“Me?”
He squinted. I had to look back out the window.
“I’m fine. We’re all fine.”
He spoke to me for a little while longer, but my guard had risen. In fact, a deep panic set in at the thought of my father learning that I spoke to a police officer about family business. I gave him nothing after that. Even before he finished and walked away, though, I started to vibrate. I sat for a moment, staring out into the night. I went through everything, repeating every word I used over and over again in my head. As I did, my cheeks grew hotter and hotter.
Suddenly, I rose from the chair so fast that it tipped behind me. I didn’t care. I moved past it to the elevator, leaving my mother in room 353. I slipped from the hospital without a real destination in mind. I just needed to get out.
Maybe I was walking home. Or maybe I was looking for some hidden escape, one that would rewrite the life I found myself living. Or both, I don’t know. But I hurried down the dark streets near the hospital, speaking out loud to myself.
“I didn’t tell him anything . . . Nothing’s going to happen . . . They don’t know anything.”
I passed a few people. They hurried around me and then stopped, staring at my passing. I grew more and more detached, like my head was one place and my body belonged to someone else. I just kept walking, turning onto whatever street appeared darker and lonelier.
Like so much back then, I really don’t know what happened. At some point, a man appeared in front of me. He might have had his hands out, trying to get me to stop. Maybe he just saw a fourteen-year-old boy in distress, a kid who needed help. It could be that something else happened. My chest felt so tight that I could barely breathe. And I kept talking to myself.
“They won’t come to the house. That won’t happen.”
The guy just wouldn’t leave me alone. He should have. I don’t know how he couldn’t see the condition I was in. He had to see the anger in my eyes. The craziness.
He touched me first. I am sure of it. His hand fell on my shoulder, and I snapped. I lashed out, swinging wildly, my arms like gears spinning faster and faster. I drove into him without grace or feeling. He may have swung at me, or not. My face ended up pretty well bruised. But maybe I did that to myself as I unleashed the unbridled rage that had been building up inside me.
At one point, the two of us fell to the sidewalk. I was panting. I felt like I was having a heart attack. He was sort of rolling away from me. Saying something like “Chill, man.” I got to my feet. Somehow, I stayed standing, even though my vision spun and I felt so dizzy.
The guy quieted down when I walked away. Before I knew it, though, I saw red and blue lights again. At first, I thought I was dreaming, or that I was back in my foyer with my half-naked mother on the cold, dead floor. I even thought that they had come to help us.
I heard them behind me. Yelling at me. But I kept walking, anyway. I just wanted it all to stop. I wanted them to stop me. To end it all, maybe.
The next thing I knew, my face slammed into the sidewalk. I felt the weight of men on my back, pulling at my arms. And I started to cry.
“Help me,” I whispered.
But I don’t think anyone heard me.
7
I park the truck a few blocks from the event. As I’m getting out, I give Lauren a smile.
“I’d stay out of sight if I were you.”
Her jaw clenches and I shut the door. It’s a risk bringing her here. I know that. But it’s the least risky of my options. Maybe she will end this game. Walk into the event behind me. Then we’d all go back to where it started. Back to what life had become. It wouldn’t be me giving up. Me losing my courage yet again. It would be her.
So I walk east, leaving her behind and heading toward a building that houses a dozen or so nonprofits. I’m running a few minutes late, so I’m alone as I push through the revolving door and into the lobby. A receptionist there smiles at me. I think I’ve seen her before but I can’t remember her name. So I just smile back.
“Hey, Liam,” she says.
“Hi,” I say. “How are you?”
“Are you going to your brother’s talk?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
She points me in the right direction. I give her a wave and head back to a conference room off the lobby. My brother’s already up at the podium, which I assumed he would be. I stand where he will eventually see me.
“Some of you may not know my story. Maybe you think I’m just here shilling for votes. I get it. It’s that time of year, right?”
The crowd laughs with my brother. And he feeds on their energy.
“The truth is, I’m an orphan. And when I think about all the work you do for children and families in this state, it means that much more to me. Because I know that there are people . . . families out there that need help, and have no idea how to find it. Families like mine.”
Drew pauses dramatically. He looks out at the fawning crowd, taking them in like drugs from a needle. Then his eyes meet mine. They widen, for a fraction of a second, but I see it. Then he moves past me, on to his next political victim.
I look away once his gaze passes. I see Patsy. She stands between two reporters. One whispers to her. When she turns and speaks to him, it is as if he devours her words. I turn back to my brother and watch him work the crowd in much the same way.
“As Americans, I think that we all need a villain for every story. Our hero needs to vanquish the bad guy . . . or lady in the end. In a way, a story without one, without a clear villain, can be the scariest story of all. Because we know that it can happen to anyone. At any time.
“Our story had no villain, at least not one that I could understand. I grew up in a home with both my mother and my father. We lived in a safe, beautiful suburban community full of bicycle rides and basketball with our friends. As far as I knew, we never hurt for money. But a poison seeped into the very foundation of our lives. A silent killer that didn’t stop until it took everything and left us broken and alone.
