Exo: A Novel (Jumper) (37 page)

I ended up jumping past the Roscosmos people and hospital security. Nobody recognized me. I was wearing my Stanford sweatshirt over jeans and a T-shirt.

Grebenchekov was in a hospital bed but, I was relieved to see, he wasn’t even on an IV. He wore regular pajamas, not a hospital gown.

The other man in the room was talking at—not to—Grebenchekov in rapid-fire Russian, while Grebenchekov stared impassively at the ceiling. When he saw me, the man switched to English and said abruptly, “You are in wrong room.”

I ignored him. “
Privet
, Misha. I brought your
ochki
.”

It took Grenbenchekov a moment—I wasn’t wearing a space suit, after all. “
Kosmos devushka
?”

I handed him the foil envelope.

He dumped the contents onto the bedspread. The eyeglasses were round lensed, with a slider on the nose bridge that allowed the wearer to adjust the focus of a secondary lens as needed. NASA had been flying them for several years because zero G altered eyesight significantly in some astronauts over the course of a single mission. Misha was one of these. “Ah.
Slava bogu
! Come here and let me kiss you.”

The other man said,
“This
is Space Girl? Surely you’re joking?”

“No kissing,” I said to Grebenchekov. “What would Kate say? She sent a message, by the way.”

The other man started out irritated but now he sounded angry. “Is she talking about your American mistress? They spoke of this at the training center. What would your wife say?”

Grebenchekov looked
furious
and I became acutely aware that he’d had major surgery just three days before. “Sergei, time for you to walk out of room before someone throws you out window.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone actually
sneer
before but I’d have to say that’s what Sergei did. “You don’t get rid of me so
easy
, Misha. Even without the surgery, you have been five months in space! You can’t push me around like you did in—”

Sergei’s chair toppled over onto the grass of the Campus Oval, a good mile away from the hospital. He did an awkward back roll and ended with his legs flopped over his head. I didn’t help him up, or wait for him to struggle upright, or even pause to talk.

Back in the hospital room, I returned the chair to its place in the corner and lowered it to the floor.

Grebenchekov was sitting up and had twisted around, one leg out of bed. I held my hand out in a “wait” gesture and he sank back onto his pillows.

“I don’t like Sergei,” I said. “He isn’t very nice.”

Grenenchekov’s face went from angry to an explosive laugh which was cut short. He clutched at his side and exhaled through pursed lips. In a quieter voice he said, “It’s like you know him for
years
.”

I lifted his leg back onto the bed and resettled the sheet and blanket.

“Sergei has always wanted to go into space. Did you put him in space?” Grebenchekov looked hopeful.

“Nyet
. Who
is
he?”

“He’s …
avtoruchka
. Aieee. Sorry. I should not say that in front of you.”

I had no idea what that meant.

Grebenchekov continued. “Sergei was in cosmonaut training with me, but he washed out so he became a … a pencil pusher. Also—the woman he wanted? She married
me
.”

My eyes widened.

“She died five years ago. Cancer. My dear Nadya—ah, she was wonderful, but she would’ve screamed to see Sergei still grieving over another man’s wife. And if she saw
me
still in mourning? Well, she would’ve
slapped
me upside the head.”

He took the glasses off and ground the heels of his palms into his eyes “Ah,
devushka
, Sergei flew all this way … he couldn’t wait to tell me … I will
never
go into space again.”

I was beginning to see the merit of putting the man in orbit. “I’m sorry.”

Grebenchekov, took a moment, polishing the lenses of the eyeglasses with a corner of his bed sheet. “What is the message from my Kate?”

I bit my lip. “Can I ask what
her
marriage situation is?” Rasmussen had told me she had a grown daughter after all.

“Divorced ten years.”

I breathed out, relieved. Now I wanted to go find Sergei and take him
much
farther. What an asshole. “Kate said to tell you, ‘Choose a date.’”

Grebenchekov’s eyes lit up. “Ah—well, at least
that’s
settled.” He smiled. “She would not marry me until we were both off the flight rosters.”

