J ames

I can’t get enough of the new, gentle roundness of Diana’s belly, the firm swell of her breasts. She’s been sleeping later since we got the news, and I’ve come to treasure these mornings, waking up to her in my arms, instead of puttering around the kitchen .

She stirs and sighs, and I bury my face in her hair. Don’t want her to move just yet. There’s a long day ahead of us, but for now, we have time .

I slide one arm around her waist, tracing that expectant curve I’ve come to love. Diana’s warm, heavy with sleep, but her hand comes up to cover mine. She guides it around in a wide semicircle, coming to rest at the base of her stomach, where the curve’s most pronounced .

I tuck her hair behind her ear. “Dream of anything good ?”

“Only you....” She stretches, stifling a yawn .

“Mm? Was I doing anything interesting ?”

“You were painting my belly.” She laughs. “It was silly .”

“I’ll be the judge of that. What kind of painting?” I sweep my fingers like a paintbrush, making her squirm. She’s been more ticklish since she’s been pregnant—more sensitive in every way .

“I guess...abstract expressionist?” She takes my hand again, making broad, swirling strokes. “Big whorls and spirals. Like the sun. Yellow and orange in the middle, bright blue sky all around .”

“I like that.” I keep swirling, liking the sensation. “I should hire someone to do your portrait like that—all rosy and glowing, with the sun down below. Like the Madonna, only...hot .”

That gets me an elbow in the ribs. “Way to make it weird .”

“Sorry.” I make it up to her with some kisses to the back of her neck, soft and whispery, just the way she likes. “Wish we could stay like this all morning. Make love and eat strawberries; let the postman ring twice .”

“Throw our phones in the pond ....”

“And our tablets, and my beeper—anything that makes noise .”

She curls more tightly into my embrace. “That would be perfect .”

The soft press of her body against mine emboldens me. I slide one finger between her thighs, running it along the length of her slit. Her faint shudder has me hard as a rock, eager for more. But the minute hand’s creeping up on the hour. Any second now, the alarm will go off, shattering our reverie. “Later, when we get home ....”

“I’ll bring the strawberries.” She reaches out and kills the alarm, pulling away in the same motion. “You bring your bad self. And some cream .”

A patch of sun lands on her belly as she stands and stretches, and for a moment, I can see the painting from her dream, clear as day. Then, she glides off in the direction of the bathroom, and the vision fades .

Outside the sanctuary of the covers, it’s shaping up to be a warm July day. I can hear the crickets chirping outside. Percy’s barking at something, probably a cat. I can’t quite shake that idle morning feeling—even now, with my school days far behind me, this time of year feels like it ought to be a holiday. I find myself resenting my shirt as I button it up. Feeling rebellious, I leave my tie loose, with the top button open above it .

I stop by the bathroom to kiss Diana goodbye as she soaks in the tub. Pretty soon, she’ll be on her way out, too, but I can’t begrudge her this little indulgence. She deserves it. She deserves everything .

A sunshower blows in on my drive to work, drizzling rain from the clear blue sky. While I’m parked waiting for the canal bridge to come down, I notice someone’s scratched a couple of letters off the sign, so it reads “ANAL BRID E.” And, as if to prove bad omens come in threes, Nasmith starts calling as I pull within sight of the Falls .

I let him go to voicemail, once, twice, three times—what the hell does he want? I’m not even fifteen minutes out—whatever it is, it can wait. Preferably till lunchtime, or better yet, the end of the day, when I can wring a little satisfaction out of making him trot along behind me on my way out the door .

Or, hey. Maybe he’ll be waiting in the foyer, brandishing a newspaper when I walk in. Because, of course he is. I do a graceless half-turn, entertaining some half-baked notion of pretending I’ve left something in my car, but it’s too late. I’ve been spotted .

“Dr. Ashby !”

I can still cut this short. If I can get to my computer, I can give him my best impression of someone who’s just got an urgent e-mail. Fob him off with distracted uh-huh s till he gives up in disgust .

He catches up to me at the elevator. “Got somewhere to be ?”

“Rounds.” I press for five. “Just gonna be in and out, so how about you make this quick ?”

Nasmith thrusts the paper into my hand, tapping a picture with his finger: Diana, smiling for the camera in her favorite green dress. I smile in spite of myself. “Very nice, but I don’t have time for the society pages .”

“Oh, that’s not—no, no, no.” He unfolds the paper to reveal the caption: CHARITY FRAUD EXPOSED .

