Although she was only almost four, Mad was already bigger than most five-year-olds and could read better than many sixth graders. But despite these physical and intellectual strides, just like her antisocial mother and grudge-holding father, she had few friends.
โIโm worried it could be a gene mutation,โ Elizabeth confided to Harriet. โCalvin and I could both be carriers.โ
โThe I-hate-people gene?โ Harriet said. โThere is one?โ
โShyness,โย corrected Elizabeth. โIntroversion. So guess what: Iโve enrolled her in kindergarten. The new school year starts Monday and suddenly it made so much sense. Mad needs to be around childrenโyouโve said so yourself.โ
It was true. Harriet had voiced that opinion at least a hundred times in the last few years. Madeline was a precocious child with extraordinary verbal and comprehension abilities, but Harriet wasnโt convinced she was gaining in average areasโhow to tie shoes, how to play with dolls. The other day sheโd suggested they make mud pies and Mad frowned, then wrote 3.1415 with a stick in the dirt. โDone,โ sheโd said.
Besides, if Mad went off to school, what was she, Harriet, supposed to do with her day? Sheโd grown accustomed to being necessary.
โSheโs too young,โ Harriet insisted. โShe has to be at least five years old. Better, six.โ
โThey mentioned that,โ Elizabeth said. โNevertheless, sheโs in.โ
What Elizabeth neglected to say was that it wasnโt because Madeline was bright, but rather because Elizabeth had determined the chemical composition of ballpoint pen ink and found a way to alter Madelineโs birth certificate. Technically, Mad was far too young to be in kindergarten, but Elizabeth didnโt see what a technicality had to do with her daughterโs education.
โWoody Elementary,โ she said, handing Harriet a sheet of paper. โMrs. Mudford. Room six. I realize she might be a little more advanced than some of the other children, but I doubt sheโll be the only one reading Zane Grey, donโt you?โ
Six-Thirty lifted his head in concern. He wasnโt so thrilled to hear this news either. Mad in school? What aboutย hisย job? How could he protect the creature if she was in a classroom?
Elizabeth gathered the coffee cups and took them to the sink. This sudden school enrollment idea wasnโt all that sudden. Sheโd been to the bank several weeks ago to take out a reverse mortgage on the bungalow. They were broke. If Calvin hadnโt stuck her name on the deed, a fact sheโd only discovered after he died, theyโd be on welfare.
The bank manager was grim in his assessment of her situation. โThings will only get worse,โ he warned. โAs soon as your child is old enough, get her in school. Then find a job that actually pays. Or marry rich.โ
She got back in her car and reviewed her options. Rob a bank.
Rob a jewelry store.
Or here was a loathsome ideaโgo back to the place that had robbed her.
โ
Twenty-five minutes later she walked into the Hastings lobby, hands shaking, skin clammy, the bodyโs warning system sounding all alarms. She inhaled, trying to draw in strength. โDr. Donatti, please,โ she said to the receptionist.
โ
โWill I like school?โ Mad asked, appearing out of nowhere.
โAbsolutely,โ Elizabeth said unconvincingly. โWhatโs that there?โ She pointed to a large sheet of black construction paper Madeline was clutching in her right hand.
โMy picture,โ she said, placing it on the table in front of her mother as she leaned up against her. It was another chalk drawingโMadeline preferred chalk over crayonsโbut because chalk smudged so easily, her drawings often looked blurry, as if her subjects were trying to get off the page. Elizabeth looked down to see a few stick figures, a dog, a lawn mower, a sun, a moon, possibly a car, flowers, a long box. Fire appeared to be destroying the south; rain dominated the north. And there was one other thing: a big swirly white mass right in the middle.
โWell,โ Elizabeth said, โthis is really something. I can tell youโve put a lot of work into this.โ
Mad puffed her cheeks as if her mother didnโt know the half of it.
Elizabeth studied the drawing again. Sheโd been reading Madeline a book about how the Egyptians used the surfaces of sarcophagi to tell the tale of a life livedโits ups, its downs, its ins, its outsโall of it laid out in precise symbology. But as she read, sheโd found herself wonderingโdid the artist ever get distracted? Ink an asp instead of a goat? And if so, did he have to let it stand? Probably. On the other hand, wasnโt that the very definition of life? Constant adaptations brought about by a series of never-ending mistakes? Yes, and she should know.
โ
Dr. Donatti had appeared in the lobby ten minutes later. Oddly, he seemed almost relieved to see her. โMiss Zott!โ heโd said, giving her a hug as she held her breath, revulsed. โI was just thinking about you!โ
Actually, heโd been thinking of nothingย butย Zott.