“I’m sorry I did not take Sergei farther away. He is only a few kilometers
that
way.” I pointed. “I could take him to Australia but the weather is far too nice there.”

“Are you sure you aren’t Russian?”

“
Bol’shoye spasibo
. When do you leave here?”

“They want to transfer me back to
Zvezdny Gorodok
in two weeks.” He looked at me and said, “That is—”

“Star City. The training center.” I tapped my chest. “Huge fan.”

“I always understood I would come back to Earth one day and never return to space, but … I had forty-five more days!”

I patted his arm. “Can Sergei hurt you? I mean, any more than he has?”

Grebenchekov shook his head.
“Nyet
. Just now I am heroic cosmonaut snatched from brink of death.
He
is
avtoruchka
.”

“Okay, that’s the
second
time you used that word.”

He looked guilty. “It means … pen. Like—” He held up his hand and twitched his thumb like he was clicking a ballpoint pen. “But—” He looked around, as if he expected someone to overhear him. “—it also means—” He frowned, clearly searching his memory. Finally Grebenchekov said, “I don’t know American word. The British say ‘wanker.’”

I covered my face and started laughing. “That works! That totally works.”

*   *   *

You know, a
lot
of things don’t turn out like you thought they would.

It was time for Tara to go to Paris, to meet up with Jade and her parents for the last ten days of their trip. I’d arranged to bring Tara to the Gare du Nord, by the Ludmilla Tchérina sculpture at the head of the stairs on the Eurostar platform.

We were early and I waited with Tara to make sure she connected with Jade. It’s the busiest train station in Europe and there was plenty to watch. Also, while we waited, Tara told me the plot of
The Red Shoes
because Ludmilla Tchérina was in it.

“I thought she was a sculptor.”

“And a ballerina, and a painter, and an actress.”

“Wow.”

Someone cleared her throat and I turned. Jade was there. Also her Dad. And her mother, Dr. Chilton, who held in her hands the
Guardian
newspaper. Guess who was on the front page, pulling a helmet from her head while cradling a Russian cosmonaut?

“Why, hello, Dr. Chilton. Mr. Chilton,” I said. When they didn’t say anything right away, I said, “Enjoying Europe?”

Dr. Chilton said, “The thing I’ve always liked about you, Cent, is that you are exquisitely polite,
even when you’re putting my child’s life in danger.”

I looked at Jade. She was frozen, not looking at me, but at Tara.

Tara was frowning, looking from Jade to Mr. Chilton, to Dr. Chilton, and back to Jade.

Mr. Chilton was looking at Tara, then back Jade—not me.

Jade’s mother was trying to glare at me, but she also kept shifting her gaze to Tara.

Tara shook her head, sad. “It’s
not
about you, Cent. No matter what she’s saying.” She looked at Jade. “Is it?”

Jade opened her mouth to speak and her mother said, “Remember what we agreed on!”

Jade looked at the people streaming by. “Is this really the place to talk about this?”

Her father nodded. “I think Jade’s right. We should find someplace quiet.”

“No!” said Dr. Chilton. “We agreed.”

Mr. Chilton said, “Not exactly, Misty. You just kept talking and
we
got tired.”

Jade looked up at her dad, surprised. “I thought you were on
her
side.”

“Honey,” Mr. Chilton said. “We both want what’s best for you. There’s just some disagreement about what that entails.”

Tara walked forward, stepping up beside Jade. In a harsh whisper she said, “I thought we were
beyond
this.”

Jade sighed. “So did I.” She put her arms around Tara and hugged her.

Dr. Chilton’s face twisted and she stepped forward, her arms reaching out.

I jumped.

I didn’t have to grab anybody. I was just instantly there, standing between Dr. Chilton and Tara. Dr. Chilton jerked back, gasping.

Mr. Chilton, wide-eyed, took his wife’s arm to steady her. “Misty?”

“She’s taking our daughter! They’re both taking our daughter!”

As I said, sometime things don’t turn out at
all
like you were expecting. This was not the European holiday
I’d
signed up for. I stepped away, returning to the railing and putting my back to it.

