Biorhythms

“Herbie, don’t scratch it.”

Peering over the bathroom sink, he felt the yawn come as he made a groggy plea of innocence. Three small, white pieces of skin made almost identical perfect circles under his nose. The white, paler than his own flesh, looked like crumpled pieces of paper. 

“Don’t scratch it.” 

“I’m not. I’m not.” 

“I scheduled you an appointment Wednesday. Hopefully you can wait three days.”

“Sure.” 

“They’re just skin tags. They’re nothing.” 

“It was bad enough when it was just one, but now there’s three. In what? A week?”  

Sunday nights were the worst. Sleepless as he rehearsed his week and anticipated the next. The thoughts wouldn’t leave him. His wife had gotten him a book about biorhythms and found out he was a walrus. Whatever that meant. The book claimed to help the Sunday insomnia, but he didn’t think it was working. Wake up early after staying up late — no thanks. 

He walked into the bedroom and plugged his phone into the chord on his nightstand. Another biorhythm no-no. She leaned over to kiss him. Hesitating in the soft glow of the nightstand lamp, she looked at the small white circles under his left nostril. Then kissed his right cheek. He closed his eyes wanting to ignore the slight. But under the circumstances, he probably would’ve done the same. 

Instagram reels entertained him for the better part of an hour where his wife’s soft breathing turned into gentle snoring almost immediately. Most of the short videos had subtitles. They knew their audience. 

When sleep did come, he had finished reading why things itch. Fight or flight seemed to fit into everything in his worldview. Itching became the skin’s way of telling you to take notice. Look and see. Something isn’t right. Bug, snake, wasp — something is going to scratch. 

If there was a time that was worse than the sleepless Sunday night, it’s Monday morning where your eyes were bloodshot for the 8 o’clock meeting. Birds, another animal in the biorhythm book, were the ambitious ones. They were up early getting that worm. But he was a walrus. Most of the world were walruses. He had wanted to be a bird. Maybe most professionals did. 

“Herb, you good?” 

He stopped rubbing his eyes and turned to his boss who stood near a dry erase board that he had been scribbling on. The eyes of everyone at the table turned to him. Electronic tablets laid in front of them with scribbled notes mirroring the dry erase board. Herb looked down at his own tablet that had gone black with disuse.  

“Yes, Mr. Waltham. Sorry.” 

“I know it’s early. I’ve been up since three planning this meeting. I’ve been excited about getting this new initiative underway. Get coffee, stand up, I need you all engaged. You are my eyes and ears in the company. This is how we’re going to make third quarter sales!” 

Herb leaned forward and took a sip of coffee. He tapped his tablet and entered the code. The notes file was still open with the date on top of it. Maybe taking notes would help. It didn’t. 

After the meeting, Waltham approached. Before he could say anything, Herb apologized. Blaming Monday morning seemed like as good an excuse as any. 

“Have you read that book about biorhythms?” Waltham said. 

“Yes, I… uh…” 

“I imagine you’re a walrus. I get that. Since I’ve taken over this position, my Monday morning meetings aren’t going well.” 

“I’m sorry, I just…” 

Waltham held his hand up. 

Herb wanted to say biorhythms were all nice but didn’t consider technology. Who knew where that thought came from? Even microwaves gave off low-grade radiation. Now we carry phones in our pocket. We use tech almost nonstop. What is it doing to us? Is it changing us like radiation changed normal people into superheroes? Maybe it’s messing with our biorhythms more than we realized. 

“Forget it, Herb. I’ve been trying to be more considerate since my wife left me. Maybe I’ll push…” 

Herb didn’t hear anything after that. He saw not three, but two small white circles under one of Waltham’s nostrils. He stared at those circles. Waltham either didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

Herb went into the bathroom. The itching returned. He rubbed his nose, noted the man at the urinal, and went into the stall. He pulled out his phone sitting on the pot and looked in his camera. 

Fingering the white circle, he jumped hearing a toilet flush. He had to distract himself. Let the doctor poke and prod. He would only make it worse with a phone camera, not even a real mirror. This was something worse, something different. 

He washed his hands, and three other people were standing in the bathroom. Open faucets. Open stalls. Still, they just stood there. Herb turned around to see a young executive assistant, with a first name sounding more like an athlete’s last name, like Jackson or Jordan, blocking the door. 

“Hey,” Herb hesitated, not sure if he was landing on the right name or not, “Excuse me, Jeffords.” 

“Rodgers.” 

“Uh… sorry.” 

Herb stared at the small white circles under the man’s nostrils. His name already forgotten. He spun away before catching himself. Someone opened the door behind the man and Herb used the quick chance to get out. 

