Bloodroot (22 page)

AT NOON, I SAT ON A BENCH OUTSIDE THE HISTORY BUILDING, TWO
cold slices of foil-wrapped pizza in my lap and two warm Cokes at my feet. The young elms and birches behind me rustled in the breeze, their shadows playing over the concrete at my feet. Nearby, two squirrels sat on their hind legs, eyeing me sideways, their eager paws fidgeting at their chests.

I watched Kelsey stride my way, her arms swinging freely, a big brown paper sack in one hand. Thankfully, she’d brought something of her own. On my way out to the bench, I’d realized I should’ve had something delivered for us, since I’d made the invitation. Unfortunately, that realization came early enough for me to feel guilty about it but too late to do anything other than be willing to give up a slice. Maybe we’d save the crusts for the squirrels. I knew that’s what they were hoping for.

When Kelsey got close, the squirrels darted away, scrambling up the same tree, where I knew they’d watch us, eager to snatch up whatever we left behind. I wondered what or who else watched us. I scanned the campus for Al, half-expecting to spy him propped up against a building, hidden behind an upside-down newspaper. The comical imagining did me no good. I didn’t trust Al. I couldn’t shake the feeling that in his eyes I wasn’t a welcome addition to the family. I wished Kelsey and I had planned to eat inside. Or that I’d been smart enough that morning to kill whatever it was we’d started between us.

She surprised me with a kiss on the cheek. Pulling off her jacket, she sat close to me. She wore a purple short-sleeved soccer jersey with a red and green crest I didn’t recognize over her right breast. She had gracefully muscled arms, something I’d failed to notice in the dark the other night.

“What’s the good word?” she asked.

“Paranoia,” I said.

“Ah, don’t worry,” she said. “Everybody thinks we’ve been doing it all along anyway. Maybe the word for the day should be ‘self-fulfilling prophecy’ ? ” She noticed me checking her out and tapped her index finger on the crest. “Portugal. Europe’s first great navigators. They invented the compass.”

“If you say so.”

“Wow. You’re in a mood,” Kelsey said, unpacking a plastic container from the paper sack. “Did your eleven o’clock go that bad?” She handed me the container. It was heavy and warm.

“No, it went fine,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’ve been sitting here thinking thoughts I’d rather avoid.”

Out of the sack she produced a paper bowl and two plastic forks. She took the container back from me and peeled off the lid. The hot, tangy scent of lasagna, rising on steam, made my mouth water.

“If you’re gonna dump me,” Kelsey said, “which would be a record, by the way, we only did it two days ago, can you wait until tomorrow? I did cook for you, kind of.” She shoved half the lasagna into the bowl, stuck a fork in it, and handed it to me. “And I’d like some company tonight.”

I opened both Cokes and gave her one. “I think that can be arranged.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Kelsey said. “So eat. You need to keep up your strength.”

I happily shoved huge forkfuls of sauce and beef and pasta and cheese down my throat. Thoughts of another night with her thrilled and relaxed me at the same time. As appealing as the sex was, I really craved the sanctuary she offered, a dark, warm place away from everything else. It wasn’t a perfect secret but I wasn’t going to let that blunt my enthusiasm. Al could sit outside all night if he wanted. We’d draw the shades and shut him out. It felt real good having something to look forward to.

“I need to ask you something personal,” I said when we finished eating.

“Yes, I’m on the pill,” Kelsey said. “And as long as you’ve been tested recently, we can forgo the condom this time.”

I laughed. “Appreciated, but that’s not what I was going to ask.”

“Do you realize,” Kelsey said, “that I’ve directed every attempt you’ve made at conversation back to sex?”

“You don’t love my mind,” I said. “I can live with that. Neither do I most of the time.”

“You were good to me at the Red Spot,” she said. “I owe you one. What’s the question?”

“When your mother was dying,” I said, “how far would you have gone to save her?”

Kelsey took her time answering. She first packed up the remains of our lunch, everything going back into the paper bag. “Odd question. How about you give me a cigarette?”

Instinctively, I reached into my pocket and there they were. It was strange. I couldn’t remember picking them up that morning before I left the apartment. After a couple of drags, she started talking.

