The Revenge Of The Radioactive Part 6

aShould we stop?a her mother asked Suzi. aShould we go in and make sure sheas all right?a aLetas go home,a Suzi suggested. aMy kneeas really hurting.a Crazy old bat. It was a shame, really, because shead gotten rather fond of the old thing. But what if shead pulled this sort of stunt in Italy somewhere?

When they got home, her mother spent twenty minutes talking to Nance on the phone, or, rather listening to Nance talk, and murmuring consoling phrases, like aIam sure it wasa and aSheall understand.a The h.e.l.l I will, thought Suzi. What would possess somebody to behave like that, after shead introduced Suzi around as her granddaughter? Was this the way Nance would treat her actual granddaughter? Good thing she didnat have one.

When her mother finally got off the phone, her face looked thoughtful. She told Suzi that Nance was very apologetic and said that it would never happen again.

aWhyad she do it?a aShe got upset, thinking about her daughter,a her mother said. aHer daughter died. Did she tell you?a Suzi was pleased to report that she knew all about Helen, whoad died of cancer.

aI guess her Helen loved donuts, and Nance got overcome with memories being in Dunkina Donuts,a her mother said. aThatas no excuse. But she said sheall make it up to you and hopes youall forgive her. Iam just telling you what she said.a aShe just left me there.a aI know, I know. But people do crazy things when theyare sad.a aIam sad, and I donat do c.r.a.p like that.a Her mother sat down in a kitchen chair like the wind got knocked out of her. aYouare sad?a she said. aWhatas wrong, honey?a Like, youare not allowed to be sad.

Duh, she wanted to tell her mother. Why do you think? You only care about Ava. It was too awful to say aloud, and her mother would just deny it anyway. aMy knee, duh,a Suzi said, glad she had a go-to pain source that her mother had to acknowledge.

aOh, yes, that,a her mother said, sounding relieved. She glanced out the window into the sunlit branches of Granddadas beautiful live oak tree as if she wished she were outside instead of in here. aNance has been so nice to all of us, so helpful. Sheas adopted our family. I hate to just cut her off.a aIam not going to just cut her off,a Suzi snapped. Her mother would look for an excuse to cut anyone off. aShe wants to take Granddad to church with us next week.a aOh, really?a her mother said. aIam sure head enjoy that.a Anything to take the old man off her hands. Suzi had said the right thing once again.

aI guess we could give her another chance,a her mother said.

Before Nance/Marylou actually met Wilson, she hadnat realized how complicated, and potentially unsatisfying it could be, trying to enact her revenge. She hadnat even considered the possibility that Wilson might be losing his marbles, might not remember what she required him to remember.

On the third morning she read the New York Times to him, or pretended to read it, the two of them were sitting alone in his little den, drinking cups of coffee that Caroline had brought in; and he asked her if she was the one whoad sent him the package, which gave her hope that he did, finally, grasp the situation.

She said that, yes, it had been she who sent him the package full of photocopies of doc.u.ments and letters from the government study, linking her and Wilson and Helen.

He asked her why shead sent it to him.

She said to remind him of what head done.

He gave her that blank face. At least he was wearing his hearing aid today and had put on trousers with a short-sleeved b.u.t.ton-up shirt tucked into them, instead of his usual bathrobe and pjas.

aYouare as bad as a n.a.z.i,a Marylou explained to him. aYouare a monster. Experimenting on human beings without their knowledge or consent. I should call you Heinrich. Or Adolf.a He actually smiled. aOr G.o.dzilla,a he said.

The smile was insufferable. aDo you know who I am?a she asked him.

aI believe I do.a aWho? Who am I?a The annoying little white poodle was out in the front yard, barking fiercely at Paula Coffey, in her white visor, jogging by. Wilson said, aYouare Mrs. Archer. Mrs. Archer with the lovely blue eyes.a aI told you. My real name is Marylou Ahearn.a His eyes behind their trifocals swept her up and down. aYou look nice today.a aGo straight to h.e.l.l.a He nodded. aNot yet,a he said, and crossed his legs so that his white calf showed. He glanced out the window, and she did, too. The dog was silent, but the city recycling truck was nearby, slamming gla.s.s bottles around. Moss hung in ghostly swaths from the huge live oak tree in the front yard. The sunlight coming into the room made her feel drowsy. The smell of warming dust made her feel drowsy. She didnat want to feel drowsy. It was happening again. His bobbing and weaving was wearing her down. The previous two times shead aread the newspapera to him shead given up badgering him after a while and just sat there, making small talk about Memphis and gardening and the weather, hoping that her mere presence was making him miserable, occasionally imagining flying across the room and strangling him. Breaking the table lamp over his head.

Then, because such images were so preposterous, shead start wondering if maybe he was really the ogre she thought he was. Maybe he hadnat really known what he was doing with that experiment and so on, until she actually found herself making excuses for him, trying to make sense of the fact that she and this nice, polite, rather handsome gentleman were sitting together, talking about daylilies, when what she really wanted to do was to kill him.

One day, after spying a key in the fork of a tree, shead taken the opportunity to lock Wilson in the toxic garden shed, hoping that head suffocate in there or inhale enough deadly fumes to have a lasting effect. She knew that even if he hadnat figured out who pushed him into the shed, theyad have to have figured out that shead done it; and she planned to vehemently deny it when they confronted her. But n.o.body in the family even mentioned it to her the next time she showed up at their house to aread the papera to Granddad, who seemed just as unflappable as ever.

