Dr. Marsteller Chapter 16

The somber atmosphere at her house was normal, but when her family contributed to it, her depression increased. Her son and her daughter sat in large antique upholstered chairs opposite from her. Their spouses were busy tending to the children on the couch. Their children were restless. There were no toys. No ipad. No video games. She didn’t even have a television. Everyone was dressed in their nicest clothes. Mrs. Viscane looked at them like a statue and considered what she’d been given in life. These ungrateful spoiled children, raising ungrateful spoiled grandchildren, wishing they were anywhere but at their grandmother’s house for her birthday.

-Why don’t you open up your presents, Mom, encouraged her daughter Liz. She took a wrapped present from by the coffee table. Settle down Dakota. Stop hitting your sister Thomas! Your grandmother is going to open up her present. You wouldn’t want no one paying attention to you when you opened presents on your birthday.

She reached over and handed Mrs. Viscane a shoebox wrapped in blue paper decorated with balloons and ‘Happy Birthday!’ interspersed in calligraphy. It had most likely been wrapped in the store with the way the creases where expertly folded. Mrs. Viscane’s mood didn’t waver when she took it. She somberly took the paper off, hoping not to tear it.

-Why doesn’t she rip the paper off to open the present, Mama? asked her granddaughter Dakota.

-She might want to reuse the paper darling.

For a second Mrs. Viscane mischievously considered ripping it apart to a thousand little pieces to entertain her granddaughter, but she thought better of it because she loathed them calling her daughter ‘mama’ like they were British gentry, and didn’t feel like she had the energy. She slid the box out the side of the opening. The box was Prada. She opened it and the inside revealed some high-heeled lime shoes. Her expression didn’t change.

-Your favorite color, Mom. They’re from all of us.

Mrs. Viscane nearly wept. She couldn’t wear high heels anymore and hadn’t been able to for a couple of years. She never let on that she couldn’t. The shoes looked more like they were the style that a 20-year-old girl would wear to a college formal. Maybe Liz was making a point that she wasn’t as young as she used to be. Maybe Liz was trying to be nice and give her something trendy that she enjoyed. The gift was not a joy but increased the sting of the pain of the reality of her age. She indicated a half-hearted thanks and set her jaw back in place, to Liz’s dismay, and waited for the next present. Her son Lancaster, picked up a thin rectangular box in expensive red paper with a pink bow – also wrapped in the store – and handed it over to Mrs. Viscane. She turned it over in her hands, found the tape at the sides and slowly took it apart with her gold letter opener. She slid the box out and opened it. It was a hand held gold mirror with diamonds around the edge.

-We know how you like your antique mirrors around this place, and we saw it in the store and thought it was perfect for you.

Am I that vain? thought Mrs. Viscane, that my only son would get me a mirror for my 70^th birthday. Was he trying to make a point that I only cared about looking at myself than interacting with my children? What was his motive for buying me a mirror? Clearly it’s an insult. The bastard. Couldn’t potty train the damn kid until he was 8 anyway. He’s too stubborn to learn and has no heart for humanity. Even his own mother. And more importantly, he has no vision. What kind of worthless waste of money is a diamond trimmed gold mirror. The ignorant jackass. And look at his trophy wife over there, 27 years old. He’s 45 years old for god’s sake. And rumors have flown back to me about his affairs with some college aged granddaughters of women I grew up with. His damn trust fund has been the ruin of him and if I could do it over again, I would have cut the umbilical cord when he hit 18 and sent him to fend for himself. He wouldn’t have lasted a week. He’d have been selling crack or pimping out whores and been shot dead eventually. He’s an adulterer and a liar and has no respect for his mother or his friends or anyone but himself. Not that any of it is my fault. Nothing could be done with the kid. He had no ingenuity, no intelligence, no charisma and no talent. I’m ashamed to be sitting in the same room with him and I’m ashamed that he shares half my genes.

-Thank you, she said.

-Mom, can the kids go outside and play in the lawn.

-Sure, why not. Ezekiel!

Her butler and driver arrived in the room. A solid figured 30-year-old dark haired man about 6’ 5”.

-Ezekiel, can you get out the croquet set for the children to play with.

-Certainly, ma’am.

