Fatal Dose
Adam Benjamin
Sometimes Adam woke up and wished he was someone else — anyone else, honestly. Most days weren’t worth the confusion and feeling of uselessness. He berated himself constantly, sparing nothing, and always wandered to bed feeling less of a man. He couldn’t schedule his own check-ups. He couldn’t even tell if his mum was on time to pick him up because looking at the clock on his nightstand was the same as reading a book in another language.
Sighing, he pushed himself off the couch and reached for his mobile on the table in front of him. His mother had been sure to program everything for him, including inputting his contacts. He didn’t have to worry about dialing any numbers, just had to scroll and look for the name he wanted. When he found his mother’s, he connected the call.
“I’m leaving work now, Adam,” she said. She sounded annoyed; at the very least, she didn’t sound happy to speak with him.
“Okay,” was all he said before hanging up.
Another round of berating started immediately. He scolded himself for being a burden on his parents — especially his mother — and the rest of society. He was always asking someone on the street what time it was, and god forbid he found himself on a numbered street and couldn’t decipher which it was.
After tossing on a sweater and light jacket, Adam locked his apartment behind him and decided to wait street-level for his mother. Judging by the traffic, she scheduled the appointment for her lunch break and he knew she couldn’t be late getting back to work. Her boss was as understanding as he could be. So long as taking care of Adam didn’t interfere with her job performance, she was free to do whatever she wanted with her breaks and time off. If you asked Adam, taking care of him interfered with more than just her career.
As her BMW slowed to a stop alongside the curb, Adam climbed inside. “Afternoon, Mum.”
“Good afternoon, Adam. Did you remember you’re getting blood drawn today? You didn’t eat, did you?”
“No, Mum,” he replied. He didn’t bother telling her he’d just woken up.
The rest of the drive was silent. Adam could only assume what was going through his mother’s mind. He was twenty-four now; what parent thinks they’ll still be taking care of their child as if they were still a toddler at that age? Most parents made sure their child was looked after until they went off to university, but not Adam’s. He never left; was still a thorn in their side.
Because of his condition, Adam had been resigned to the same doctor most of his life. Mrs Davenport had always treated Adam warmly. She saw him as more than his condition and was more patient with him than anyone else had ever been. He even sent her a Christmas card sometimes, when he remembered. Sometimes a Christmas card landed on her desk two or three weeks after the holiday.
“Adam! It’s a pleasure to see you this afternoon. How are you feeling?”
He shrugged. “I’m all right.”
“Anything bothering you?” she asked, checking his blood pressure.
“Other than the fact I can’t read numbers?”
His mother scolded him from the corner of the room. Mrs Davenport simply chuckled and moved on to setting up for the blood work. “You’ve a new book in the works, yeah? How’s that going?”
“S’okay,” he shrugged again. “I feel like I’m always writin’ the same thing, though. It’s always about my condition, never about anything else. I’m tired of writin’ autobiographies.”
Mrs Davenport smiled at him warmly, placing a comforting hand over his. “Of course people want to know about your condition, Adam — you’re one in a million. But that doesn’t make you any less interesting of a person.”
He faked a smile in response and stayed quiet throughout his blood work. He knew it wouldn’t say anything they didn’t already know, but it appeased his mother and got him out of the confines of his apartment every now and then. Plus, it was nice to see a friendly face — one who didn’t think of him as a burden.
The drive back was almost as awkward as the drive there. Adam’s mum still refused to say much, only making an off-hand comment every so often about the traffic. His attempts to make small talk were either ignored or answered with curt, one-word responses. Eventually he gave up a few blocks from his apartment.
Because he spent most of his time lost in the heart of the city he grew up in, Adam had a sixth sense for dangerous situations. When he climbed out of his mother’s car and watched her drive away, a strange feeling washed over him. Part of him felt like someone was going to run up on him from behind and part of him felt like he was being watched. He decided it was best to hurry inside and spend the rest of the day locked in his apartment.
After climbing the stairs to his floor, a chill went up Adam’s spine as he spotted an envelope sticking out from beneath his door. He picked it up quickly, checking over his shoulder to make sure none of his nosy neighbours were watching, and inspected it for any telling signs. He found nothing on the outside and opened it hastily, hoping the inside contents would give some something.