Today, she decided, she wouldnat give up. She took a sip of the strong coffee and set down her mug. She wasnat going to fall back on small talk. She was done messing around. She informed him that shead moved to Tallaha.s.see with the singular goal of killing him.

aIs this another one of your jokes?a aI am going to kill you. How much clearer can I be?a He folded his arms on his chest. aDonat talk like that. I could report you to the police.a aYou could,a she said, leaning forward, struggling to keep her voice low so that Caroline, nearby in the kitchen, wouldnat hear her. aBut if you told the police, it would all come out, what youave done. It would get in the papers. Your familya"your daughter and grandkidsa"and all of greater Tallaha.s.see will hear the details about how you are responsible for poisoning eight hundred women. And their unborn children.a aOh. Well. Thereas already been a hearing in Washington,a he said. aWhen that fellow from Arkansas was president. Hillaryas husband. I gave a deposition for the hearing. And afterward the subjects were compensated. OJ was involved, too, somehow. The rental car guy.a aI am a subject,a Marylou said. aHere I am. I got some money, but I do not consider myself to be compensated. I am an uncompensated individual. Iave had many medical problems. And my daughter, Helen, died of cancer. At age eight. Can you imagine watching your child suffer and die, Adolf?a He stared fixedly at his hands, which were now in his lap. aIam sorry your daughter died.a aAre you sorry that you killed her? Thatas what you need to be sorry for.a Would he say it? She watched his face closely. A shadow pa.s.sed over it. aIam not feeling well,a he said.

aYou donat feel bad enough, in my opinion.a He seemed to sink even farther into the ugly chintz chair. aI need to lie down.a aYouall have plenty of time to lie down after I kill you.a His voice sounded faint. aThatas funny.a aDo you think Iam a stand-up comedian? Why did I say I came here?a He picked up his coffee mug, a thick brown and white thing that looked like a pa.s.sable murder weapon. aTo read the paper to me,a he said. aAnd itas very good of you.a He took a sip of the coffee.

aIam supposed to read the paper to you. But notice Iam not. What am I doing?a aYouare pestering me about something.a aPestering you?a He looked over at the Tallaha.s.see Democrat on the couch, tucked up close to Marylou where she could s.n.a.t.c.h it up and pretend to read if Caroline should come in. aHave we read Arts and Leisure yet?a he said. aLetas see what movies are playing.a aListen. Iam going to keep telling you, as many times as it takes. I was one of the pregnant women you gave a radioactive drink to. In 1953. And here I am today, in 2006.a He smiled at her, turning on the charm. aYou look fine to me.a aIam not fine. My daughter died of bone cancer.a He shook his head and sighed. aMy wife died of cancer. She played her piano right up until the end. She played hymns, songs from West Side Story, everything.a Marylou couldnat help herself. aWest Side Story? Yuk.a aThey have a piano here, but n.o.body plays it.a aCry me a river. Itas not the same thing. Helen died of cancer because you gave it to her. You gave me the radioactive c.o.c.ktail and told me it was good for me. It was vitamins, you said. So you killed Helen. Can I be any more clear?a aI gave you a c.o.c.ktail?a aNo, you idiot. You were in charge of the study. At Memphis University. One of your minions gave me the drink. Nurse Bordner. But you were the doctor in charge. It was your study. You came by to say cheerio right after Iad drunk it. aWe appreciate your cooperation,a you said.a aYouave got the wrong person,a Wilson said.

aNo, I donat, but weall move on. I also saw you on the day Helen died. Do you remember that?a He shook his head, so she refreshed both her memory and his.

It was on a February day in 1963. Helen lay on a bed at Memphis University Hospitala"white sheet, white gown, white walls, gray girla"hours away from death. Marylou and Teddy were crouched on either side of her with their winter coats on. Teddyas coat was red with a plaid hood. Why hadnat they taken their coats off? By then Helenas face had lost much of its Helenness, her lovely curving mouth now a hole drawing in ragged, irregular breaths, her formerly, plump freckled cheeks hollow. Marylou and Teddy said soothing things to the part of Helen who was there with them, kissed her forehead, alternately clinging to her and squeezing her hands and stroking her hair, hoping to get some last response, some acknowledgment that she knew them and knew she was loveda"they wouldave been overjoyed to see her eyelids flickeringa"but there was nothing. How long had they done this? Were they crying? Or were they subdued and numb? Marylou had no idea.

What she did remember was hearing, at some point, behind her in the doorway, a rustling sound, and shead automatically turned around, expecting to see one of the nurses or Helenas doctor, but by that point, even if it had been President Kennedy himself she wouldnat have cared. But it wasnat President Kennedy; it was the same doctor shead seen the day shead been given the avitamin c.o.c.ktaila at the same hospital almost ten years earlier. Dr. Wilson Spriggs.

