Terry Bain

Pediatrics

MOLLI GETS OUT OF BED before her husband and walks quietly from room to room. She turns on the electric heater in the kitchen, pulls the shade open on the back window, looks out toward the lake, and picks up Jason’s pants from the floor, folding them carefully as if folding a flag. She slips her hand into one of her husband’s pants pockets and retrieves two quarters, a nickel, and a half-stick of gum; from the other pocket she pulls three balloons—one white, one yellow, and one blue—a folded and unused handkerchief, and his wedding ring, a slim gold band without markings or gems.
     Molli sets his folded pants and their pockets’ contents on the table and pushes in the chair. She puts water and coffee into the percolator and sets it on the stove. She spreads a sheet of wax paper on the counter and retrieves chocolate chips from a grocery bag and pours them into a saucepan. She puts the saucepan on the burner for a few seconds, then takes it off and stirs the chocolate chips. She does this again and again, placing the pan over the heat briefly then removing it, until the chocolate is melted and smooth. She takes strawberries out of the refrigerator. She pours herself a cup of coffee. She dips the strawberries into the chocolate and places them one by one on a sheet of wax paper. She licks chocolate from her fingers. The coffee is strong and dark and hot and tastes like campfire. She puts two wax sheets dotted with chocolate-dipped strawberries into the refrigerator. She skims the warm pan with her index finger, then sucks on her finger until it doesn’t taste like chocolate anymore.
     Jason shuffles out of bed and toward the kitchen. “I smell coffee,” he says.
     “Yes.” Molli pours him a cup and hands it to him. He holds it from the bottom like a ball he doesn’t want to drop. He sips it, then kisses her. “I’ll make a fire.”
     “Please,” says Molli. “It’s cold.”
     “You should have waked me up. I’d make a fire if you wake me.”
     “I can do it myself if I want,” she says.
     Jason puts newspapers and cedar kindling in the fireplace. He lights a match and touches the flame to the paper. The paper catches and soon the cedar pops like brittle twigs snapping. Jason puts his coffee cup on the mantel and holds his hands up to the fire. “This is nice,” he says. He rubs his hands together.
     Molli carries her cup to a chair in front of the fireplace. She sits with her back to the flames. Jason puts a Douglas fir log onto the fire. The log is dry and takes the fire easily and burns hot.
     “We should get dressed,” says Jason. “Who knows what time it is.”
     “We should have brought a battery for the clock.”
     “It’s okay,” says Jason. “I’m sure they’ll have a watch. One of them will.” He looks at his wrist automatically as if to make sure the time isn’t there. “Anyway, we should get dressed.”

SHARON AND WILLIAM ARRIVE TENTATIVELY and peer out the window of their white Ford station wagon, trying to make out if this is the place. William’s hair, as usual, is mussed, but Sharon resists the temptation to reach across the seat and straighten it with her fingertips. The place looks more like a house to William than a cabin. The front door opens as they stop, and Molli comes out to greet them and let them know yes, this is the place, they found it.
     Sharon’s eyes are red and tired. William’s face is pale and flat. He runs his fingers through his hair but it doesn’t help any. The four of them hug and kiss cheeks. The cabin is warm now and smells like smoke and coffee and buttered toast, and Molli leads them into it.
     “How was your drive?” says Jason.
     “Fine,” says William. “Yeah. Fine.”
     “You didn’t get lost? Most everyone gets lost once or twice.”
     “No,” says William. “Hey, wow, this is some place, right? You said cabin, I wasn’t expecting like a little house out here.”
     “Miraculous,” says Molli. She retrieves champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries from the refrigerator. She pours four glasses of champagne.
     Jason toasts. “To having found us.”
     William says, “What a place, really, if I would have known.”
     “What?” says Sharon, turning to William and closing one eye. “What if you would have known?”
     William smiles, but he doesn’t look at his wife. He keeps looking at his surroundings.
     “Miraculous that you found us, really, with my directions,” says Molli.
     William says, “Should you drink that?”
     “It doesn’t matter,” says Sharon. “I told you . . . .” She looks away from William now and sips. “I’m going to have fun.” She turns to Molli. “They were perfectly good directions,” she says. “The directions were fine.” She takes another strawberry from the wax paper. It peels easily from the paper, and she bites through it near the stem.
     “The breezes were blowing you this way,” says Jason, laughing, leading them toward the front room, toward the fire and the view of the lake.
     William says, “It’s all about fun, isn’t it.”
     They all take another strawberry before they leave the kitchen. The strawberries are juicy and tart and cold. Jason takes two. The chocolate is sweet and hard and rich. They drink their champagne. The champagne fizzes and deadens the sweetness.
     “Well, thank goodness,” says Jason. “Do either of you know the time? No battery for the clock here.” He motions toward the clock hanging above the refrigerator. “No radio. No television. I’m afraid we have no idea if you’re early or late. And my watch, well, it’s in the lake. The damnedest thing. But never mind. We’re timeless right now, unless one of you knows any better.”

