Without a word, we both got up and had one last lick as we walked over to the trash can to dump our cones. As we headed back toward the car, she handed me another napkin, and just like that, we were back in our regular mother/daughter roles. It was nice.
TWENTY-NINE
It was barely nine o’clock when we got home, but Mom went to bed as soon as we got inside. I settled into the armchair—her armchair, really—with an old crime novel I was reading. By nine thirty, my eyelids were heavy, and I was thinking maybe I needed to go to bed, too.
That’s when the phone rang. It was Claudia.
“Hey,” she said when I answered. Her voice sounded thick, like she’d been crying.
“Hey, are you okay?”
She sniffed. “I’m scared.”
“What’s going on?”
“My mom and dad had a fight, then he started acting funny, and now he’s just…sitting there. He won’t talk or move.”
“Did you call a doctor?”
“Yeah, my mom did, but they said it sounds like it’s something to do with his Wellplant, and that we need to call Wellplant about it.”
“And did you?”
“Yes! My mom did and they said they’d send someone out, but it’s been over an hour. Can…Can you come over? Just to…to be here?”
“Um, yeah, of course,” I said. “It might take me a little while, but I’m on my way.” Truthfully, I didn’t know how I was going to get there. It was too far to walk, and I really didn’t want to ask my mom to take me out again. Of course, I still didn’t have my license, so even though the car’s Smartdrive could take me there, legally I needed a licensed driver with me. I didn’t relish the thought of taking the Levline into the city and then back out to Chestnut Hill, and then walking from there. But that’s what I would have to do.
“Thanks,” she said, sniffling. “I’ll send a pod, if that’s okay?”
“A pod?” A self-driving pod or taxicab was an option I hadn’t considered, because it was an option I couldn’t afford. But again, Claudia was loaded. “Um, yeah, if you’re sure, that’d be great. I’ll see you soon.”
My mom’s bedroom light as still on, and when I rapped lightly on the door, she responded with a sleepy, “Come on in, Jimi.”
Her eyes were nearly closed and her book was lying shut on her lap.
“That was Claudia,” I said, sitting on the edge of her bed.
Her eyes opened slightly wider. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know, really. Her dad got spiked.”
“He got a Wellplant? You’re not serious!”
“Afraid so.” I told her about all the weirdness that had followed, culminating in what Claudia had told me about what had happened that evening. Mom’s face grew increasingly dismayed as I spoke—sad, concerned, and definitely creeped out.
“Ugh, poor Claudia,” she said, shaking her head. “What was he thinking getting one of those things put into his head?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He’s a really smart guy. And successful. I think he feels it’s like, for people competing at the highest levels of anything—business, politics, whatever—there’s a lot of pressure not to concede any advantage. His competitors all got spiked, so he felt like he needed to, as well.”
“His wife must be beside herself.”
“Yeah, I think she is. So’s Claudia. Anyway, she asked me to come over, just to keep her company, so I said yes.”
“Of course,” she said, reaching out and squeezing my hand. “Although, you know, one of these days, you’re going to have to spend a night at home.”
She smiled to let me know she was razzing me.
“I know, Mom,” I said. “I was actually looking forward to an early night at home tonight.”
Outside, a tinny horn beeped twice, announcing the arrival of the pod. “That’s my ride,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking a pod?”
I put up my hands, defensively. “I didn’t order it. Claudia sent it to get me.”
“Well, that was nice of her.”
I kissed her on the forehead then ran downstairs, and out to the waiting pod.
When I approached, the scanner on the roof scanned my face, then a robotic voice asked for confirmation: “Good evening. Are you Jimi Corcoran?”
When I answered yes, it recited Claudia’s address and asked if that was the proper destination. When I again answered, “Yes,” the door opened and I got in.
It was one of the newer ones, a tiny single passenger car that didn’t even have a place for a driver. It was basically a nice, comfortable seat in a light metal shell with windows and a video screen—high-end but two-dimensional, since there wasn’t really room for a holovid display—and an overhead light if you’d rather read or whatever.
When I got to Claudia’s house, she and her mom were both standing at the front door, looking through the glass. As I got out of the pod and they saw it was me, Bonnie walked away, and Claudia opened the door.
Her eyes were damp and red. She looked scared, which was something I hadn’t seen in her in a long time. I’d known her nearly a year and gotten used to her as someone who was brash and outspoken, brave and competent, and ready to do whatever needed to be done. But when we first met, right after her splice, just as the riots were erupting after the Genetic Heritage Act was signed into law, she had been desperate and frightened and insecure. It was a side of her I hadn’t seen since then. But I sure saw it now. And I expected that with everything going on with her dad, it was a side of her I’d be seeing a lot more of.
I wondered about how it would be, if my dad was still alive, if something like this happened to him. I shuddered just thinking about it. Claudia was a badass, but she wasn’t invincible. I needed to be sure I was available for her, to do whatever I could to help her get through this.
“Hey,” I said as I walked up to the door. “You doing okay?”
She shrugged, hugging herself. “My mom was hoping you were the Wellplant doctor.”
“How’s your dad doing?”
“Exactly the same. Staring into space, barely blinking.”
I followed her past the great room and the stairs to the entrance to the family room. Chris was sitting in his armchair, same as before, but his head was tilted back. Instead of looking out the window, he was staring at a spot where the wall met the ceiling. Even from where we were standing, I got the strong impression that his eyes were unfocused.
“Has he seemed distressed at all?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head. “No. No sign of that. Just…this. Like he’s in a coma or something.” As soon as she said “coma,” a tear rolled down her cheek, as if she had just said out loud the thing she was most afraid of.
I put my arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze.
“Come on,” she said.
As I followed her into the kitchen, I saw Bonnie leaning against the counter, holding a goblet the size of a small fish bowl, sloshing with pink wine. Her face looked like the stress was becoming a permanent part of it.