Maybe he should try the doctor’s office now. Other people seemed to have the white circles. Maybe it was an outbreak. Could it be infectious? Maybe it was isolated at his work? 

As he strolled down the hallway, he couldn’t help looking in the open office doorways. 

Multiple men and women sat staring into their phones. Not scrolling but staring. Their faces slightly upturned. Were they looking at their own reflections? Maybe it was just his imagination. At least those offices had people. Half of them were empty.

“Mr. Waltham is in a meeting, Herb. Anything I could do for you?” 

Waltham’s secretary held his hand up blocking the door.  

“Jim, I need to speak to him for a second.” 

“He’s indisposed.”

“Is he indisposed or in a meeting?” 

“What do you need?” 

“I’m leaving to go to my doctor.” 

“Is it this mysterious bug going around? A lot of people called in sick today.” 

“People seem weird today.” 

“You see it too?” 

“What is it?” 

Jim looked around to see if anyone was looking. He shook his head back and forth. 

“I’ve never been happier than when I got rid of my cell phone. Everyone seems stuck on their phones today. I don’t know. I don’t like it. It’s like they care about their appearances suddenly. Have you been into the bathroom? It’s like a petting zoo in there!” 

“A petting zoo?” 

“You know what I mean. Everyone standing around waiting to look in the mirror. It’s weird.” 

Herb fought the urge to touch the white circles under his nose. He looked at Jim’s face. No white circles. Not yet, he thought. 

“I kind of envy you getting out of here for a few hours. It’s getting weird. Anyway, good luck. Hope everything is good.” 

“Hey babe, I can’t get through to the doctor’s office but I’m going anyway.” 

“He’s canceled his appointments for the rest of the week. I was going to call you.” 

Herb stared at the red light. He looked to the right and left not seeing any cars but still the red light persisted. It was hard to believe that there wasn’t any traffic at ten in the morning. Not here anyway. He looked in the rearview mirror to see if there was a car behind him, but his eyes drew to the small white circles. 

If he had been thinking straight, he would’ve asked his wife a follow-up question. Staring at the circles seemed to help alleviate the temptation to touch them. He hadn’t realized he had sat through a green light. When he looked again, he groaned seeing the red. 

Why do things itch? He scratched his arm hoping the mere action of scratching would alleviate the need, but it inflamed. Hungry to scratch, he stared forward. The light turned green. He went through and then into a parking lot. 

Wiping sweat from his forehead, he leaned closer to the mirror and gently pushed, not scratched. Nothing so deliberate, just nudged the little white circle and to his surprise, it pushed over a little. He pushed again and again it moved and then seemed to move on its own before folding and flaking down. 

Out of the hole, a small white worm wiggled. The worm was much longer than he would’ve expected it to be, but still, it was there and then fell down in between the seats of his car. He reached down to grab it before seeing the end of the worm was a hardened brown. 

Maybe it was more like a snake. He wasn’t sure what the difference between a worm and a snake was except maybe just the size, but he thought if it were inside of him growing, maybe it would be considered a snake sooner than later. 

“A par…” he started to say when the worm slid up to him. 

Its small black eyes looking up at him. Herb felt no hostility. He reached out his hand. The worm slithered closer. Before they touched, it felt electric as the worm caused the hairs on his arm to go up.

Maybe it was something as simple as biorhythms connecting and uniting. Maybe it was something more. There was no danger. It wasn’t a parasite or a threat. He knew it inside. It was a friend.  

How did it see him? Again, he thought of the biorhythms inside and how he slept and managed his life and thought maybe, just maybe it was the same with this worm. But if he were to take a measure now, it had grown suddenly, getting out of the hole on his face and now was much larger. 

Then he looked in the mirror. Two more holes. Two more worms? Maybe. The empty hole was just an open wound. It wasn’t even bleeding. Not vacant like he had expected, but rather a wall of red flesh that had yet to scab. 

He looked down at the worm and it had crawled closer to him. Its mouth bobbing open and close like a small baby looking for a nipple. But that wasn’t quite right. It had found its release. It was more an animal free of restraint. 

“We’re united. Aren’t we?” 

Feeling a wave of sweat come over him, he wiped his face and without realizing it until two more wiggled down onto his lap, he groaned in more shock than horror. Fascination bordering enchantment kept him from being repulsed as he touched the first worm and then the other two. Identical down to the hardened brown tails. 

They were his. No. Maybe that wasn’t right. They were him? He shook his head back and forth because that didn’t feel right but it was closer to being right than not. One playfully bit his finger, and he erupted in laughter before putting the hand over his mouth. 

“Hello?” His wife still on the line. 

