On/Off - A Jekyll and Hyde Story Read online

  Jamie was sitting on the couch now, sun streaming in through the windows, singeing the dust in the air around him. His eyes burned from the light, another side effect of the meds. Better not forget his shades later. He was between episodes now, his limbs relaxing, the signals from his brain easily connecting with each extremity. He focused on his breathing. Slowly. In and out. He had at least two good hours before the messages would become garbled again; he’d better make the most of them. Maybe later he could watch a couple episodes of Friends while his body battled its demons, but before that, he needed to jerk off and go for a run. He pushed himself up from the couch, his body exhausted from its own spastic movements.

  “How long is this gonna last?” he muttered to himself as he staggered to his feet.

  Maybe it was time to talk alternatives with the doc. They’d decided surgical treatment wasn’t the right choice, but his days were getting shorter by the week; that is, the worthwhile portions of his days. He was ready to pursue desperate measures. What he didn’t know was that Price was already laying the groundwork to help him do so.

  SHADOWS

  Growing up, Jamie Pepper had always been unusually aware of his parents’ careers. Then again, it’s not the typical experience for someone’s parents to be recognized by complete strangers whenever they went out in public. Until the age of ten, Jamie and his father were all but incapable of going to the movies without their plans being interrupted by a passer by who recognized Jeff Pepper and stopped him to discuss one of his plays or films, or inevitably, the book. Though a lifelong resident of upstate New York, Jeff Pepper had developed an enormous following for his body of work, which had begun with a single cult novel and had progressed over the years into a series of one-man plays and countless film adaptations. That Jeff Pepper was neither an actor, nor a director made his notoriety all the more remarkable, for the people accosting him on the street, or coughing softly to attract his attention in ticket lines, only knew his face through sheer, wholehearted fanaticism. That they liked his father’s writing told Jamie all he needed to know about these individuals, as Jeff Pepper’s greater obsessions were not happy ones. His stories were a mix of brooding tragedies and vaguely disturbing black comedies, which in later years Jamie would come to view as comedies that simply did not work. Jeff Pepper had also written one novel in his college days, one which had somehow cemented his reputation at the age of twenty-one. The book, Dub Taylor, was an altogether bizarre affair, in which the main character, a college slacker, spent the majority of his days reading Hemingway, smoking pot in his dorm room, and alternately masturbating and sleeping with any number of all too willing young co-eds, both male and female. The summer after his freshman year, Jamie had tried to read his father’s book in an attempt to understand the man’s huge following, but when he finished it, he’d only found the confounding nature of his father’s celebrity all the more bewildering.

  Jamie’s mother was not without notability. Though less grandiose in her works, Lynn Pepper was at one time considered a mild mannered, female member of the school of gonzo journalism. She’d made her first mark with a series of Rolling Stone pieces published in the sixties and seventies, yet by the time Jamie was aware of her work, Lynn’s reporting and other writing had taken on a more conventional form, focused less on the style of the text, and more on the whistle-blowing content of the stories, most of which she submitted to The New York Times and Vanity Fair. She had published two novels of her own, but found the inevitable comparisons and forced parallels to her husband’s works too frustrating to make further attempts in the world of fiction. Content to produce a series of well regarded investigative pieces on any number of topics, from corporate kidnappings in South America to political scandals involving tobacco companies, Lynn had resigned herself to life as a well respected byline in highly regarded newspapers and magazines, always with the helpful footnote (*) linking her to her late husband.

  Undeniably, Jeff Pepper loomed largest over Jamie’s childhood. The cult of tragedy, the romance of the tormented writer, both drew crowds with a morbid intensity. Even now, years after the man’s disappearance, Jamie and his mother still felt Jeff’s shadow in their day-to-day lives. Wherever they went, people wanted to know what he was like -- what had happened? Yet even if they’d wanted to respond, neither of them knew what to say.

  I

  CHAPTER ONE - WINTER

  Damn it got cold fast. Just last week he’d been jogging in sweats and a T-shirt, pretty nice for the end of November. Now, a week later, it was bitter cold. The wind cut through his clothes. Even his wool hat did little good, the air slicing through it like icy needles, hitting his scars and making them tingle. He hated the feeling, but found it somehow exhilarating. Jamie pulled the hood from his sweatshirt up over the hat and pulled another box out of the back of his mother’s car. They were parked in the traffic circle in front of his dorm tower. He’d been to the imposing brick-ensconced campus many times over the years, tagging along with both Jeff and Lynn for their respective readings, attending events through the Rochester school district, and of course, wandering the grounds when he’d been considering applying to the fine arts program. He’d only been on the residential side of campus once before, while taking a perfunctory tour for prospective students. On all of those occasions, the campus had been swarming with people. RIT ran on a quarter system, with the first ten week block of classes stretching from late August to Thanksgiving. The second quarter began in late November and ran for several weeks before Christmas horned in on the academic party wagon. This was the last day of the Thanksgiving break, and the first time Jamie had seen the place almost empty. It felt stark. The quad was all but deserted, the students either still returning from Thanksgiving break, or holed up in their rooms, screwing around before classes started the next day.