Once again he was standing in a doorway, even though it was a different doorway in an entirely different wing of the hospital. But she remembered him, even though his dark hair was graying and longer, curling around his ears, and his gla.s.ses were smaller and wire framed and he wore a fat paisley tie instead of a bow tie. He still looked foppish and pretentious. She had no idea in 1963 that the avitamin drinka had given Helen the cancer that was killing her, and that Marylou and Helen had been guinea pigs in Dr. Spriggsas secret government study, one of many such studies going on in the country back then. She didnat know any of those things, but she hated Dr. Spriggs just the same, hated him for standing there useless and vain, for not saying anything to her or Teddy, even though he mustave known what was happening in that room, whether he knew exactly who they were or not, and she hated him for his ability to walk away, as she imagined, untouched and unharmed.

aAn angel of death,a Marylou told the old Wilson now. aYou were the angel of death.a aIam sorry you think so.a There was a pause while Wilson took another sip of his coffee and set the mug back down with a shaky hand. aAre you feeling all right?a he asked her.

aIam tired,a Marylou said.

aHave you been getting enough sleep?a Actually, she hadnat been. There was some funny business going on around her house at night that kept her awake. Just the night before shead heard someone, around midnight, prancing around on her roof like a reindeer. The next morning a big hunk of roof shingles lay on the ground beside the garbage can, which convinced her that it had been a person on the roof, not an animal. As much as she longed to tell somebody about thisa"someone like her former husband Teddya"she would not allow herself to tell Wilson. So she said, in a mincing voice, a aHave you been getting enough sleep? Have you been drinking your radiation like a good girl?a Donat be pulling that doctor c.r.a.p with me.a aI am a doctor,a Wilson said. aTell me who you are.a aIam one of your guinea pigs. Iam leaving now, but Iall be back. You are going to pay for what you did.a aWhat is it you think I did?a aYou know what you did.a Wilson frowned, looking bewildered. aWhy are you so angry at me?a aIam not only angry at you, Iam going to kill you. I just havenat figured out how.a aYouad better go,a he said, looking alarmed for the first time. aRight now.a Marylou stood up. aWhen I come back tomorrow you wonat remember anything weave talked about, and you wonat remember that I said Iam going to kill you.a aYou donat know that.a aOkay. What did I just say?a He squirmed around in his chair, blinking like a spotlight was in his eyes. aItas been real nice talking to you, but Iam not in a position to buy anything right now.a It was so hot, walking home. Canterbury Hills was deserted in the middle of the day. She was glad that Buster was at home in the air-conditioning. The houses and trees receded, and it was all about the asphalt, pushing the heat up into her face. The heat here had a different quality than the heat in Memphis. In Memphis it was like a withering blast furnace, but at least there was movement in the blast. Here, she felt like a fish struggling in a hot shallow pond. It was unnatural to move in such heat. She tried not to cry, but tears leaked out of her eyes. She didnat want to look conspicuous. She felt faint, but she kept going. Telling him about the day Helen died, that had taken it out of her. She hadnat talked about that day in years. Her right hip was aching again. One foot, then the other. She would force Wilson, somehow, to acknowledge the depravity, the horror of what head done, and when it was clear that he understood and after he sincerely apologized to her, then shead kill him, and she no longer cared how she did it. But right now the son of a b.i.t.c.h was too jolly. He refused to be miserable while she was turning the screws. Before she snuffed him out, she wanted him miserable. But how in the world could she change the outlook of a happy fool?

Desperation was the mother of invention. By the time she got back to Reeveas Court, Marylou had devised a brand-new attack plan. She would continue with her efforts to make Wilson remember and apologize, but she would also take steps to destroy his family, the way head destroyed hers. It would surely make him miserable to watch his family suffer, the way shead had to watch Helen and Teddy suffer.

Rather than killing all of them, which she didnat think she had the guts to doa"and, even if she did manage to do it, there was no way she wouldnat get caughta"she would get to know them better, each one of them, and then set about disrupting their lives. She would make sure that Wilson knew what she was doing, that it was she who was causing them trouble and that she was doing it because of what head done to her, and to Helen, and to those eight hundred other women and their children and husbands.

It was easy enough figuring out the best way to mess with each member of that family. She hadnat spent twenty-five years as a high school English teacher for nothing. She was good at sizing people up, at displaying a kind of false cheeriness that made them feel comfortable with her, and she had an instinct about what people really neededa"which usually wasnat what they thought they needed. The only hitch was that she didnat purely hate them, the way she did Wilson. These mixed feelings made it a little more difficult to plan and carry out a single-minded campaign to destroy them. But she would do her very best for Helenas sake.

Suzi was a shining light, and for this reason she was a bit of a tough case, because although Marylou resented Suzi for being the sort of girl Helen would have been, for living the kind of life that Helen wouldave liveda"Helen, who was bright and beautiful and wise and kinda"she also liked Suzi for those very reasons. Right away, Marylou saw that Suzi was tired of striving to be perfect. There was no religious training in that household, and Suzi could use some. Marylou saw great religious potential in Suzi, and Suzias becoming a rabid Christian would have the added bonus of upsetting her liberal parents. Suzi already considered herself a Christian, but shead been attending a Presbyterian Church, which was almost as bad as Unitarian. However, for Suzi to simply become a Southern Baptist, like Marylou, while that would be horrible for her parents, would not go far enough. Suzi needed exposure to one of those giant churches that met in buildings that resembled a Walmart. She needed to become the kind of Christian who quoted Bible verses irresponsibly and judged other people and scared them away. It seemed like a true gift from G.o.d that Marylou just happened to move across from a minister at the Genesis Church, a church that shead hoped would fit the bill in every way. When she actually went to Genesis Church, though, she discovered that most of the people there werenat scary or judgmental, but were just like the people at First Baptist in Memphis. Surprise! She actually liked Genesis Church, even if the minister did sling too many metaphors around in one sermon. It felt good just to be going to church again. Shead missed First Baptist more than shead thought she would.