PERHAPS AN HOUR HAS PASSED. Molli and Sharon sit at the table with the last of the strawberries and the bottle of champagne. Now there is also a box of Triscuits and six slices of cheddar cheese on the table. Sharon takes one of the slices and eats it on a Triscuit.
     Their watches are at home on the nightstand on William’s side of the bed, next to the alarm clock. They each took them off, just before they left, and set them there. They aren’t sorry they left them, but William feels as if he’d better rush in and enjoy the weekend because it will be over before they get a good feeling for the world without time.
     Perhaps an hour and a quarter have passed. Molli sips her champagne.
     “It’s probably best we don’t know what time it is,” says Molli.
     “Absolutely. I’m glad. I don’t have to worry about it. I can relax.”
     “Yes.”
     Molli eats a strawberry and sips her champagne again.
     Jason and William have just gone downstairs to the basement. They’re playing Ping-Pong. They’ve finished their champagne and set the glasses on the floor beside the table. Jason says they’ll have to move on to Scotch once it gets to be about noontime.
     “Of course we don’t know when that will be.” Jason serves. “Four, two.” William returns. The ball clatters across the table. Jason hits it into the net.
     “We can start anytime we want then,” says William.
     “Four, three.”
     “I wouldn’t mind,” says William. “I could use a little something.” William laughs. The ball skips by him. “I’ve never been much good at this.” He retrieves the ball.
     “Nonsense. You’re doing fine. You’re doing as well as Molli, anyway. She gets too excited. We used to play all the time. Well, you’re about as good as she is. Five, three. Watch this one. It’s a tricky serve.”
     Jason’s serve jumps when it hits the table, and William swats at it and sends it into the sliding glass door. It bounces off the glass and toward Jason. “See?” says Jason. “Pretty tricky. Six, three.” Jason serves again.
     This time William returns the ball right at Jason, but he hits it long. It never touches the table and flies straight into Jason’s chest. The ball bounces off Jason and he catches it on the way down.
     “Your serve,” says Jason. He tosses the ball to William.
     “Three, seven,” sighs William. He serves slowly and carefully. He barely taps it over the net. Jason returns it toward William’s left, beyond his reach. William jumps for it, stumbles, and hits his head on the corner of the table. The ball ricochets off the wall and skitters across the floor. “Shit,” he says. “That hurts.”
     “Did you hit it? Oh, good. That’s a nice shot. Just a second.”
     Jason goes into the bathroom and returns with a damp cloth. He puts it on William’s forehead. “Hold it there,” he says.
     “It hurts like hell,” says William.
     “It isn’t much. You’ll be fine. You aren’t damaged. Not by much.”
     “Damn doctors,” says William. “Don’t you know pain? Jesus, it hurts.”
     Jason laughs. He’s a pediatrician. He goes to the bathroom and returns with a tissue and an adhesive bandage. He dries William’s forehead with the tissue and puts the bandage over the wound.
     “A little crying and you’ll be fine. Sorry, we don’t have any Flintstones bandages. There. Really, it isn’t much,” says Jason. “Trust me. Now let’s play.”