  “I still feel nervous leaving you here,” Lynn called from the drivers seat as she rummaged for some paperwork. “But I know it’s for the best.”

  Jamie heaved a box out of the car, dropping it on the ground. “What did you say, Mom?”

  “I said, I think this is a good idea. It’s time.”

  Jamie nodded his head, wiping his nose with a gloved hand.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “No symptoms? No headaches?” She turned to him with that concerned, yet aggravating, expression that all mothers have.

  “Nothing. I feel great,” he said. “Just nervous.”

  “That’s normal.” She looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath, then blinked with a finality that told Jamie she had made up her mind. No more doubts. “I’m excited for you. Let me park the car and I’ll carry up your last bag.”

  Jamie closed the trunk, picked up the box, and hustled towards his dorm. A thin layer of ice coated the steps near the door, and his feet started to slide out from under him. He grabbed a railing. The last thing he needed was to hit his head. He balanced the box on his hip, unlocked the door, and headed up the stairs to the third floor. The halls were quiet. Now and then he passed an open room with one or two kids inside, hunched at computers or watching TV, happy zombies in the soothing blue glow. The wind whistled outside. The school had given him a single since he’d missed the first quarter of classes. As Jamie opened the door to his room he noted that it was just two doors down from the resident advisor. No doubt his condition had played a part in getting him that location.

  He walked inside and stood in the middle of the room, scratching under his cap. The wool was itchy on his shaved head. His hair was growing back slowly after the operation. He was still on a plethora of medications, but each at mercifully lower dosages. Most importantly, the implant seemed to be working. There’d been no complications. No infection. None of the laundry list of concerns Dr. Price had rattled off for months before Jamie went under the knife. Aside from an itchy scalp and a now-familiar feeling of dread, he was doing great. He still ran, still ate like a health nut, and was still a bit uncertain on his feet,
but he almost felt like himself again. He walked across the room, peered out the window, then absentmindedly rapped his knuckles on the top of the desk. The itching was driving him nuts. He pulled off the hat and scratched gently along the raised incision scars. There was a knock on the door behind him and he turned suddenly, pulling his cap down at the sight of a tall, thin guy with glasses, dressed in a bathrobe, and carrying a wire shower basket in one hand.

  “How ya doing man?” he said as he wiped water from his face. His shaggy hair was wet from the shower. “I’m Fritz, the RA on the floor.”

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Jamie stepped forward and shook his hand.

  “I saw your door open and wanted to welcome you. See how things were going.”

  “Oh, well it’s good so far.”

  Fritz ran his fingers through his damp hair. “You need any help bringing stuff in?

  “Nope, just about done. My mother’s getting the last bag now.”

  “I guess you haven’t had a chance to meet anyone yet then.” Fritz pulled a beat-up watch out of his robe pocket. “Most folks won’t be getting back from break until tonight, but, if you’re interested we could run over to the Commons and get a bite to eat later.”

  “Sure, that’d be great.”

  Fritz started down the hall. “I’ll come down in an hour and get you. That should give your mom enough time to make the bed and check your schedule for tomorrow.”

  Jamie gave him a questioning look.

  Fritz laughed. “Trust me man, everyone’s mom does that. Just watch.” He disappeared into his room two doors down.

  Jamie picked up his duffel bag and rummaged through it for several prescription bottles. He took a pill from each, placing the canisters on the dresser as he headed back out to the hall. He tossed the handful of meds into his mouth, threw back his head, and took a drink from the fountain, and was just gulping down a mouthful of water when his mother rounded the corner.

  Lynn’s gaze immediately settled on the medicine bottles as she walked into the room. She blinked again and pulled a sheet of paper from her back pocket.

  “Now, I know I’m a nag, but I can’t help it. You should have it already, but I’ve written up a list with Dr. Price’s phone numbers, a contact at the hospital, and a few other places you might need to reach people, if anything should happen.”

  Jamie nodded his head, smiling.

  “Don’t make fun of me.”

  He nodded faster.

  “I’m your mother. I have a right to worry. Don’t be an asshole.” She laughed and turned to the bed. “I’m just gonna make your bed and get out of here.”

  Jamie nodded and started putting his clothes in the dresser. He pulled a bottle of eye drops from his pocket and placed it next to the row of medicine bottles.

  “Have you looked over the list of classes for tomorrow?”

  “Not yet, but I will before I go to sleep.” He pulled off his cap and threw it on the corner of his desk chair.

  “Are you getting excited?”

  “Yeah, of course I am.”

  “Good.”

  Lynn pulled the comforter up over the sheets, shook the pillow into its case, and sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to her. “Come here.”

  Jamie sat down beside her. She turned to him, putting her hand on his cheek.

  “I really am excited for you. This is a big deal.” Her hand wandered up to the scars on his head, which still rose prominently from the surrounding skin. “You’re gonna do great.”

  Jamie nodded his head, smiling slightly.

  “Remember, I’m thirty minutes away if you need anything.” Her hand slipped down to his cheek. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “And now… I’m leaving you alone.” She stood up suddenly, heading for the door.

  Jamie followed her. She turned as if to say something more, but once again blinked. No more doubts. She leaned forward, gave him a tight hug, and strode off down the hallway.