Six months ago when she first came up with the idea to kill Wilson, back when she was living in Memphis, shead started going to church again. Since she was spending so much time thinking about sinister things, the least she could do, she reasoned, was to think about G.o.d and his love twice a week at church so that she wouldnat become a total sociopath. And rather than kill other people who were stand-ins for the person she really wanted to kill, like serial killers did, shead be kind and generous to others and hone in on the one who deserved to die. And her plan had worked extremely well. Since shead started planning to kill Wilson, and then decided to destroy his family instead, she felt no animosity toward anyone but him. Almost none at all!

The first Sunday shead lured Suzi into Genesis Church shead gotten drunk with power. Thank G.o.d shead gotten scared out of her wits and left her at Dunkina Donuts, unable to proceed with her impulsive plan to take Suzi out to Lake Jackson, propose a canoe ride, and then brain her with an oar. That didnat pan out. Now she was back on track with her goal: creating Jesus freak Suzi.

At the same time she was seeing to Suzi, she was mounting her campaign on all fronts. Otis and Ava. There was something anxious and vulnerable and permanently innocent about both of them. Their mother tried to explain to Marylou that they had some sort of disability, and Marylou could see that there was definitely something different about them. Shead had quite a few students like them over the years, and although many of them had been troublesome and frustrating to deal with, she also found such students engaging because of their peculiar interests. They were always social outcasts, usually ignored and sometimes persecuted, and that broke her heart.

But she steeled herself and proceeded with her plans to derail Otis and Ava, telling herself it was for a good cause. She steered Ava away from her studies and toward the trashy world of modeling and shallow self-absorption. Otis she would merely expose by writing a letter to the EPA. There was all kinds of illegal stuff in that shed. She didnat have to be a n.o.bel Prizea"winning scientist to tell that.

Vic she felt little to no sympathy for. He was detached from his family, and nothing that went on in his house seemed to affect him. Vic was a cretin not to realize what he had. Work would be the best place to get him, so she signed on to be a scorer at FTA. She would cause as much trouble there as best she could.

Caroline was a neurotic, insecure woman, obsessed with Ava and merely tolerating everyone else. She was in desperate need of someone to help her and support her, the way her husband shouldave been doing, but Marylou did not intend to be that person. The best thing to do to Caroline, Marylou decided, was to pretend to be helpful and supportive but all the while work behind the scenes to poison everything Caroline took for granted.

Vic and Caroline needed to s.h.i.t or get off the pot, as Teddy wouldave said. Their marriage stank to high heaven, but she wasnat going to be the one to point this out to them. Let them wallow in their own filth while she dirtied the rest of their nest.

Of course she would have to make sure that, while she was doing her dirty deeds, the family would tolerate her, even want her around. In the long run, it probably would work in her favor that shead left Suzi alone at Dunkina Donutsa"it had established, in the minds of the Witherspoon family, that she was scatterbrained, which could come in handy later on. The truth was, she was the furthest thing from scatterbrained. Well, maybe not the furthest thing. But none of the Spriggs family membersa"except Wilson whom shead told outright that she planned to kill him but it didnat seem to faze him a bita"suspected that she was guilty of anything but being a pathetic and annoying busybody. They did probably suspect her of locking Wilson in the shed, but theyad never said anything to her about that. And Wilson, she knew, would never tell on her. He seemed not to care how badly she treated him or how much she threatened him.

In addition to her crushing-his-family agenda, she kept up her efforts to make him remember. Even though she reminded him every so often that she planned to kill him, he willingly climbed into her car. She took him to Barnes & n.o.ble, afor a treat,a she told Caroline; and the two of them sat in the coffee shop for an hour and a half while she showed him books about the horrors of radiation. He sipped his caf mocha and nodded, not even bothering to defend radiation, glancing around at the other caf customers, especially the young pretty college women bent over their fashion magazines. Finally he announced that it had been a real pleasure talking to her, but didnat they have any lighter reading material available at this bookstore?

Another day she took him to a nearby park, and they sat on a bench in the shade and watched the kids and their parents play on the thick plastic slides and jungle gyms, all connected to big plastic fortlike contraptions, so unlike the thin metal playground equipment Helen had enjoyed. And no more concrete under the equipmenta"now it was poky, splintery fresh-smelling cedar chips. Marylou spotted a little girl with long blond hair and fair skin like Helenas and pointed her out to Wilson and reminded him again that head killed Helen. aWho is Helen?a he asked her. Shead told him a million times, but shead try again. How could she begin to describe Helen?