WHAT HAPPENED, HONEY?
     “He hit his head,” says Jason. “Or scratched it, actually.” He puts another log on the fire. Sparks fly up the chimney.
     “Hurts like hell,” says William.
     “Are you sure you’re okay?” says Sharon.
     “Doc says I’m fine, so sure, I guess. Say, Doc, what about that Scotch you were braggin’ about?”
     “Right here,” says Jason. He goes into the kitchen and pulls a bottle of Glenfiddich out of the cupboard. He takes two glasses down. “Girls?”
     “No thank you,” says Molli. “I’ve got the champagne here.”
     “No thank you,” says Sharon. Then to her husband, “Do you drink Scotch?”
     “Of course,” says William. “I’ve had it a few times. I’m here to have fun.”
     “That’s the spirit,” says Jason. He brings two glasses with Scotch in them to the table. He puts one in front of William. “Though I wouldn’t exactly call Scotch ‘fun.’” They both drink.
     “That’s fine,” says William. “That’s just fine.”
     “We should sit on the deck,” says Jason, motioning toward the glass doors. “This is pretty much deck-sitting Scotch.”
     “It’s beautiful out there,” says Sharon. “I didn’t realize how beautiful it was this close to the city.”
     “You don’t have to go far,” says Molli.
     “I wish we had a place like this,” says Sharon.
     Jason and William go out to the deck. They sit on two wooden chairs and set their drinks on the deck. The air is cool and smells like smoke and water. They reach down frequently to bring their glasses up to their lips and sip the Scotch.
     Jason says, “I should have brought the bottle out.” He sips the last of his Scotch. He waves his arm. “Now I’m realizing the error of my ways.” He turns his glass over in a flourish. A drop of Scotch falls onto the deck.
     “I’ll get it,” says William. “Do you want me to go in and get it?”
     “No. Wait a minute.” He raises his voice. “Moll. Hon? Will you bring the Scotch out here? The Scotch?”
     Molli gets up from the table. She goes to the kitchen. She picks up the bottle of Glenfiddich. She examines the label. She turns the boKle around and examines the back. She takes it out to the deck. The deck looks out on the lake. She looks at the lake and hands the bottle to her husband.
     “Thank you, hon,” says Jason.
     Still looking toward the lake, she stands beside him with her hands on her hips. A mallard lands. There are seven ducks right there, floating around on the water, on the sunlight reflected on the water. She looks at the sun.
     “Maybe lunch soon?” she says.
     “Wait a while,” says Jason. “There’s no hurry.”
     “No hurry,” says William.
     She goes back inside.
     “We should make lunch soon,” she says to Sharon.
     “I suppose,” says Sharon. “I’m not really hungry, though.”
     “The boys will be hungry before they know it. They’ll run in here looking for food.”
     “They can hunt it up, then,” says Sharon. “They can kill it and clean it and eat it. Right now I just want to sit here and finish this champagne. So that’s my project for this morning. Do you think it’s still morning? Never mind. I don’t care.”
     “I’d say it’s almost noon. Maybe a little past.”
     “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

JASON AND WILLIAM eventually come inside. “We’ve got an idea,” says Jason. “I say we skip lunch. We just wait until dinner. I’ve got this big package of venison. I found it in the freezer at home. Way back there under the corn we put away this year. My brother’s the hunter in the family. He brought the venison out to us this last season. I swear it’s got to be at least four pounds of venison. Anyway, we save ourselves for dinner. The venison’s in the fridge right now. So we have an early dinner. I’ll put it on the grill. Maybe in a few hours?”
     “I’ve been snacking,” says Sharon. “That sounds fine with me. I don’t think I could eat anything right now.”
     “I’ve never had venison,” says William. “I don’t think I’ve had it.”
     “You’ll love it, Bill,” says Molli. “It tastes like where it came from. It tastes like the trees and ferns and berries.”
     “Don’t get sentimental about it,” says Jason. “It tastes like venison.”
     “Okay,” says Sharon. “Let’s do that then.”
     “In a couple hours,” says Jason. “Right now I’ve got to have one of those Triscuits.” Jason takes a Triscuit. The cheese is gone now. He eats the Triscuit dry. Crumbs fall onto the table and onto the floor.
     “Anybody for cribbage?” says Jason.
     “I will,” says Sharon.
     “Bill, cribbage?”
     “No,” says William. “I don’t think so. I’m gonna lay down a second if you don’t mind. I’ll just go into our room. I feel a bit of a headache. I’d rather not have it get any bigger.”
     “That’s fine,” says Molli. “There’s some aspirin in the bathroom. Behind the mirror. Just pull and it opens up. We’ll wake you up if we start dinner.”
     William goes off toward the bathroom. He pulls at the mirror and it opens. On three shelves is a host of medications, most of it prescription. He opens a bottle of aspirin, then thinks again and looks around in the cabinet. There’s a prescription bottle of Tylenol with codeine, made out to Molli. He opens it and takes two tablets with water.
     The guest room is small. Just a bed and a table with a lamp on it. There’s a Bible next to the lamp on top of a Reader’s Digest. There are extra blankets piled on the foot of the bed. William lies down on his back without moving the spread and pulls a pillow out from under the covers. He stuffs the pillow under his head. The pain seems to be coming at him from a distance.

