Free In the Middle of All This by Fred G. Leebron Page A

spilling over. “Lauren wants to. You know. Have it for you.” He reached for the bottle. “It’s not like we could adopt it for you and give it to you. But we figured, you know, with Richard … Lauren could … the whole artificial thing. We’re thinking about it.”
    â€œBut I never asked you,” she said. “I mean this is fantastic, it’s so selfless. Idealistic. Overwhelming. Definitely an out-there idea. But. Can I speak to her?”
    â€œShe’s asleep.” His words were slurred. “They’re all asleep.”
    â€œYou’re very weird,” she said.
    â€œJust thought I’d let you know.”
    â€œBut you are so good to me,” she said.
    â€œI know.”
    â€œI know you know, but I need to say it.”
    â€œUmm.”
    â€œShould I tell Richard?”
    â€œJust that we’re thinking about it. Just tell him that.”
    â€œCall me tomorrow, okay?”
    â€œOkay.”
    He hung up and staggered up the dark stairs. What had he done? What had he done? Boy, that was stupid. Boy, was it dumb.
    â€œI heard you,” Lauren said.
    She was sitting up in bed.
    â€œYou oughtta be asleep. It’s after two.”
    â€œNow we have to,” she said, “if she wants to. If they want to. Which is fine with me. But now we really have to.”
    â€œOkay, okay.” The room was turning a little. So that was how much he’d drunk. He was a drunk idiot. “Can I get some sleep? I just want to sleep.” He couldn’t even get out of his clothes, he was that tired.
    â€œIt’s fine with me, you know,” she said again. He felt her touch him on the shoulder. “You knew I wanted to.”
    â€œUh-huh.” Now his face was in his pillow. Now she’d be quiet. Now he could get a little sleep. And after, he could start hating himself.

ANTHROPOLOGY

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    So you’re going to do it?” Martin’s mother said, her voice filled with disbelief and even perhaps awe.
    â€œI guess so.” He heard his own hesitation and tried to ignore it. “I mean, I said we would. Of course we will.”
    â€œWell,” she said. She paused, swallowed. Every time he talked to her on the phone she seemed to be eating. She swallowed again. “Even if it doesn’t happen, I’m proud of you two.”
    That was unbelievable. That was unheard of. In his entire life he’d only heard that once from his parents—from his father, when he and Lauren had bought the house. That had infuriated him, it was so … so full of a kind of middle-class mind-set. This time was different. It scared him.
    â€œOf course, I also think you’re crazy,” she said.
    â€œThank you,” he said.
    He set the phone down and sat at the black desk in their bedroom, in the corner between the windows. Outside, the A.M . kindergarten was having their recess. He knew when the first grade was out and the second grade and the third grade, when Mrs. Lowe ran other outdoor activities, what time of the day she climbed up onto the flat roof and threw down all the lost balls, when she began to gather the bases and bats and hoops and put them in the metal pushcart to wheel inside. Often when Sarah’s class was out, he would watch by tipping back his chair. Some days she stood flat against the brick wall and sucked on the loose strands of her hair, other days she ran around aimlessly, unable to decide which group to join or unable to find a group that would have her, and sometimes she led her own pack of kids and he was happy for her. He couldn’t remember when he began hating recess, when he saw how slow and uncoordinated he had become compared to everyone else, when he wasn’t growing as fast. Lauren had told him she’d been the same. The whistle blew and the A. M . kindergarten raced to their yellow-paint marks at the curb.
    He turned to see one of the cats gnawing at the corner of the bed