“You know, I thought about that a lot before she died. I had way too much time to think. I prayed for a while to trade places with her, but then did I really want her at my bedside watching me die? I would’ve blown my brains out before I let that happen. Or at least slunk off somewhere where she wouldn’t know what was happening, like dogs and elephants do.”

“Did you ever wish she’d done that? That she’d left you out of it?”

“God, no. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, spending those last few weeks with her. Half the time I felt like a vulture, just sitting around waiting on death. But there’s nothing worse than suffering alone. I couldn’t let anyone I loved endure that. She would’ve forgiven me for not being there, but I never would’ve forgiven myself.”

“So you can suffer alone,” I said, “but it’s cruel for anyone else to do so. Contradictory, isn’t it?”

“I can do that,” Kelsey said, “for I contain multitudes.” She smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Say there was a cure,” I said, “but for some reason you couldn’t get it by ordinary means, like you couldn’t afford it or it was illegal or whatever. What would you have done?”

“That’s easy. I’d have done anything. Lie, steal, con, sell my body.”

“Kill someone? Would you do that?”

Kelsey slid down the bench, stretching her long legs, folding her arms across her chest. “That’s a tough one.” She released a long sigh. “No. I’m lying. It’s easy. Yes, I would’ve killed someone to save her life, especially with her suffering like that. I’d put myself at the top of the list. No doubt. Anyone that says they’d do otherwise is a liar.”

She sat up suddenly, leaned close to me. “What did you do, Kevin? What are you trying to justify? This is hardly conversational foreplay.” She blinked at me, backing away, an idea flickering across her face. “Your brother’s in trouble, isn’t he? That’s why he came looking for you.”

Feeling caught and exposed, I looked away, struggling for what to say next. I should’ve known Kelsey would make the leap to Danny. That she was so sharp was a big reason I liked her. Maybe I’d wanted her to make that connection, to get me somewhere I couldn’t on my own. Still, I had to be careful.

“He’s not in trouble,” I said. “He’s doing great, actually. Now. It’s just . . . I know there are things he did while out on the streets, things he did to survive, that I might be struggling with. Where do I stand if, say, Danny’s history puts me, technically, at cross-purposes with the law? Like, because of things I knew.”

“Your brother was a criminal,” Kelsey said.

I stared at her. She did get to the point a lot better than I did, I thought, even if the past tense didn’t apply to Danny. Or to me, for that matter. “Well, he’s not a serial killer or anything like that. He’s just a former junkie.”

“Are there cops at your door?” Kelsey asked. “Is he a threat to you or your family?”

“No,” I said. “It’s not like that. I’m talking about the past.”

“You’re his brother,” Kelsey said, “like I’m my mom’s daughter.” She paused, took a deep breath. “That shit’s forever.” Kelsey put her hands on her thighs and set her shoulders. “There are, and I believe this to my core, higher laws than the few, sad ones mankind has devised. I’m not going to get all Jesus on you; God is a whole different conversation. So let’s call them blood laws. Blood as in family. When blood laws and human law contradict, blood laws rule.”

She’d given me the answer I wanted. I didn’t know why I couldn’t just accept it. “Is there anything that absolves you from these so-called blood laws?”

“Nothing,” Kelsey said. Her voice had bite. “Not in a serious situation, certainly not in a life-or-death situation like the one with my mom.” She relaxed. “Okay, so it can affect whether or not you come over for Christmas, or something like that. But you get my point.” She leaned close to me, her hand gripping my thigh. “I will tell you this. If I had a chance to get my mother back, like the chance you have with Danny, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her. And I mean
nothing
.”

She stood, staring into the trees for a long moment before looking down at me. “Kevin, whatever is happening with you and Danny, I don’t need to know. It’s between you and him. I’m here if you need help, and if you want to keep it private, that’s cool, too.” She bent and grabbed her bag. “You’ll do the right thing; I got faith in you. You’re kind of a slacker, but you’re a good man.” She nodded at the history building. “Now let’s go. Duty calls.”

I stared up at her. I hadn’t been called a good man in a long time, hadn’t felt like one in even longer, but I did right then. I glanced at my watch. “What? I don’t have class for another ninety minutes.”

