Free Face/Mask by Gabriel Boutros

giving to those he loved.
    Allen had recently complained that Joe gave the boys too many things, and much of what he gave was of inferior quality, or not age-appropriate, but Terry knew that the main source of his displeasure was jealousy over the close bond that had developed between the old man and his sons. It puzzled her that Allen couldn’t get himself to play with his own children, yet was bothered because Joe had never hesitated to answer their call.
    “You know,” Allen’s strident voice interrupted her thoughts, “the French bakery that we used before has great cakes.”
    “They haven’t made great cakes in the longest time. Uncle Joe says his uses real eggs.”
    “And where do they get those from, I wonder? For such a mild-mannered old gentleman your uncle sure knows a lot of people who sell things on the black market.”
    “That’s not fair. Lots of people know where to get proper food. Just because you never had the nerve to-”
    “Sure! How do you think that would go over at the Department? You don’t think I’m going to risk my excellent record, do you?”
    “God, you’re so dramatic. It’s just a little good food. Everybody does it, and the Cons know that. You’re the only one who ever says anything about it.”
    Allen paused and gave her a look of surprise at hearing her use the derogatory French nickname for the Re-Constituted Military Police. Con was French for idiot, and even among the English-speaking population the term had caught on when referring to the reformed police force. As an administration official Allen avoided using the insulting term, except when Terry had gotten parking tickets.
    “Terry,” he said, “I’m a Director now. I have to set a good example.”
    “Not that that’s ever stopped you from eating all the goodies Joe brings home.”
    “Well, once he’s already got them…Oh, for crying out loud. This argument’s a waste of time.”
    With that, Allen turned around brusquely and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. His “waste of time” line was how he ended most arguments when he realized he wasn’t going to get his way.
    Terry took no satisfaction in the argument, nor with how it had ended. As much as she thought Allen had no reason to be hurt, she recognized that his pain was real, and this saddened her. Joe was kind to everyone he met, and he was loved in turn by everyone who met him. Yet this just made her husband colder toward him. She’d tried her best to smooth over any conflicts between them, and she knew that Joe himself, sensing Allen’s displeasure, was constantly trying to get on his good side. It was all to no avail, and all she could do was try to keep the peace as best she could. 
     
    Terry had been married to Allen Janus for twenty years, and for the first ten of them she’d had no doubts about his love for her.
    Through her five pregnancies, three of which she carried to term, she’d never doubted his passion for her, nor his devotion. They’d laughed together with their newborn babies, taking turns bathing them and rocking them to sleep. Twice he’d held her through the long nights that followed her miscarriages, whispering to her that it didn’t matter, that it wasn’t her fault, that they could always try again.
    But after those first ten years she sensed a gradual change in him. About the time that administration scientists had admitted that the over-heating of the planet had become irreversible, Allen began to grow colder and more distant around her. He’d often avoid eye contact when she spoke to him. He didn’t respond to her touch as readily as he used to. His mind often drifted, taking him elsewhere when he should have been with her.
    She knew that Allen’s feelings about his work were a bit of an open sore. When he had received his long-awaited promotion to Department Director, nine years into their marriage, it hadn’t brought the satisfaction he’d expected. In fact, he told her once in a rare moment of