The video image came back to Julia. "This Xymos technology is safe, reliable, and extremely easy to use. It does not require highly trained personnel; it can be administered by an IV nurse or a medical technician. In the United States alone, a million people die each year from vascular disease. More than thirty million have diagnosed cardiovascular disease. Commercial prospects for this imaging technology are very strong. Because it is painless, simple, and safe, it will replace other imaging techniques such as CAT scans and angiography and will become the standard procedure. We will market the nanotech cameras, the antenna, and monitor systems. Our per-test cost will be only twenty dollars. This is in contrast to certain gene technologies that currently charge two to three thousand dollars a test. But at a mere twenty dollars, we expect worldwide revenues to exceed four hundred million dollars in the first year. And once the procedure is established, those figures will triple. We are talking about a technology that generates one point two billion dollars a year. Now if there are questions…" I yawned, and flicked the TV off. It was impressive, and her argument was compelling. In fact, I couldn't understand why Xymos was having trouble getting their next round of funding. For investors, this should be a slam dunk.
But then, she probably wasn't having trouble. She was probably just using the funding crisis as an excuse to stay late every night. For her own reasons.
I turned out the light. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, I began to see fleeting images. Julia's thigh, over another man's leg. Julia's back arched. Julia breathing heavily, her muscles tensed. Her arm reaching up to push against the headboard. I found I couldn't stop the images.
I got out of bed, and went to check the kids. Nicole was still up, emailing her friends. I told her it was time for lights out. Eric had kicked off his covers. I pulled them back up. The baby was still purple, but she slept soundly, her breathing gentle and regular.
I got back into bed. I willed myself to go to sleep, to think of something else. I tossed and turned, adjusted the pillow, got up for a glass of milk and cookies. Eventually, finally, I fell into a restless sleep.
And I had a very strange dream.
Sometime during the night, I rolled over to see Julia standing by the bed, undressing. She was moving slowly, as if tired or very dreamy, unbuttoning her blouse. She was turned away from me, but I could see her face in the mirror. She looked beautiful, almost regal. Her features looked more chiseled than I remembered, though perhaps it was just the light. My eyes were half-closed. She hadn't noticed I was awake. She continued to slowly unbutton her blouse. Her lips were moving, as if she were whispering something, or praying. Her eyes seemed vacant, lost in thought.
Then as I watched, her lips turned dark red, and then black. She didn't seem to notice. The blackness flowed away from her mouth across her cheeks and over her lower face, and onto her neck. I held my breath. I felt great danger. The blackness now flowed in a sheet down her body until she was entirely covered, as if with a cloak. Only the upper half of her face remained exposed. Her features were composed; in fact she seemed oblivious, just staring into space, dark lips silently moving. Watching her, I felt a chill that ran deep into my bones. Then a moment later the black sheet slid to the floor and vanished.
Julia, normal again, finished removing her blouse, and walked into the bathroom. I wanted to get up and follow her, but I found I could not move. A heavy fatigue held me down on the bed, immobilizing me. I was so exhausted I could hardly breathe. This oppressive sense of fatigue grew rapidly, and overwhelmed my consciousness. Losing all awareness, I felt my eyes close, and I slept.
DAY 4
6:40 A.M.
The next morning the dream was still fresh in my mind, vivid and disturbing. It felt utterly real, not like a dream at all.
Julia was already up. I got out of bed and walked around to where I had seen her the night before. I looked down at the rug, the bedside table, the creased sheets and pillow. There was nothing unusual, nothing out of order. No dark lines or marks anywhere. I went into the bathroom and looked at her cosmetics, in a neat line on her side of the sink. Everything I saw was mundane. However disturbing my dream had been, it was still a dream. But one part of it was true enough: Julia was looking more beautiful than ever. When I found her in the kitchen, pouring coffee, I saw that her face did indeed look more chiseled, more striking. Julia had always had a chubby face. Now it was lean, defined. She looked like a high-fashion model. Her body, too-now that I looked closely-appeared leaner, more muscular. She hadn't lost weight, she just looked trim, tight, energetic.
I said, "You look great."
She laughed. "I can't imagine why. I'm exhausted."
"What time did you get in?"
"About eleven. I hope I didn't wake you."
"No. But I had a weird dream."
"Oh yes?"
"Yes, it was-"
"Mommy! Mommy!" Eric burst into the kitchen. "It's not fair! Nicole won't get out of the bathroom. She's been in there for an hour. It's not fair!"
"Go use our bathroom."
"But I need my socks, Mommy. It's not fair."
This was a familiar problem. Eric had a couple of pairs of favorite socks that he wore day after day until they were black with grime. For some reason, the other socks in his drawer were not satisfactory. I could never get him to explain why. But putting on socks in the morning was a major problem with him.
"Eric," I said, "we talked about this, you're supposed to wear clean socks."
"But those are my good ones!"
"Eric. You have plenty of good socks."
"It's not fair, Dad. She's been in there an hour, I'm not kidding."
"Eric, go choose other socks."
"Dad…"
I just pointed my finger toward his bedroom.
"Shees." He walked off muttering about how it wasn't fair.
I turned back to Julia to resume our conversation. She was staring at me coldly. "You really don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
"He came in talking to me, and you just took over. You took over the whole thing."
Immediately, I realized she was right. "I'm sorry," I said.
"I don't get to see the children very much these days, Jack. I think I should be able to have my interaction without your taking control."
"I'm sorry. I handle this kind of thing all day, and I guess-"
"This really is a problem, Jack."
"I said I'm sorry."
"I know that's what you said, but I don't think you are sorry, because I don't see you doing anything to change your controlling behavior."
"Julia," I said. Now I was trying to control my temper. I took a breath. "You're right. I'm sorry it happened."
"You're just shutting me out," she said, "and you are keeping me from my children-"
"Julia, God damn it, you're never here!"
A frosty silence. Then:
"I certainly am here," she said. "Don't you dare say I am not."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. When are you here? When was the last time you made it for dinner, Julia? Not last night, not the night before, not the night before that. Not all week, Julia. You are not here."
She glared at me. "I don't know what you're trying to do, Jack. I don't know what kind of game you are playing."
"I'm not playing any game. I'm asking you a question."
"I'm a good mother, and I balance a very demanding job, a very demanding job, and the needs of my family. And I get absolutely no help from you."
"What are you talking about?" I said, my voice rising still higher. I was starting to have a sense of unreality here.
"You undercut me, you sabotage me, you turn the children against me," she said. "I see what you're doing. Don't think I don't. You are not supportive of me at all. After all these years of marriage, I must say it's a lousy thing to do to your wife." And she stalked out of the room, fists clenched. She was so angry, she didn't see that Nicole was standing back from the door, listening to the whole thing. And staring at me, as her mother swept past.