“Well,” Barton Lorner said after he had returned from seeing Adam Lucy, “I have to agree with you.”
“What, Bart?” Ellen didn’t want to appear too interested, but she couldn’t feign indifference.
“Charlie Rosen’s probably full of it. This guy’s no woman chaser. If he was, he would have jumped at the opportunity to be alone with a good-looking woman.”
“So he turned me down?”
“In so many words, yeah. He was polite about it, too polite, I’d say. If anything, he struck me as being somewhat on the stuffy side. He reminded me of Mr. Dolsenberg. Remember Mr. Dolsenberg, how he’d pull himself back before answering a question and look down at you as though he was perched on some throne…”
“I remember, Bart. What did Adam say?”
“Adam? You’d never know you were on a first-name basis with him.”
“Well, I’m not, really. What did he say, for Chrissakes?”
“He said he works only with children. He enjoys working only on children. He thought what you needed anyway were courses in the community college. He said there’s no reason why you should feel embarrassed about going to the college…”
“You told him I was embarrassed?”
“Well, he wanted to know why I even approached him with such a request. To tell you the truth, he made me feel a little foolish for doing it.”
She turned away. He took it as a sign that she was upset with him, so he went to her and embraced her.
“It’s all right,” she said, moving away from him quickly.
“I didn’t mean that you were being foolish, Ellen. I…”
“Forget it already,” she said. “I’m sorry I agreed to your going over there.”
“Well, why do we have to be so upset about him? Who the hell is he anyway?”
“That’s not it. I’m not upset,” she said. “I’m just tired.”
“You’ve been tired a lot lately. Maybe you oughtta go see Doc Bloom tomorrow.”
“No, I’ll be all right.”
“Still, I’d feel better if you had a quick exam.”
She considered him. Maybe he was right; maybe there was something physically wrong with her. She hadn’t been herself since…since she had made love with Adam, and although she recognized that the cause could very well be psychological, she also had a strange new feeling about herself.
It was as though he had effected some major change in her, as though what she had now come to call their “phantom lovemaking” had influenced the nature of her very soul. He had done more than deposit his sperm within her; he had planted something even more substantial. The longer her estrangement from him after their lovemaking went on, the more fantastic were the imaginings her mind created.
He was an alien creature who had enticed and seduced her so he could house the embryo of another of his kind. Lately, she even had begun to imagine movement inside her. She’d feel a strange tickle in her stomach and swear that something had stirred. It was maddening, but what made it more maddening was the fact that she couldn’t talk about it; she couldn’t ask anyone for advice. She trusted no one.
This reinforced her wild ideas. He had deliberately picked someone like her because he knew she would be unable to describe what had passed between them. She didn’t trust any of her friends. She wasn’t close enough with any of them anyway, and obviously there was no way she could talk to Barton about it. If he found out…
Perhaps he had, she thought. Perhaps he had sensed something all along and that was why he was willing to go over to Adam Lucy’s house. He pushed it to see just how far this thing could go. If Adam had agreed to tutor her…
Sure, that was it, that was the reason why Adam had refused. He sensed that Barton suspected something. Oh, Adam, she thought, you’re too clever to fall into any trap. You’re too clever for all of us. You were certainly too clever for me. She returned to feeling she had been used. But for what purpose? Just to provide him with a brief interlude? And how brief it was. No, there had to be some other reason; there had to be.
This brought her back to her fantastic ideas. It was driving her mad. Who was he? What was he? Why did he do the things he did? It suddenly occurred to her that if he had done something weird with her, what was he doing with the children?
She hadn’t imagined those children coming over late at night. They were there, especially that Johnny Masterson. And he was there again tonight. She saw him going over when she watched by the window for Bart to return.
“Ellen?” Bart said.
“What?”
“You’re just standing there, staring at me with this wild look on your face. What is it?”
She was so tempted to say something. It was on the tip of her tongue. But how could she approach it? How?
“No, I think you might be right. I will go to see the doctor tomorrow.”
“Good. I’m worried about you. I really am.”
“I know, Bart. I’m sorry. I guess I’d better just go to sleep,” she said. He nodded. She saw how disturbed he really was, so she stepped closer to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for being so caring,” she said, and started up the stairs.
“Jesus,” Bart said, watching her go.
When she go to the bedroom, she moved like one in a trance. She changed into her nightgown quickly and went to bed. But she didn’t fall asleep right away. Just before Bart came up for the night, too, she got up suspiciously and went to the window. She looked down at the tutor’s house just as the four children left it. She saw Johnny Masterson turn and wave. She stood there long after they disappeared from sight. She was still there when Bart came up.