-That should keep them busy knocking those balls around.

Dakota, Thomas and Lancaster’s daughter Lillian walked out into the sunshine of the freshly mowed acreage off the sun porch. Dakota and Lillian in white tidy sun dresses, each about 7-years-old, and 9-year-old Thomas in immaculate slacks and polo shirt. Lancaster’s wife Vanessa followed them out to show them the rules of croquet, she was tall and thin like a model, thought Mrs. Viscane jealously, but not as good-looking as a model and not much older than my bratty grandchildren and a jobless cretin. Liz’s husband Zeke followed them. He was lost and frumpy as usual, taking the backseat to his domineering wife and completely uncomfortable in the house.

-Mom, how have you been feeling? asked Liz.

-I’m fine.

-You’ve seemed aloof since we’ve been here.

Mrs. Viscane said nothing. Then her son adjusted his tiny glasses with his groomed hand; then rubbed his other hand through his wavy full salt and pepper black hair.

-Mom, I know you’re 70, but remember what Pablo Neruda says, ‘No lo creo in la edad.’

-And what does that mean Lancaster? she glared at him.

-I don’t believe in age. I think it’s a good philosophy to live by.

-So now you’re a philosopher? Well, it’s about time you picked a profession. Something to be interested in besides teenage girls.

Lancaster sat back, scrunched his face into a pitiful grimace, and folded his arms.

-Mom, you don’t have to be so cruel. You haven’t given Vanessa a chance since she joined the family. She idolizes you. She told me that she’d like to be you one day, to continue you’re life’s work.

She wants to be this? She wants to be me? I didn’t want this; I wanted to not be me right now, thought Mrs. Viscane.

The chimes of the doorbell rang and Ezekiel walked serenely to the front of the house to open the door. The governor had arrived. He whisked into the room consuming its atmosphere like a vortex sucking water down a drain. The man demanded attention. His walrus mustache perambulated to the sounds of his booming voice and his slicked back hair glistened under the chandelier. He wasn’t thin but his girth was not the result of indolence or obesity or lack of self-control but rather a fondness for good living. Immediately, the dour conversation stopped and Mrs. Viscane’s children were excited to see him. Their eyes lit up because they knew something big was going to happen.

-Governor Boggs!

-How the hell are you guys!?

The Governor’s wife followed demurely behind him, shaking hands with everyone. He held a large present that looked like it would take two ordinary men to carry. He carried it like a loaf of bread under one arm. Even Mrs. Viscane’s eyes twinkled at the sight of him, but she maintained her depressive expression nonetheless in order to imitate what everyone should be feeling on this lamentable occasion.

-Charlie! He bent over and kissed her on the cheek, and she would have felt his mustache graze her flesh if it was still her flesh.

-Governor Boggs, did you receive my latest contribution?

-I sure did! It was more than generous. I appreciate it. You are looking stunning today. He set down his present next to her and gave her another hug and she could feel his large hands and probing fingers on her back like a couple of pieces of porterhouse steaks. He accidentally kneaded her fragile spine and he pulled away instinctively by the repulsion of nearly crushing this elderly lady’s bones. Of course, he was able to hide his shame and continue on a long winded one sided conversation with her about the plans of bills he was proposing to the state senate, which were of course the exact legislation that she wanted to see passed and he knew would never be passed but understood that he needed to appease his largest contributor.

Other guests began to arrive, many of them dignitaries in politics and business but Governor Boggs continued to dominate the house and everyone was grateful when they found themselves in his circle of conversation. Children idyllically ran about the yard, wives complimented each other kindly. A few of the businessmen took the excuse for the gathering to stand around the booze on the mantle and fill and refill drinks, the projects they proposed together getting more ambitious and unrealistic the more drinks they had. After they gave her a present and said hello, most of them did not return to talk with Mrs. Viscane. She sat alone in her chair, sore and tired of the commotion and attempting to persevere until the end of the day and nothing more. She looked over at Governor Boggs’s present and decided that she had no desire to wait until after dinner for a present opening ceremony and had opened her children’s presents already anyway. She reached over and tried to pick it up but it was too heavy. She decided to slowly rip off the paper while it stood on the floor. No one would notice, she thought. She pecked at it like a bird looking for worms. Finally, she reached for her letter opener and began to slide it through the creases to lift off the tape. As she was beginning to make progress, Dr. Marsteller arrived late.

