Flowering Judas (10 page)

“Just in case she passes out,” he would tell Kenny, and then he wouldn't tell Kenny anymore.

Kenny didn't think it was natural.

Now he pulled his car into the Frasier Hall parking lot and turned the engine off. If there was anything good that had come of the last couple of weeks, it was definitely that this situation had turned him into a much more conscientious student. School was the only place he could go with a completely clear conscience, and the only place he could say he'd been without everybody at home being ready to kill him.

He got his books off the passenger seat and got out of the car. It was a good car, a BMW, and even if it was old, it ran well. He'd bought it to resell about a year ago, and then he hadn't been able to let it go.

He locked up carefully when he got out, and as he did he saw two girls coming up the long walk that led to the building itself. There was a pretty one and an odd one. He was sure they were both in his English class. The odd one was very odd, but he liked the look of the pretty one. There was something—comforting—about her face.

Comforting was the wrong word.

“Hey,” he said.

The girls stopped. They both looked exhausted, and the odd one looked like she was about to burst out of her clothes. They all seemed to be made of Spandex.

“You're in Dr. London's English class, aren't you?” he said. It sounded to him like he was trying too hard. Maybe it was just that he wasn't used to the sound of his own voice. He'd been trying really hard not to say anything his mother could hear.

“That's right,” the odd one said. “Not that I would be if it wasn't for Haydee here. I mean, for God's sake, it took four years to get out of high school, and now we're here. Does that make any sense to you?”

“I'm Kenny,” Kenny said.

“I'm Desiree,” the odd one said. “This is Haydee. We've been walking for an hour. I'm about to fall the fuck down—”

“Desiree,” Haydee said.

“I'm not supposed to cuss anymore,” Desiree said. “That's her idea. Dr. London doesn't cuss, so I'm not supposed to cuss anymore.”

“Why have you been walking for an hour?” Kenny said.

Haydee took a deep breath. “We don't have a car, and there isn't a bus that's convenient. So we walk here.”

“Walk here from where?”

“From Thomaston Avenue,” Haydee said.

It took Kenny a minute to put it together. “From the trailer park there? You live in the trailer park? And you walk all the way here? That has to be five miles. What do you do when class gets out?”

“We walk back,” Desiree said.

Haydee blushed. “I'm saving up for a car. I mean, I almost do have enough, for a used one, you know. But I want to be careful. I mean—”

“You walk back in the dark?” Kenny said.

“I know,” Desiree said. “We're going to get mugged. Or murdered. Oh, wait. I mean, I'm sorry, you know, I didn't mean—”

Kenny sighed. They knew who he was. He should have expected that. On the other hand, neither of them had brought it up, so maybe that was a good sign.

“We're not really going to get mugged,” Haydee said. “If you ask me, it's more dangerous at the park than it is here. And it's good for us, walking. It keeps the weight off.”

Kenny did not say that walking had not kept the weight off for the odd-looking one. “I think she's right,” he said to Haydee. “I think it's dangerous. There isn't a bus or anything you could use instead?”

“It's not convenient,” Haydee said.

“She means it costs a dollar and a half,” Desiree said. “You wouldn't believe this girl. She won't spend money on anything.”

“I'm saving up for a car.” Haydee looked near tears. “And it really isn't dangerous. It really isn't. Not as long as we're together.”

“So what if I get sick?” Desiree said. “What if I get sick and tired? What happens if I can't come? For God's sake, Haydee, I'm sick of this already and you know it.”

Haydee looked one or two breaths from breaking down. Kenny watched her carefully. He didn't really believe that she was only shaken and out of breath because she'd just walked a long way. There was definitely something else happening. He knew all about something else happening.

“Listen,” he said. “I'll take you home. Tonight, you know, and any other night I'm in class. I try to be in class, you know, so that would be all right.”

“She won't miss classes at all,” Desiree said. “She comes in when she hasn't had any sleep or she's just worked twenty hours straight or any of it. She's crazy.”