I snatch it back. The elevator dings. I stand dumbly as the doors hiss open, then shut, skimming the article without taking in a word. If Nasmith’s grinning right now—if I look up and see that oily, smarmy —

“You didn’t know about this ?”

“About—?” I’m gaping. Lost. This is —

Nasmith drops a photocopy on top of the paper with a huff. “It’s all right here. Confirmation .”

A check. I’m looking at a canceled check, some kind of government issue. It’s almost two years old. I shake my head, trying to make sense of it .

“Last I heard, you’re not supposed to cash those after the death of the beneficiary.” Nasmith snatches it back. The newspaper article finally swims into focus, the words falling into place. A pension check—Diana cashed her father’s last pension check, several days after he’d ....

Oh.

A mistake, surely—an oversight. Something she probably corrected .

I swipe my hand over my eyes to clear the fog. “Charity fraud, though? This makes it sound like she was, I don’t know, snatching food out of the mouths of starving orphans .”

“This is bad enough .”

“How’d they even—“ I round on him, furious. “You. This is you. No one else was even looking into her. Don’t think we haven’t noticed the cars, the — “

“I hardly think — “

“You’ve been following us, harassing us, looking for the slightest — “

“Now, hold on one minute !”

I edge into his personal space. “I mean, if this came from the police, or the government, we’d have heard all about it by now. There’d have been questions. Fines to pay. This is a smear campaign. Pure and simple.” I advance on Nasmith. He’s a big man, but I have several inches on him, and a good head of steam going besides .

He holds up his hands. When I don’t stop, he takes a step back, and another, till his head raps against the sliding doors. “Hey, now! Don’t — “

Gonna make raspberry jam of this guy. I clench my fists at my sides .

Nasmith mashes the call button, eyes wide and frantic .

“It’s on six.” I grin. A small, sadistic part of me is reveling in his terror. Maybe if he pisses himself, I’ll let his humiliation be punishment enough .

I lurch forward like I’m about to throw a punch. He squeaks like a mouse, flattening himself against the doors .

“Now, c’mon—you can’t really think I had anything — “

“You’ll wanna stop right there.” I crowd in on him till I’m practically treading on his toes. “Just you I can think of, with skin in this game. Hell, you practically promised you’d do something like this .”

The elevator dings. I shove Nasmith into it, hard enough to knock him on his ass. I’m about to follow him in, shit him up a bit more, when I hear running footsteps from reception .

“Jim! Shit! What are you—who’d you just — ?”

Tom.

I turn my back on him. No way. Not today. If I’m going to get fired, I’ll do it in spectacular fashion. Finally got Nasmith where I want him. Nothing, no one’s gonna —

“Jim! ” A firm hand descends on my shoulder. I shrug it off. The doors are closing. Gotta get in there; gotta —

“Quit that !”

I whirl on him. “Nothing you can say gonna — “

“Okay! Okay! I won’t say anything! Just, for her sake, if not your own, come with me right now!” He’s reaching for me again. No. No way. It’s too late, anyway. Nasmith’s looking at me with raw triumph. I’ve already laid hands on the bastard. It’s over—We both know it. I reach out to keep the elevator from closing .

Tom darts around me. “You and I both know you’re not going to hurt anyone. So, what are you going to do, go up there and make a scene? Turn a bad situation into a hopeless one ?”

I hesitate, and he grabs my arm .

“That’s right. C’mere. We’ll sit down, have a coffee, talk about how you’re going to come out of this smelling like a rose .”

I snatch my arm back. He’s handling me. Lying to me. “How could I possibly — ?”

“Sit with me, and I’ll tell you.” Hate that wheedly voice he does when he wants me to do something. Like any second, he might bust out with a “Here, kitty-kitty!”. I turn away, too late. The elevator dings and the car starts to rise, whisking Nasmith out of reach .

I watch the lights blink on, one after another. “Guess you’ve left me no choice .”

“You’re doing the right thing .”

“The hell I am.” I follow him anyway, feeling like I’m being marched to the gallows. Seems like I’ve been having a lot of these meetings with Tom lately, and each one ends with some kind of horrible choice, something thrust on me too fast to think it over .

Not this time. This time, I’m gonna —

“Sit.”

There’s a few tables set up alongside the coffee cart. I stalk over to the closest one while Tom gets us lattes. I’m pulsing with adrenaline. Caffeine might not be the best idea right now. I should go for a walk, or a run. Blow off some steam before I try to address whatever this is .

