The Mask

children. During the summer I manage to keep a little vegetable garden going, and I do some needlepoint in the winter months, and I even brush my teeth three times a day, every day, without fail.”
    O’Brian laughed. “Three times a day, huh? Oh, you’re most definitely an overachiever.”
    The warmth of his laughter reassured Carol, and with renewed confidence she said, “I believe I understand what you’re concerned about. You’re wondering if Paul and I might expect too much of our child.”
    “Exactly,” O’Brian said. He noticed a speck of lint on his coat sleeve and plucked it off. “Parents who are overachievers tend to push their kids too hard, too fast, too soon.”
    Paul said, “That’s a problem that arises only when parents are unaware of the danger. Even if Carol and I are overachievers—which I’m not prepared to admit just yet—we wouldn’t pressure our kids to do more than they were capable of doing. Each of us has to find his own pace in life. Carol and I realize that a child should be guided, not hammered into a mold.”
    “Of course,” Carol said.
    O’Brian appeared to be pleased. “I knew you’d say that—or something very like it.”
    Lightning flashed again. This time it seemed to strike even closer than before, only a block away. Thunder cracked, then cracked again. The overhead lights dimmed, fluttered, reluctantly came back to full power.
    “In my psychiatric practice, I deal with a wide variety of patients who have all kinds of problems,” Carol told O’Brian, “but I specialize in the mental disorders and emotional disturbances of children and adolescents. Sixty or seventy percent of my patients are seventeen or younger. I’ve treated several kids who’ve suffered serious psychological damage at the hands of parents who were too demanding, who pushed them too hard in their schoolwork, in every aspect of their intellectual and personal development. I’ve seen the wounded ones, Mr. O’Brian, and I’ve nursed them as best I could, and because of those experiences, I couldn’t possibly turn around and do to my children what I’ve seen some parents do to theirs. Not that I won’t make mistakes. I’m sure I will. My full share of them. But the one that you mentioned won’t be among them.”
    “That’s valid,” O’Brian said, nodding. “Valid and very well put. I’m sure that when I tell the recommendations committee what you’ve just said, they’ll be quite satisfied on this point.” He spotted another tiny speck on his sleeve and removed it, frowning as if it were not merely lint, but offal. “Another question they’re bound to ask: Suppose the child you adopt turns out to be not only an underachiever but… well… basically less intelligent than either of you. For parents as oriented toward an intellectual life as you are, wouldn’t you be somewhat frustrated with a child of just average—or possibly slightly below average—intelligence?”
    “Well, even if we were capable of having a child of our own,” Paul said, “there wouldn’t be any guarantee that he’d be a prodigy or anything of that sort. But if he was… slow… we’d still love him. Of course we would. And the same goes for any child we might adopt.”
    To O’Brian, Carol said, “I think you’ve got too high an opinion of us. Neither of us is a genius, for heaven’s sake! We’ve gotten as far as we have primarily through hard work and perseverance, not because we were exceptionally bright. I wish it had come that easy, but it didn’t.”
    “Besides,” Paul said, “you don’t love a person merely because he’s intelligent. It’s his entire personality that counts, the whole package, and a lot of factors contribute to that package, a great many things other than just intellect.”
    “Good,” O’Brian said. “I’m glad to hear you feel that way. The committee will respond well to that answer, too.”
    For the past few seconds, Carol had been aware of the distant wail of sirens. Fire engines. Now they were not as distant as they had been; they were rapidly growing nearer, louder.
    “I think maybe one of those last two bolts of lightning caused some real damage when it touched down,” Paul said.
    O’Brian swung his chair around toward the center window, which was directly behind his desk. “It did sound as if it struck nearby.”
    Carol looked at each of the three windows, but she couldn’t see any smoke rising from behind the nearest rooftops. Then again, the view was blurred and visibility was reduced by the water-spotted panes of glass and by the