by Tom Corbett
“Totally.” The elder man smiled grimly. “But you remember this, son. We are engaged in a struggle where there are winners and losers. My associates will not be on the losing side, that I can guarantee you. And neither will I. On that, you have my word, my vow. Do you understand me?”
“At least we understand one another.” Chris rose from his seat.
“One last thing, Christopher. You are not on the winning side. Never forget that.”
Chris registered that he was no longer referred to as ‘son.’ Without comment, he turned and headed to the door through which he had entered the room. He did not see his father push a button, but a man appeared to escort him on his way out.
A half-hour later, Chris sat on a bench looking over Lake Michigan. He felt dissatisfied. Yes, he managed to say what he went there to say. But to what effect? His father appeared unmoved, implacable. Chris tried to recall the final moments. Had he flinched at all? Did the patriarch essentially say that anyone who got in his way was expendable? That was insane but, then again, he had entertained the notion that his own father might have tried to hurt his younger sister, either to scare her or worse. Had he really sworn to avenge any suspicious demise? Was he capable of that?
Suddenly, he felt himself go cold even though it was a warm fall day. The hard reality was that they were in a life-and-death struggle with the very man responsible for their birth. How could that be? How had things come to this? Then he realized, this was no provincial family drama. It was much larger than that. Suddenly, the sanctuary of Oxford seemed very inviting indeed, not even Madison was far enough from the madness he feared was consuming him. The academy was seductive precisely because it was irrelevant.
He became aware of a movement to his right. Jules effortlessly slid onto the bench next to him. “I got your text,” she said.
“I thought that might be a long shot. Glad you were able to join me.”
Jules gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Not grab a chance to spend some alone time with my 43rd favorite ex-lover? Perish that thought. And when he is not available, you will do. I simply told Rachel Maddow that the man of my dreams just texted and that I had to run.”
“You are making that up.”
“No, really. I was on the phone with her.”
Chris smiled. “I believe the part about Rachel, it was your BS about me being the man of your dreams, or at least his stand-in.”
“Oh that, Brad Pitt also texted me, but I blew him off.”
“You are such a riot.” Chris returned her affectionate kiss. “Shit, I would love to meet her.”
“Rachel? Give it up, stud, she is a lesbian.”
“Ha, ha, you of all people should know those days are past, my womanizing days that is. I am in love with her mind.”
“Oh, I bet she hears that from all the guys.” Then Jules turned serious. “Why did you summon me? Something is up I suspect.”
Chris exhaled. “I just met with my father.”
“Really?” Jules was surprised. “Why, for God’s sake?”
“I could not get Kat’s incident out of my head, just the possibility that Father initiated it or approved it or, at a minimum, accepted that it would happen if, in fact, it is something more than our overactive imaginations at work. God, that man is a monster, but I thought he had limits. I can never quite accept that my own father would…oh never mind. The whole thing was impulsive, stupid, but I am just the guy to do something totally moronic.”
“Now Chris, don’t beat yourself up.”
“Yeah, I know, that is your job.”
Jules tried to suppress the brief smile that crossed her lips. “So, what did you conclude based on your foolhardy, yet fearless journey into the heart of darkness? Was he involved in the attempt on Kat’s life? Perhaps I should ask whether you left believing he had something to do with it?”
“Hell, I don’t know but I will tell you one thing: he is cold. Have you ever been with someone who left you feeling like you have just been in the presence of evil itself?”
“Guess you have never been to a network management meeting?” Jules quickly inserted.
Chris didn’t seem to hear her. “I mean, I am simply astounded that I am from his seed. Do I harbor something bad deep inside? I was thinking about that as I left. Maybe that is why I texted you. I wanted to ask if you see something bad in me, something I repress or suppress or whatever the term is. It hit me that maybe what everyone sees, what I see every morning, is a façade that hides my real self. But I could never hide it from you, not for all these years, could I? No, there would be no way.”
“Shut up.”
“What?” he stammered.
“Just shut the fuck up. You are blubbering like a total moron. You’re not your father. I have met your father. I have spent time in your home, not lately of course. And I fell in love with you. Do you, for one moment, think I would love a fucking sociopath?” Her stare was penetrating.
“I…I guess not.”
“Guess not? You guess not? You better do better than that or the joggers are going to see a black woman in her power suit beat the shit out of a wimpy white guy. Got that?”
“Yeah, sorry for being such a putz. I guess he still gets to me.” Chris looked beaten.
“No shit, Sherlock. But I don’t blame you. Not really. For the longest time I never got it when you would go on about how much you loved my folks. They were just my folks, you don’t really understand when you are in the middle of growing up. But now, now that I have more perspective, I wish I had told them how much I loved them back then, been a better daughter. You were right. They were…special. Mother still is, but I never told dad how much…” Then her voice caught, and she stopped.
Chris looked at her, she was struggling. “What are you talking about, you were a perfect daughter.”
“Not in my eyes but I suppose we are all a bit blind in that regard. But you, they always loved you and your love for them was so there. For a moment, in the beginning, I thought you were trying to score with me through them. But no, you really did love them and then won my heart as well. You enriched their lives. I almost let you ravage me out of appreciation.”