Tom takes the seat across from mine and shoves my coffee across the table. “Just the way you like it .”

I give him my best death-glare. “What is it, then ?”

Tom cocks a brow. “Hm ?”

“Your brilliant plan. What is it ?”

“Calm down first. Have some coffee .”

He might as well ask me to fly to the moon. I take a couple of gulps for show. “Fine. All calm. What have you got ?”

“C’mon—a little more. Breathe .”

I sip and breathe. The smell of the coffee’s warm. Soothing. I am starting to feel a bit better .

“Okay—so your clinical trial ends next month, correct ?”

I nod .

“And it’s looking good? Everything promising ?”

“Well, I—“ I glance up. Nasmith’s looking down at us from the fifth-floor walkway. Paranoia washes over me. There are security cameras everywhere. Can’t have him listening, knowing —my work’s not for him. “It’s a double-blind setup. Randomized .”

“But you must have some idea — “

“I don’t .”

“Well, then.” Tom taps his wedding ring on the table. “Better hope you’re on track, because otherwise, pfft. ” He stabs the Formica with his fingertip, like he’s squashing a bug. Guess I get the message .

“Assume I am. What’s the plan ?”

“You distance yourself from all of this. Get that woman out of your house.” He holds up his hand when I open my mouth to object. “Now, listen—I know you’ve developed a certain fondness for her. And you’ve got your kid to think about. You know I’d never ask you to throw all that away, right ?”

Wouldn’t he? Sounds like that’s exactly what he’s doing. I nod anyway, less confidently this time .

“So, listen—this won’t be a real breakup. Just a little distance, till that groundbreaking research of yours hits the journals.” He squeezes my hand. I don’t have the strength to jerk away. “See? It’s not that bad. Couple of months from now, you’ll be able to do anything you want .”

Anything I want... But —

“But for now, you expect me to what? Let my pregnant wife face the firestorm alone, while I...twiddle my thumbs ?”

“While you work your ass off. Buy a future for both of you .”

It’s happening again. I massage my temples, trying to think through my gathering migraine. “That sounds... I don’t know ....”

“It’ll be two, maybe three months out of your lives. After that, you got forever to make it up to one another. If she’s half the lady you say she is, she’ll understand .”

“She’ll understand....” That’s the problem: I’m very much afraid she will. And not in the way he’s thinking .

“Hey.” Tom pats my hand again. “You’ve given your life for this. Skipped your cousin’s wedding, your dad’s funeral, all in the name of progress. And now, well—“ He gestures wide. “Here you are. Knocking on the gates of greatness. This is your name in history. Your Nobel Prize. What choice do you have ?”

This can’t be the choice. Can’t be .

“Now, I can back you up here. Keep the mud off you. Nothing came up on her background check, so you’re fine there .”

None of this is fine .

“You step away now, express your shock and disgust, and the train stays on track. Libraries named after you. The King of Sweden hanging that medal around your neck .”

“The...what? What?“ I don’t want Tom touching me. I’m on my feet in an instant, so fast my head spins. “This isn’t about prizes ! ”

“Of course not. I didn’t mean—look, I’m just saying you’re doing a great thing. Not just for us, but for humanity. Sometimes, your personal life has to — “

I turn my back on him. He’s right. No—he’s fucked . Who thinks like that? And now, I’m supposed to...what ?

“Go home, Jim. Save your legacy .”

My legacy. Funny word, that. Conjures up thoughts of what you leave to your family: lessons and memories and trust funds, treasured mementos, dreams. A legacy to humanity—hard to weigh the value of that against more personal bequests .

“I don’t say this lightly: someone like you doesn’t come along every day. All those lives you could save—I’m in awe of you. I know you’re in a terrible position, but I promise you, I’m with you all the way.” Tom’s standing behind me, too close for comfort. “I’ll keep Nasmith out of your hair. All you’ll need to do is get through the next couple of months. Anything you need — “

I step away sharply. He’s confusing me, turning my head all around. I need to get away, figure this out for myself .

My phone buzzes, interrupting my train of thought. Diana—it’s Diana. And I can’t.... I don’t have the words .

“I have to—I’m going home .”

“Need a ride ?”

I shake my head, already halfway to the doors. I need space. Time. A quiet drive home .

My phone vibrates again, and I power it off, feeling like the worst kind of asshole. Outside, the sun’s riding high on a perfect summer morning. The doors rattle shut in my wake, leaving me to fight off the sudden, superstitious sense of leaving part of my life behind me .