He looked distraught, haggardly, with bags under his eyes. His wife’s visage held a concerned expression. Immediately, he walked over to Mrs. Viscane, who stood up for the first time in hours to greet him and give him a kiss on the cheek. He handed her an envelope that contained his present.

-How are you doing, Mrs. Viscane?

-Good, now that you’re here Sylvester. I’m so tired of the party.

Governor Boggs voice boomed in the background. And the circle of people around him peppered him with sycophantic laughter. Dr. Marsteller’s son walked outside with the other children. He was easily the oldest child there, as the older children of the other invitees stayed home and had their own parties with their friends with the parents out of the house. But Jack wanted to come and see Mrs. Viscane’s mansion and to see the governor.

-I suppose I can tell you that the envelope is some spa treatments for you.

-Thank you Sylvester, I’ll get some use out of them.

-I’m glad you like it.

-What’s the matter, Sylvester?

-What?

-Pardon me for saying, but you look ghastly.

-Oh yeah, late night in the lab.

-Good, I’m hoping everything is going all right?

-Oh yeah, everything is great.

-I’m glad to see you are working hard then.

-Yep, he said distracted, and then excused himself to go and talk with his wife. Mrs. Viscane sat back down and began working on the present again from the governor.

Dr. Marsteller fixed himself a drink and asked Nichola if she wanted one.

-No thank you. Sylvester, try to take it easy.

-Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired.

-Well, after last night we shouldn’t even be here, you should at least go see a doctor.

-Nichola, I’m not going to see a doctor.

-God, honey, she rubbed his back; I would hope that you could at least get a little sleep once in a while. God, I wish we had the license plate of that man that ran you off the road.

-Yeah, me too.

Just then the governor raised his drink and shouted out.

-Everyone’s attention please, Charlotte is surreptitiously opening presents; I think she wants to open the presents now!

-Governor Boggs, I’m fine.

-Oh, go along Charlie. We all want to watch you opening them up. I caught you!

Everyone laughed and Mrs. Viscane’s eyes betrayed the bashful embarrassment her synthetic face couldn’t express.

-Oh, all right then, she said, her spirits a little better since Dr. Marsteller’s arrival.

She leaned over and finished ripping open Governor Boggs present with a flourish, tearing the paper wildly this time while everyone applauded.

-Now that’s how you open a present, yelled Governor Boggs.

She took the letter opener and cut the tape holding the box together, and then opened the flaps and looked inside. She began pulling out all sorts of lotions and creams and different body washes.

-Charlie, those are the finest new age treatments from Europe, I was recently over visiting a province in France and picked them up while I was there. Hope you love them.

-They are very nice, Governor.

-Check out the envelope on the bottom, he said beaming.

She picked it up and looked at it. The outside read ‘Charlotte’ but otherwise it was a plain white envelope.

-Well, open it up. She’ll love this, he said, winking at the other guests.

-Oh, what mischief are you up to now governor?

She opened the envelope with her letter opener and peaked inside. It was a receipt with the price crossed off so she couldn’t see how much he spent. At the top of the receipt, it read Cryotonics Inc.

-Well, what is it governor?

In his theatrical way, he stepped forward.

-I thought you would appreciate it, I know your enthusiasm for the field of science and I see Dr. Marsteller is here. He raised his drink to him. So I thought about it a long time and got you something that I knew you’d love. Your name is in the databank at Cryotonics, and when you finally pass on to a better world, if you desire, you can have your body frozen cryogenically to preserve it in the hopes of taking advantage of the benefits of medical science for years to come. Many people are doing it nowadays, in fact, I’m thinking about doing it myself.

Mrs. Viscane’s children looked on in horror. She didn’t move; she sat in her chair holding her head up with dignity. Her serene face portraying the aesthetic of stoicism; her eyes pierced the back wall of the room; you could hear a pin drop. She opened her mouth to speak, and then her eyes began to well up. She stood up sharply and walked briskly out of the room and up the stairs with her son’s mirror at her side.