She told him about how Helen used to love playgrounds and that there was one near their house in Overton Park with an old sh.e.l.l of a fire truck in it that Helen loved beyond reason when she was four, loved sitting in it and turning the wheel and making the siren noise, and shead really wanted to be a fireman, and Teddy bought her a fire hat and toy fire trucks and books about fire trucks even though Marylou didnat approve of encouraging something that a girl could never do, and had actually told Helen one night at dinner that girls could never be firemen, and Helen had physically attacked her mother, calling her a liar. The next day Helen threw away all her fire-related items, and now Marylou regretted saying such a thing to Helen, for all kinds of reasons, because of course today she couldave been a firefighter if shead wanted to be, but beyond that, why had she felt compelled to throw water on Helenas dream? This wasnat the kind of memory Marylou wanted to relive about Helen, and had never told anyone about this before, and in fact she never spoke about Helen anymore to anybody.

She realized she was trembling and then realized, that, sweet Jesus, Adolf was actually holding her hand, and she was letting him. She screeched and flung his hand aside.

Kids stopped their play and turned toward Marylou and Wilson.

aAre you all right?a said the nearest mother, wearing the playground motheras uniform of baggy shorts and baggy T-shirt. Cedar chips hung from the front of her shirt.

aAnts,a Marylou said, brushing off her hand. aI got rid of them.a After the playground got busy again, Wilson spoke up. aI remember that fire engine,a he said. aI used to take Caroline to Overton Park every Sat.u.r.day, when she was in elementary school. She howled when she had to get off the swings. Remember that big monkey they had there in the late sixties, in the zoo, the one that used to get mouthfuls of water and spit on people? After he started doing that he disappeared. Wonder what they did with him. Poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d.a Marylou did remember that monkey. He was as big as she was. aHe probably got used in a radiation experiment,a she said. She grabbed Wilsonas upper arm and squeezed it hard. aNo, wait. You only used humans for those.a aThe zoo was never the same after he left,a was all Wilson said.

aI could spit on you, if it would make you feel better.a aNo thanks. Donat think it would.a * * *

One Sunday she took Wilson to Genesis Church along with Suzi, hoping head feel the need to repent, but afterward he claimed that the sound system had screwed up his hearing aid and he couldnat make heads or tails of what they were singing and saying. aAll sounded like caterwauling to me,a he said.

Another time, in the evening, she took him for a walk around the neighborhood and as they were plodding down Nunas Drive, him walking twice as slow as she was, she got an idea and stopped. aJust wait here,a she told him.

aWhat? Why?a It was nearly dark, and the crickets were striking up their chorus.

She pointed at a nearby house, no lights on, no cars in the drive. aGot to run ask my friend something. Be right back.a She marched up the driveway as quickly as she could with her stiff ankle and gimpy hip. Fortunately her afrienda didnat seem to have a dog. The back of the house was dark, too. How could she possibly explain herself if someone caught her? She was sneaking around just like the person who climbed up on her roof at night. She would hide back here until Wilson wandered away.

Suddenly, motion lights came on over the patio like a play was about to start, and she ducked into the shadows. That metal patio furniture. Bright colored chairs with backs like oyster sh.e.l.ls. And a brick fireplace with a spit. She hadnat seen chairs like that, or a fireplace like that, in years. Not since the fifties, not since that horrible patio party at Teddyas bossas house.

She hadnat wanted to go to the d.a.m.n party in the first place, mostly because she didnat know anyone there. When they arrived, there were three couples sitting in the same kind of metal chairs on the flagstone patioa"much like this onea"drinking orange-colored drinks with cherries and colored umbrellas floating in them. Two of the men were dark, hairy, and bespeckled, just like she expected engineers to look, but the third man was blond and tanned like a country clubber. He was Teddyas boss. The women were a bit harder to categorize. One wife was young, dark, and overmade-up. She was smoking a cigarette and scowling. Another wife was fat, fair, and pleased with herself. The third wife was old and wrinkly with white haira"she looked as old as a grandmother, though probably she was only fifty. It was impossible to figure out who went with whom.

The bossman stood up to shake their hands. His wife, it turned out, was the overmade-up smoking woman. She stubbed out her cigarette in a huge pink ceramic ashtray and asked them if they wanted mimosas, gesturing at a big gla.s.s pitcher on a white metal table.

Teddy asked for c.o.ke, Marylou for lemonade. They were Baptists, after all.

aOh, come on, drink a real drink!a cried Mrs. Boss. It appeared that Mrs. Boss had had a few mimosas already.

Teddy glanced at Marylou, then shrugged. aGuess it wouldnat hurt none. Never had one of those things.a Marylou felt annoyed by how quickly he gave in. aI donat drink,a she said. aBut thank you.a Mrs. Boss poured Teddyas drink in a tall fluted gla.s.s, dropped an umbrella and a cherry into it and handed it to him. Then she went into the house for a few minutes and returned with a clear, fizzy drink in a plastic tumbler for Marylou. No cherry or umbrella for her! aTonic water,a Mrs. Boss said out of the side of her mouth.