WILLIAM. WAKES WHEN HE HEARS someone in the bathroom, throwing up. It’s his wife. She’s been throwing up a lot. She wants it to end, and she’s the boss. He thinks for a second that he should get up and go see if she’s okay, but he doesn’t know yet if the headache is gone. It seems safer to take things slowly.
     The toilet flushes, and Sharon goes back out to the kitchen table, where Jason is waiting for her. She’s ahead two games to one. Molli sits next to and slightly behind her husband. She looks at the cards in his hand. Jason pulls two cards to throw into Sharon’s crib.
     “Are you sure?” says Molli.
     “Damn well sure this time,” says Jason. “I’ve had long enough to look at them.”
     “Okay,” says Molli. “If you say so.”
     “The last time. Jesus, she nearly went halfway round the board on the crib alone.”
     Jason puts a four of diamonds and a six of clubs into the crib.
     “That isn’t possible, is it?” says Molli.
     William comes out of the bedroom. He rubs his hair with his right hand. “Is everyone all right out here?” he says. His cheeks are red and there are sleep creases in his face.
     “Right as roses,” says Molli.
     “Right as molasses,” says Jason.
     Sharon puts two cards into the crib.
     “How long did I sleep?” says William.
     “Who knows?” says Jason. “Who damn knows?”
     William sits down at the table with them. Sharon and Jason play their hands. Sharon pegs five and William pegs three. There are four empty glasses at the table. Two of the glasses don’t have champagne in them, and two don’t have Scotch.
     “Did I miss anything?” says William.
     They count their cards.
     “Would you look at that?” says Jason. “Seventeen at home and sixteen in the crib. How the hell am I supposed to beat that? How the hell am I supposed to get one in the win column?”
     “You won a game,” says Sharon.
     “Barely won a game,” says Jason. “Big deal anyway. One lousy game. Look, you’re already way out there in front of me. You win. There’s no way this time around. I’ve got to get the coals going under that grill. We’ve got to eat some time. I’m going to starve here if I don’t get going on those coals.”
     “You beat him, eh?” says William. “Don’t you know you’re a guest here, Sharon? Don’t you know you’re supposed to let the host win?”
     “He had his chance,” says Sharon.
     “Chance,” says Jason. “Barely a chance. She had double digits in every crib. I swear it. She must have known what I was throwing away. That’s the only way I can figure it. If these weren’t my cards I’d say they were marked. I’m going to have a Scotch now. I’ve got to have a Scotch and then I’ll get the coals going. Anyone for Scotch? Bill? You bet. You’ll have some.”
     “I’m going to open wine,” says Molli.
     “Not for me,” says Sharon. “I’m done.”
     “No?” says Molli. “I need someone to share it with.”
     “No,” says Sharon. “I’m done.”
     “You knew my cards, didn’t you?” says Jason, pouring more Scotch for himself and William. “I bet my own damn kibitzing wife was sending up smoke signals so you knew what cards I was throwing in the crib. Yes?”
     Sharon smiles and Molli sighs. Molli gets up and goes into the kitchen. She gets out a corkscrew and a bottle of red wine. She opens the wine and gets two wineglasses down from the cupboard. She brings it all over to the table and pours the wine into the two glasses. She sets one in front of Sharon, and Sharon looks at it.
     “This bottle’s almost dead,” says Jason. “I hope I’ve got another around here somewhere.” He goes to the fire and pushes the logs around with a poker. The room is warm.
     “There’s plenty in storage,” says Molli. “Don’t worry about that.”
     “I’ll start the coals now,” says Jason. “I’ll get them going.” He sips his drink. He steps outside.
     “I can’t seem to wake up,” says William. “I don’t think this drink is going to help me wake up.”
     “At least we don’t have to do much about dinner,” says Molli. “That venison is a feast all by itself. We’ll just cook up some beans or something. And some bread.”
     “I hope I can eat it,” says Sharon.
     “I’m sorry about Jason,” says Molli. “He’s kind of a spoilsport when he loses.”
     “He’s fine,” says Sharon.
     “He’s good at winning,” says William. “I found that out.” He sips his Scotch. It tastes smoother than before. It tastes warm and smoky. He sips it again.
     “This is the perfect place,” says William. “Thank you for inviting us. My God. This is fantastic.”
     Jason walks inside.
     “What’s fantastic?” he says. He doesn’t wait for an answer. He goes to the refrigerator and says, “This venison is going to be fantastic. I hope you’re hungry. This may be almost five pounds. Did I say four pounds before? No. This is more like five. I’m going to cook the whole thing up. Maybe we’ll have some left over for breakfast in the morning. Maybe not. Anyway, the coals are going.”
     Jason picks up the bottle of Scotch and examines it. “Oh. Do we have more Scotch? I hope there’s more because this bottle is empty. I just had the last of it here.”
     “Look in the storage room,” says Molli. “There’s plenty back there.”
     “I see,” he says. “It’ll get it in a second. Just wait ’til you bite into these. I don’t want to build it up too much, but my God, they’re going to be beautiful.”