-What? The governor turned around with his arms outspread indicating his confusion. What happened? I guess she was too ecstatic for words. And the people all laughed and began to mill around again with their loud discussion and anecdotes.

Her son and daughter ran after her up the stairs and found her lying on her back in the bedroom looking at her face in the ceiling mirror.

-Mom, you all right?

-Get out of here.

-Mom, said her daughter soothingly while sitting on the edge of the bed.

-GET OUT OF HERE! She shrieked as she sat up.

It was so frightening, Liz and Lancaster ran out of the room and downstairs. Once downstairs, they went back to the couch and talked to each other in low tones. Soon, the governor walked over.

-How’s the old hellcat doin?

-Oh she’s fine, she said she wanted to lie down for a minute before opening the rest of the presents. She loved your present. Told us to tell you that it was very thoughtful and she would definitely use it.

-Well, I knew she would like it. Hell, it’s perfect for her with all the research she’s been into over the course of her life. Your mom’s a hell of a woman.

-Thanks.

Dr. Marsteller fixed himself another drink. And walked out through the dining room past the sea of people and stood on the tile on the sun porch leading out to the large yard where the kids were playing. His son was showing some of them how to play croquet and he smiled to himself while watching them. Abe Fletcher, a salesman and business executive specializing in aluminum, who owned Fletcher factories at the edge of town stopped next to him.

-Sure look like the kids are having a better time out here than we are in there, he said.

-Yep, said Dr. Marsteller taking a sip of his drink.

-Saw you on the news the other night.

-Yep.

-Really interesting research you got going on there.

-Thanks, Abe.

-You’ve patented the technique, yet?

-It’s in the works.

-Well, I was just wondering, if you plan on starting up a company for this research you got, we might be able to do business together.

Dr. Marsteller looked up at him, he was bald, in his mid 40s a little overweight and was sweating slightly outside in the sun.

-Aren’t you an aluminum guy Abe?

-Aluminum, whatever, we’re doing some interesting stuff with nanotechnology now with one of the researchers in chemistry, you should stop by and check it out Sylvester. Interesting stuff going on nowadays.

-Yep.

-Well, It’s about selling the idea. This guy in chemistry, I don’t know if you know him, Dr. Luo, Chinese guy, he contacted me and the stuff has been taking off. I can sell anything Sylvester, and might be some use to you. Everybody has a talent, yours is coming up with the idea and mine is exploiting it. There’s a lot of money in this.

-Well, I’ll think about it.

-Sure, all right, that’s all I’m asking, you might want to make some money off this someday. Expand your horizons. You’re not getting any younger, pardon the expression.

-That’s the truth.

-All right, he said slapping Dr. Marsteller on the back, I think I’m going to go in and freshen this thing up a little bit, he swirled the remnants of his drink in his glass, tried to make eye contact with Dr. Marsteller, to reinforce his offer, but Dr. Marsteller was looking at his shoes.

Liz came out a little later.

-Dr. Marsteller, you know my mom and her moods, I think you ought to go upstairs and see how she is doing. She seems to take to you a little more than the other people around here, and you might be able to convince her to come down before everyone gets restless.

-She’ll be fine.

-Can you just go up there and talk to her for a little bit; we get worried about her.

-All right, all right.

-Thanks, I appreciate it.

He set his drink down under an umbrella covered lawn table and walked back inside, the Governor’s loud voice floating over the rest of the rabble.

-Sly, where are you going? asked Nichola at the foot of the stairs.

-Mrs. Viscane’s daughter wanted me to go up and talk to her.

-All right, but don’t be too long.

-Sure.

He walked up the stairs dreading the conversation that was certainly going to about the new advances in his research – which was like discussing new advances in unicorns and leprechauns and he didn’t know if he could stomach it. When he walked into the room, Mrs. Viscane was completely naked combing her hair, her breast implants like two firm cherry topped pastries compared to the grotesque liver spotted flesh hanging from her abdomen. She quickly turned away to hide herself, but revealed her spine protruding out her emaciated body like a crocodile tail. She picked up her robe, wrapping it on as quickly as her 70 year old body would allow.

-Oh god, I’m so sorry, Dr. Marsteller ejaculated as he left the room.

