Crime and Punishment. He’d spent most of the previous evening reading it. It wasn’t for any of his courses, which was probably why he was enjoying it. He should have studied chemistry because he was in danger of flunking. God, what would Charles say if he did! There had already been a huge blowup when Chuck had not been able to get into Charles’s alma mater, Harvard. Now if he flunked chemistry… Chemistry had been Charles’s major.

“I don’t want to be a goddamn doctor anyway,” Chuck snapped, as he stood up and pulled on dirty Levi’s. He was proud of the fact that they’d never been washed. In the bathroom he decided not to shave. He thought maybe he’d grow a beard.

Clad in a terrycloth lava-lava, which, unfortunately, emphasized the fifteen pounds he’d gained in the last ten years, Charles lathered his chin. He was trying to sort through the myriad facts associated with his current research project. The immunology of living forms involved a complexity which never failed to amaze and exhilarate him, especially now that he thought he was coming very close to some real answers about cancer. Charles had been excited before and wrong before. He knew that. But now his ideas were based on years of painstaking experimentation and supported by easily reproducible facts.

Charles began to chart the schedule for the day. He wanted to start work with the new HR7 strain of mice that carried hereditary mammary cancer. He hoped to make the animals “allergic” to their own tumors, a goal which Charles felt was coming closer and closer.

Cathryn opened the door and pushed past him. Pulling her gown over her head, she slipped into the shower. The water and steam billowed the shower curtain. After a moment she pulled back the curtain and called to Charles.

“I think I’ve got to take Michelle to see a real doctor,” she said before disappearing back behind the curtain.

Charles paused in his shaving, trying not to be annoyed by her sarcastic reference to a “real” doctor. It was a sensitive issue between them.