seven," Margaret said, helping Clifford cut his noodles, "and he come down with a fever and they took him to the pharmacy where they got these little temporary biomite injections. Have you seen those?"
She held up her fingers a half inch apart, indicating they were real small.
"They fight infection and then get washed out through the kidney. They're not like regular biomites that reproduce. He was better that evening."
Marcus chewed slowly with his lips closed. He flipped a glance at Ariel who did not return the look. The meal finished without much conversation.
Marcus unzipped the suitcase, threw it on the bedspread. He began the weekly ritual of packing for a trip. He started with his underwear—pressed and folded. All of them white with tiny red stripes on the elastic band. Next were socks, followed by gym shorts for working out in the hotel exercise room, bathing suit for the hot tub, and t-shirts for lounging. His suits and ties would be packed in a hanging case.
He went to the bathroom—open to the bedroom—to pack toothpaste and the rest. Janine came out of the shower room rapidly working the water from her ear with her finger. She was wearing a white robe, not the one he'd gotten her for Christmas but one she'd bought a year before that. She always said she liked the way the old one felt, she'd get to the new robe one of these days. Just not until she was finished with the old one.
Janine fished through the drawer to the right of the sink, found a pair of tweezers and went into the walk-in closet. She sat on the bench in the middle of her closet and hiked her foot up on the stool and began to work on her toenails, digging out the ingrown portions.
Click.
She liked to pick.
Click.
She'd been to the doctor but preferred to work out the problems on her own.
Marcus found his razor, his cologne, shaving cream and the rest, shoving it into a toiletry bag and went back to the bed. It was one thing to listen to the click, click , but quite another to see the cottage cheese-laden legs beneath the frayed edges of that worn-out robe. He used to rub those legs, when she was in law school, when she'd be up 72 hours at a time, sleepless from leg aches.
She didn’t look like that, then.
More like a linebacker, now. And not one from Harvard. More like NFL All-Pro. Marcus gave her P90X for Christmas. Never got opened.
Click.
"I've arranged for Ariel to bring the kids home after William’s play," Janine said. "Will you at least see some of it?"
"Afraid not. I'll be on the West Coast, starting in Seattle tomorrow morning and finishing in San Francisco on Thursday."
"His performance is on Wednesday."
"I'm not flying back for that, Janine."
Long pause. Not an empty one.
Marcus finished packing his carry-on. He pulled three suits from the closet and laid them on the bed. They were pressed and clean and spotless. They went into the hanging garment bag.
"How many halfskin shutdowns are you going to attend?" Janine leaned against the closet door frame.
"As many as there are, dear."
"They'll only increase." Her tone was final. "This... biomite war you're waging... you can't win it, Marcus. People are going to keep seeding unless they become illegal."
"Then we'll keep turning them off."
"Until what? Until you've wiped out the human race?"
"Just the seeded ones."
"This is an infringement on their liberty—"
"Spare me the lawyer speak." He dropped the suitcase on the floor, snapped out the telescoping handle. "People will destroy themselves if we let them."
"That's their choice."
"Then why not just legalize everything, Janine? Why not just set up heroin shops and cocaine dens outside the kids’ school? Let's not have a drinking limit, it's their life, after all. It’s their choice to destroy it."
He hung the garment bag on the top of the bedroom door and paused. Janine dropped the tweezers in the drawer. Her robe crumbled on the floor. Her granny panties snapped around her waist. Marcus didn't turn
She held up her fingers a half inch apart, indicating they were real small.
"They fight infection and then get washed out through the kidney. They're not like regular biomites that reproduce. He was better that evening."
Marcus chewed slowly with his lips closed. He flipped a glance at Ariel who did not return the look. The meal finished without much conversation.
Marcus unzipped the suitcase, threw it on the bedspread. He began the weekly ritual of packing for a trip. He started with his underwear—pressed and folded. All of them white with tiny red stripes on the elastic band. Next were socks, followed by gym shorts for working out in the hotel exercise room, bathing suit for the hot tub, and t-shirts for lounging. His suits and ties would be packed in a hanging case.
He went to the bathroom—open to the bedroom—to pack toothpaste and the rest. Janine came out of the shower room rapidly working the water from her ear with her finger. She was wearing a white robe, not the one he'd gotten her for Christmas but one she'd bought a year before that. She always said she liked the way the old one felt, she'd get to the new robe one of these days. Just not until she was finished with the old one.
Janine fished through the drawer to the right of the sink, found a pair of tweezers and went into the walk-in closet. She sat on the bench in the middle of her closet and hiked her foot up on the stool and began to work on her toenails, digging out the ingrown portions.
Click.
She liked to pick.
Click.
She'd been to the doctor but preferred to work out the problems on her own.
Marcus found his razor, his cologne, shaving cream and the rest, shoving it into a toiletry bag and went back to the bed. It was one thing to listen to the click, click , but quite another to see the cottage cheese-laden legs beneath the frayed edges of that worn-out robe. He used to rub those legs, when she was in law school, when she'd be up 72 hours at a time, sleepless from leg aches.
She didn’t look like that, then.
More like a linebacker, now. And not one from Harvard. More like NFL All-Pro. Marcus gave her P90X for Christmas. Never got opened.
Click.
"I've arranged for Ariel to bring the kids home after William’s play," Janine said. "Will you at least see some of it?"
"Afraid not. I'll be on the West Coast, starting in Seattle tomorrow morning and finishing in San Francisco on Thursday."
"His performance is on Wednesday."
"I'm not flying back for that, Janine."
Long pause. Not an empty one.
Marcus finished packing his carry-on. He pulled three suits from the closet and laid them on the bed. They were pressed and clean and spotless. They went into the hanging garment bag.
"How many halfskin shutdowns are you going to attend?" Janine leaned against the closet door frame.
"As many as there are, dear."
"They'll only increase." Her tone was final. "This... biomite war you're waging... you can't win it, Marcus. People are going to keep seeding unless they become illegal."
"Then we'll keep turning them off."
"Until what? Until you've wiped out the human race?"
"Just the seeded ones."
"This is an infringement on their liberty—"
"Spare me the lawyer speak." He dropped the suitcase on the floor, snapped out the telescoping handle. "People will destroy themselves if we let them."
"That's their choice."
"Then why not just legalize everything, Janine? Why not just set up heroin shops and cocaine dens outside the kids’ school? Let's not have a drinking limit, it's their life, after all. It’s their choice to destroy it."
He hung the garment bag on the top of the bedroom door and paused. Janine dropped the tweezers in the drawer. Her robe crumbled on the floor. Her granny panties snapped around her waist. Marcus didn't turn
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