Mutation

Victor moved as if to kiss Marsha, but she was back to digging in the grocery bag. Then she stepped around him to put something in the pantry. He could tell she was still angry and, given the previous evening’s events, he knew she had good reason to be.

“Sorry about Philip; it was a last-minute idea,” he said.

“But I don’t think we’ll have any more bricks or calls, anyway. I phoned the people who might have threatened us and laid it on the line.”

“Then how come Philip?” asked Marsha, coming back from the pantry.

“Just an added precaution,” Victor said. Then, to change the subject, he added: “What’s for dinner?”

“Lamp chops—and we’ll have to stretch them,” Marsha said, looking at Victor out of the corner of her eye. “Why do I have the feeling that you’re still keeping things from me?”

“Must be your suspicious nature,” Victor said, even though he knew she was in no mood for teasing. “What else besides lamp chops?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“Artichokes, rice, and salad.” It was obvious that he was covering something, but she let it go.

“What can I do?” Victor asked, washing his hands at the kitchen sink. It was generally their habit to share the preparation of the evening meal since they both worked long hours. Marsha told him to rinse the salad greens.

“I talked with VJ this morning about his friend Richie,”

Victor said. “He’s going to ask him to go to Boston to a day’s outing this week so I don’t think it’s fair to say that VJ doesn’t have any friends.”

“I hope it happens,” Marsha said noncommittally.

As she put the rice and artichokes on to cook, she continued to watch Victor out of the corner of her eye. She was hoping that he’d volunteer some information about the two unfortunate babies, but he fussed over the salad in silence.

Exasperated, Marsha asked: “Any news about the cause of death of the children?”

Victor turned to face her. “I looked at the inserted gene in VJ as well as in the Hobbs and Murray kids. In the toddlers it appeared overtly abnormal, like it was actively transcribing, but in VJ it looked absolutely quiet. What’s more,” he added, “I got out some photos of the same gene back when VJ’s intelligence dropped. Even then it didn’t look anything like these kids’. So whatever VJ had, it wasn’t the same problem.”

Marsha gave a sigh of relief. “That’s good news. Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

“I just got home,” Victor said. “And I’m telling you.”

“You could have called,” Marsha said, convinced he was still hiding something. “Or brought it up without my asking.”

“I’m having the dead kids’ genes sequenced,” Victor said, getting out the oil and vinegar. “Then maybe I’ll be able to tell you what turned the gene back on.”

Marsha went to the cupboard and got out the dishes to set the table. She tried to control the rage that was beginning to reassert itself. How could he remain so casual about all this? When Victor asked if there were anything else he could do for dinner, she told him he’d done enough. He took her literally and sat on one of the kitchen counter stools, watching her set the table.

“VJ’s letting you win that swimming race wasn’t a fluke,”

Marsha said, hoping to goad her husband. “He started doing that when he was three.” Marsha went on to tell him what Martha Gillespie had said about his behavior in nursery school.

“How can you be so sure he threw the race?” Victor asked.

“My goodness, that still bothers you,” said Marsha, turning down the burner under the rice. “I was pretty sure he did when I was watching Sunday night. Now that I talked with Martha, I’m positive. It’s as if VJ doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.”

“Sometimes by throwing a race you attract more attention,”

Victor said.

“Maybe,” Marsha added, but she wasn’t convinced. “The point is I wish to God I knew more about what went on in his mind when his intelligence changed so dramatically. It might give some explanation for his current behavior. Back then we were too concerned with his health to worry about his feelings.”

“I think he weathered the episode extremely well,” Victor said. He went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of white wine. “I know you don’t agree with me, but I think he’s doing great. He’s a happy kid. I’m proud of him. I think he’s going to make one hell of a researcher one day. He really loves the lab.”

“Provided his intelligence doesn’t fall again,” Marsha snapped. “But I’m not worried about his ability to work. I’m worried your unspeakable experiment has interfered with his human qualities.” She turned away to hide new tears as emotion welled up within her. When all this was over she didn’t see how she could stay married to Victor. But would VJ

ever be willing to leave his precious lab and live with her?

“You psychiatrists . . .” Victor muttered as he got out the corkscrew.

Marsha gave the rice a stir and checked the artichokes.

She struggled to control herself. She didn’t want more tears.

She didn’t speak for a few minutes. When she did, she said,