treated normally, and for that to happen, I had to appear normal. Or close to it.”
“You didn’t think you could have talked to me about it?”
Victor asked.
“Are you kidding?” VJ said. “You and Mom constantly had me on show. There was no way you would have been willing to let me quit.”
“You’re probably right,” Victor admitted. “For a while there your abilities were the focus of our lives.”
“Are you going to swim with us?” VJ asked with a smile.
“I’ll let you win.”
Victor laughed in spite of himself. “Thanks, but I’d better go back and talk with Marsha. Get her to calm down.
You have fun.” Victor went to the door, but turned back toward the room. “Tomorrow I’d like to hear the details about the implantation project.”
“I’ll be excited to show you,” VJ said.
Victor nodded, smiled, then went back downstairs. As he neared the kitchen he could smell garlic, onions, and peppers sauteeing for spaghetti sauce. A good sign, Marsha working on dinner.
Marsha had thrown herself into preparing the meal as a form of instant therapy. Her mind was such a jumble from the day’s numerous revelations. Busywork was a way of avoiding thinking about the implications. When Victor returned from talking to VJ, she studiously ignored him, instead focusing her attention on the tomato paste she was in the process of opening.
Victor didn’t say anything for a time. Instead, he laid the table and opened a bottle of Chianti. When he ran out of things to do, he sat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter and said, “You were right about VJ feigning his loss of intelligence.”
“I’m not surprised,” Marsha said. She got out the lettuce, onions, and cucumbers for the salad.
“But he had a damn good reason.” He gave her VJ’s to-the-point explanation.
“I guess that’s supposed to make me feel more comfortable,” Marsha said when Victor was done.
Victor said nothing.
Marsha persisted. “Tell me, when you were upstairs talking with VJ, did you ask him about the deaths of those children, and about David’s and Janice’s?”
“Of course not!” Victor said, horrified at the suggestion.
“Why should I do that?”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“Because it’s preposterous.”
“I think you haven’t asked VJ anything about them because you’re afraid to,” Marsha said.
“Oh, come on,” Victor snapped. “You’re talking nonsense again.”
“I’m afraid to ask him,” Marsha said flatly. But she could feel the tug in her throat.
“You’re letting your imagination run wild. Now I know it’s been an upsetting day for you. I’m sorry. I really thought you’d be thrilled. But someday I think you’re going to look back on this day and laugh at yourself. If this implantation work is anything like he says it is, the sky’s the limit for VJ’s career.”
“I hope so,” Marsha said without conviction.
“But you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone about VJ’s lab,” Victor said.
“Who would I tell?”
“Let me handle VJ for the time being,” Victor said. “I’m sure we are going to be very proud of him.”
Marsha shuddered involuntarily as a chill passed down her spine. “Is it cold in here?” she asked.
Victor checked the thermostat. “Nope. If anything, it’s too warm.”
12
Sunday Morning
AT four-thirty in the morning Marsha woke up with a start.
She had no idea what had awakened her, and for a few minutes she breathed shallowly, and listened to the nighttime noises of the house. She heard nothing out of the ordinary. She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep but it was impossible. In her mind’s eye, she kept seeing VJ’s eerie lab with its juxtaposition of the old and the very new. Then she’d see the strange appearance of the man with the lidded eye.
Swinging her feet from beneath the covers, Marsha sat on the edge of the bed. So as not to bother Victor, she stood up, wiggled into her slippers, and pulled on her robe. As quietly as possible she eased open the door to the bedroom and equally as quietly, pulled it shut.
She stood in the hall for a moment, thinking about where she should go. As if pulled by some unseen force, she found herself walking the length of the hall, heading toward VJ’s room. When she got there, she noticed the door was slightly ajar.
Marsha quietly pushed the door open wider. A gentle light was coming through the window from the post lamps lining the driveway. To her relief, VJ was fast asleep. He was lying on his side facing her. Sleeping, he looked like an angel of a boy. Could her darling baby really have had a hand in the dark events at Chimera? She couldn’t bring herself to think of Janice and David, her beloved first son. But with horror, a vision of David in his last days, his skin yellowed from the disease, flashed upon her.
Marsha stifled a cry. All of a sudden her mind conjured up a horrid image of her taking a pillow and pushing it down on VJ’s peaceful face, smothering him. Horrified, she recoiled from the thought and shook herself. Then she fled silently down the hall, running from herself.
Marsha stopped at the guest room door, which had temporarily become Philip’s room. Pushing the door open, she could make out Philip’s massive head silhouetted against the stark white of the bed linens. After a moment’s thought, Marsha slipped into the room and stood next to the bed. The man was snoring deeply, his breath softly whistling on exhale. Bending down, Marsha gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. “Philip,” she called softly. “Philip!”
Philip’s closely set eyes blinked open. Abruptly, he sat up. A look of momentary fear flashed across his face before he recognized Marsha. Then he smiled, revealing his square, widely spaced teeth.
“Sorry to awaken you,” she whispered. “But I need to talk to you for a moment.”
“Okay,” Philip said groggily. He leaned back on an elbow.
Marsha pulled a chair over to the bed, turned on the light on the nightstand, and sat down. “I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to VJ,” she said.
Philip’s face broke out in a wide smile as he squinted in the light. He nodded.
“You must have been a great help in setting up the lab,”
Marsha said.
Philip nodded again.
“Who else helped with the lab?”
Philip’s smile waned. He looked around the room nervously.
“I’m not supposed to say.”
“I’m VJ’s mother,” Marsha reminded him. “It’s all right to tell me.”
Philip shifted his weight uneasily.
Marsha waited but Philip didn’t say anything.
“Did Mr. Gephardt help?” Marsha asked.
Philip nodded.
“But then Mr. Gephardt got into trouble. Did he get angry at VJ?”
“Oh, yeah!” Philip said. “He got angry and then VJ got angry. But VJ talked with Mr. Martinez.”
“What’s Mr. Martinez’s first name?”
“Orlando,” Philip said.
“Does Mr. Martinez work at Chimera, too?”