“Ellen,” he said, “what is it? What are you looking at?”
“Oh, Bart,” she said, turning around slowly, “I think there’s something wrong, something terribly wrong, but I don’t know what it is or even what it could be.”
“What?” he said, grimacing with confusion.
She didn’t reply. She moved like a somnambulist to her bed, crawled under the covers, and turned her face into the pillow. Before he could pursue it much further, she was asleep. Something alien had indeed begun to take control of her.
Sometime during the night, Johnny Masterson woke with a start. He sat up in bed and looked into the darkness of his room. He had the feeling he wasn’t alone, but he could hear nor see anyone. Still, he felt touched. It was as if someone had just walked by his bed and the breeze caused by that movement had caressed his face and woken him.
He reached for his night-table drawer and opened it to take out the flashlight. After he took it out, he directed the beam around the room quickly and confirmed that there was no one present. He took a deep breath and turned off the flashlight, but he couldn’t just lie back and forget it. He still felt watched.
Finally, he got up and went to his bedroom window to look out at the street before his house. It looked quiet and still. Some moonlight had penetrated the thin, wispy clouds and that cast an amber tint over the sidewalk and lawn. He stood there for the longest time, just staring. He didn’t really feel awake; he felt as though he was stepping through one of his dreams. Indeed, the shadows outside took distorted shapes. Nothing reflected true size. It was as if whatever held matter together, whatever kept houses and trees and parked cars in proportion was gone, and what resulted was a random design.
He wiped his eyes. Fatigue was taking hold again, so he started to turn to go back to bed when he was sure he was a shadow move away from the maple tree on their lawn. He waited, watching. After another moment, the shadowy shape crossed over the lawn to the sidewalk and started away. He leaned as far as he could to the left to watch it go.
He thought it resembled Mr. Lucy, but then he wondered what would Mr. Lucy be doing wandering the streets of Centerville this time of the night. It could very well have been a burglar who caught sight of him in the window and was discouraged, he thought. It made more sense. And yet he had to wonder if perhaps Mr. Lucy had come to his house to try to get his attention in order to change something about the plan. He decided that before they entered the final stages, he would give Mr. Lucy a call and confirm that all was still a go.
It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep again after he went back to bed, and the nocturnal interruption did nothing to cause him to be tired after he awoke in the morning and got ready for school. He was too excited about the day anyway to feel normal fatigue. He was running on a high that would drive him well into the early evening.
The plan was simple, but just as Mr. Lucy had said, “Its simplicity is the beauty of it. It’s only when things are made too complicated that we run into trouble.” Its genesis stemmed from what he had done and what he had described to Mr. Lucy.
“Let’s turn this whole thing around,” he said. “You did what came natural to you to do. It will seem like a good idea to Slattery, too. And with the way Sandy is winning his confidence…”
Johnny nodded. Later on, the discussion centered on the place and Gary came up with the idea of using the lumber yard. Johnny saw there was something attractively ironic for Gary in that. He hated the lumberyard; it personified the vast differences between him and his father, and because it was such a major business in the small community, it was impossible to ignore it. For Gary it loomed like a sword over his head.
“I can get in and out of the office any time I want,” he said. “It makes sense that it would be a logical meeting place for us. Slattery will believe it.”
“Very good thinking, Gary,” Mr. Lucy said. “Very logical and clear thinking. And you’ve got everything you need there, too,” he added.
When they created the detailed scenario, with Mr. Lucy’s guidance, they participated with a vehemence that indicated just how much they wanted to carry out the plan. Only Sheila held back, but she couldn’t help but be carried away with the momentum.
It was clear that he, Gary, and Sheila would have to stay away from Sandy most of the school day. She had done a good job of convincing Slattery that she wanted to be apart from them; it only remained for her to convince him that she wanted to be more of a part of him and what he intended to do. None of them had any doubt that she would succeed.
Johnny spotted her talking to Slattery in the hall right before homeroom. Sheila told him that she saw them together between morning classes, and then they saw her going off with him to Sol’s for lunch. They remained at the school and ate in the cafeteria.
Johnny sensed Sheila’s nervousness all day. She was filled with a million “what if” questions. Johnny was patient about it, but Gary was irritable.
“Don’t you think Mr. Lucy would have thought of that?” was his refrain. “Or do you think you’re a lot smarter?”
