Brazen Virtue

“You read my mind. If I had an hour of uninterrupted silence, I might figure out how to squeeze out the money for those new tires.”
    “Say no more.” He leaned over and kissed her. From his position on the floor, Jonas rolled his eyes. His parents were always kissing each other. “Do yourself a favor and take those contacts out. You’ve had them in too long again.”
    “You’re probably right. Thanks, Harry, you may be saving my sanity.”
    “I like you crazy.” He kissed her again, then held up his hands. “Anyone in the mood for a drive and hot fudge sundaes meet in the garage in two minutes.”
    The scrambling started instantly. Game pieces scattered, shoes were hunted up. Binky went off on a tangent of barking until the kitten chased him out of the room. Mary Beth unearthed Pat’s little pink sweater with the rhinestones and reminded Jonas to comb his hair. He didn’t, but it was the thought that counted.
    Inside of ten minutes, the house was empty. Hugging the silence to her for a moment, Mary Beth sat at the desk again. There would be a family cleanup the next day, but right now she wasn’t even going to look at the mess the kids had left behind.
    She had everything she wanted: a loving husband, kids that made her laugh, a house filled with character, and, hopefully, a Chevy that didn’t misfire. Bending back over her account book, she began to work.

    Half an hour later, she remembered Harry’s advice about her contacts. They had been her one true personal indulgence. She hated glasses, had hated them since she’d put on her first pair at the age of eight. She’d been wearing Coke-bottle lenses by high school and had embarrassed herself time after time by walking blindly down the halls because she refused to put her glasses on. Always one to know what she wanted and how to get it, she’d taken a summer job in her junior year and spent every dime on contact lenses. Since that moment, she’d gotten into the habit of popping them in almost from her first waking moment and leaving them in place until she climbed into bed.
    Because reading or bookwork made her eyes ache after a few hours, she often took them out, then with her nose against the page finished the job. With a little grumble of complaint, she got up and went upstairs to take them out for the night.
    As in all things, Mary Beth was conscientious. She cleaned her lenses, put them in new solution, and left them to soak. Because Pat liked to poke in the vanity drawers for lipstick, Mary Beth put the case on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet. Leaning close to the bathroom mirror, she considered touching up her makeup. She and Harry hadn’t managed to find time to make love in days. But tonight, if they could tuck all the kids into bed …
    With a smile, Mary Beth reached for her lipstick. When the dog began to bark, she ignored him. If he had to go out, he’d just have to hold his bladder a minute.

    Jerald pushed open the door that led from the garage to the kitchen. He hadn’t felt this good in days. It was this edgy, one-foot-over-the-cliff feeling that really made life worthwhile. He should have realized it before. It was like being a demigod, one of the Greek myths with an immortal father and mortal mother. Heroic, ruthless, and blessed. That’s really what he was. His father was so powerful, so all-seeing, so untouchable. His mother was beautiful … and flawed. That’s why, as their son, he could feel such power and know such fear. The combination was incredible. And because of all that he could feel such pity and such disdain for ordinary mortals. They walked blindly through life, never realizing how closely they marched with death, or how easily he could quicken death’s pace.
    He was becoming more like his father every day, Jerald thought. More all-seeing, more all-knowing. Soon he wouldn’t need the computer to show him the way. He would simply know.
    Wetting his lips, he peered through the crack of the door. He hadn’t counted on a dog. He could see it, backed into a corner of the kitchen and snarling. He’d have to kill it of course. His teeth gleamed in the darkness a minute as he considered it. He thought it was a pity he wouldn’t be able to take his time about it, to experiment. He opened the door a bit wider and started to step out when he heard her.
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Binky, that’s enough. You’ll have Mr. Carlyse complaining again.” Moving by memory more than sight, Mary Beth walked