Mutation

“How about at the beginning,” Marsha suggested, her impatience showing again.

Victor’s eyes met hers. He’d kept the secret surrounding VJ’s conception for over ten years. Looking at Marsha’s open, honest face, he wondered if she would ever forgive him when she learned the truth.

“Please,” Marsha said. “Why can’t you just tell me?”

Victor lowered his eyes. “Lots of reasons,” he said. “One is you might not believe me. In fact, for me to tell you we have to go to my lab.”

“Right now?” questioned Marsha. “Are you serious?”

“If you want to hear.”

There was a pause. Kissa surprised Marsha by jumping up on her lap. She’d forgotten to feed him. “All right,” she said.

“Let me feed the cat and say something to VJ. I can be ready in fifteen minutes.”

VJ heard footsteps coming down the hall toward his bedroom. Without hurrying, he closed the cover of his Scott stamp album and slipped it onto the shelf. His parents knew nothing about philately, so they wouldn’t know what they were looking at. But there was no reason to take any chances. He didn’t want them to discover just how large and valuable his collection had become. They had thought his request for a bank vault more childish conceit than anything else and VJ

saw no reason to make them think otherwise.

“What are you doing, dear?” Marsha asked as she appeared in his doorway.

VJ pursed his lips. “Nothing really.” He knew she was upset, but there was nothing he could do about it. Ever since he was a baby he realized there was something she wanted from him, something other mothers got from their children that he couldn’t give her. Sometimes, like now, he felt sorry.

“Why don’t you invite Richie over one night this week?”

she was saying.

“Maybe I will.”

“I think it would be nice,” Marsha said. “I’d like to meet him.”

VJ nodded.

Marsha smiled, shifted her weight. “Your father and I are going out for a little while. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure.”

“We won’t be gone long.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Five minutes later VJ watched from his bedroom window as Victor’s car descended the drive. VJ stood for a while looking out. He wondered if he should be concerned. After all, it was not usual for his parents to go out on a weekday night. He shrugged his shoulders. If there was something to worry about, he’d hear about it soon enough.

Turning back into his room, he took his stamp album from the shelf and went back to putting in the mint set of early American stamps he’d recently received.

The phone rang a long time before he heard it. Finally, remembering that his parents were out, he got up and went down the hall to the study. He picked up the receiver and said hello.

“Dr. Victor Frank, please,” the caller said. The voice sounded muffled, as if it was far away from the receiver.

“Dr. Frank is not at home,” VJ said politely. “Would you care to leave a message?”

“What time will Dr. Frank be back?”

“In about an hour,” VJ answered.

“Are you his son?”

“That’s right.”

“Maybe it will be more effective if you give him the message. Tell your father that life will be getting progressively unpleasant unless he reconsiders and is reasonable. You got that?”

“Who is this?” VJ demanded.

“Just give your father the message. He’ll know.”

“Who is this?” VJ repeated, feeling the initial stirrings of fear. But the caller had hung up.

VJ slowly replaced the receiver. All at once he was acutely aware that he was all alone in the house. He stood for a moment listening. He’d never realized all the creaking sounds of an empty house. The radiator in the corner quietly hissed. From somewhere else a dull clunking sounded, probably a heating pipe. Outside the wind blew snow against the window.

Picking up the phone again, VJ made a call of his own.

When a man answered he told the person that he was scared.

After being reassured that everything would be taken care of, VJ put down the phone. He felt better, but to be on the safe side, he hurried downstairs and methodically checked every window and every door to make sure they were all securely locked. He didn’t go down into the basement but bolted the door instead.

Back in his room he turned on the computer. He wished the cat would stay in his room, but he knew better than to bother looking for her. Kissa was afraid of him, though he tried to keep his mother from realizing the fact. There were so many things he had to keep his mother from noticing. It was a strain. But then he hadn’t chosen to be what he was, either.

Booting up the computer, VJ loaded Pac-Man and tried to concentrate.