Finally, she became quiet and withdrawn. Johnny didn’t like that either, but Gary was satisfied. Just after the start of the last class of the day, Johnny got a bathroom pass and waited in the corridor for Sandy’s prearranged appearance. By the smile on her face as she approached, Johnny knew that everything was going well.
“He’s convinced that I believe he’s right about you and Gary,” she said.
“How did you get him to believe that?” he asked.
“Just like Mr. Lucy said, I forced him to work on it. I must say, Richard’s a very smart guy.”
“Big deal.”
“Don’t ever underestimate your enemy’s intelligence,” she said. “You only defeat yourself,” she added, parroting one of Mr. Lucy’s favorite refrains.
“You don’t have to tell me that. Did you tell him about the meeting?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t tell him where.”
“Why not?”
“He’s going to see me after school. I told him we weren’t sure where we were going to meet yet. It’s better if he has less time to tell anyone else. I’ll leave it so he won’t know until he meets me this evening. He’s going to bring his tape recorder and hide in the shadows to record your…how did he put it…self-indicting statements.”
“Keeping the actual location from him, that’s pretty smart,” Johnny said appreciatively.
“You’re not the only one who can plan well, Johnny Masterson,” she said, and teased him with a smile. “I’d better get back. How’s Sheila been?”
“Shaky. Gary lost his temper with her a few times.”
“That’s no good.”
“I know. I’m taking care of it.”
“I’ve never been so involved in a mission before,” she said. “I mean, it was really you and Gary who took care of Mr. Zola. And anyway, this is a lot different.”
“We’ll be all right as long as we move slowly and carefully.” He paused. “I guess I won’t see you again until eight tonight.”
“No. And don’t call unless there are some changes. Richard might be with me.”
“Don’t push too hard,” he said. “You could go too far and ruin it.”
“I know what I’m doing,” she said, a little indignant.
“All right. Good luck.” He wanted to lean over and kiss her, but they heard a classroom door slam up the corridor.
“You, too,” she said. They parted quickly and he went back to class.
After school, he, Sheila, and Gary went to Gary’s house. His mother wasn’t home, but because the maid was there cleaning, they pretended to be studying for an upcoming exam. It was Mr. Lucy’s idea for them to stay with Sheila as long as they could.
“You’ve got to keep her tight,” he said. “She’s the weak link.”
They listened to music, played some of Gary’s video games, and talked about other kids. Johnny and Gary had already made up that they wouldn’t discuss the plan very much. They agreed to keep her from thinking about it as long as possible. It seemed to work, because she did relax. Afterward, Johnny walked her home.
“I wish there was another way to do this,” she said when they reached her house.
“You mean just aim your finger at him and go poof.”
“Yeah.” She laughed.
“Well, we live in the world of reality now,” he said. “Look at what we have and look at what Richard Slattery could take away.”
“I know.”
“Good. Don’t worry. Everything’s going as Mr. Lucy said it would. Gary and I will be by here at a quarter to eight to pick you up.”
“All right.”
He was about to walk away when it came to him to kiss her. He sensed that the effect it might have would do much to strengthen her resolve and help her to be less tentative. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She brought her hand to the spot and her eyes widened with surprise.
“As long as we’re together,” he said, “nothing can hurt us.”
“OK.” The new excitement brought a flush to her face and brightened her eyes.
Johnny took her hand and squeezed it gently. Then he let go and walked off slowly, turning once to wave because he knew she would still be standing there looking after him. It confirmed his sense of power and his sense of purpose.
When he was finally alone at home, he called Mr. Lucy. The phone rang so many times that he was afraid Mr. Lucy wasn’t there.
“I was in meditation,” he said.
“Sorry to disturb you.”
“It’s all right, Johnny. How’s everything?”
“It’s going well.” He paused. Would he come right out and say that he thought he saw him outside his house late last night? “Is there any reason why we shouldn’t go on with it?”
“Not unless you’ve come up with one. How’s Sheila?”
“I think she’ll be all right.”
“Then do it,” he said. The finality of the command couldn’t be any clearer. Johnny stiffened, sorry he had even suggested the possibility of retreat.
“We will,” he said. “For all of us.”
“Good,” Mr. Lucy said.
There was nothing else to say. He hung up and looked at himself in the mirror. For a few moments, the image that was reflected back looked like a total stranger. It was difficult to remember the way he had appeared to himself before he had met and worked with Mr. Lucy. His posture was straighter, his shoulders were broader, and his face was filled with intelligence and confidence. His gaze was intent and determined. His former mousey and withdrawn appearance was hard to recall. He had been ashamed of any picture of himself that exhibited the inferiority he had once felt, so he had removed any he found in his room or anywhere else in the house.
