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Show 26 are waiting for them. Maia has loosened Theresa's leash from the drawer of the file cabinet; she has stood for a moment, uncertainly, in the middle of the room; now she sits, slowly, on the floor beside the dog. The filled syringe lies waiting on the desk; Boaz takes it and squats on the floor beside them. He puts the syringe on the floor, aware there is no need for sterile precautions, and looks just once at Maia. Together, they turn Theresa over so that she is lying on her back.'Maia at her head, Boaz at her tail. Maia places her own thin leg over the dog's chest, to pin her down, and grasps her forelegs tightly, just above the elbow joint. Boaz shifts, uneasily, from squatting to kneeling, and picks the syringe up from the floor. Watch: we see Boaz at the center now, as he kneels over Theresa; positioning the syringe over her belly. We see his back first, clearly; a small red mole on the back of his neck, then the fine creases of adult skin; we see the crosswoven threads of his cotton workshirt. We circle around his collar, and we count three anomalous whiskers, not more than an eighth of an inch long, that his razor has missed this morning. We see each separate stub of hair, closely shaven, we note the tiny pocks and minute lines of his skin, drawn in tight lines towards his mouth. We see small round beads of sweat across his upper lip, and others on his temples. If we are still, we feel the anxious pace of his heartbeat, and sense the tight constriction of his breath. And then we see what he sees: the uneven edges of his fingernails, the coarse and calloused surfaces of his fingers, gripping the slim tube of the syringe. He sees the slant-sharpened needle poised, to the side of Theresa's abdomen and low, just above her back leg, where |
