No Apologies

Tom Borin brings us No Apologies, a story about guilt turned deadly.

Guilt is like a sickness that eats us up. (Image: Wix)

Mason watched Jane and their seven-year-old, Eliza, deliver his cake to him while they sang Happy Birthday. Even after he made his wish, Mason had yet to crack a smile. 

He kept assuring Jane he was fine, but when Eliza asked, ‘What’s that jelly on you, Dad?’ it all came out. 

On his birthday, Mason always got to the lab early. Chando, his lab technician and old roommate from boarding school, took the opportunity to prank him while the building was empty. 

Mason read the data, and the water quality had dropped, and his corals’ skeletal structures were failing. Chando watched him flounder at the sanitisation station, readying forceps before revealing himself and what he’d done.

He’d taken the krill that Benson from the microplastics lab down the hall had bragged about all of yesterday and put it in Mason’s tanks, causing the densiometer and filtration readings to play up.

The reveal was supposed to relieve Mason, but it didn’t. He had to inform Chando, who only got the job because of him, that Antarctic krill could die in twenty-four-degree waters. 

Mason netted it and began rushing to Benson’s lab before anyone knew. Chando asked what the big deal was all about, ‘it’d live,’ he said, ‘and none of the lazy microplastics guys start till nine.’

Mason had to explain to his moronic lab technician that Benson was bragging so loudly about this Antarctic krill because it was the first creature biochemically engineered to fully digest microplastics. Benson should’ve been planning his speech for the Nobel Prize.

They entered the microplastics lab. Mason speed walked toward the tank. In his haste, he didn’t see the wet floor sign and tripped. The krill was crushed underneath him. All that was left was a pinky-red gelatinous blob stamped onto the soapy vinyl floor. 

Mason figured it was all over; they could never work in a lab again. He returned to his corals and began packing up while Chando stayed in the microplastics lab, thinking.

Mason was pretending not to cry when Chando came in full of adrenaline. He dragged Mason to see what he’d done.

About a month ago, a promising krill of Benson’s had died. It had leapt out of a tiny gap in the tank lid and landed on the floor where an oblivious overnight cleaner went over it with the industrial floor scrubber and sprayed krill guts everywhere. 

Chando’s recreation was spot on. Mason unpacked his bags, and they swore to secrecy.

Mason couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the stain; it had hidden so nicely under his lab coat that while working, it felt like it didn’t exist. Eliza would believe it was just jelly, but Jane could see the multitude of colours and changing viscosity of the gelatin. She wouldn’t be fooled by that explanation. 

He told them the krill had become violent and was attacking the others. It needed to be killed out of necessity and the only person adequately skilled was Mason. For Eliza he imparted the lesson that sometimes you have to make the difficult decision to end something rather than to needlessly prolong it for your own comfort and they believed it.

Mason couldn’t sleep that night. Partially due to the back pain but mostly due to his mind calling him a murderer and a liar everytime he closed his eyes. He got to the lab early the next day, hoping to leave those thoughts behind.

His back pain persisted. Being where it all happened didn’t suppress any thoughts but working with his corals and telling himself he was saving the Great Barrier Reef gave him some comfort.

He got to work early and stayed late for two months until he noticed the back pain was gone. The accusatory thoughts had basically entirely evaporated too, it was only when he overheard Benson lashing out at lab assistants, that they crossed his mind.

Three months later he was coming in early and leaving late again.

A reptile education troop had come to Eliza’s class. The kids got to pass around the little creatures they were learning about. When Eliza handled the blue-tongue she noticed blood coming out of its stomach and heard it whimper when she pressed on it. She felt sorry for the thing and did what needed to be done. Eliza stomped the lizard to death.

Mason’s back was so sore he fetched Jane’s old pregnancy pillow and still couldn’t sleep. He called himself a murderer and a liar and now told himself he had destroyed his daughter’s moral compass.

Mason got to work early and left late for a month until Wally showed up. Wally informed him that the Institute of Marine Science was going to be the target of the government’s quarterly budget cuts unless public sentiment swayed. According to polls the public cared most for saving the Great Barrier Reef. To save the institute some of Mason’s crossbred corals would be planted for media attention.

Mason pleaded that they wouldn’t survive the upcoming summer months but it was no use. The selection of corals were picked and the scientists got four weeks of paid time off while the excavators went to work.

Without work, Mason’s back pain and negative thoughts lingered. He was couch-ridden for a few days before Jane started asking what was really going on. He batted the question away on Jane’s first attempts, but knew it wasn’t going to be sustainable for four weeks, so when Jane next asked, he gave an answer.