-Sylvester, get back in here, she said firmly as he was walking down the hall. He stopped and walked back into the bedroom - the lighting dim and the red drawn curtains tinting the room like a witch’s lair. He half expected to see a bubbling cauldron by the dresser.

-I just came up to see how you were doing, I can’t tell you how embarrassed I am…he started.

-Oh, for god’s sake get some guts, will you; clearly I’m not going to be ashamed by your vision of me naked. You know about aging more than I do. And you also know how to stop it.

-Mrs. Viscane, he began on the verge of a confession, but she cut him off.

-Mrs. Viscane nothing, I’ve made my decision, and I hope you will abide by it.

-What decision?

-I want to have the treatment you discovered.

-Mrs. Viscane, the treatment….

-Please call me Charlotte, for god’s sake.

-Charlotte, the treatment is not fully developed. We haven’t run cognitive tests, we haven’t fully understood the results yet from the treatment to aged mice. They haven’t had long enough to live to ascertain whether anything works or not. I seriously cannot give you any treatment. We need much more time to decipher all the results.

-Decipher the results, she scoffed. Do you think I have all the time in the world, Sylvester? Do you?

-Well, you’ll have to wait.

-I’m done waiting. Waiting is for the dead, and I’m not dead yet, and I don’t feel that time has anything to do with this or me or anything. What is time anyway, Dr. Marsteller? Can you tell me just exactly what time is?

-I suppose it’s a way of chronicling our existence.

-Exactly, it’s a way of chronicling our existence. It was created by men to block out our day for work, and it’s this creation that has blinded us to the realities of all that there is. It has now become a constraint, so ingrained in our minds that we cannot comprehend anything other than what is factored into time. The universe must have a beginning and an end, we think, but I don’t think it does, I don’t think it’s true, and I don’t think it’s true for us either.

-Mrs. Viscane, there’s the matter of FDA approval, a process that can take years, we can’t do this without it.

-You said these mice lived 10 years. You also said the old mice you’ve given the treatment to don’t seem to age. That’s proof enough for me Dr. Marsteller. The FDA will have nothing to do with this. I’ll see to that. Or otherwise, you can keep conducting tests. An infinite number of tests. There’s no end to them, you think there are, but like time, there are not. And I want to live, and I want the surgery.

-Charlotte….

-Sylvester, we are making history here. One way or the other, we are making history. I’m willing to suffer the consequences. If it doesn’t work, I die, if it does work, I don’t. I see no disadvantage to it, because if I don’t try, I also die. It must be done. She reached over and picked up her gold plaited ivory phone. You said the heart first, right? I’m calling my cardiologist, and we’re going to set it up for in a couple weeks. Everything will be confidential. Neither you nor him can speak about it no matter what happens. I do not hold either of you liable and will sign the papers to say as such. I’m putting your life in my hands. John, hello, Charlotte Viscane here. I’m sorry to call you at home, but it’s rather urgent, can we come over and have a talk with you….Dr. Sylvester Marsteller and I…..Yes, it will be worth your while….We’ll be there in a half hour. She hung up the phone. We’ll go out the back door and take my car out there.

-But what do I do about Nichola and Jack?

Mrs. Viscane rang up her butler.

-Ezekiel, we are leaving, tell the guests that they can stay as long as they want. And can you please tell Dr. Marsteller’s wife and son that he has gone with me and that he will meet them at their house.

-Certainly.

-There, done. She hurriedly put on a pair of pants under her lime green robe. Then took off the robe and put on a bra and shirt as Dr. Marsteller looked away, fiddling with trinkets on her dresser. Okay, she said, follow me.

They crept along back corridors Dr. Marsteller did not know existed, creepy coves and rooms not visited by another human being in years. In one dusty room lined with mirrors he noticed anti-aging trinkets on a mantelpiece – rhinoceros horn, ambergris and starfish powder. He had seen this expansive wing from outside the house but visitors were confined to the area of the parlor, dining room and stained glass doors that led to the tiled sunroom. As they descended a level, he found himself in an indoor tennis and basketball court she built for exercise but rarely used anymore. Another level down and they entered a palatial library that looked to have been recently visited, as some of Mrs. Viscane’s clothes were strewn about the floor and books were open everywhere. Books and journals on aging and physics dominated the room.

