Mutation

Marsha had called from the hospital so the Fays knew to expect her. Despite the fact that their daughter had worked for her and Victor for eleven years, Marsha had only met the mother and father at Janice’s funeral. Janice had been dead for four years. Marsha felt odd standing on her parents’

porch, waiting for them to open the door. Knowing Janice so intimately for so many years, Marsha had come to the conclusion that there had been significantly disturbing emotional undercurrents in her family, but she had no idea what they could have been. On that issue, Janice had been completely noncommunicative.

“Please come in,” Mrs. Fay said after she’d opened the door. She was a white-haired, pleasant-looking but frail woman who appeared to be in her early sixties. Marsha noted that the woman avoided eye contact.

The inside of the house was much worse than the outside.

The furniture was old and threadbare. What made it particularly unpleasant was that the place was dirty.

Wastepaper baskets were filled to overflowing with such things as beer cans and McDonald’s wrappers. There were even cobwebs in one corner up near the ceiling.

“Let me tell Harry that you’re here,” Mrs. Fay said.

Marsha could hear the sounds of a televised sporting event somewhere in the background. She sat down, but kept to the very edge of the sofa. She didn’t want to touch anything.

“Well, well,” said a husky voice. “About time the fancy doctor paid us a visit is all I can say.”

Marsha turned to see a large man with a huge belly and wearing a tank-top undershirt come into the room. He walked right up to her and stuck out a calloused hand for her to shake. His hair was cut severely in a military-style crew cut. His face was dominated by a large, swollen nose with red capillaries fanning the side of each nostril.

“Can I offer you a beer or something?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” Marsha said.

Harry Fay sank into a La-Z-Boy armchair. “To what do we owe this visit?” he asked. He burped and excused himself.

“I wanted to talk about Janice,” Marsha said.

“I hope to God she didn’t tell you any lies about me,”

Harry said. “I’ve been a hardworking man all my life. Drove sixteen-wheelers back and forth across this country so many times I lost count.”

“I’m sure that was hard work,” Marsha said, wondering if she should have come.

“Bet your ass,” Harry said.

“What I was wondering,” Marsha began, “is whether Janice ever talked about my boys, David and VJ.”

“Lots of times,” Harry said. “Right, Mary?”

Mary nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Did she ever remark on anything out of the ordinary about them?” There were specific questions she could have asked, but she preferred not to lead the conversation.

“She sure did,” Harry said. “Even before she got nuts about all that religious bunk, she told us that VJ had killed his brother. She even told us that she tried to warn you but you wouldn’t listen.”

“Janice never tried to warn me,” Marsha said, color rising in her cheeks. “And I should tell you that my son David died of cancer.”

“Well, that’s sure different than what Janice told us,”

Harry said. “She told us the kid was poisoned. Drugged and poisoned.”

“That’s patently preposterous,” Marsha said.

“What the hell does that mean?” Harry said.

Marsha took a deep breath to calm herself down. She realized that she was trying to defend herself and her family before this offensive man. She knew that wasn’t the reason that she was there. “I mean to say that there was no way that my son David could have been poisoned. He died of cancer just like your daughter.”

“We only know what we’ve been told. Right, Mary?”

Mary nodded dutifully.

“In fact,” Harry said, “Janice told us that she’d been drugged once too. She told us that she didn’t tell anybody because she knew no one would believe her. She told us that she got mighty careful about what she ate from then on.”

Marsha didn’t say anything for a moment. She’d remembered the change in Janice. Overnight, she’d gotten extremely fastidious about what she ate. Marsha had always wondered what had caused the change. Apparently it had been this delusion of being drugged or poisoned.

“Actually, we didn’t believe too much of what Janice was telling us,” Harry admitted. “Something happened inside her head when she got so religious. She even went so far as to tell us that your boy, VJ, or whatever his name, was evil.

Like he had something to do with the devil.”

“I can assure you that is not the case,” Marsha said. She stood up. She’d had enough.

“It is strange that your son David and our daughter died of the same cancer,” Harry said. He rose to his feet, his face reddening with the considerable effort.

“It was a coincidence,” Marsha agreed. “In fact, at the time it caused some concern. There was a worry that it had something to do with environment. Our home was studied extensively. I can assure you their both having it was nothing more than a tragic coincidence.”

“Tough luck, I guess,” Harry admitted.

“Very bad luck,” Marsha said. “And we miss Janice as we miss our son.”