Read Asimov's Science Fiction: March 2014 for Free Online

were he would lose his job. And lose his place in the whole prosthetics and artificial limb industry. He'd be lucky to find something sweeping labs. "Yes," he said. "I stole it."
    "You're sweet," she said. "I wish I could understand what it was all about."
    Den swallowed. He could see that her pupils were dilated, but that was probably just from the low light. Although if the drug was in her system there might still be some physiological symptoms.
    "Guilt?" he said.
    Jenni pursed her lips and nodded.
    "Your mother," he said. "Your... life. I had it so lucky." He stood. "I guess I really should apologize."
    "You should. You've barged in here and changed everything, simply from some misplaced sense of guilt. I was doing okay. You think I don't suffer from guilt too? How could it be that she died and I didn't? I wished I could have saved her. How stupid is that?" Jenni stood now, holding the deck. "I was a kid, a little kid. And I've spent my whole life wishing that I could have been the one who went under the car."
    "No, Jenni." Den shook his head. He stood himself and stepped away.
    "Exactly." She jabbed the center of his chest with her finger. "The kids don't die first. The parents have to die first. That's how the rules work. Not always, but you don't want to be a parent who's lost a child. Never. And yet that's what I've been stuck with. Something that eight-year-old thought thirty-something years ago. And it just keeps going around and around in her head until it's worn a groove that's so deep she can't even see out of it anymore."
    "I'm—"
    She jabbed him again. "Now you've taken away the only thing I had. I can't even make the thoughts go away anymore."
    "It was killing you."
    "So what?"
    "I—"
    "You think I'm blind to that?" she said. "I'm not an idiot. I'm just a mess. And you know what? You are too. In a different way. In a nasty, creepy, smarmy way. You come across all nice and pretty and helpful and loving and you just wreck things."
    "Jenni. I'm sorry."
    "Will you stop it? I don't need you to keep apologizing. I just need you to leave." Her shoulders slumped and she exhaled. She stepped around him and went into the bathroom.
    Den heard her throwing up in the bowl. He wanted to go and help, but he felt seared after her attack. As if her words had been flames cooking off his skin.
    He went to the front door and opened it. Melissa was sitting in the front with the passenger door open, her feet out on the strip of dead grass by the curb.
    "How you two doing?" she called over.
    Den shook his head, but didn't say anything. He should probably leave. It felt good to have Melissa to go to. Even if it did all come out at the lab, they had—twee as it sounded—each other.
    "You going to see your dad?" Melissa said. She pulled forward into the sun and stood, leaning one arm across the car's roof.
    "Maybe," he said. He waved, then went back inside. He heard the toilet flush and the sound of an air freshener aerosol hissing. The smell of apples wafted out.
    Then the sound of water running in the tub and she pushed the bathroom door closed.
    Den took out his phone and called his father, imagining that he would have to leave a message.
    "Fishing," his father's message voice said. "After the tone and all. I might eventually get back to you."
    "Hey, Dad," Den said. It took him a moment to figure out what to say. "I'm at Jenni's.
    She's doing okay, I guess. We caught up a bit." He paused again. "Um, I think I'm going to come up and see you for a few days."
    Jenni came out of the bathroom. "You still here?"
    "Just calling Dad," he said.
    She managed a smile. "I already called him. Is he on the line?"
    "I'm leaving a message." Den held up the phone.
    "Is he really fishing?"
    "Yep. That's pretty much what he does."
    Jenni nodded. "I didn't leave a message. May I?" She held out her hand.
    Den gave her the phone, dreading what she might tack onto the end of his message.
    "This is Jenni." She put her hand over the mouthpiece. "Did I