Page 10 of The Delivery

“It’s going to help us,” Mark says, tearing the lip off the first pouch and removing a long cotton swab.

“How?”

“We’re not sure, Maddysaurus. I guess . . . I guess part of its job is to figure out what kind of help we need.”

Maddy’s face contorts in a scowl.

“Think of it like an adventure,” Rebecca says, hating herself for parroting Alexa.

Mark considers the swab, shrugs, and then swabs his inner cheek with it, rubbing in a circular motion.

“Gross, Daddy!”

“Whath grosth?” Mark says, bugging out his eyes. “Thwy you fthink thuth ith grosth?”

Maddy’s laugh is pure music.

Mark keeps on with the vaudeville bit as he does the other cheek, Maddy giggling uncontrollably. He is a wonderful father.

Then he waves the swab around like a wand, letting it air dry, the swirling mist augmenting the magic trick. “I choooooose . . . Mommy to go next.” He points his swab-wand at Rebecca before sealing it in the collection tube.

She goes next.

“Make funny noises, Mommy,” Maddy says, eyes brimming with her smile.

Rebecca does her best, but she is never as funny as Mark. Still, they laugh along with her.

Next up is Maddy.

She hesitates. “I want Bao-Bao to go instead.”

“It’s not for Bao-Bao,” Mark says. “It’s only for human family members.”

As if on cue, Bao-Bao goes boneless and drools out of Maddy’s lap. Maddy crosses her arms. With a flare of concern, Rebecca recognizes that expression. They have to leave for school soon and cannot afford a meltdown.

“Tell you what,” Mark says quickly. “I’ll swab for you, and I’ll make the noises while we do it.”

The scowl doesn’t lift, but Maddy gives the faintest nod.

Once the swab goes into her mouth, Mark starts up the lisping and sputtering and Maddy laughs and laughs and then it is done.

Mark places all three collection tubes back into the Styrofoam block. Next he takes out a pair of insulated cryogenic gloves, so labeled on the plastic pouch, and dons them. Carefully, he frees a set of dry ice pellets from a metallic purse and pours them over the tubes.

Vapor plumes up as if from a cauldron, and Mark does Evil Plotting Fingers for Maddy before squeaking the Styrofoam top back onto the block.

He slides it into the DHL Express box, peels off the old label, and sticks on the new one that came with the shipment. A bit of packing tape, and it is done.

All three samples, neatly sealed inside.

Mark scans the barcode on the label with his phone, receives a satisfying ding. “We just leave it on the porch in the shade,” he says, rising and grabbing his briefcase. “They’ll pick it up within the hour.”

Rebecca carries it outside, this precious package filled with their precious DNA. It seems odd to just leave it there beneath the porch swing, but that’s what the instructions say to do.

They clear dishes, wipe counters. Rebecca loads Maddy’s lunch into her stegosaurus lunch box. Corralling Bao-Bao into his crate takes some doing, and then they head to the garage together, Mark climbing in his venerable Lexus, Rebecca loading Maddy into the minivan booster seat, careful not to pinch her thigh with the seat belt and set off an escalation.

She slides the van door closed and comes around to Mark as he backs out into the driveway. He rolls down the window, and she leans on the sill with both arms to give him a kiss, their morning ritual.

Behind them, a DHL Express van rolls up to their house. She and Mark pause to watch the retrieval. A delivery gal hops out, jogs up the sidewalk, key clip jangling at her hip. She snatches up the box, jogs back, and the van is gone in a whir of tires.