it out,” Everett said sternly. It was the first time Pax had heard him speak. Now that Everett didn’t need to restrain Harlan, he could help siphon. He started using a second needle, and the extraction proceeded faster. A few minutes later they had only his father’s back to do. They tilted Harlan forward and sideways, then pushed up his robe to his shoulders. Pax held his father’s head against him, patting with his gloved hand the black-and-gray hair he’d been cutting two hours ago. He could not get used to the size of his father, his helplessness, the zoological strangeness of his body.
The boys began to pack up their supplies. Pax pushed his father back into a sitting position and straightened his robe. Then he followed the boys outside.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Rhonda asked him.
Pax stared at her.
She laughed heartily. “You held it together better than I thought you would. Most skips couldn’t do it—certainly not a man. It’s women who change the diapers and take care of the old people in this world. Most men don’t have the stomach for it.” She held open a plastic garbage bag and he tossed in his mask and gloves. “Do this every day and you’ll get used to it.”
Pax exhaled heavily. “Every day this has to happen?”
“If you want to keep him healthy.” She gave him an appraising look. “Now I didn’t come out here just for your father’streatment, though I was glad I could help. I came to show you someplace where there’s a different way of doing this.”
“I don’t know,” Pax said, glancing back at the house. Everett stepped out carrying the cooler.
“Don’t you worry,” Rhonda said. “We’ll have you back in no time. Your daddy’s going to be sleeping for a while.”
Chapter 4
T HE INSIDE OF the Cadillac smelled like a tub full of lilac petals—Rhonda distilled.
Pax rode in the back alone, while Rhonda sat up front in the passenger seat next to Everett. “My next project is to build our own high school,” Rhonda said. Only the top of her hair-sprayed head was visible. “You know they wouldn’t let Everett play on the football team at the county school? Can’t pass the physical, they said, because he’s morbidly obese. Obese! Not for a charlie, I said. Not for one of our people. They won’t let the argo boys play either, especially not basketball. Lord, they’re deathly afraid of argos playing basketball. Not that they’re any good at it—they got hands like concrete. And nobody wants to even shower with the beta boys. Tell me that’s not discrimination.”
“That’s discrimination,” Pax said.
“You bet it is. We’re going to sue their hind ends off, then use it to pay for the stadium. Everett here can be our coach.” Pax could see the side of his face. The man shook his head, smiling shyly. It was the first time Pax had seen him break his frown.
They skirted the edge of town, taking Roberts Road under the eastern face of Mount Clyburn. The fields of the Whitmerfarm opened up to their right, and a new white fence sprang up and raced alongside the road, pickets blurring. As they approached the entrance to the farm, he saw that they’d turned the place into a trailer park. Fourteen or fifteen mobile homes surrounded what looked like a white-painted warehouse, a cheap sheet-metal building with a low, flat roof. The Whitmers’ ancient barn still stood in the distance, but the old farmhouse was gone. Beta children played between the trailers, and a few of the taller girls wore those white scarves on their heads.
Aunt Rhonda rolled down the window and waved at two beta women inside the fence who were unloading bags of insulation from the bed of a pickup. They wore nothing on their smooth heads, and one of them carried a toddler in a pack on her back. The women returned the wave without smiling, but maybe that was a beta thing.
“Those blanks are breeding like rabbits,” Rhonda said, and rolled up the window.
Blanks
. Another slang term.
The boys began to pack up their supplies. Pax pushed his father back into a sitting position and straightened his robe. Then he followed the boys outside.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Rhonda asked him.
Pax stared at her.
She laughed heartily. “You held it together better than I thought you would. Most skips couldn’t do it—certainly not a man. It’s women who change the diapers and take care of the old people in this world. Most men don’t have the stomach for it.” She held open a plastic garbage bag and he tossed in his mask and gloves. “Do this every day and you’ll get used to it.”
Pax exhaled heavily. “Every day this has to happen?”
“If you want to keep him healthy.” She gave him an appraising look. “Now I didn’t come out here just for your father’streatment, though I was glad I could help. I came to show you someplace where there’s a different way of doing this.”
“I don’t know,” Pax said, glancing back at the house. Everett stepped out carrying the cooler.
“Don’t you worry,” Rhonda said. “We’ll have you back in no time. Your daddy’s going to be sleeping for a while.”
Chapter 4
T HE INSIDE OF the Cadillac smelled like a tub full of lilac petals—Rhonda distilled.
Pax rode in the back alone, while Rhonda sat up front in the passenger seat next to Everett. “My next project is to build our own high school,” Rhonda said. Only the top of her hair-sprayed head was visible. “You know they wouldn’t let Everett play on the football team at the county school? Can’t pass the physical, they said, because he’s morbidly obese. Obese! Not for a charlie, I said. Not for one of our people. They won’t let the argo boys play either, especially not basketball. Lord, they’re deathly afraid of argos playing basketball. Not that they’re any good at it—they got hands like concrete. And nobody wants to even shower with the beta boys. Tell me that’s not discrimination.”
“That’s discrimination,” Pax said.
“You bet it is. We’re going to sue their hind ends off, then use it to pay for the stadium. Everett here can be our coach.” Pax could see the side of his face. The man shook his head, smiling shyly. It was the first time Pax had seen him break his frown.
They skirted the edge of town, taking Roberts Road under the eastern face of Mount Clyburn. The fields of the Whitmerfarm opened up to their right, and a new white fence sprang up and raced alongside the road, pickets blurring. As they approached the entrance to the farm, he saw that they’d turned the place into a trailer park. Fourteen or fifteen mobile homes surrounded what looked like a white-painted warehouse, a cheap sheet-metal building with a low, flat roof. The Whitmers’ ancient barn still stood in the distance, but the old farmhouse was gone. Beta children played between the trailers, and a few of the taller girls wore those white scarves on their heads.
Aunt Rhonda rolled down the window and waved at two beta women inside the fence who were unloading bags of insulation from the bed of a pickup. They wore nothing on their smooth heads, and one of them carried a toddler in a pack on her back. The women returned the wave without smiling, but maybe that was a beta thing.
“Those blanks are breeding like rabbits,” Rhonda said, and rolled up the window.
Blanks
. Another slang term.
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