His belief that the old Johnny Masterson had been a nonentity was reinforced by the fact that no one mentioned the absence of these pictures. His mother didn’t notice they were gone from the mantel above the fireplace and from the top of the dresser in her bedroom. His father didn’t even remark about the pictures missing from his office.
It was impossible to properly thank Mr. Lucy for all he had done for him as well as for the others. In effect, he had made him into an individual, into a person. The least they could do was protect him against lesser, jealous types who were out to destroy the good.
No, there was no hesitation, no doubt about what they had to do and what they would do. The others would be just as strong about it. He was confident of that. They were too tightly glued together now.
He heard his mother call him down to supper, so he went into the bathroom and washed his hands and face. He brushed his hair and neatly straightened out his clothing. Then he went down to join his family.
“How’s it going?” his father asked him as soon as he entered the dining room.
“Great, Dad. I got a ninety-five on my history unit exam.”
“Fantastic,” his mother said. His father slapped his hands together.
“This family’s on a roll,” he said, and then went on to describe a business deal that was proving more successful than he had ever hoped. Johnny listened with great attentiveness and intensity, a technique that Mr. Lucy had taught him. His father appreciated it. He laughed and tapped him playfully on the shoulder. “Don’t anybody make any plans for this Saturday night,” he said. “I feel like celebrating. We’ll all go out to dinner. OK?”
“Yeah,” Johnny said enthusiastically and looked at his mother and his sister. “I feel like celebrating, too!”
His emphatic agreement made his parents laugh, but his sister smirked. Her braces glittered in the bright light of the chandelier above the dinner table.
“What do you have to celebrate?” she asked. “Anybody can get good marks.” His parents both sat smiling, waiting for his reply.
“I feel like I’ve been born again,” he said.
For a moment no one spoke. His parents and his sister stared at him as though he was a complete stranger who had just appeared at their dinner table. Then his father nodded slowly, thoughtfully.
“Maybe you don’t need to got to that tutor for help anymore, Johnny. Huh?”
Johnny’s face actually whitened.
“Oh no, Dad. I’ve got to go to Mr. Lucy. It’s important. He’s keeping me on the right track; he’s…”
“I don’t know. Somebody told me today that their kid’s stopped seein’ him. I can’t remember…oh yeah, I think it was Gerson Keppler.”
“Yeah, and Sheldon flunked the math test this week,” Johnny said. “He’s in my class.”
“That so?”
“Oh leave it be for a while longer,” Johnny’s mother said. “It’s not all that expensive.”
“Hmm. All right, a little while longer can’t hurt,” Thomas Masterson said. Johnny relaxed.
It’s even reached into my own house, he thought. Slattery’s dirty work…it’s even come in here.
Neither his parents nor his sister saw how small and how intent his eyes became. The topic of the conversation changed and no one noticed how viciously he cut into the steak on his plate.
Ellen Lorner stood on the sidewalk outside of Dr. Bloom’s office and stared blankly at the traffic that rushed by with indifference. The medical offices faced a major roadway that permitted maximum automobile speed, and although the professional building could be clearly seen from the highway, few, if any drivers, looked her way. They all seemed mesmerized by motion and transformed into mannequins; they had become a part of the cars they were driving.
She felt invisible anyway. Numbed by the news Dr. Bloom had delivered with uncharacteristic surprise and excitement, she felt as though she, too, had been transformed by events, Her essence, the solid part of her, had drained away, and she was left standing in a shell. Her voice echoed within, screaming, crying, demanding answers.
But right now there were no answers. When she got into her car and looked at herself in the vanity mirror on the sun visor, she saw that she was still pale from the shock. Her skin looked transparent. The little blue veins in her temples were emphatically visible. Her eyes looked like tiny glass windows. She could see through them and witness the turmoil within.
Faces floated against one another, sometimes merging into new faces. There was Adam smiling, Barton laughing, Barton angry, and all of her friends, big-eyed, shocked, becoming one astounded visage. She saw herself, dwindling, falling back through time until she was an infant.
The infant, she thought and sat back to catch her breath. Other patients were walking toward the professional building. Some would know her. She had to get a hold on herself; she had to be strong. She put on her seat belt quickly and started the engine. But she didn’t drive away.
She should have made the choice then and there. It would have been easier if it had been done quickly, impulsively. That way she could forget it all quickly and pretend that it didn’t really happen. Now the days of decision would take a toll. Another question was could she keep it from Barton? Should she keep it from him?
