The Legacy of Mr. Brooks
By The Writer
Chapter 4
…the effects on the user’s brain last two to three hours. As the brain comes down from its “high”, symptoms not unlike a hangover ensue. Headache, queasy stomach, dilated pupils. As I used the drug more, however, these symptoms lessened. But they also were in direct proportion to how much of the drug I ingested.
The worst headache of my life occurred after the third use of the drug. I must have taken half a dozen aspirin over a four hour period before the headache began to subside. I had doubled the dose of the drug to see what additional effects on my brain I might notice. I felt no different than usual. After that I tried reducing the dosages and discovered that, below a certain level, my brain does not generate enough energy to influence the minds of others…
I woke up on the floor at the foot of my bed. Dried, red-tinged vomit was all over the floor and stuck to my face. My entire body ached as I struggled to sit up. My head felt cold inside, sore, but no more headache. I stumbled into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I hardly recognized myself. I’d had a nosebleed, evidenced by the line of dried blood from my nostril. My eyes were so bloodshot I might have appeared to be a werewolf or something. There was vomit on my face and in my hair. My face was all puffy.
I took another shower and felt marginally better. As I passed my Office Depot issue clock in the hall, at first I thought I hadn’t been out for very long. Then I realized that in fact it was no longer afternoon—I had passed out for over twelve hours and it was now early Sunday morning.
The first thing I did after my shower was find the journal and look for any mention of headaches. I read that Grandfather had indeed experienced headaches following his use of the drug but no mention of anything as debilitating as what I experienced. It hurt to read for very long so after about twenty minutes I gave up and went to bed.
Even after my twelve hours of unconsciousness I still managed to sleep another six and woke up ready to eat a cow, whole. I opened my fridge and grimaced at the selection, deciding instead to go out again. As I locked my door behind me and turned to head for the stairs I heard a soft voice behind me.
“Hi Daniel,” Myrna said.
“Oh, uh, hi Myrna.”
“Going out?”
“Yeah, I thought I’d get a bite.”
“Would you like some company?”
I hesitated. No. “Sure,” I said.
As we left the building, I felt Myrna’s hand on my back for a moment. I looked over at her and she smiled and her hand went back to her side.
I opened the door to my six year old Dodge pickup and she climbed in. After determining that Chinese food would be fine for both of us, Myrna proceeded to talk my ear off. She went on about everything under the sun. I hadn’t known her too well before last night but she hadn’t struck me as the type of person to babble so it seemed unusual. Also strange were these odd pauses in which she would glance confusedly at me or fiddle with her hands a while or just stare straight ahead.
Eventually, we made it to the restaurant and Myrna got around to talking about what was really on her mind.
“Daniel,” she said, “last night was wonderful. It’s always been good with you but I didn’t know I could feel the way I did last night. It’s like nothing I ever imagined could be. I don’t know how I made it back to my place but, as soon as I was through the door, I collapsed on the floor and slept for hours. And I still felt wonderful when I woke up!”
“Daniel, I know there’s really no future in this. But I’m not sure I can live without it…without us, I mean.”
At this, I must have got that “deer in the headlights” look on my face because her next words were, “Oh, don’t look like that! I’m not trying to tie you down or anything, just…I want this to last as long as possible.”
Back home, I had to disappoint Myrna and send her back to her own place alone. I wasn’t up to taking her again so soon after my guilt in mind-raping her.
I tried watching TV, checking my email, going through the mail, but I couldn’t concentrate. Finally, I gave up and spent some time thinking about what I had done and what I could do in the future. After hours of grappling with my conscience, it finally defeated me. I couldn’t commit anymore of the acts I dreamed of. The crimes that, given the chance, I knew I would eventually give in to doing. Sex and more power than I had dreamed since puberty could be mine but the cost was my honor and my sense of right and wrong.
I poured the rest of the TTCY down the drain, threw the notebook in the trash, and went to bed.
In the morning, I repented a bit and recovered the notebook. Instead, after work that Monday, I paid a call on Maria, my ex-almost-fiancé. We’d kept in touch as friends, having lunch once or three times a year. I hadn’t been over to her place, though, since before our breakup. She was a little surprised when I called earlier and asked to come over but was agreeable.
After coffee and small-talk, I got down to what I’d come over for. I’d taken the notebook, put it in a cardboard mailing box, and sealed it with packing tape. Now I asked her if she would be willing to store it for me for awhile.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Just something that I shouldn’t be around right now.”
“It’s not drugs, is it?”
“No,” I laughed. “Nothing like that.”
“Or something else illegal?”
“No, no. It’s nothing that could hurt you or your family.” In the years after our breakup, Maria had married and had a two year old daughter. I liked her husband but I was glad he wasn’t around right now.
“It’s just something I don’t want to lose but, if I kept it near me, I know I’d get into it and…that’s just not a good idea right now. Sorry I can’t tell you more but, you know,” I whispered the last words, all dramatic-like: “It’s a secret!”
She frowned but eventually agreed.
I felt much better knowing that I’d taken the steps necessary to protect my conscience from myself.