“I don't miss classes much, either,” Kenny said. He was lying. He missed classes as much as he could. He'd just try not to miss this one anymore. She was really very pretty. “Do you live by yourselves out there, at the trailer park?”

“I live with my mother,” Haydee said. “And Desiree—”

“I live with my mother, too,” Desiree said. “You forgot to tell him about your stepfather.”

“He's not my stepfather,” Haydee said. “He's just—around.”

“He's around and he's trying to find her money,” Desiree said. “He's a real prick, believe me. She had twelve hundred dollars saved up the last time and he found it and took it and spent it on beer or whatever. And he knows she's got money now and he's looking for it. She won't even tell me where it is.”

“My money is safe this time, it really is,” Haydee said. Now she wasn't on the verge of tears. She was just there. Kenny could see the glisten just under her lower eyelids

“I'll drive you home,” Kenny said. “I will. I can do it after every class. At least you won't have to go back in the dark.”

Haydee seemed to collect herself. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you. That would be very nice. I'd appreciate it.”

“Listen to this bitch,” Desiree said. “She's changing the whole way she talks. She's trying to sound like Dr. Penelope London. She thinks she's going to go get herself one of those PhDs when she's done here. I mean, as if.”

“There's no reason she shouldn't get a PhD if that's what she wants,” Kenny said. “I mean, people do, don't they? All the time. And she's smart. I've heard her talk in class.”

“Thank you,” Haydee said.

Kenny didn't say that he probably would have told her she looked like Jessica Simpson if he thought that that was what she wanted to hear. She really was very pretty. She got prettier the longer he looked at her. And there was that something else he couldn't put his finger on.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on. We don't want to be late after you two walked all this way.”

Haydee adjusted her pack on her back and started to walk toward the building beside him. Kenny didn't think she noticed that Desiree was trailing behind.

2

Shpetim Kika didn't know what he thought his life was going to be like after the crew had discovered that backpack and that little tiny skeleton, but he was sure it had nothing to do with sitting on a bench in the waiting area of The Elms, waiting for the hostess to seat him.

Of course, Shpetim was not alone. Lora was there, looking decked out for a wedding already. She'd even made him buy her a big white orchid to wear on her best blue dress, and another orchid that he was holding in a box, for when Nderi brought Anya in. Lora was fussing, too, the way she fussed when they were going to have a party. Every once in a while, she poked at him and asked him to stand up.

“You'll get your suit wrinkled,” she said. “Is that the way you want to meet your future daughter-in-law? With a wrinkled suit?”

Shpetim got up. It was easier to get up than it was to fight with Lora. “I didn't know she was my future daughter-in-law yet,” he said. “I thought you wanted to look her over.”

The hostess was advancing on them. She had too many teeth, and they were all too big. She smiled the way a shark did.

“Right this way,” she said, grabbing a little pile of menus. “We'll seat the rest of your party as soon as they arrive.”

Shpetim followed Lora down the long passageway to the big table at the back. Lora had made him call ahead special to reserve it. The table was right up against a window, but instead of looking out on the parking lot, like the other windows did, it looked out on grass and hills and trees. The Elms was the most expensive restaurant in Mattatuck. It was the only restaurant in Mattatuck that served what Lora called “real American food.” By that, she seemed to mean steak and fries.

The hostess with the teeth held out a chair. Lora sat down in it. The hostess put the menus down. Then she said, “Your server will be with you shortly,” and disappeared.

Lora did not pretend to look at the menu. “Of course she's our future daughter-in-law,” she said. “She's Nderi's choice. That isn't the way we did it in Albania, but we're not in Albania anymore. And I asked around. She's a very nice girl.”

“She doesn't have any family,” Shpetim said.

“Her family was killed by MiloÅ¡evi
ć
. Does it matter that they were Greek Orthodox? She will become Muslim for Nderi, that's enough.”

“I thought you'd have more of an objection,” Shpetim said.