He told her of Chando’s affair and lied that the moral dilemma was doing this to him. Jane had no idea. She’d been friends with Charlotte, Chando’s wife, since high school and wanted to know every detail.

Mason told all. Every day he’d remember another detail of the affair and Jane would respond by talking about the strange outbursts Charlotte had been having. They were gossiping teenagers for weeks.

Mason’s mind became so preoccupied with conjuring stories to tell that his accusatory thoughts dissipated, and he no longer needed the pregnancy pillow.

Mason returned to the lab, excited to work with the remaining corals. He found none of the apparatus set up. Chando had instead left a note informing Mason that he’d left for Adelaide to start fresh with his lover.

Mason went home to find Jane and Charlotte carrying a cardboard box overflowing with psychology books into the guest room. Charlotte couldn’t trust herself alone. She would be staying over for a while.

Mason immediately, in his mind, took the blame for ending his friend’s marriage. Back pain struck him like lightning. He collapsed face-first, shattering his nose.

His nose would heal; Mason just had to wear a bandage with gauze that practically swallowed his face for a while. Mason’s back, however, stumped doctors. It hurt worse than ever before, but none of their tests revealed why. All they could do was recommend that he be wheelchair bound.  

Wally needed at least a month to find a new lab technician and assistant, so Mason was stuck rolling around home. He tried acupuncture, massages and every herbal remedy he found online. None worked. 

Mason couldn’t stand being trapped. Making it worse was Charlotte, every time they were alone together she’d ask how Mason was feeling and always thought it was the perfect time to “process their traumas”.

Mason knew if he could just gossip with Jane about how Chando was in Adelaide with the lab assistant, he could start to feel better, but Jane never wanted to hear Chando’s name again.

One day, while Jane took Charlotte to the beach, Eliza came home crying. Kids at school were calling her lizard killer. As Eliza explained how she felt really bad about killing the lizard, Mason realised he could use this conversation to help himself.

‘Do you know why Charlotte is staying with us?’ he said.

Eliza shook her head.

‘Do you remember Dad’s friend, Chando? Well, so he and Charlotte were married like Mum and Dad are, but he was cheating and Charlotte found out cause Dad told Mum-’

‘-What do you mean by cheating?’ Eliza asked.

Then Mason realised she wasn’t ready for gossiping.

Mason stopped getting out of bed. Manoeuvring himself onto the wheelchair took such effort that most of the time it wasn’t worth it. He tried watching his favourite sitcoms, but they did nothing. Meditation apps didn’t help either. The thoughts and back pain persisted until he fired up Pornhub.

Masturbating edged his thoughts microscopically towards the positive. So he did it and did it until those microscopic steps started to become strides. As soon as the house was empty, he was doing it. Sometimes he did it quietly while people were home.

He couldn’t wait to do it. One time, he did it as he rolled from the front door to the bedroom. He’d just waved goodbye to Jane, Charlotte and Eliza and as soon as the door shut behind him, he couldn’t resist popping his headphones on and pleasuring himself.

After a few weeks of constant ejaculation, he felt as good as new. His nose was still buried under bloodied gauze, and staying in bed had caused horrible bouts of acne, but he no longer needed the wheelchair or pornography.

A day later Jane kicked him out and his back pain became even worse. Eliza innocently asked Jane what Dad was doing that day. ‘When I went back to grab my jacket, I saw him,’ she’d said, ‘he was rolling away and watching naked people while touching his thing.’ 

Mason lived in a motel. His back hurt so much he never left the bed, even for the bathroom. Still the pain was insufferable, his only solution was to wear a shock collar and bark anytime it became too much.

He barked on the bed for a week. Wally couldn’t find a technician, he had no more friends to talk to and watching porn made him feel gross. When he got the news that all of the crossbred corals that were planted had died, he decided enough was enough.

It took him three hours to get into his wheelchair and fill the bath. He’d barked over a thousand times. As he unplugged the lamp, the guy from the room next door knocked. Mason tried to ignore it but the guy was so angry, he knocked the door off its hinges.

The guy burst in. He was surprised when Mason called him by name. 

Benson did not recognise the barking freak, even if his months-long bender hadn’t wiped out most of his memory of the microplastics lab he wouldn’t have seen Mason through the acne and bandages. 

Mason saw the despair in Benson’s eyes and thought he should apologise, but before he got the chance, Benson, acknowledging the ingredients to Mason’s suicide, said, ‘get on with it already,’ and left.