Dr. Bloom didn’t give her any help with this. After he told her she was pregnant, he waited for her reaction. It took her a few moments to say, “Maybe I’m too old for this.”
“Maybe,” he said. “That’s something you’ll have to decide.”
“And Bart, too. We’ve grown kind of set in our ways.”
“Understandable. You have options. Don’t feel you have to make the decision right now.”
“He’s going to be surprised.”
“Yes, I imagine he will be.”
“I mean…”
“You and he will have to discuss it. I understand.”
“There’s nothing else wrong with me?”
“Well,” he smiled for the first time during the conversation, “I don’t exactly characterize pregnancy as something wrong.”
“No, I mean…”
“You’re perfectly healthy, vigorously healthy. You’ve been taking good care of yourself, Ellen. There’s no physiological reason for you not to have the baby.”
“Oh.” She had hoped there would be; she had hoped for that out.
“You should see the physical condition of some of the pregnant women I’ve had as patients.”
She just looked at him. She wanted to go into it further; she wanted some kind of guarantee that this child could be Bart’s, that since it obviously hadn’t been she who was incapable of conceiving all these years, it was he and things could have changed with him. Should she go into it? she wondered. Or would that open everything up and expose her extramarital activity?
“I might not discuss this with Bart,” she said, and looked up at the doctor immediately to see his reaction. He was as inscrutable as ever.
“That’s between you two. I don’t get into that. In the meanwhile, I’m going to give you a prescription for more substantial vitamins than those you can get over the counter.”
She stuffed it deep into her pocketbook, but there was no way to bury reality. As she drove away and played the scene in her mind, she tried to imagine Bart’s reactions. Perhaps he would be happy. After all these years, it had finally happened. Maybe it did happen. Maybe it wasn’t Adam Lucy’s child. If she destroyed it now, she could be destroying their own.
It had to be their child. The memory of her intimate relations with Adam had become even more and more ethereal. It was almost completely relegated to the status of a dream. It didn’t actually happen, and if it did, his participation was so indifferent, it couldn’t have resulted in her pregnancy. Those nightmarish fantasies she had had about Adam being some alien creature impregnating her with another of his kind now seemed ridiculous. This wasn’t a movie; this was real life.
She was comfortable with this, so comfortable that it cheered her. She could go home and she could pull it off. She could describe it all to Barton and be excited and animated and make him excited. It would change their lives, of course, but the changes could be good ones. These changes could make their marriage stronger and help her to forget the handsome but eerie tutor who had moved into the house beside theirs.
I’m pregnant, she thought; I’m going to be a mother, she concluded, and suddenly all the joys and dreams of motherhood that she had imagined came rushing back to her. She was buoyed by it all, and the longer she thought about it, the angrier she got at herself for even considering an abortion.
She drove directly home and pulled into the driveway of her house, but before she got out of the car, she caught sight of Adam Lucy in her rearview mirror. He was standing on the sidewalk as though he were waiting for her. He was dressed in an open collar shirt, pants and a tweed jacket. For a moment she was unable to move. She wanted to remain in the car until he walked away, but he didn’t leave. She got out.
“How are you?” he asked. She wanted to hate him, to despise his very voice, but she couldn’t do it.
“I’m all right.”
“You look good; you look like you’re flourishing.”
“I’m all right,” she repeated.
“You understand why I turned your husband down, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
The longer she looked at him, the more she felt something very different about him. It was as though he had turned off all his sexual attractiveness; he wasn’t enticing; he didn’t tempt her with his eyes. He was almost asexual, more like an elderly man. It was eerie. His looks now frightened her, and she didn’t bathe in the warmth of the conversation and suggestiveness. If anything, she felt the need to get away from him.
“You’re sure you’re OK?”
“Yes,” she repeated. The way he looked at her now, she felt certain that he knew she was pregnant, but she fought back that idea. She was terrified of the possibility. “I’ve got to go,” she said. She started for the house.
“Take care of yourself,” he said.
She didn’t turn back, and she didn’t breathe again until she was in her house and the door was closed behind her. She looked at herself in the hall mirror. She was pale enough to go into a faint. She made up her mind. After lunch she would go down to the drugstore and fill the vitamin prescription.
“It isn’t his child,” she told her image in the mirror. “It can’t be his child. I won’t let it be his child. It’s our child.”
Then, as if to be sure she was right, she went to the front window in the living room and peered out between the curtains. He was gone, but the strange look in his eyes lingered like a nightmare.
“It’s our child,” she repeated and then rushed away from the window as if fleeing from any other possibility.