“Thanks kiddo. You have no idea that hearing those words mean to me, not the part about ravaging you but the part about meaning so much to your folks.” He took his finger and traced it along the outline of her face. “You are still a knockout. Now that you are available again, guys must be all over you.”
She laughed out loud. “Don’t I wish, but I have a theory to explain the apparent lack of interest of the male species in me.”
“This should be good for a laugh.”
She poked him in the arm. “Just listen. I am too successful. Guys are intimidated.”
“Sure, let’s go with that.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“You are a shit,” she said, still laughing. “And how is Amar? I cannot believe she hasn’t dumped you yet. The woman truly is a saint.”
Chris looked serious. “My sisters wonder the same thing. In truth, she is not the happiest of campers. I have torn her and Azita from their worlds. You know what, I feel like shit about that, but I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh Chris, she loves you, they both love you. You will figure out a way to make everything work. I don’t know the answer, but you will find it…together.”
“Yes…together,” he responded. “By the way, you really are important to me. I know you will be there, whenever I need someone.”
She started to smile, a witticism was on the tip of her tongue, but she knew this was not the time. “Of course. And I know you would be there for me.” She paused, looking at him. “Sorry about my language but you piss…upset me with that talk about being your father. You are, without doubt, the finest man I know.”
Chris again waited for a comeback. That was not to be, however. He took her hand. They sat silently together, looking out over the water. They need not fill in the silence. Over the years they found that the best of fri
ends demand no sound from one another when they are communicating. Mere presence was enough.
CHAPTER 13
POST 2016 ELECTION : AFGHANISTAN
The head of Chris Crawford popped up on his twin sister’s computer screen.
“You look better than I expected,” Kay started.
“What, exactly, were you expecting?” He tried a smile.
“Oh, something like your lifeless body on a morgue slab with the toe tag prominently displayed. You know, famous philanthropist, is that what you are by the way? Never mind, I’ve been expecting to see a news flash. Famous philanthropist takes own life in despair after Trump’s unexpected triumph.” Kay tried her best smile.
“Not that I didn’t try. I popped a bottle of pills, but Amar had replaced the real ones with sugar substitutes. Next, I shot myself with a gun, but she had replaced the bullets with blanks. I moved on to a knife, but you know how long that takes and I hate the sight of blood, especially my own. Besides, she put rubber joke alternatives where the real ones had been. My last attempt was hanging but the damn rope broke when I jumped off the chair. Gotta go on a diet one of these days. Besides, the results were no surprise to me.”
Kay tried to look disappointed. “Of course not, I keep forgetting that you are all-knowing. But damn, I have got to talk to that woman, your long-suffering spouse that is. She is being way too nice to you. Could be she is suffering from Stockholm syndrome. You did tell her that she gets all the money if you croak? I hope she understands that.”
“Never thought of that, good suggestion. Actually, I had told her that all my money was promised to the bimbos from my dissolute early life.” When Kay did not come back with a quick retort, he continued. “Kidding, of course, but the thing is I have been predicting this for weeks. Still, even though I expected it, there was still shock. How could sixty-three million voters be so stupid? Why in heaven’s name did I return to such a backward country?”
“To save it from itself, of course. I continue to believe it is a fool’s errand, but you are just the fool for the job.”
“You mean, as opposed to saving the world one poor person at a time? But I thank you for your touching sentiments.”
“Touché, asshole. I so miss trading insults with you. It is what you do best, we do best.”
“And you, my dear, are a worthy adversary. I go back and forth between you and Karen being the bigger asshole. And my daughter, Zita, is learning from the women around her. I am doomed, doomed.”
“Oh dear,” Kay exclaimed with faux alarm, “I will have to up my game. But wait, did you really predict this or is this more of your BS?”
“BS, from me? Perish the thought. No, we have been looking at the data very carefully. It was all there. I am shocked that Nate Silver didn’t see this coming. Maybe he did at the end, I stopped watching. Perhaps he did but could not accept what the numbers were telling him. I knew if they got close enough, it would not take much in a few key states to push the right over the top in the electoral college.”
“Hmm, I have my doubts here. No one else saw this coming, as far as I can see. I really didn’t think you were such a bang-on prophet.”
“Such little confidence from my own twin. Check with our younger sibling if you doubt me. I told her weeks ago. For me, though, it was more than the data. Okay, I know I have this Irish dark cloud that hangs over me. By the way, how did you escape that? Are we really twins? Maybe there was a mix up in the hospital.”
“If there was, you are the mistake for sure.” Kay chuckled.