“Yeah, but Whitestone’s press conference started five minutes ago.”

“Aw, fuck.” I’d actually read that memo. You couldn’t miss it. The announcement for the latest Friends of Bloodroot event was plastered all over the office and I’d managed to space out on it anyway. Every teacher in the department had to attend, per direct orders of the dean. And he’d be enough of a prick to take attendance.

 

 

 

KELSEY AND I SLIPPED
through the double doors of the conference room and stood with our backs against the wall. A few heads in the standing-room-only crowd turned at our entrance. The crowd of about fifty seemed to be mostly history teachers and yawning students I figured had been offered extra credit for attending. Up front against the wall leaned a few bored-looking reporters and photographers. Whitestone, who spoke into a microphone at a podium in front of the room, never broke stride. On the screen behind him hovered a large projection of an artist’s sketch of the new museum. I had a feeling that was as far as the planning process had gone.

“And so,” Whitestone was saying, “though the sacrifices of those children were unwitting, they deserve commemoration. Justice needs to be done. Their tiny, forgotten souls demand it. Those children need a champion, and that’s why I’ve called you all here today. To publicly acknowledge, praise, and thank Ms. Ida Horace, the first recipient of the Friends of Bloodroot Children’s Champion Award.” Applause began. “Ida, stand up for us, please.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” I whispered. Kelsey, thinking I was kidding, shushed me and slapped my arm.

Whitestone approached a pint-sized, blue-haired lady in the front row who couldn’t have been a day over ninety. Ida looked like she hadn’t left the house since the Eisenhower presidency. Stooped with age, she reached only to Whitestone’s shoulder. He slipped his arm around her, turning Ida toward the cameras, and smiled big enough for the both of them. I waited for him to present her with a plaque or certificate, some token of appreciation, but the photo op comprised the entirety of Ida’s award. After kissing her powdered cheek, Whitestone helped Ida resettle into her wheelchair, then strode back to the podium.

“Thanks to Ms. Horace’s generous five-figure donation,” Whitestone said, “the Friends of Bloodroot, who I am proud to represent here today as their founder, can continue their work on behalf of the brave, forgotten children whose suffering effected revolutionary change in the history of this island, this city, and, in fact, all of these United States.”

More applause. Whitestone spent several moments nodding, as if agreeing again and again with the greatness of his own words. All I could think about was Danny’s revelation to me the night before. What the dean was doing was sick. Worse, I felt like he knew it and he didn’t care. I wanted to choke him right then and there. Let’s see him smile through that for the cameras. He was only in it for himself; I was sure of it. All Ida’s check would do was send him to Europe for another research trip. Whitestone was no better than Dr. Calvin in his using those kids, using my brother, to feed his own ego. Why couldn’t these other jokers see through him like I could? Because they didn’t know what Danny and I knew, that those lost kids didn’t need a fucking museum; what they needed was payback. To give their souls, my brother’s soul, some rest.

I leaned my shoulder into Kelsey’s. She turned to me.

“One thing a lifetime of studying history has taught me,” I said, “is that those selling themselves as the most high and mighty have the lowest and foulest things to hide.” I raised my chin at Whitestone, now glad-handing in the front of the room. “That guy isn’t just creepy. He’s dangerous. Well, pride cometh before the fall. I gotta go.” I squeezed her hand. “Tonight?”

Kelsey gazed up at me. “Stay out of his way. He’ll run out of steam eventually.”

“Tonight?” I asked again.

“My place. Eight,” Kelsey said.

 

 

 

AFTER WORK,
I went to my parents’ house for dinner. My father had called the office to tell me my mother spent all afternoon in the kitchen making her special lasagna. He begged me to help him eat it. Though they’d been only two for a long time, my mother had never stopped cooking for four. How my parents stayed whippet-thin mystified me. I told my father I’d be happy to do him this favor. For an Irishwoman, my mother made a hell of a lasagna.

Once we got settled around the dinner table, me sitting opposite Mom and my father next to her, it only took me four bites to screw up.

“Ma,” I said, “this is even better than Kelsey’s.” I kept eating, head down, hoping my comment had slipped by unnoticed. It hadn’t.