JASON BRINGS OUT ANOTHER BOTTLE. This is a decent Scotch, he says. “We’ll start another bottle of this.” He’s got the venison on the grill now. He goes out to check on it, then comes back inside. There are green beans and bread on the table. The venison is almost ready. Molli is halfway through her bottle of wine. Sharon’s glass is still full. She’s been to the bathroom again. When she comes out she says, “How do people do this?” but only William is listening, and he doesn’t have an answer. Jason is drinking two glasses of Glenfiddich to every one that William drinks.
     “I hope we haven’t had too much already to enjoy this venison,” says Jason. “I want to be able to taste it.”
     “I’m hungry, I guess,” says Sharon. “It’s hard to say.”
     “Me too,” says Molli. “And a little horny. I get a little horny when I’m drunk.” She laughs. Her face is red and she looks hot.
     “Shit, Moll,” says Jason.
     “Oops. Jason doesn’t like to talk about sex. Not in public.”
     “We aren’t public,” says Sharon. “We’re friends.”
     “That’s great,” says Jason.
     “Jason gets horny too. But he’s probably already past that by now. He’s too drunk now.”
     “Shut up, will you?” says Jason. He goes back outside to check on the venison. He stays out there for a while, and nobody talks.
     Then William says, “I get horny. It’s okay. You can say it. Shit. Sharon loves me when I’m drunk, don’t you, baby.”
     “I love him,” says Sharon, tapping the table with a cribbage piece. “I’ve always loved him.”
     Molli smiles and drinks some more wine.
     “I could sure use some of that venison,” says William.
     “He’s out there pouting now,” says Molli. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s the wine. I get too brave. I say things I shouldn’t.”
     “You’re testing your limits,” says Sharon. “Or that’s the crap our counselor would say.”
     “You don’t like him?” says Molli. “He doesn’t help you?”
     “He’s full of crap,” says Sharon. “We’re not children. He treats us like children.”
     “Yeah,” says William. “I hate that fucking guy.”
     “Hate what fucking guy?” says Jason. He comes inside with the venison on a plate. He puts one giant steak in front of each person at the table. The venison is dark and steaming. There are three venison steaks left on the plate and he sets it in the middle of the table. “Me?” he says. “Am I the fucking guy?”
     “No,” says Molli. “Bill was just talking about their counselor.”
     “Oh, him,” says Jason. “That guy.” He cuts into his venison. “Looks a little too done here in the middle.” He pokes his steak with his knife. He takes a bite of the cut steak and closes his eyes as if it helps him to taste the meat. He chews. He takes another bite and chews some more. He hasn’t swallowed yet. “Yeah ” he says “I hate that guy too.”
     “Wait a minute,” says William. “Weren’t you the one that told us he was good?”
     “I did. He is good. I went to school with him,” says Jason.
     “Tell me more,” says William. “I want to know why you hate him. I know why I hate him. Why do you hate him?”
     “Nothing, really. We were in undergrad school, you know. Pre-med. He didn’t do shit. Came natural to him. He never studied. Just did the stuff. Exams, papers, the works. Sometimes he’d have other people attend class for him, sit there with a tape recorder in the front row, then give him the tape afterward. I sat there for him a couple times. He’d pay me. Ten bucks, maybe twenty if I wasn’t in the class anyway. I learned some stuff sitting there in his classes. Anyway, I needed the money. I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t even listen to that tape. But he did fine. All the way around. Still. He’s an asshole. I don’t like him.”
     “Great,” says William.
     “He’s cheating on his wife,” says Jason. “Did I tell you that? That’s the gossip. I hate to hear that stuff but you can’t help it. You listen. Then you wish you didn’t know. Hell, I don’t want to know that much about anybody.” Jason pauses. He looks at his wife. “I think it’s a little too done, don’t you?”
     “Shit,” says William. “He’s fired for sure.”
     “It’s fine, honey. Look. They love it. Don’t you love it?”
     William cuts into his steak and forks more into his mouth. Sharon is cutting her steak but hasn’t taken a bite of it yet.
     “What a shit,” says Sharon. She puts her knife and fork down on the plate.
     “See?” says Molli. “They love it.”
     “Bill doesn’t love it,” says Jason. “He knows.”
     “No,” says William. “I mean, what do I know about venison?”
     “Shit,” says Jason. He drops his fork onto his plate and watches the steak as if it might get up and walk away.
     “Please, honey,” says Molli. “Just . . . .”
     Jason points his index finger at his wife. He glances up at her and, without a word, aims his finger at her chest. She turns a piece of skewered meat over on her plate. She watches her hand turning it. Jason gets up quickly from the table and leaves by the back door. He closes the door carefully behind him, as if trying not to make a sound.
     Molli lifts her fork and unhooks the meat from it with her teeth. She chews it. “It’ll be okay,” she says. “Don’t worry.” She looks at Sharon. They eat slowly. Sharon gets up to go to the bathroom, and on her way there she spits the meat out into her hand.