Teddy sipped his mimosa and exclaimed about how good it was.

aInvented at the Ritz in Paris,a Mrs. Boss said. aOver there, we drank mimosas in the morning, but what the h.e.l.l. I say theyare good anytime.a aBuckas fizz,a said Bossman. aThatas what the British call them.a aA manmosa has beer instead of champagne,a added one of the hairy men. aEver tried it that way?a he asked his boss, who shook his head.

aUggh,a said Mrs. Boss, swinging her bare, tanned leg. aSounds disgusting.a Marylou, feeling swollen and pale and unsophisticated, sat in a springy metal chair, sipping her bitter, bubbly tonic water. She was plainly pregnant, wearing a ruffly flowered maternity dress, but n.o.body asked her about her baby. n.o.body seemed interested. Instead they discussed some of the people they worked with, one of whom had just been arrested for indecent exposure at the Memphis Zoo, a scandal everyone but her seemed to know all about. So the next time around she accepted one of the mimosas. Mrs. Bossa"Vivian?a"poured more drinks for everyone, announcing that there was another pitcher waiting in the fridge.

Charcoal was smoking in the fireplace grill in the corner of the patio, but n.o.body was paying any attention to it, and there wasnat any meat in evidence. There werenat any finger foods or snacks available either. What kind of cookout was this? Marylou slurped down her drink, and had another and another, and by the end of the evening she and Vivian were lying in the yard sticking their stockinged legs up in the air, talking about how they were hanging off the side of the world! Wheee! Teddy had had to carry her home.

Nowadays pregnant women knew better. What kind of damage had she done to Helen that night? Maybe all those mimosas had contributed to Helenas cancer as well.

The motion lights went dark. Play over. The end. Marylou was back in Tallaha.s.see, trespa.s.sing in some strangeras backyard. She crept around the side of the house, a two story with aluminum siding, and peeked around the corner. Wilson, d.a.m.n him, was standing there, under the streetlight, where shead left him. She stepped behind a p.r.i.c.kly waist-high holly hedge and watched him, not minding the mosquitoes whining around her face. As long as she wasnat standing on a fire ant nest, she could stand there forever.

He glanced left, then right. Somebody down the street slammed a car door. A bat swooped in a figure eight under the streetlight, but he didnat appear to notice. He probably had no idea where he was or what he was doing there. Finally, he backed up and lowered himself down onto the edge of the lawn that sloped right up to where she was hiding.

She could sneak away now, walk back home, and it might be a while before anyone found him. But someone would find him, eventually, and eventually head be returned to his proper owner. His family would be very angry at her, but she might worm herself out of being blamed, since they seemed to be willing to believe anything that made their lives easier. But he wouldnat care. Either head remember and forgive her, or head forget. Exasperating creature. She watched him a while longer, his white shirt and white hair glowing under the streetlight. The sharp smell of gasoline wafted up from the nearby garage. Her ankle went from stiff to achy. A car with rock music blasting came rushing past him, too close, but he didnat budge. She didnat feel sorry for him, she didnat. But this wasnat any fun.

Without deciding to, she broke through the hedge and strolled boldly down the strange lawn toward him, the ground soft from armadillo tunnels, praying she wouldnat slip and fall. h.e.l.lo, Canterbury Hills, I am making myself right at home here! aYoo-hoo,a she called to Wilson. aAvon calling!a He didnat turn around. He didnat even glance at her.

aReady?a she said in a chipper voice. aMy friend, Vivian, Viv, was making mimosas and wouldnat give me one.a His legs stuck straight out in front of him, like a kidas legs. Her white tennis shoes were half the size of his. aYou got big feet. But then so does Viv.a His cheeks were well shaven and smooth for an old man, but he smelled like fresh sweat. aHelp me up,a he said. aTake me home.a Glad that she wasnat yet as old and stiff as he was, she pulled him to his feet and he walked off by himself, a little way down the street, and then turned around, facing her.

aAm I going the right way?a he asked.

aWhat is this, some existential drama?a she said. aKeep walking and find out.a He exhaled loudly. aJust go ahead and kill me,a he said, aif thatas what you want to do. Iam right here. Get it over with.a She almost burst out laughing. It was just like her fantasy, the one shead had the first time shead seen him in his yard overwatering his azalea bushes, when she wished head just pop up and ask to be killed and hurry up about it. aShould I hurry up about it?a she couldnat resist saying.

aPlease.a aNo. I wonat. You canat make me.a She went forward, took his arm, and they started down the block in the direction home shouldave been in. Immediately she felt uneasy. Nunas Drive looked different in the dark. Houses seemed to have rearranged themselves, driveways looked like streets, streets like driveways. Lights in the houses made them seem even more remote. One house had a huge TV, glowing blue and green like an aquarium, that took up most of a wall. Two large-sounding dogs in someoneas backyard barked ferociously. He was leaning on her, making it hard to walk. aIave changed my mind about killing you,a she said. aBut Iam not done with you. You are not off the hook, Adolf.a aVerna Tommy will have left the light on,a he said. aShe never forgets.a * * *

That night Tropical Storm Alberto crept over the Florida Panhandle. The next morning the weather channel reported that near h.o.m.osa.s.sa two people who did not evacuate required water rescue. And at Egmont Key State Park a woman fell off a boat when a band of showers and surging currents made navigation difficult; her husband and a friend drowned after jumping in to save her without life jackets, though the woman returned safely to the boat.

Marylou went outside into her twig-littered carport to get the newspaper, and she discovered that her blue rug had mysteriously reappeared. A couple of mornings ago it had disappeared from the bottom of the steps, and shead looked all around the yard but couldnat find it. Who, shead wondered, would want an ugly little Walmart rug? And now it was back in the same place, looking exactly the same. Somebody had come out in a tropical storm to replace the rug, just to make her think she was losing her mind.

