"Mary Soon Lee - The day before they came" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lee Mary Soon)

THE DAY BEFORE THEY CAME

Mary Soon Lee



The morning before the aliens came, Molly Harris busied herself preparing her son's lunch-box. Since it was a Friday, Justin would be going to school in person for his social skills classes. Molly put a generous handful of cherries into the lunch-box. Even the vat-grown cher-ries cost more than she could really afford, but she wanted Justin to have a treat to swap with the other second-graders.

Most of the younger mothers Molly knew worried when their kids went to school, checking the germ count hourly, scared their children might come home with a bruise, or a scrape, or a runny nose. But Molly had been 53 when Justin was born, and she remembered when classroom violence meant knives and guns, the way her heart had thudded during the weekly bomb drill.

So instead of worrying about Justin on Fridays, Molly worried about him on Monday through Thurs-day. She would peek into his bedroom as she moved around the apartment. No matter how absorbed Justin looked, the tip of his tongue sticking out as the computer led him through a problem, Molly couldn't convince herself that it was right for a child to spend hours on end netted-in.

A terrible din erupted from Justin's bedroom: screeches and bleats, neighs and howls and squawks-Molly slapped her hands over her ears. She had bought Justin the Noah's Ark alarm clock for his sixth birthday, a year ago.

The din subsided for a moment, but Molly wasn't fooled. She kept her hands pressed to her ears as the

THE DAY BEFORE THEY CAME 77

alarm clock exploded into the deep bass trumpet of the elephants. In the silence that followed, Molly wiped her hands on her apron, then reached for the peanut butter jar.

Sounds of hasty splashing came from the bathroom, followed by bare feet running toward her. Two thin brown arms, somehow sticky despite the bathroom expedition, wrapped themselves around Molly's waist.

"Good morning, Justin." She stared down at the top of her son's head, pressed tight against her stomach, his fine black hair tousled.

"It's my birthday tomorrow."

"Really? I don't believe you."

Justin let go of her, and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Yes, you do. You do, you do."

"I do," said Molly, wishing he had hugged her a little longer. "Tomorrow's your birthday and we're going to the water park. But today you have to go to school."

"Uh huh." Justin poured the milk onto his cereal, holding the milk carton with both hands, and managing not to spill any.

Breakfast took less than five minutes, and then Justin clattered down the staircase ahead of her, down the four flights to the porch to wait for the school bus.

The bus came early. One quick hug, and Justin scrambled on board.

The afternoon before the aliens came, Molly went birthday shopping. The city tax paid for glass roofs over the downtown streets. Molly told herself she approved of such a sensible precaution against the ultraviolet, but the enclosed air seemed stale despite the constant whir of fens, and the filtered sunlight seemed somehow flatter.

78

MARY SOON LEE

Molly spent half an hour choosing new swimming trunks for Justin. She couldn't decide between a pair covered with dapper penguins and another pair with plain blue and yellow stripes. Six months ago she would have bought the penguins without hesitation, but perhaps Justin would think them too childish now.

She tried to remember what his best friend, Adam, had worn the last time she took the two of them to the water park. Something simple she thought. She paid for the blue and yellow striped trunks, secretly yearning for the penguins.

Outside again, the air temperature fixed at the calculated summer optimum, warm but not hot. Perversely Molly wished the system would break down, even for an hour or two, just long enough for a mini heat wave. She paused for a minute, remembering playing on the beach one summer holiday. The sun had burnt the back of Molly's neck, too hot, too bright. Her face had stung from blowing sand. And yet everything sparkled, the very air buoyant, as if she breathed in tablespoons of undiluted joy.