“No question on that, I was born into a nice, sane family and somehow got lumped in with you. Surely, a tragedy of Greek proportions.” Chris decided that the banter had run its course. “In any case, you know my fascination with history. Beyond the survey data and the evidence of foreign meddling, I saw things from the past coming back to life. Someday, go back and look at film from the early 1960s. Look at the white faces screaming at young black girls walking into a formerly all-white school. Then, look at the faces at a Trump rally, the same hate and vitriol. The looks of pure bile are unforgettable and, eerily enough, identical. But we got complacent after that initial response to desegregation, we thought the worst hate had dissipated or at least had been relegated to a few scattered nut cases. But it never did. There were a thousand groups like the Posse Comitatus up north and Aryan defense leagues out west and the KKK or its offshoots, in the south. They were all just waiting and preparing for the coming Armageddon. They have been there all this time, simply looking for an opportunity. The funny thing is that so many thought the election of Obama spelled the end of the far-right fantasy of an America dominated by the pure racial stock. If you recall, many pundits talked about the post-racial period of American politics being ushered in. Remember all those savants eager to usher in the post-racial society? I recall thinking at the time that those people were idiots, not pundits. With a few exceptions, they tended to look at the day’s events or the most recent polls and make exaggerated claims. Obama’s election threatened the hell out of all those that had been seething with fear and hate since federal troops forced the end of apartheid in America. For all those millions, it was now or never. They saw the end of white hegemony and they could not bear it and certainly would not accept it.”
“Shit.” Kay exhaled.
“What?”
“It is like being huddled under the blanket again as kids listening to you ramble on and on. Did I say ramble? I meant listening to you educate me with your pearls of wisdom.”
“Good catch, kiddo.” Chris decided to change the topic. “So, are you enjoying being back in the field, working with the unwashed? At least you are not there during the summer. I never got used to that.”
“I do worry about global warming, what it will do to places like this. Problem is, the nighttime temps stay higher than they used to, which means people cannot recover from the day’s heat. That wears you down, makes people without air conditioning more vulnerable. In any case, you never got used to it because you are soft and a wuss.”
“No doubt, which is why I always prefer first-class accommodation. But you know what that asshole is going to do first, or maybe second, when he takes over next January? He is going to get the U.S. out of the Paris accords on climate change. Can you believe that? It is a race between that and torpedoing the Iran nuclear pact. Let’s see, how do we want to end mankind? Should we go with nuclear conflict or global warming? Both make divine apocalyptic ends, so hard to decide. Doesn’t matter though, at least he will be putting it to Obama. Trump is so petty he cannot stand the thought that Obama is more popular than he is. Did you catch the crap about his claim that he did not win a plurality because of voter fraud? Oh, oh, I have started again.”
“I hate to say this, but you have. I believe you asked me how I was doing, still interested?” Kay was a little taken with the emotional turn of her twin who, she had to admit, tended to descend into a saturnine mood during heavier political discussions. “Predicted or not, Trump has gotten to you.”
“Oops, sorry, yes, he has. I fully expected it and yet, the morning after I still could not believe it. However, really, I do want to hear about what you are up to, really.”
“Good thing, since I have you on screen, the mute button is at the ready.” Kay tried to look cross.
“Nope, you got my full attention, such as it is.”
“Be still, my heart! In truth, though, I am a little excited. You remember Archie Singleton and his wife?”
“He runs the Panjshir site, correct?”
“Yes, you haven’t lost touch, good.”
“No way, you forget I have an eidetic memory.”
“No you don’t.” Kay protested.
“Well, a damn good one. Anyways, I still do the rounds of the movers and shakers to raise money for your good works. To do that, I need to keep abreast of what is going on with the program.” Then he smiled. “And I solemnly promise that I won’t go back into political crap with you, enough moan
ing for one morning.”
“Better not, asshole.” Kay was smiling. “I have you right where I want you. One finger on the button that will turn your smiling mug into a blank screen. Ooh, we should always talk this way. This is such an advantage.”
“I am at your command, then.”
“As I was saying, Archie will be joining us in Kabul where we also will meet with Azita and Deena’s new friends, the Guptas, and some government officials. Deena and I have been chatting. We have some ideas about how to expand the range of services, particularly around girls. We need cultural change, not just education and health. They are the starting blocks but so much more is needed. One thing is exposure to the outside world. Think about it. What if you had not met Ricky and Jules? Today, you might be just another rich parasite living off your trust fund in Monte Carlo.”
“Ha, ha, but you do have something there. I really hate to admit that. Tell me more.”
“As you have said forever, we need to take a comprehensive look. You got it off to a good start but now that things have stabilized, we can do more, particularly with technology. There are so many impediments to learning beyond encrusted cultural beliefs. These kids have eye problems and nutrition problems, and other things we don’t often worry about in the West. Just getting corrective lenses to them is a start, along with simple corrective eye surgeries. Then, when we get beyond the basic stuff, I keep asking why we aren’t doing more with distance communications. We could have medical experts on call back in London that we can bring on board for difficult cases, here. It is available, let’s use it. And these girls need to see women who are successful in other fields. Through technology, we can bring these role models into the villages with a simple message: you can be anything you want.”
“Sounds great. See, you did learn something from me.”
“Don’t push it buster, my finger is hovering above the button.” She cracked. “I can fill you in more later after we finish up our discussions. I will want to give you some talking points for your money-grubbing sessions.”