THE NEXT MORNING, William and Sharon lie in bed as the sun rises.
     “I only had to throw up once,” says William. “I don’t feel too bad now.”
     “I didn’t throw up at all,” says Sharon. “All night long. I must not have had anything left. That’s refreshing.”
     “It didn’t seem very good to me. Not the way they built it up anyway. Maybe I was too drunk to enjoy it. It was okay. Seemed kind of stringy.”
     “I think it’s supposed to,” says Sharon.
     The room is getting brighter as the morning proceeds. Sharon rolls toward William and hooks her leg over him.
     “It’s cold in here,” she says.
     “There’s extra blankets,” he says.
     He puts his hand on Sharon’s stomach.
     “Something’s different,” she says.
     He pulls his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he says.
     “No.” She takes his hand and puts it back on her stomach. “I think it’s okay.”
     William tries to decipher what she’s trying to tell him, but he is afraid of what exactly she means.
     Sharon says, “I mean, I was listening to Jason last night, when he finally came back inside. He was ranting. He somehow managed to blame Molli for the meat, saying she didn’t take it out in time, so it was still frozen in the middle, and he had to cook it longer. I think you had gone to bed by then. And somehow this turned into how she was cold and awful and spiteful. It was just utter ranting. And I started to feel sorry for Molli. But then I started thinking, thank God they don’t have kids.” Sharon pauses and William listens to her breathe. “After I went to bed I couldn’t sleep, imagining the two of them in their everyday lives. I didn’t know they were like this. I didn’t know it was that bad, did you? Well, so I thought a lot about children, of course, like I have been for the last month. And I thought, if people who are supposed to have kids don’t have them, then the only people left will be people like Jason and Molli.”
     They both listen to the breathing. William’s hand moves up and down with the breathing.
     “Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?” says Sharon.
     “A girl,” says William.
     “Don’t cry,” says Sharon. She brushes tears off his face with her thumb. “You’re such a crybaby. You’ve got to be the strong one for a while, okay?”
     William nods.
     “Do you smell smoke?” says Sharon.
     “They must be up,” says William. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.
     “I hope they aren’t burning the place down.”
     They hear voices. Some words. First Molli’s voice. “No.” Then Jason’s voice. “What?” Then Molli, then Jason again. “Are you . . . what?” A glass breaks. It sounds like a glass.
     “How’s your head?” says Sharon. “Is it okay?”
     “I’ll survive. We shouldn’t have finished that game though. I think that’s where I got the headache. He should have known that.”
     “Let’s get up,” says Sharon. She kisses him. They kiss long and deep. She grins.
     “You want to, um . . . ?” he says. He moves his hand down her stomach to her thigh.
     “Not now,” she says. “They’re awake. Can you imagine? I want to slink out of here as it is.”
     “I know.”
     She kisses him again. They lie back into the warm bed. William throws the covers off. They’re both naked in the bed. “That’ll do it,” he says.
     “Shit,” she says. “It’s freezing in here.” He watches her move as she jumps out of bed. Once she’s covered herself up with the clothes she wore the day before, he follows her lead.
     They go out to the front room; where Molli is sitting with her back to the fireplace. She’s holding a cup of coffee. She looks up at them. “Oh,” she says. “Good morning.”
     Jason is bent down in the kitchen sweeping into a dustpan with a straw-bristled broom. “Be careful in the kitchen this morning,” says Jason. “Molli broke a glass.”
     Molli sips her coffee. She’s looking out the front window. The sun seems to be stretching out across the water, then resting there. The air is bright and cold.
     “There isn’t any venison left for breakfast, I’m afraid,” says Jason. “In our enthusiasm last night we must have ate it all.”
     Molli laughs. “It’s out in back,” she says, motioning toward the rear of the cabin. “It’s on the deck.”
     “What?” says Jason.
     “You said it was tough. You said it was overdone. You were fuming about it. Am I supposed to control you?”
     “What are you talking about?” says Jason.
     “You can get it off the deck if you want,” says Molli. She nods her head sideways toward the sliding glass door. “He threw it out the door last night after you guys went to bed. There it is beside the chair. Not a very good toss, honey.”
     Jason stands in the kitchen holding the broom and dustpan and looks out the back window. The sunlight continues to brighten the lake’s surface.
     “That’s really something,” says Jason.
     William sits down at the table, and Sharon sits down next to Molli in front of the fire. She puts her arm around Molli.
     The dishes have been cleared from the table, but there are still three glasses and two bottles sitting there. Two wineglasses and a drink glass. One of the glasses is full of dark, red wine. William picks up the drink glass and looks at it. There is still a trace of Scotch in the bottom of the glass. He sets the glass back on the table. The room is warmer now. It smells like Scotch and smoke. The heat from the fire is starting to reach him. He looks up, and the sun blinds him momentarily. He squints. There is a breeze on the water, and the light on it ripples. He shudders.