It was similar to the mysterious tennis-shoe thing. One morning Marylouad found a brand-new pair of menas black Converse sneakers, size 10, on her front porch. She threw them away, but the next morning there was another pair, exactly the same kind and size, in the same place. It mightave been the same pair.

Was there some message intended? What did a disappearing and reappearing rug and black tennis shoes mean? She couldnat tell anyone about this stuff, because it sounded crazy. She had no idea who would do such things, but, in her moments of paranoia, Marylou suspected that it must be someone who saw beneath her nice old lady exterior and was trying, in the creepiest sort of way, to let her know that she wasnat fooling everyone.

Alberto. What a wimp. And Vic had had such high hopes for him.

On June 8 head watched baby Alberto hatch in the western Caribbean, held his breath as the baby burst out of his red egg, causing a colorful disturbance on Vicas computer screen as he crawled slowly northwest, fed by sweet winds. By June 10, toddling around Cuba, Alberto had blossomed into a tropical depression, and his predicted path was smack-dab into Floridaas Gulf Coast. When he read this forecast, Vic, down in his bas.e.m.e.nt closet, silently raised his fist in celebration.

Vicas boy wobbled in the Yucatn Channela"increased wind sheara"but he hung tough. On June 11, a red-letter day, he intensified into Tropical Storm Alberto, and Floridians started paying him the attention he deserved. It was hard for Vic to discuss the lad with family and friends and not sound gleeful. And then, praise be, on June 12, the NHC predicted that Alberto would attain hurricane status before he made landfalla"in the Big Bend, the armpit of Florida, near Tallaha.s.see! Vic celebrated by having three beers after dinner. But, alas, on June 13, Alberto, weakened due to an infusion of dry air, came straggling ash.o.r.e fifty miles southeast of Tallaha.s.see, near St. Marks. He remained just a run-of-the mill storma"undernourished and undistinguished.

Yeah, sure, there was flooding, storm surge, downed trees, power outages, and Alberto fathered a few impotent tornadoes; but all in all, he turned out to be a disappointment, an underachiever, a failure. Utterly forgettable.

Meanwhile, there was the rest of his life, which at that time was the portfolio project. Vicas other baby.

The portfolios included samples of each studentas work in the subjects they tooka"lab write-ups, essays, the solutions to story problems, the whole shebang. Scoring them was a b.i.t.c.h, and it was Vicas job to try to figure out how to train people to do that scoring as fast and accurately as possible. Otherwise, students (and ultimately their teachers and their schools) would be a.s.sessed on the basis of nothing other than standardized tests.

Portfolios from ten pilot high schools were pouring into FTA offices. Vic and his staff had to read through some of the writing samples and, for each subject area, a.s.semble the packets that they could use as examples to train their scorers with. Vic had persuaded his supervisor that Gigi, with her Ph.D. in English, would be an excellent person to train the language arts scorers. He finagled her a temporary raise. Since Vic was a language arts person himself, he would help Gigi.

Vic and Gigi spent hours alone in a conference room piled high with cardboard boxes labeled Language Arts with the name of the high school written underneath, reading through hundreds of writing samples to find examples of different ways a student could get a score of one, two, three, and so on, so that they could photocopy the samples for training packets. Sometimes they read the papers aloud to each other or asked the other oneas opinion on what score a certain paper should get, and in between reading and discussing student work they talked about themselves and their families and graduate school and their lives since graduate school.

In the hallway, outside the open door of the conference room, there periodically came the deep buzzing sound of somebody pressing a b.u.t.ton on the soda machine and the clunk, clunk, clunk of a can of soda falling down the chute and then the trickling clink, clink, clink of coins in the change slot. It was pathetic how much Vic loved hearing those sounds when that machine was buzzing and clunking and clicking for him and now, for Gigi, too.

Gigi sipped her fresh Diet c.o.ke and Vic cracked open his Mountain Dew, and the dreary green walls of the windowless conference room and the fake wood tables and the chemical smell of industrial carpet and the frigid recycled aira"everything was transformed into something magical by the presence of Gigi, with her wild mane of hair and dark blue eyes and lively personality. Vicas life had gone from shades of gray to Technicolor. He felt like he was back in graduate school, when he and his fellow strivers used to go out for beer and gossip and to flirt and argue and dance. He hadnat realized how much head missed it.

Sitting across from each other at the end of a long table, surrounded by the manila folders that Vic saw in his sleep, they talked about the American Lit. professor theyad had who thought every short story had a hidden key planted by the author that unlocked all the meaning, and the Modern American Poetry professor who only wanted to discuss the boring dreams shead had the previous night, and the grad student who wrote stories about a young man (much like himself) who hitchhiked around America, sleeping with women and causing their long-awaited menstruation cycles to magically resume.