  ***

  “I told ya, they all do that! When my parents dropped me off my freshman year, first thing my mother did was set the bed.” Fritz laughed. “I had a 40 year-old exchange student from Sweden on my floor last year, the guy was married and divorced, his mom came up to see the campus, first thing she did was wash the sheets and make the bed. I swear to you!”

  Jamie laughed. He took a sip of his drink and looked around. According to Fritz, the Commons was the dining area on the residential side of campus that had the least “institutional food.”

  “At least you won’t feel like you’re eating prison rations if you can grab a meal over here. No food loaf. Unfortunately, you’re a freshman, so you’ll have to take most of your meals over at Gracie’s.” He feigned an expression of severe remorse. “My condolences.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “Yes. It is.” Fritz said. “Actually, it’s not that it’s bad, it’s just that it gets exhausting. Same food every meal. Soggy grilled cheeses and half frozen French fries. And the lights in there make everything look green.” Fritz paused to check out a girl walking up to the cash register. She looked at him and he arched his eyebrow. He looked back at Jamie.

  Jamie nodded his head. “What about - ?” He bobbed towards the girl, watching her choose a chair a few tables away.

  “Girls?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They can be a little hard to come by, but… not impossible. The ratio’s not great, but some of us do okay.”

  Jamie looked over at the girl again. She had a Courtney Cox look about her, but a Cameron Diaz smirk. She took her coat off and turned around. She was gorgeous.

  “You like her?” Fritz asked.

  “She’s not bad.” Jamie said with a slight laugh.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Jamie looked at him curiously.

  The dining area was getting busy. Everyone wore heavy winter coats and stamped snow from their feet as they walked up the brick stairs by the trays. Everything, absolutely everything on campus was brick. Jamie noticed a girl in pink sweatpants and a small white tank top walking up to the deli line, scuffling along in fluffy blue slippers.

  “That girl must be crazy.”

  Fritz turned to looked at her. “Oh, she probably took the tunnels. We can walk back that way. They connect all the dorms and buildings on this side of campus.” He indicated the folks in the heavy coats. “Most of those guys are freshmen. It's usually around April that the newbies start to learn their way around down there. Most of them just stick with the parkas.” He motioned towards the windows. Snow was starting to swirl under the lights. “Trust me, it's worth it to learn the tunnels.”

  They ate silently for a few minutes. Jamie continued to look around the room. Most of the students had their own small cliques. It certainly wasn’t a campus of fashion plates. Blue jeans and sweatshirts were the norm. Now and then a programmer walked by in a Linux shirt, or something with an anti-Microsoft message emblazoned across the front. It was pretty clear which clique was which. The artists wore torn jeans and open flannels over paint-spattered t-shirts. The photographers were all in form fitting sweaters, or dark Gap ensembles. He had a feeling the business majors were the girls in the Reebok exercise outfits, hoisting the designer water bottles, or the guys in the corduroys with the v-neck pullovers. The software engineers were another crowd all together. Those not wearing t-shirts with little penguins stood around in small clusters, clad in too tight, too short khakis and enormous flannel shirts, buttoned all the way to the top. They all looked like upstate Martin Scorceses, motioning with their hands, turning their heads and bodies at once, as though they had no necks, and they all spoke with the same high-pitched air of irritation.

  Fritz followed his gaze. “Those are the guys who don’t get laid, and believe me, they need to.”

  “They’ll be getting laid once they’re making the big bucks though.”

  Fritz rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I’m sure Bill Gates is an animal in the sack.”
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br />   Jamie laughed, but as they ate, he could feel Fritz studying him from the corner of his eye. The resident advisor no doubt knew some sort of medical situation had delayed Jamie’s arrival on campus. Now he was watching closely for the telltale signs.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Jamie knew what was coming. “Shoot.”

  He was looking at the top of Jamie’s head.

  “What’s with the hat? Is that like, your trademark or something?”

  “Not exactly.” Jamie picked his words carefully. “Did the school tell you the reason I missed the first quarter?”

  Fritz nodded. “They said there was a health issue.”

  “That’s a nice way of putting it, I suppose. I had brain surgery two months ago.”

  Fritz took a drink of water, narrowing his eyes. “What was it? Were they taking out a tumor or something?”

  “Nah, actually, they were putting something in.”

  “You fucking with me?”

  “No, I’m not, actually.”

  Fritz looked puzzled. “Putting what in? Like a brain to stomach drain tube?”

  “No, more like a pacemaker, to kind of keep my brain firing on all pistons.”

  “That’s pretty far out.” Fritz eyed another girl walking up to the register. “You’re gonna have to use that one. Chicks will love that.”

  ***

  They took the tunnels back to the dorm. The conversation had stayed pretty normal. Jamie was slightly on guard after telling Fritz about the operation, but his new acquaintance didn’t seem the least bit fazed. Apparently, he was in his third year in the school’s biotechnology program, and he saw the implant as just one more example of the “cool shit” that was taking place everyday. He did, however, ask if he could bring Jamie in for show and tell, but Jamie just laughed off the question and moved on to another topic.