“Oh hey, did you call me, or did I call you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Alright, I’ll see you tonight.” 

He disconnected. Telling her about it might have been too difficult. They wanted kids. They wanted a family, but on the wrong end of forty, it was more likely never going to happen. She wouldn’t understand.

He could hear the electric hum coming from the streetlight nearby. He reached to touch the worms. It felt electric still. The worms opened and closed their mouths, muted words only partially comprehended. 

A car drove past him causing him to jump. Seeing the light was green, he was tempted to just go home. 

The parking lot to the doctor’s office was empty. He pulled into the parking space before looking down at the worms who curled on top of each other on the passenger’s seat. 

“I can’t leave you. Car might get too hot.” 

They looked at him. He looked up at a car driving in the parking lot and then turning around and leaving. He scratched his face and felt the wound under his nose and looked in the mirror. The three red circles already looked darker. 

Rummaging around the floor of his car, he found an empty fast-food cup. He pulled off the lid and the worms crawled into it, climbing on top of each other. He placed the lid on the cup. He opened the door before pausing. They looked so much bigger now but had somehow gotten smaller. It was a marvel. 

“I know you don’t like this. But I need to try and see if the doctor knows…” 

The cup rummaged but was obedient. He nodded toward it before rising and closing the car door. He paused, noticing another car coming into the lot and then driving up to him. 

“He in?” a woman shouted from the window as it rolled down. 

Herb shook his head back and forth, unable to say anything, not even sure which doctor she was looking for. Even if he were in, he didn’t want to run the chance of having to wait for this woman to see the doctor. He watched the car drive off as he held his cup with two hands. After it left, he turned to the light blue door. 

The sun made another burst of sweat erupt spread down his back as he jiggled the door handle and saw it was locked. He congratulated himself thinking at least he didn’t leave them in the car. 

Letting out a breath, he saw something move in the blinds of the living room. He walked up to try and look through, peering over half-neglected bushes before trying to walk around to the back entrance.

He walked the line of office doors. How could every place be empty? Maybe because it was Monday. Aren’t a lot of places closed on Monday? But doctor’s offices? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he was thinking of hairdressers. 

He could hear another car enter the parking lot, but he didn’t turn around. So close to the edge of the building, he hoped the car would just turn around like the others. He turned the corner and walked along the road where there were weeds sprouting. 

He was tempted to just crouch down and pull the weeds up. Any of them up. They were an intrusion. The cup seemed to vibrate with gnawing anticipation. The hunger to pull the weeds. Order in chaos. Why did weeds exist? Why do things itch? How do you scratch when your biorhythms are itching to get out?

The streetlight perched in the back of the parking lot buzzed. Walking in the shadows behind the building, he felt his heart drumming as he got to the door. Reaching for the handle, he paused, seeing the small square of broken glass. The door was open. 

He should’ve turned around. Probably should’ve run for the hills but couldn’t. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t right. He tried to use his foot to pull the door open, thinking about fingerprints. But then lost patience and muttered a profanity as he grabbed the door from the top corner and yanked it open. 

The lights were out. The office was empty. He walked slowly listening for anyone or anything before going to the front waiting room. Why the front waiting room, he wasn’t sure. Surely if the doctor were here, he’d be in a back office not the front. He had to get help. He had to get answers. As time went on, he realized it seemed less of a prerogative and more like something to do before something else gave him something to do. 

Was that right? Was something coming with orders? Something new and different? He went to yawn but his teeth seemed to stretch out from his mouth and clamp down. He let out a deep breath and heard someone as if they were responding doing the same. He pushed the door open and walked into the waiting room. 

A woman sat with her legs crossed and looking away from him. She turned to him, perched up. He saw the white specks on her dark navy-blue dress before seeing anything else. The red holes, four of them, stood out against her dark skin. She looked disappointed as she slouched back into her chair. 

“Is the doctor in?” 

The air conditioner let out a loud groan as it kicked on. They paused to stare at it. She answered distractedly. 

“Not yet. I’m just waiting.” 

Herb nodded, trying not to look at the to-go box of Chinese food sitting on the chair next to her with one hand in it. 

She held out a hand that had no flesh, just white bone on it. Herb froze. He took a step back. She didn’t move as if embarrassed by it. She shrugged and pulled her other hand out of the to-go box as if to say, ‘What are you going to do?’ The hand had two boney fingers sticking out. Herb saw worms inside the to-go box, larger, with their mouths bobbing up and down. 

“They’re just a little hungry,” she said barely above a whisper. “It doesn’t even hurt.” 

“Ah,” Herb said, his eyes looking around the room. “Mind if I sit?”