“Not now,” Harris said, having collected himself, his eyes still red.
“When will you leave?” Dr. Grind asked.
“I’ve rented a house in Murfreesboro, near my work. Marnie and I will move in five days. Then Ellen will be released a few days after that. I’ve already enrolled Marnie at an elementary school. My insurance from work will cover Ellen’s continuing treatment. We’ll be fine, I promise.”
“When do you want to tell the other members?” Dr. Grind asked.
“I was hoping you would tell them,” Harris offered, as if he was giving Dr. Grind a thoughtful gift. “After we leave.”
Dr. Grind could not even manage to stand; he merely shook Harris’s hand and watched as the man walked out of his office. Jill walked by his door a few minutes later, holding up her hands as if to ask what the outcome was, but Dr. Grind shook his head and Jill understood that now was not the time to discuss it. Dr. Grind removed a piece of paper from his desk, a crude family tree that contained all the members of the Infinite Family. On the sheet, where Jeremy and Callie and Eli had been penciled in, Dr. Grind had cut out their names with an X-Acto knife, leaving a hole in the paper. He now took out the knife and carefully, with great precision, cut out the names of Ellen, Harris, and Marnie. He took the square that he had cut out and placed it in the drawer of his desk, next to the Gipson family’s square. He laid the sheet flat on his desk and traced his fingers along the lines that connected the remaining families. He felt the odd sensation of his fingertips touching the slick surface of his desk through the holes he had cut from the paper. He returned his gaze to the box that held Izzy’s name, circling it with his finger, over and over, as if hoping he could make a halo of light appear around her, illuminating the room.
After she had kissed him, Dr. Grind had expected Izzy to retreat from his presence; she was so stoic, so careful with her own emotions, that he imagined she realized her actions were an accident brought on by a traumatic event and that she would spare him the humiliation of informing him that she had made a mistake. Instead, Izzy had become more confident in the wake of their kiss. She stared at him with open curiosity, which left him more flustered and unable to concentrate than even the impending loss of the project’s subjects. She did not shy away from his presence, but she also did not mention the kiss or try to explain herself. Izzy merely proceeded with the day-to-day routine, continuing to make the meals, to help with the children, to swim her endless laps in the pool. And Dr. Grind found, with a secret satisfaction that he kept compartmentalized and hidden, that when he saw her for the first time each day he was incredibly gratified, was relieved that she, too, had not left.
Two days after Harris, Ellen, and Marnie left the complex for good, Dr. Grind received a phone call from Patricia Acklen. He had kept the details of the Infinite Family’s disruptions from Patricia, had not mentioned that they were now missing six members of the project, a fairly substantial loss that had definite repercussions with regard to their studies. He was afraid that any signs of dysfunction would jeopardize the remaining members of the family. And, if Dr. Grind was being entirely truthful with himself, he had a small hope that he could somehow convince those departed families to return before Brenda and Patricia Acklen realized they were gone. He imagined that they would see what life was like outside the complex and they would come back to the fold and they could proceed as if nothing had happened. Now, however, with Patricia Acklen on the phone, her voice slightly stiff and formal in a way that denoted no sign of her southern manners, Dr. Grind realized how stupid he had been, how irresponsible he had become with his own work.
“Dr. Grind,” Patricia continued, their formal pleasantries dispensed with, “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
He almost cut off Patricia in order to apologize for not telling her about the defections, but he remained silent, realizing that there was no point in delaying the inevitable.
“I’m outside the complex,” she continued.
“Excuse me?” he replied, the fingers on his right hand quivering suddenly, as if awakened by electricity.
“That’s not the bad news, actually,” Patricia said. “I just wanted to let you know that I came here to deliver the bad news.”
“Where are you now?” he asked, still not sure of what was going on.