Perfect Little World(101)
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.
“I’m in a car just outside the complex. Come meet me.”
Preston’s first instinct was to hide under his desk and hope that Patricia gave up and went back to Knoxville. But he knew, even from his limited exposure to Patricia Acklen, that she would never fucking leave until she got what she wanted. So he walked down the stairs and exited the building to find a BMW idling in front of the complex. As soon as he stepped outside, the driver got out of the car and opened the door for Patricia Acklen. She waved to him, the kind of limp wave that looked a lot like shooing something away. Preston, still shocked, could not even raise his hand to acknowledge her.
“My grandmother has died,” Patricia said once they had seated themselves back in his office, not a single pleasantry to blunt the impact of this statement. “She died two days ago, bless her, but we haven’t released any details to the media as of yet. It’s all being kept very quiet to respect my grandmother’s privacy. But we will be releasing the news tomorrow at three P.M. I’ve spent the last day and a half talking to people who worked with my grandmother, to let them know about this in advance.”
“I’m so sorry, Patricia,” Dr. Grind finally managed. “Brenda was an exceptional person. I’m honored that I got to know her.”
“She felt the same way about you, Dr. Grind, I can assure you,” Patricia said, some warmth now returning to her voice, the bad news delivered.
“I know what my grandmother said to you, regarding the project, as I was there that day and I have talked to her many times in the past year about the project, but I do believe there are ways that we can improve upon the initial work.”
“Whenever you’d like,” Preston replied. “Please know that we appreciate everything that Mrs. Acklen did for us here and how much we appreciate your support.”
Patricia looked at him for a brief moment, a strange smile on her face, as if she were listening to a song that he could not hear.
“You don’t know, do you?” Patricia finally asked him.
“Know what?” he asked.
“Dr. Grind,” she continued, “I have read about your upbringing, about your special capabilities when it comes to emotion and stress. And I honestly cannot read you. I admire that in you.”
“What do you mean?” Preston asked.
“I imagined that Jill might have said something,” she remarked, more to herself than to Preston.
“Dr. Grind,” Patricia continued, her voice lowering in volume, deliberate pauses between her sentences, “I know about the Gipson family and the Tilton family. I know they are no longer with you. And I’m a little sad that you did not deem that important enough to share with me.”
“I’m so sorry, Patricia,” Dr. Grind responded, not a sign in his voice that his body felt like it was falling off a cliff. “I’ve been trying, in my own way, to manage the fluctuations in our dynamic and I’ve not had time to focus on keeping you and your grandmother up-to-date.”