“We’ve started saving up for a house to build on our farmland,” Callie said. “When the project ends, Jeremy wants to have the families stay together, to live together, and share the responsibilities. He’s got it all worked out in his head. You’d be welcome to join us, if you wanted. It’d be good for you and Cap. Jeremy thinks the world of you, Izzy. You wouldn’t be left alone when all of this is over.”
This was the most talking that Izzy had ever heard from Callie, perhaps more than during the entirety of their time in the complex up to this point. And now Izzy, herself unaccustomed to revealing much of herself to another person, found it difficult to respond. There was something cultlike in what Callie was proposing, the way she seemed to be an agent for Jeremy’s own desires to take control of the Infinite Family, but Izzy also thought she was perhaps being paranoid. To an outsider, the project itself seemed like a weird commune, so who was she to question what Jeremy and Callie might be planning for the next stage in their lives? But Izzy knew she wanted nothing to do with it. And yet there was Callie, still standing there, the only other woman who was nearly as tall as Izzy, waiting for a reply.
“I’ll think about it,” Izzy said, which was as close to the truth as she could muster up, knowing she’d be thinking about Callie and Jeremy and Ellen and Harris and Eli and Marnie and, goddamn, the entire family for quite some time to come.
Callie turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Izzy alone, now realizing that she needed to get lunch ready for the kids. She considered the green beans and garlic in front of her and then pushed them aside, feeling embarrassed that the food from Jeremy and Callie’s farm would now seem slightly tainted, ominous. Still jittery from the morning, wanting only to return to her own house with Cap in tow, Izzy instead turned to food, one of the few things in her life that made everything tolerable, or at least easier to ignore.
By the time the children came into the dining hall, Izzy had taken the lunches to the table and found Dr. Grind and Dr. Patterson already there, interacting with the kids, listening to them explain another science project they had performed as to whether boys or girls were more ticklish on their feet, recording the results in their science journals. Izzy sat down next to Maxwell, as Cap was already next to Dr. Grind and Jackie, and listened to the conversation.
“Boys are less ticklish on their feet,” Cap pronounced. He held up his science journal and showed a page that had pictures of stick-figure boys and girls, as well as a fairly good drawing of a foot. Then there were numbers and check marks in various boxes, as well as a graph that didn’t seem to correspond to any of the figures. Dr. Grind accepted the journal and looked over the data very carefully.
“Interesting work,” he proclaimed to the kids. “We’ll need more data, of course, but this is a great start.”
“Can we tickle your feet?” Jackie asked, and the other kids shouted with joy.
“For science,” Eli shouted, and the other kids joined in.
“SCIENCE, SCIENCE, SCIENCE,” they all chanted, Dr. Patterson now joining in, patting Dr. Grind on the back. Izzy watched as Dr. Grind’s face quickly reddened and he looked around the table for help, finding none.
“Well,” he said, fumbling for something to say. “Perhaps not while we eat.”
The kids groaned. Izzy kept staring at Dr. Grind. Right now, she kept thinking. I will tell him right now, but then the moment passed, a new moment already occurring, and Izzy would again muster up the courage to tell him only to have it deflate.
The buzzing in her ears was so loud that Izzy wondered if the children could hear it. To remove herself from her own anxiety, Izzy spoke up. “You can tickle my feet after lunch,” she said, and the kids cheered.
Jill then said, “Me, too!”
Dr. Grind finally put down his fork and shook his head. “And mine as well,” he allowed.
He looked over at Izzy and smiled. “For science,” Izzy said, shrugging.
After lunch, the three adults slipped off their shoes and socks and the kids chose Ally to do the tickling. Cap kept the records of the experiment in his journal. It turned out that Jill was quite ticklish, almost immediately pulling her foot away from Ally, giggling loudly. Dr. Grind, of course, wasn’t ticklish at all, allowing Ally to run her fingers up and down the sole of his foot without even the slightest change in his demeanor. When it came to Izzy, she relaxed her body and the children craned their necks and bunched together to watch Ally slowly tickle Izzy’s foot. The sensation ran up her leg and she began to smile, her leg slightly shaking, and she started to laugh. The children hooted and hollered, and Cap furiously scribbled in his journal. “Girls are more ticklish,” he said to the adults, who nodded, unable to refute the evidence.