Gigi updated Vic on her love life. Shead been married and divorceda"her second marriagea"since graduate school. She wasnat seeing anyone at present, because shead gotten very choosy. She was over forty and she didnat want to waste any more time on losers. Both her husbands had been alcoholics, and she wasnat going to make that mistake again.

aTravis has problems,a Gigi said. aHe gave me so much grief in high school. Talking ugly, punching holes in walls. Refusing to get out of bed. The doctors didnat know what was wrong with him. Oh, they said they knew. Slapped disorders on him left and right. ADD, ODD, OCD, bipolar. You ever wonder if weare doing the right thing, getting our children saddled with all these labels? Seems like every other person has Aspergeras these days. h.e.l.l, Travis might even have it. I sent him to one of those support groups just to see if he felt comfortable with those people.a Vic suggested she call Caroline for advice. He didnat really feel competent giving advice about Aspergeras, and he didnat want to waste precious time with Gigi, talking about Aspergeras. He was sick to death of Aspergeras. Sometimes he wished old Hans Asperger had never been born. Vic didnat even like to speak the A-word aloud to people not in the know. It usually elicited either chuckles (aDid you say a.s.s something?a) or blank stares. And the word autistic was even worse, as it conjured up head-banging devil children. But Caroline never hesitated to throw those A-words out like firecrackers. Although she wouldnat admit it, she enjoyed the disturbance those words caused. If asked why she brought it up with people, she would say that she was only making people aware so that theyad be more sympathetic to Ava and Otis, cut them some slack, realize that they werenat just weird but weird for a reason.

But Vic would argue with her. Weare all on the spectrum somewhere. Why label people? Weare all weird. And arenat people with obsessions more interesting than those who have no idea what they like? Some people turn their obsessions into great careers. About the social problems. Who doesnat just not aget ita sometimes? Some of us are more atypicala than others, thatas all.

So Vic, sitting in the suddenly cozy conference room with Gigi, finding himself unwilling to waste time deconstructing Aspergeras with Gigi, segued into Avaas obsession with Elvis, thinking Gigi would find it as bizarre as he did.

The thing about Gigi was, he could never predict how shead respond to a question or what take shead have on a situation or a subject. Of course, if head been married to her for twenty years, she might have been as predictable as he found his wife to be. But he realized that he didnat really know Gigi well at all, and he wanted to remedy this situation. He looked forward to hearing what she had to say, even if she disagreed with him.

aI suppose you like Bob Dylan better,a was Gigias response to his complaining about having to listen to Elvis music nonstop.

aWell, yeah. He wrote his own songs, for one thing.a aDylan was a poseur! Rich Jewish kid pretending to be an Oakie. He did write some great songs. Itas apples and oranges, anyhow. Elvis was an interpreter. He drew from all sorts of music and put his own stamp on it.a aHe didnat have such hot taste. aIn the Ghettoa? Come on.a Vic was surprised to find himself feeling energized, and it wasnat just the Mountain Dew. Unlike the spats with his family, he was actually enjoying this little tiff with Gigi.

Gigi tossed her loosely curled blond hair over her shoulders. High-maintenance hair, Caroline called it. Caroline had recently cut her hair short and stopped coloring it. It was her haira"she could do what she wanted to with ita"but looking at Carolineas gray streaks made him feel old.

aHereas the thing,a Gigi told him. aElvis didnat get access to some really good songs because the Colonel insisted that Elvis get all the royalties. You have to understand Elvisas background to understand why he didnat fight the Colonel. Youare just like everyone else who doesnat like Elvis because he was white and Southern.a She poked Vic in the chest with her well-manicured index finger. aFace it, Vic Witherspoon. You are a sn.o.b.a Vic swatted her finger away. aDidnat know you were such an Elvis fan.a aIam not,a she said. aItas just my duty to fight Yankee misconceptions. Iam a Johnny Cash fan, myself. Now. Listen up. Is this a good example of a three?a She held up an essay and read a pitiful little movie review of The Incredibles that was four sentences long. The first sentence said, aListen up, dudes and dudettes,a and the last sentence said, aYou just gotta see the movie your own self!a aAny misspellings? Howas the punctuation?a Vic asked her. aIt might be more of a two.a aI canat bear to give this poor kid a two,a she said. aHeas got some flair.a aHow do you know itas a he?a aThis is a three or Iam walking right out of here.a Vic swept his hand toward the door. aFeel free. Dudette.a She checked her big red watch. aHow long till happy hour? Can you go out after work for one drink?a aMaybe. Just one.a Gigi, who mustave picked up on his reluctance, smoothly shifted gears and asked about Suzias knee injury. aMust be hard on all of you,a she said.

Vic felt shead seen through him, knew that he cared too much about Suzias soccer career. He had yet to inform the director of the Olympic Development soccer camp that Suzi wasnat going to be there. He read their thrice weekly e-mails, enthusing about the upcoming camp, the outstanding coaches, the successes of former campers. He just wasnat ready to give it all up yet. aActually, Suzias doing really well,a he lied. aSheas been going to church with Nancy Archer. That church where your brother is a minister.a aSuzi has too much common sense to fall for that nonsense. Howas Oats?a Gigi used Suzias baby nickname for Otis.

aOats is Oats.a Vic told her about the smoke detectors, and about how head just seen Otis taking a box of old alarm clocks into the shed.

aWhatas he doing with old clocks?a aItas a big secret.a Vic was ashamed to let people know how little he really communicated with his son. His only son. He wanted to communicate with him. He tried. Just last week head taken Otis to see X-Men, but during the previews Otis exploded when Vic gently pressed him about exactly what he was doing with the smoke detectors and clocks. Otis got up and stormed out of the theater before the moviead even started.