THEY EAT EGGS AND BACON for breakfast. Molli cooks and won t take any of the help that’s offered to her. All the eggs are over easy, the toast golden and crusty. The coffee is weak but warms them. William drinks three cups of it. He eats two eggs and six strips of bacon. Sharon nibbles at the toast and drinks three glasses of water.
     “I think we’re going to head out early,” says William. “If you don’t mind, I think we want to get back.”
     “We understand,” says Molli.
     William drinks the rest of his coffee. He gets up and goes into the guest room. He picks up their bags. Sharon packed while Molli made breakfast, and William made the bed. Jason was outside the cabin somewhere, moving leaves from one place to another with a rake.
      The Bible is on top of the Reader’s Digest. The light is on. William turns it off. The room isn’t much darker with the light off. Bright sunlight comes into the room through the window. He takes their bags out and sets them in front of the door. Jason has come back inside. He’s been going outside and coming back inside all morning, but now he’s sitting at the table with a giant glass of ice water. He’s wearing a baseball cap high on his head, as if he’s just pushed the brim up to cool his forehead. The cap has a P stitched on the front, and Jason looks unused to wearing it. He drinks from the glass, then fusses with the cap, lifting it off his head and then setting it back down.
     “So soon you’re leaving?” says Molli.
     “In a few minutes,” says William. “I just wanted to get these out here now. Put them in my way so we don’t forget anything.”
     “If I find something that’s yours I’ll bring it back with us,” says Molli. She seems to choke on something. She clears her throat. “Excuse me,” she says. She gets up and goes into the master bedroom.
     “I’ll be back in a second,” says Sharon. She follows Molli and closes the door behind her.
     Jason watches the closed door. “Aw hell,” he says. “She’s going to bawl and they’re going to say what a lousy drunk I am.” He takes the hat off now and tosses it onto the table. He takes a big drink of water and sucks on an ice cube.
     “Well . . .” starts William.
     “They’re already agreeing on it.” He’s talking around the ice cube, now crunching it and punctuating his voice with the sound. “Better watch out. They’ll pile on. All men are shit. You know that, don’t you? I’m shit. You’re shit. We cheat on our wives and we lie about everything imaginable.”
     “I hope not,” says William.
     “I’ve been married a while now, Bill. Trust me. I know a lot of married men. They’re all shit.”
     “I wish you wouldn’t say that.”
     “Why? You don’t want it to happen to you?” He spits some of the ice back into his glass. “Big deal. Are you trying to tell me when you see a beautiful woman you don’t look? You don’t think, somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d like to take her clothes off? You don’t imagine what it must be like to feel the soft fleshy round of her ass? Are you going to sit there and tell me that when you get in an argument with your wife you don’t immediately try to make it her fault? Don’t tell me that, Bill. You’ve already got shit all over you.”
     William stands up slowly from the table. He goes to the door and gets his bags. He goes out to the car and puts the bags in the trunk, then climbs into the car and waits.