โ
โTell me about these people,โ she said to Mad, pointing at the stick figures. โThatโs you and me and Harriet,โ Mad said. โAnd Six-Thirty. And thatโs
you rowing,โ she said, pointing to the boxlike thing, โand thatโs our lawn mower. And this is fire over here. And these are some more people. Thatโs our car. And the sun comes out, then the moon comes out, and then flowers. Get it?โ
โI think so,โ Elizabeth said. โItโs a seasonal story.โ
โNo,โย Mad said. โItโs my life story.โ
Elizabeth nodded in pretend understanding. A lawn mower?
โAnd whatโs this part?โ Elizabeth asked, pointing at the swirl that dominated the picture.
โThatโs the pit of death,โ Mad said.
Elizabeth eyes widened in worry. โAnd this?โ She pointed at a series of slanty lines. โRain?โ
โTears,โ Mad said.
Elizabeth knelt down, her eyes level with Madโs. โAre you sad, honey?โ Mad placed her small, chalky hands on either side of her motherโs face.
โNo. But you are.โ
โ
After Mad went outside to play, Harriet said something about โout of the mouths of babes,โ but Elizabeth pretended not to hear. She was already aware that her daughter could read her like a book. Sheโd noted this before
โhow Mad could sense exactly those things everyone wanted to hide. โHarriet has never been in love,โ sheโd said out of the blue during dinner last week. โSix-Thirty still feels responsible,โ sheโd sighed at breakfast. โDr. Mason is sick of vaginas,โ sheโd mentioned at bedtime.
โIโm not sad, Harriet,โ she lied. โIn fact, I have great news. Hastings offered me a job.โ
โA job?โ Harriet said. โBut you have a jobโone that lets you work, raise Mad, walk Six-Thirty, conduct your research, and row. How many women can say that?โ
None,ย thought Elizabeth, including herself. Her nonstop schedule was killing her, her lack of income threatened her family, her self-esteem had plunged to an all-new low.
โI donโt like it,โ Harriet said, unhappy about the school situation, which would rob her of her purpose. โAfter the way they treated you and Mr. Evans? Itโs bad enough that you kowtow to all those idiots who drop by here.โ
โScience is like anything else,โ Elizabeth said. โSome are better at it than others.โ
โThatโs my point,โ Harriet said. โOf all disciplines, shouldnโt science be able to weed out its own intellectual zeroes? Wasnโt that Darwinโs deal? That the weak eventually bite the dust?โ But she could tell Elizabeth wasnโt listening.
โ
โHowโs the baby?โ Donatti had asked, taking her by the arm and leading her to his office. Heโd glanced down, surprised to see her fingers were bandaged just as they had been when sheโd left.
Zott said something in return, but he was too busy calculating his next move to pay attention. For the last few glorious years, heโd been Zott-Evans-free, and because of it, things had been better. Not in terms of actual breakthroughs, but things were humming along. Even that idiot, Boryweitz, seemed to have acquired a bigger brain. It was almost as if it had taken Evans to die and Zott to leave to allow his other chemists to bloom.
However, there was one major thorn in his side. The fat-cat investor. He was back. Wanted to know what the hell Mr. Zott had been doing with his money all this time. Where were the papers? The findings? The results?
He gazed out the window as Zott nattered on about an unexpected positive ion reaction. God, science was dull. He coughed, trying to disguise his inattention. It was nearly cocktail hour; he could leave soon. He remembered long ago at collegeโsomeone had complimented him on his extra-dry martinis. And suddenly it hit himโwhy not be a bartender? He
loved to drink; he was good at it. His libations made other people happy, meaning drunk. Plus, mixology had a ring of science to it. Where was the downside? The paycheck?
Speaking of paychecks, he had no room in his budget to hire Zottโ zero. But he had to: he needed her because the investor needed herโor rather the investor neededย him,ย Mr. Zott, and his fucking abiogenesis. Seemed to be getting a little frothy about the whole thing, truth be told. Heโd been ducking the manโs calls for months. Had finally gotten so desperate, heโd asked his team if anyone had done any work that came within ten feet of the topic. Guess who raised his hand? Boryweitz.
The only problem was, Boryweitz couldnโt explain his research. Thatโs when Donatti had gotten suspicious and Boryweitz revealed heโd run into Zott and theyโd discussed abiogenesis andโhow odd was this? They had similar results.
โ
โI want to go on record saying taking a job at Hastings is a big mistake,โ Harriet said, drying the coffee cups.
โSecond timeโs the charm,โ Elizabeth insisted.
Off by one,ย thought Six-Thirty.