, please.” Dr. Matucci said. She remained standing, and I noticed that, despite the platforms, she was a full head shorter than me. Was she always so short?

I wondered, scanning the room in an effort to remember if everything was there. I headed to the couch and sat in the spot I’d picked before. Something was different, though, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. Dr. Matucci pulled up a chair and sat across from me.

And then it hit me. The teddy bear! The giant teddy bear was gone.

“Where’s the teddy bear?” I asked, opening my eyes wide, before I could stop myself.

“Your brother told you about the bear? Phil’s being dry cleaned.” Dr. Matucci smiled with her mouth only. “Most of my patients love the teddy bear.”

Phil. My nemesis. I clenched my fists, remembering my revenge plan.

“So, Mr. Likharev,” Dr. Matucci said, pulling me back to reality. I noticed a clipboard in her hands. She tapped a pen on its edge. “May I call you Rodion?”

I tugged at my sleeves, staring at her. Teddy bear. Kitsune. The fox.

“What brings you here?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I hope to be of assistance to you. And I can see you’re open to treatment.”

I raised my eyebrows, and she gave me a reassuring smile. “You walked into that door, Rodion. I was waiting for you to enter. Even though no one answered when you knocked, you didn’t give up. It’s a sign of your commitment to getting better.”

I didn’t respond, but she scribbled something on her clipboard, anyway.

“Your commitment to treatment will prevent you from becoming a liability.”

“What did you say?” I asked. Black circles floated in front of my eyes. A liability. Rang in my ears.

“I said, we don’t want you to become a liability, Rodion.” Dr. Matucci rose from her seat and walked over. She was now standing right next to me. I felt faint, remembering the mask, how I couldn’t breathe, the Lab. Testing Ryder and myself at different oxygenation levels.

Ryder. My double. The next moment, I saw him. He looked just like me, except older. It must be me in the future. Flashed in my mind. Time is just a construct. Was my next thought.