Mr Benjamin,
They’re watching. Be careful.
- CB
Sighing, he pushed himself off the couch and reached for his mobile on the table in front of him. His mother had been sure to program everything for him, including inputting his contacts. He didn’t have to worry about dialing any numbers, just had to scroll and look for the name he wanted. When he found his mother’s, he connected the call.
“I’m leaving work now, Adam,” she said. She sounded annoyed; at the very least, she didn’t sound happy to speak with him.
“Okay,” was all he said before hanging up.
Another round of berating started immediately. He scolded himself for being a burden on his parents — especially his mother — and the rest of society. He was always asking someone on the street what time it was, and god forbid he found himself on a numbered street and couldn’t decipher which it was.
After tossing on a sweater and light jacket, Adam locked his apartment behind him and decided to wait street-level for his mother. Judging by the traffic, she scheduled the appointment for her lunch break and he knew she couldn’t be late getting back to work. Her boss was as understanding as he could be. So long as taking care of Adam didn’t interfere with her job performance, she was free to do whatever she wanted with her breaks and time off. If you asked Adam, taking care of him interfered with more than just her career.
As her BMW slowed to a stop alongside the curb, Adam climbed inside. “Afternoon, Mum.”
“Good afternoon, Adam. Did you remember you’re getting blood drawn today? You didn’t eat, did you?”
“No, Mum,” he replied. He didn’t bother telling her he’d just woken up.
The rest of the drive was silent. Adam could only assume what was going through his mother’s mind. He was twenty-four now; what parent thinks they’ll still be taking care of their child as if they were still a toddler at that age? Most parents made sure their child was looked after until they went off to university, but not Adam’s. He never left; was still a thorn in their side.
Because of his condition, Adam had been resigned to the same doctor most of his life. Mrs Davenport had always treated Adam warmly. She saw him as more than his condition and was more patient with him than anyone else had ever been. He even sent her a Christmas card sometimes, when he remembered. Sometimes a Christmas card landed on her desk two or three weeks after the holiday.
“Adam! It’s a pleasure to see you this afternoon. How are you feeling?”
He shrugged. “I’m all right.”
“Anything bothering you?” she asked, checking his blood pressure.
“Other than the fact I can’t read numbers?”
His mother scolded him from the corner of the room. Mrs Davenport simply chuckled and moved on to setting up for the blood work. “You’ve a new book in the works, yeah? How’s that going?”
“S’okay,” he shrugged again. “I feel like I’m always writin’ the same thing, though. It’s always about my condition, never about anything else. I’m tired of writin’ autobiographies.”
Mrs Davenport smiled at him warmly, placing a comforting hand over his. “Of course people want to know about your condition, Adam — you’re one in a million. But that doesn’t make you any less interesting of a person.”
He faked a smile in response and stayed quiet throughout his blood work. He knew it wouldn’t say anything they didn’t already know, but it appeased his mother and got him out of the confines of his apartment every now and then. Plus, it was nice to see a friendly face — one who didn’t think of him as a burden.
The drive back was almost as awkward as the drive there. Adam’s mum still refused to say much, only making an off-hand comment every so often about the traffic. His attempts to make small talk were either ignored or answered with curt, one-word responses. Eventually he gave up a few blocks from his apartment.
Because he spent most of his time lost in the heart of the city he grew up in, Adam had a sixth sense for dangerous situations. When he climbed out of his mother’s car and watched her drive away, a strange feeling washed over him. Part of him felt like someone was going to run up on him from behind and part of him felt like he was being watched. He decided it was best to hurry inside and spend the rest of the day locked in his apartment.
After climbing the stairs to his floor, a chill went up Adam’s spine as he spotted an envelope sticking out from beneath his door. He picked it up quickly, checking over his shoulder to make sure none of his nosy neighbours were watching, and inspected it for any telling signs. He found nothing on the outside and opened it hastily, hoping the inside contents would give some something.
Mr Benjamin,
They’re watching. Be careful.
- CB