SHARON COMES OUT of the cabin wearing her coat. She’s carrying William’s coat and her purse and a bottle of Glenfiddich. She gets into the car.
     “This is from Jason,” she says. She closes the car door, and William winces at the sound of it.
     “I don’t want it.”
     “What happened?” she says.
     “I don’t know.”
     “I came out of the bedroom and he was sitting there alone. Then he goes and gets this bottle and says to give it to you. He says not to think about it, that he was wrong.”
     “That’s fine. He was wrong.”
     “So what happened? Can you tell me?”
     “Please don’t ask me.” He starts the car. He turns on the radio, then remembers that his stations don’t reach out here and turns it off again.
     “Okay,” says Sharon. “But I don’t understand.”
     “I don’t either.”
     “I thought we were happy,” says Sharon.
     They pull away from the cabin.
     “We are happy,” he says. “I’m happy. It’s something else.”
     They drive back through the woods and out to the main road. The evergreens are dotted with the oranges of October maples. The colors seem brighter now than when they arrived. They drive toward home. They think this is the way home. It looks like the road they took in. Sharon can’t find the directions. She thought she had them in her purse, but they aren’t there, and they aren’t in the glove compartment, and they even stop so Sharon can look in the trunk but find nothing.
     Sharon gets back into the car, and they drive off in the direction they think they came from. “I told Molli,” she says. “She needed something.”
     “Okay,” says William.
     “I don’t think it will jinx anything.” She smiles as if signaling for her husband to smile. He doesn’t.
     William takes a few more turns that look familiar. By now he’s blamed himself for being lost, then Molli and Jason, but finally he’s convinced it’s the maple trees. Now that they’ve begun to turn, they look different from day to day. How could he possibly be expected to recognize anything with the landmarks changing by the second? Eventually they have to stop at a gas station. Sharon has to go to the bathroom anyway. She runs in and back out again before they see an attendant. It’s an old station with cracked asphalt and cracked hoses leading to pumps that look like they don’t operate anymore. Sharon rolls down her window as the attendant walks out of the tiny white building. He appears from the building as if he’d been standing against the wall, but they just didn’t see him there. The word Gas has been painted in giant red letters on the blank white front of the building. Both the red and the white paint look new. William doesn’t remember having seen the station on their way to the cabin. The attendant leans toward them as if he knows all they want is directions. Sharon asks him which way toward town. He points in the direction they were already heading.
     “Just keep going that way,” he says. “There’ll be signs down the road. Just around that bend there and a few miles on. I don’t know the actual number of miles, but you can’t miss it once you see the signs. I don’t see them myself anymore, of course, living here so long. But I know they’re still there.” He shrugs. “You’ll be turning right.” He backs away from the car and waves.
     Sharon starts to roll up her window. The attendant steps forward again and puts his hand on the glass. “Don’t worry if it seems to take forever,” he says. “You’ll get there eventually.”
     Sharon rolls up her window the rest of the way. She smiles at the attendant. He waves again. She looks at her husband. His hair is mussed again, and now she reaches across and pushes a few strands behind his ear. His hair doesn’t change much once she’s done it, but she can see where her fingers have run through it. William scratches yesterday’s growth of beard on his chin. He looks straight ahead. “Should we get gas, you think? We have half a tank.”
     “No,” she says. “We’ll make it easy on that.”
     William checks behind them toward the road. He turns and checks the gas station. The attendant has disappeared inside the building. Sharon pulls her feet up toward and under her thighs, crossing her legs. William pulls into the road. They watch for signs.

TERRY BAIN lives in Spokane, Washington, with his wife and son. His story “Games,” which made its debut in our Summer 1993 issue, was selected for Prize Stories 1994: The O’Henry Awards. He is currently hard at work on a novel. Here is what he had to say about the process of composing “Pediatrics”:

“‘Pediatrics’ actually began with another story, with Sharon and William leaving their son at a sitter’s house for the weekend. This first story revolved around the son and the babysitter and the babysitter’s brother and had nothing, really, to do with Sharon and William, and even less to do with Molli and Jason. But I kept thinking about the parents and what they were doing up at the cabin—who were they with, what would they eat, where would they sleep? I kept wanting to write the other story instead of the story I was writing, so eventually I gave in and just did so.
     The first few drafts came rather quickly. Then the third, fourth, etc., came at very nearly a halt—I was moving commas around, dropping modifiers, adding new modifiers. I was doing nothing to improve the story. I finally realized that if I was going to finish ‘Pediatrics,’ I was going to have to separate it from its relationship with the original story. The two weren’t fitting together well anymore, and I was making concessions in both in an effort to manage the dual plot lines. So I made the son much younger, hid him, and forced myself to forget everything I knew about the characters, going back through the story and very nearly redrafting it from the beginning. And I was finally able to finish ‘Pediatrics’ in the form you see here. As it happens, the original story languishes in a file folder. So it goes.”

“Pediatrics” appears in our Autumn 2000 issue.

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