14 Degrees Below Zero by Quinton Skinner

and he was utterly self-absorbed even by contemporary standards. Lewis was creepy and a little scary. Well, the point of fear, beyond its utility as a warning system, was that overcoming it was educational.
    Which meant that Stephen was going to finally deal with his girlfriend’s crazy dad.
    “Stephen?” Jay said. “Still there?”
    The game was breaking up. Another group was waiting by the side of the court to begin their allotted sign-up period. If there were two things students and professors knew how to do, it was signing forms and waiting for things to begin.
    “I’m still here,” Stephen replied. “Sorry, I was watching the game. It makes me wonder—have I always been so feeble, or am I really getting old?”
    “My old man,” Jay said in that husky tone she took, the one that always surprised him. “Experience has been good for you. I’m glad I got the older Stephen. It saved me all the fumbling around.”
    “Oh, and I did some fumbling.”
    “You all do,” Jay told him. “Believe me. I’ve been fumbled plenty.”
    “Hopefully I’m not fumbling anymore.”
    “You are not fumbling, Dr. Grant.”
    “That is so gratifying,” he said.
    “It is for me, too,” said Jay.
    A part of Stephen empathized with Lewis. Any father would be entranced to the point of obsession by such a daughter.
    “I’m going to go,” Jay said. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
    “Right.” He started getting his things together. He was going to have to hurry to get showered and dressed.
    “And don’t worry so much about Lewis,” Jay added with uncharacteristic seriousness.
    “I’m worried about
you,
” he replied.
    “Just let it be,” she said. “All of this is like ripples in a pond. It’ll settle down before too long.”
    “OK,” he said, unconvinced. “I’ll let you work it out.”
    He knew he was lying to her. He was going to get involved.
    “Dad needs me,” Jay said. “He thinks he has to protect me. It gives him something to think about other than . . . you know, his loneliness.”
    Stephen wiped the sweat from his forehead and thought about what she had said.
    “Take care of that soul of yours, Jaybird,” he said by way of good-bye.

    INTERLUDE. SHE WOULD MAKE HERSELF DUMB AND SLEEPY FOREVER.
    R amona listened from around the corner. She stared for a long time at the white paint on Mama’s bedroom doorway, loving the way it had chipped and been painted overagain, making little valleys and craters in slightly different colors. She put her face to the surface and dared a lick, just a little one, before pulling her face away. Some paint had stuff in it that would make you dumb and sleepy forever. Ramona regretted what she had just done. She blinked, thinking she felt sleepy. Maybe it was starting.
    “And don’t worry so much about Lewis,” Mama said on the phone. Mama was sitting on her bed and looking out the window.
    Ramona knew she was talking to Stephen by the way she was laughing, a quiet but constant sound, as though everything he said was funny. A lot of the time Mama acted like
nothing
was funny, except now sometimes she laughed when Ramona said something that wasn’t meant to be funny—and now that she thought about it, that made Ramona feel kind of mad.
    She licked the doorway again. Maybe she would make herself dumb and sleepy forever. Would everyone like her then? They could laugh all they wanted to, while Ramona would sit in the hospital and watch TV and get treats all day. It didn’t sound too bad.
    Mama was talking about Grampa. His name was
Lewis.
When Mama and Stephen talked about him, they always sounded worried, or like they were arguing.
    One time Ramona had called Mama “Jay,” just to see what it was like. Mama had gotten mad and told Ramona never to do it again.
    The rules were always changing.
    “Dad needs me,” Mama said. “He thinks he has to protect me.”
    Ramona stuck her head around the doorway. Mama was sitting on the edge of the bed in her underpants and a