The Corrections

she’d looked more emphatically unlike the person he’d always imagined that she would grow up to be.
    When he kissed her, he smelled cigarettes.
    “You’ve become a smoker,” he said, making room in the trunk for her suitcase and shopping bag.
    Denise smiled. “Unlock the door, I’m freezing.”
    Gary flipped open his sunglasses. Driving south into glare, he was nearly sideswiped while merging. Road aggression was encroaching in St. Jude; traffic no longer moved so sluggishly that an eastern driver could pleasurably slalom through it.
    “I bet Mom’s happy Jonah’s here,” Denise said.
    “As a matter of fact, Jonah is not here.”
    Her head turned sharply. “You didn’t bring him?”
    “He got sick.”
    “I can’t believe it. You didn’t bring him!”
    She seemed not to have considered, even for a moment, that he might be telling the truth.
    “There are five people in my house,” Gary said. “As far as I know, there’s only one in yours. Things are more complicated when you have multiple responsibilities.”
    “I’m just sorry you had to get Mom’s hopes up.”
    “It’s not my fault if she chooses to live in the future.”
    “You’re right,” Denise said. “It’s not your fault. I just wish it hadn’t happened.”
    “Speaking of Mom,” Gary said, “I want to tell you a very weird thing. But you have to promise not to tell her.”
    “What weird thing?”
    “Promise you won’t tell her.”
    Denise so promised, and Gary unzipped the inner pocket of his jacket and showed her the package that Bea Meisner had given him the day before. The moment had been fully bizarre: Chuck Meisner’s Jaguar in the street, idling amid cetacean puffs of winter exhaust, Bea Meisner standing on the Welcome mat in her embroidered green loden coat while she dug from her purse a seedy and much-handled little packet, Gary setting down the wrapped bottle of champagne and taking delivery of the contraband. “This is for your mother,” Bea had said. “But you must tell her that Klaus says to be very careful with this. He didn’t want to give it to me at all. He says it can be very, very addictive,which is why I only got a little bit. She wanted six months, but Klaus would only give me one. So you tell her to be sure and talk to her doctor. Maybe, Gary, you should even hold on to it until she does that. Anyway, have a wonderful Christmas”—here the Jaguar’s horn beeped—“and give our best love to everyone.”
    Gary recounted this to Denise while she opened the packet. Bea had folded up a page torn from a German magazine and taped it shut. On one side of the page was a bespectacled German cow promoting ultrapasteurized milk. Inside were thirty golden pills.
    “My God.” Denise laughed. “Mexican A.”
    “Never heard of it,” Gary said.
    “Club drug. Very young-person.”
    “And Bea Meisner is delivering it to Mom at our front door.”
    “Does Mom know you took it?”
    “Not yet. I don’t even know what this stuff does.”
    Denise reached over with her smoky fingers and put a pill near his mouth. “Try one.”
    Gary jerked his head away. His sister seemed to be on some drug herself, something stronger than nicotine. She was greatly happy or greatly unhappy or a dangerous combination of the two. She was wearing silver rings on three fingers and a thumb.
    “Is this a drug you’ve tried?” he said.
    “No, I stick with alcohol.”
    She folded up the packet and Gary took control of it again. “I want to make sure you’re with me on this,” he said. “Do you agree that Mom should not be receiving illegal addictive substances from Bea Meisner?”
    “No,” Denise said. “I don’t agree. She’s an adult and she can do what she wants. And I don’t think it’s fair to take her pills without telling her. If you don’t tell her, I will.”
    “Excuse me, I believe you promised not to,” Gary said.
    Denise considered this. Salt-splashed embankments were flying past.
    “OK, maybe I promised,” she said. “But why are you trying to run her life?”
    “I think you’ll see,” he said, “that the situation is out of hand. I think you’ll see that it’s about time somebody stepped in and ran her life.”
    Denise didn’t argue with him. She put on shades and looked at the towers of Hospital City on the brutal south horizon. Gary had hoped to find her more cooperative. He already had one “alternative” sibling and he didn’t need another. It frustrated him that people could so