To tell the truth, he'd thought she was going to have a screaming fit. Now here they were, in this expensive place. She wasn't even leaving the first meeting to chance at home.

Lora picked up her menu. “See if you can't get me a Diet Coke,” she said. “She's a registered nurse, this Anya Haseri. Did you know that? A registered nurse. That's a good job. It brings in good money. It teaches a woman things she needs to know as a mother. And you can go back and forth with it, to stay at home when your children are young. Also, it shows that she's intelligent, and ambitious. You have to care about these things.”

Shpetim did care about those things. He just also cared about other things. And then there was the—irregularity of it. There should have been a meeting of families. Now there were no families, or only their own, which might be worse. If one of the pair wasn't going to have a family, it ought to be the groom.

The waitress arrived. She had too many teeth, too. Maybe they only hired women who had too many teeth. Shpetim asked for a Diet Coke for Lora and a mineral water for himself. Muslims were not supposed to drink, but he did have a beer now and then, sometimes with Nderi, usually after work. He couldn't do that now.

“Then there's this other thing,” he said. “This thing with the police. Maybe this isn't the best time to plan a wedding.”

Lora put the menu down and gave him what he thought of as “One of Those Looks.” “What would make it not the best time?” she demanded.

Shpetim took a deep breath. “The thing,” he said. “With the police. Because we found that. That thing.”

“The skeleton of the baby.”

“Lora,” Shpetim said. “Somebody will hear you.”

“Well, I don't see that it matters if they do,” Lora said. “Everybody knows all about it. It's on the television stations. They're bringing that man here, that man we saw on
American Justice.
That's his problem. It isn't ours.”

The waitress came back with the drinks. Shpetim wanted to look at his watch. How long were Nderi and Anya going to take?

“It's not that simple,” he said.

“Shpetim, please, it's just that simple,” Lora said. “What would make it complicated?”

Shpetim thought he really should have ordered a beer, no matter how bad it would look in front of Anya. He wished he had the nature to overthrow the ban entirely and have a whiskey. He looked at the back of his hand on the table. It looked old.

“It was an old skeleton,” he said finally.

“What?”

“It was an old skeleton,” he said again, getting his courage up. “It had been there a long time. It had—the skin and the flesh had rotted away from the bone, it had done that naturally. Do you see?”

“Of course I see,” Lora said. “But I still don't see why I should care, or why you should. Of course it was an old skeleton. The television said it had been in that backpack for twelve years. Really, you have to wonder what goes on with these people, the way these people live. They have no morals.”

Shpetim tried again. “It wasn't in the ground there, where we found it,” he said. “It wasn't there for twelve years.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we're working that ground,” Shpetim said. “I've been walking over it every day for months—”

“But it was buried. You wouldn't know if you walked over something buried.”

“It wasn't buried deep,” Shpetim said. “They found it—they didn't do anything, practically, and it was right there. And I walked over that ground just the week before. And—”

“And?”

“And it didn't smell,” Shpetim said. “There. I've said it. I've been biting my tongue, not to say it to the police. But that backpack couldn't have been buried in the ground like that for twelve years. It couldn't have been there a week. And we're the only ones there. We're the ones who are on that ground every day. What if one of us put it there?”

“Put a skeleton of a baby?” Lora said.

“Yes.”

“In a backpack that belonged to that man who went missing? That's what the television said. The backpack belonged to that man who went missing, that they found hanging from the billboard.”

“The skeleton couldn't have been in the backpack all that time,” Shpetim said. “There would have been—I looked into the backpack and there was nothing in it. No … no—”

“Rot?”

‘Yes.”

“Would there have been rot after twelve years?”

“There would have been something,” Shpetim said desperately. “It didn't make sense, I'm telling you. What if the skeleton didn't have anything to do with the man who was hanged? Or hanged himself? Or whatever it was? What if it's something else? Somebody put the skeleton of a baby in a backpack and then put the backpack in the ground on my building site, and I don't know that—”