-I don’t even let the butler in here, she said.

They crossed the floor and opened a door that led into a garage. Mrs. Viscane’s Jaguar convertible was a few steps from the door.

-The car my driver uses is kept in a different garage. He never knows when I leave spontaneously in my jaguar. I think he believes I haven’t driven in 30 years.

They drove out the back driveway, down the street and onto the freeway to the hospital. Mrs. Viscane had no trouble at the wheel. At every stoplight, and traffic jam however, Dr. Marsteller noted passengers in other cars nudging drivers and motioning towards Mrs. Viscane, they would snicker or look on in shock and dismay. He noticed that she had forgotten her usual scarf to cover her neck and hat to cover her hair. Pieces of grey hair stuck out the sides of her wig. He wanted to reach over and straighten it but he didn’t dare.

When they reached the hospital, they rushed through the front sliding doors, stopped at an information desk in a rotunda and asked for cardiology. The man at the desk was laughing with a colleague until he saw Mrs. Viscane. He stifled his instinctive shocked expression and directed her to cardiology, watching her and Dr. Marsteller walk away afterwards with an interested look on his face. When they reached cardiology, they were let into Dr. John Reicher’s office without waiting as patients reading magazines looked on.

Dr. Reicher was sitting at his desk, reading one of the waiting room magazines when they arrived. He looked up and didn’t betray anything in his face. It was as if he found Mrs. Viscane’s appearance completely normal. He had seen her before. Dr. Marsteller introduced himself.

-Yes, I’ve been hearing a lot about you lately Dr. Marsteller. How can I help you?

-I’ll let Mrs. Viscane outline what she intends. I would like to say before we start that I don’t think it’s a good idea.

-Dr. Reicher, as you know, Sylvester has discovered an interesting method which may curb the aging process. And as you also already know, this subject is of great interest to me. Dr. Marsteller feels that the first area of the body that must be transfected with the aging therapy is the heart. What we are proposing is to have this surgery completed on me, and if successful, move to other areas of my body. We are looking for a heart surgeon who will be willing to comply.

-Dr. Reicher, Dr. Marsteller interjected, I must make you aware that this does not have FDA approval and that my tests on this technique are not by any means complete.

-I see.

-Dr. Reicher, if you can overlook Dr. Marsteller’s close-mindedness for a minute and understand that breakthroughs throughout history in human medicine were sometimes conducted covertly; and that I am willing and prepared to sign a confidentiality agreement with you and Dr. Marsteller to conduct the surgery.

Dr. Reicher sat back, tapped his desk with a pencil and sized up Mrs. Viscane and Dr. Marsteller. Dr. Marsteller looked at his shoes. Mrs. Viscane beady eyes were piercing through Dr. Reicher’s skin. He rubbed his hands through his thick immaculate blond hair. Dr. Reicher was not over 40 and in incredible shape. He found the situation to be ridiculous and was only putting on the show of pondering his decision for their benefit. There was no way in hell he was going to do this.

-I’m sorry, I’m going to have to decline, he finally said.

Undeterred, Mrs. Viscane sat back in her chair, reached into her pocket and pulled out a checkbook. She took off a pen from Dr. Reicher’s desk and began to write a check. Dr. Marsteller and Dr. Reicher watched her closely. Finally, she ripped out the check and slid it across Dr. Reicher’s desk. He picked it up. It was made payable to him for one billion dollars.

-Mrs. Viscane, I am not going to take a check from you for one billion dollars.

-And why not?

-Mrs. Viscane, this is ludicrous.

-Dr. Reicher, I’m very serious about this. We can conduct it at night; I can pay to have a room completely cordoned off for the surgery. You will both sign agreements so that you will never speak of it again. And best of all, you are not liable.

-I don’t want to lose my license.

-What is that going to matter if you have a billion dollars? she smiled grotesquely.

After the meeting, as Mrs. Viscane was driving Dr. Marsteller to his house, she said,

-Well, since 1 billion got me the heart doc, with 60 billion dollars sitting around, I can pay for another 60 body parts. Then she laughed a high cackle that curdled Dr. Marsteller’s blood.

👉 Chapter 17

This originally appeared in Dr. Marsteller