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Gianluca:We received the results from the lab. Call me ASAP
I type out my response.
Me:Is something wrong?
Gianluca:It's the generic version of Arlo's omeprazole. You need to speak to me this instant
A feeling I can't quite place wells up within me. My mind drifts to Arlo's purple package of omeprazole, and I can't control my rage.
My voice is measured and low. "If something was in those pills, I'll punch a hole through my window. I'll hunt down every manufacturer and murder them myself."
Bringing my lips to Arlo's cheek one last time, I take my phone and head to the hallway. I cast one last glance at my angel sleeping on the bed. My boy is…sobeautiful. He snoozes in our pillow fort, oblivious to the cares of the world. His gorgeous body is on full display, and my eyes feast on his adorable ass.
God knows how many men would sacrifice every penny in their bank accounts for a night with an angel like this. Arlo doesn't define beauty. He eclipses it. I'd lay every part of myself at the altar of his being if it meant waking up next to him every day.
I slip into the hallway, then shut my bedroom door behind me. I pull up my videoconferencing app and call my brother.
Gianluca answers on the first ring. He sits in his medical office, surrounded by files. His black hair is slicked back, and his chiseled jaw is shaved. He wears a dark blue knit sweater with a collared shirt under the collar. I note the bags under his eyes and realize he's been up late.
I adjust my phone. "Good morning, Gianluca."
Gianluca nods. "Good morning."
I blow out a breath. "Tell me what's going on. What's wrong with Arlo's medication?"
I'll go scorched Earth if the generic omeprazole manufacturers put something strange in his drugs. I won't stop until I avenge my boy.
"Former medication." Gianluca grits his teeth. "Arlo isn't taking it anymore. Right?"
I nod. "Correct. He switched to the prescription pills Dr. Trina recommended."
"We received the results back from the lab. The medication Arlo took isn't up to FDA standards."
I furrow my brow. "I don't understand."
It's a generic medication. Convenient Pharmacy didn't import it from a developing country. There shouldn't be anything wrong with it.
Gianluca holds up a vial. "Arlo's pills contain high concentrations of fructose. Upon further examination, we found the pills are composed of eighty percent sugar."
"Sugar?"
Gianluca nods. "The manufacturers put a negligible amount of omeprazole in the pills. Most omeprazole contains 20.6 mg of omeprazole magnesium. They treat frequent heartburn that occurs two days or more per week. Arlo's generic omeprazole only contained 4.3 g of omeprazole magnesium."
I grit my teeth. "Tell me what this means."
I'm not a scientist. Gianluca needs to put this in layman's terms.
Gianluca makes eye contact with me. "Arlo took sugar pills. We also found traces of pharmaceutical stimulants in the drugs. Our hypothesis is that these pills suppressed Arlo's appetite and contributed to his undernourishment. They didn't even address his problem. He needed to take four times the quantity of omeprazole to achieve relief because the pill packaging lied."
The news hits me like a punch to the chest. My mind pictures the purple omeprazole box, and I clench my fists.
These bastards at the generic drug manufacturer fed my boy…sugarandstimulants? And he didn't even receive enough omeprazole to help his acid reflux?
My eyebrows slam together. "Did the pills damage Arlo's liver or kidneys?"
"No." Gianluca shakes his head. "We ran tests on Arlo and checked his vitals. The only thing wrong with him is his reflux and his lack of nutrients."
"Tell me who makes this medication."