Mr. Chilton was whispering urgently to his wife. I only heard a snatch during a momentary lull of the station’s noise: “—but
you
might drive her—”

Jade was watching her parents intently, not letting go of Tara’s arm.

“Rough trip?” I asked quietly.

Jade shuddered. “Not at first. But then as it got closer to the time when Tara was going to join us, Mom really had a … a
relapse
.”

“Was it the publicity?” I gestured toward the
Guardian
, now being twisted and untwisted in Dr. Chilton’s hands.

“No. Dad and I had almost got her reasonable—back to where I thought the trip would still be a
good
thing. But once she saw the picture, all her arguments came back, but now with
you
being the justification.”

I looked back at her parents. Dr. Chilton was
not
calming down. In fact she was crying, harsh sobs and gesturing sharply toward us.

I looked at Jade, who was watching her mom with an almost detached air.

“You okay?” I asked. I would’ve been freaking out.

She rolled her eyes. “I was a wreck the first time, but there comes a point when it’s just annoying, not heartrending.”

I wasn’t annoyed. I was acutely uncomfortable. “So what’s the plan—leave Tara with you? Take her away? I mean,
I’m
not staying, so if you need something, this is the time to ask.”

Jade turned to Tara and whispered fiercely, “Don’t you
dare
leave me alone with her. Either we
both
stay or we
both
go.
Your
call.”

Tara studied the skylights running down the peak of the station’s roof. When she looked back down, she said, “Leave us in Paris—but get us away from
this
. Maybe she’ll calm down.”

Jade looked doubtful about the last phrase, but she said, “Please. Away from
here
anyway.”

“Île de la Cité?” I suggested.

Tara’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes. Notre-Dame.” She’d never been to Paris but she’d been reading up.

Jade nodded. “Yes. And it’s close to our hotel.”

“Cent sandwich,” I said and they reached around me to hug each other, squeezing me in the middle like, well, like a lemon.

Her mother noticed, opened her mouth to say something, but I jumped.

*   *   *

It had just stopped raining and you could see the Rose Window reflected in the wet pavement in front of “our lady,” Notre-Dame Cathedral. By the time Tara had taken several pictures we were
all
calmer. Jade sent her father a text saying that she and Tara were going back to Jade’s room at the Hotel Melia Le Colbert.

As we walked over the Seine on the Pont au Double, Jade offered to teach Tara the “French tongue” and bobbed her eyebrows suggestively.

Tara said, “I think I taught
you
.”

Jade to Tara: “Repeat after me, ‘I am space girl:
Je suis fille de l’espace
.’”

Tara said
“Je suis fille de Spartacus.”

Jade laughed and said,
“Je suis Spartacus.”

And I said louder, “
No
! Je
suis Spartacus
.”

And then a policeman, crossing from the Left Bank roared out,
“JE suis Spartacus
!” He touched his hat and walked on, without missing a step.

There was no talking after that. There was only laughing and holding onto the stone rail of the bridge to keep from falling over.

After the scene we’d fled at the Gare du Nord I certainly didn’t expect
that
by the time I left Jade and Tara. A lot of things don’t turn out like you expect them to.

TWENTY-SIX

Millie: Less Secrecy

Millie was curled up in the corner of the couch with her hands wrapped around a cup of tea, enjoying its warmth and the warmth of the fireplace, when Davy came in, frowning.

She tensed, unreasonably annoyed. She’d just finished brewing the tea and building the fire and it was the first time she’d been off her feet the entire morning. She watched him from the corner of her eye.

Davy flopped down onto the other end of the couch and stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, his head back against the cushion, staring fixedly at the upper reaches of the fieldstone fireplace.

“We’re blown.”

She nodded and sipped her tea.

“You knew?”

“We had the TV on in Mother’s room.”

Davy winced. “So, you saw the interview with Cent’s biology teacher?”

“Yes. I loved his first line. ‘I always knew she’d go far.’ But they also made the connection all the way back to your adventures with hijackers before we were married, and there was a picture of me from New Prospect that one of my old family-practice clients identified. That led them to Mom and the ‘Shots Fired and Multiple Arrests at Wichita Nursing Home’ story.”