The Corrections

he’d broken the sibling code of honor.But he was glad he’d broken it. He was glad Denise was taking heat again from Enid. He felt surrounded, imprisoned, by disapproving women.
    There was, of course, one obvious way of breaking free: he could say yes instead of no to one of the dozen secretaries and female pedestrians and sales clerks who in any given week took note of his height and his schist-gray hair, his calfskin jacket and his French mountaineering pants, and looked him in the eye as if to say The key’s under the doormat . But there was still no pussy on earth he’d rather lick, no hair he’d rather gather in his fist like a golden silk bellpull, no gaze with which he’d rather lock his own at climax, than Caroline’s. The only guaranteed result of having an affair would be to add yet another disapproving woman to his life.
    In the lobby of the CenTrust Tower, on Market Street, he joined a crowd of human beings by the elevators. Clerical staff and software specialists, auditors and keypunch engineers, returning from late lunches.
    “The lion he ascendant now,” said the woman standing closest to Gary. “Very good time to shop now. The lion he often preside over bargains in the store.”
    “Where is our Savior in this?” asked the woman to whom the woman had spoken.
    “This also a good time to remember the Savior,” the first woman answered calmly. “Time of the lion very good time for that.”
    “Lutetium supplements combined with megadoses of partially hydrogenated Vitamin E!” a third person said.
    “He’s programmed his clock radio,” a fourth person said, “which it says something about something I don’t know that you can even do this, but he’s programmed it to wake him up to WMIA at eleven past the hour every hour. Whole night through.”
    Finally an elevator came. As the mass of humanity movedonto it, Gary considered waiting for a less populated car, a ride less pullulating with mediocrity and body smells. But coming in from Market Street now was a young female estate planner who in recent months had been giving him talk-to-me smiles, touch-me smiles. To avoid contact with her, he darted through the elevator’s closing doors. But the doors bumped his trailing foot and reopened. The young estate planner crowded on next to him.
    “The prophet Jeremiah, girl, he speak of the lion. It tell about it in the pamphlet here.”
    “Like it’s 3:11 in the morning and the Clippers lead the Grizzlies 146–145 with twelve seconds left in triple overtime.”
    Absolutely no reverb on a full elevator. Every sound was deadened by clothes and flesh and hairdos. The air pre-breathed. The crypt overwarm.
    “This pamphlet is the Devil’s work.”
    “Read it over coffeebreak, girl. What the harm in that?”
    “Both last-place teams looking to improve their odds in the college draft lottery by losing this otherwise meaningless late-season game.”
    “Lutetium is a rare-earth element, very rare and from the earth, and it’s pure because it’s elemental!”
    “Like and if he set the clock for 4:11 he could hear all the late scores and only have to wake up once. But there’s Davis Cup action in Sydney and it’s updated hourly. Can’t miss that.”
    The young estate planner was short and had a pretty face and hennaed hair. She smiled up at Gary as if inviting him to speak. She looked midwestern and happy to be standing next to him.
    Gary fixed his gaze on nothing and attempted not to breathe. He was chronically bothered by the Τ erupting in the middle of the word CenTrust He wanted to push the Τ down hard, like a nipple, but when he pushed it downhe got no satisfaction. He got cent-rust: a corroded penny.
    “Girl, this ain’t replacement faith. This supplemental . Isaiah mention that lion, too. Call it the lion of Judah.”
    “A pro-am thing in Malaysia with an early leader in the clubhouse, but that could change between 2:11 and 3:11. Can’t miss that .”
    “My faith don’t need no replacing.”
    “Sheri, girl, you got a wax deposit in your ear? Listen what I saying. This. Ain’t. No. Replacement. Faith. This supplemental .”
    “It guarantees silky vibrant skin plus an eighteen percent reduction in panic attacks!”
    “Like I’m wondering how Samantha feels about the alarm clock going off next to her pillow eight times a night every night.”
    “All I saying is now’s the time to shop is all I saying.”
    It occurred to Gary, as the young estate planner leaned into him to