“My mother was an alcoholic. I didn’t even know what that meant at first. I noticed the little things. She would disappear in the afternoons. Then in the mornings. She got thinner and thinner. She smiled less and less. But I was a child. My father, her husband, he faced it alone for so many years. He loved her. He did everything he could for her. But in the end, it was too much. He watched her die one day at a time until he was left a shell of himself, almost as dead as Mom.
“Her illness broke my family. It tore us apart with an agonizing and slow hunger. It left us in pieces, vulnerable. At seventeen, with my parents decimated by alcoholism, I found myself alone with my younger brother. Suddenly, our perfect suburban home was without a mother, and without a father. What choice did I have but to sacrifice everything to raise my brother? What else could I do?”
He pauses again. This time, he looks right at me and nods. I feel a current run down my back, melting my feet to the floor.
“I thought I was alone. I thought I had nowhere to turn. But now I know that I did; I just didn’t know where to look. That’s why, when I’m governor, I promise that I won’t stop fighting until I’ve tripled funding for Children and Families First, and other organizations like yours. I won’t stop fighting until we find every family out there that is suffering in silence. We’ll bring the help to them, not hope that they can find it themselves. I promise that we won’t leave one child behind.”
The crowd in the room devours his words, leaving nothing but their applause behind. I stand there, my brain turning so fast that the truths seem to be flung to the sides, stuck there by the centrifugal force of my brother’s reality. I claw and scrape at them, needing them to come to my rescue, convince me that what happened did in fact happen. That I am right and he is not. The truth shouldn’t be like that. It should be easy. Black or white. Right or wrong. Instead, it is a bog, sucking me in and
suffocating my thoughts until my legs feel numb.
I think this is all I have to endure. That it can’t get worse, until he sees me again. That half smile slowly forms on his face, one that haunts every day of my life.
“Thank you, thank you,” Drew says. “But I mean what I say. It’s personal for me. And for my brother, who just happens to be here today. Right there, in the back.” He points at me. “My brother, Liam. Like me, he knows how important this is. For us it’s not just politics, or even passion. It’s simply life.”
Everyone in the room turns as one. They look at me. I see the pity in their eyes. I feel their misguided attempts at empathy. The attention burns like acid, pulling bile up my throat. My cheeks burn. I am sure they take it as embarrassment at my sudden fame. But the truth is, I feel only an unbridled and barely contained rage.
My brother seems to milk the moment. He stands on the stage, his face changing, the charm returning to his grin. He lets the seconds tick by. He knows what he’s doing. He knows what this is doing to me. I imagine that the crowd around me has vanished to him. That his focus bores into me, feeding on me like a succubus.
A woman beside me moves closer. Her whisper fills my head.
“You and your brother are so strong.”
I have to fight everything inside me, otherwise I might turn on her, lash out with the truth. And maybe I should. Maybe that would change everything. But even as I think of the possibility, I know it’s too late. The plan is in place. The steps have been taken, and I am going to see it through to the end.
“We have work to do,” my brother announces, breaking the crushing pressure around me. Attention returns to him and I can breathe again. “It’s not going to be an easy fight. But I know the stakes. For that reason, losing is not an option. My brother and I struggled. We fought and clawed our way through the hard times. But what we never did was give up. That’s my promise to you. I will never stop fighting. I will never give up!”
I take a step back as the crowd erupts around me. It makes me sick, really. But the moment has passed. I am in control again. I am refocused. I see Drew looking at me and I believe he can see that on my face. Maybe his smile slips, just a fraction. If it does, only I would notice.
* * *
—
AGAIN, I FIND myself watching her. Patsy works the crowd. She moves among the people, touching them, laughing at their tiny jokes, slipping in and out of grave conversations like they are small talk. I see the lawyer in her. And the leader. Everyone knows her in this crowd, mostly due to her years running the nonprofit. But others, particularly the reporters in the room, won’t leave her alone. She is like the drug that has been taken away. Their withdrawal bleeds from wide, sycophantic eyes.
“Hey, Liam, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Bob’s sudden approach startles me. I rip my attention from Patsy.
“Bob,” I say, off-balance. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he says with a soft laugh at my discomfort. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s about time your brother got you more involved. Patsy, too, huh? She’s back to working? The reporters are hilarious. I swear, I think she could sell them typewriters if she wanted to.
“It’s great, though,” he says, shaking his head. “Having her energy back. I don’t really get why she stepped back to begin with, but . . .” He glances over at my brother. “Whatever. Maybe she’s just filling in for Lauren today. But it’s great. And everyone’s talking about it. I hope he hears them. Considering . . .”
“Considering what?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Things aren’t looking too hot. I got the final count from the beef and beer the other night. Not enough money, Liam. Nowhere near enough. That, and the polling numbers, there’s blood in the water. I just heard from the campaign that a bunch of staffers are jumping ship. They’re heading to Greene’s campaign, for Christ’s sake.”
“The guy running for state rep?” I ask.
Bob nods.
“But he has, like, one full-time job to hand out. What are they thinking?”
“I have no idea,” Bob says.
“That’s a bad sign,” I say.
“You’re telling me,” he says.
I want to say more. I want to tell Bob what my brother is really planning. What he’s truly capable of. What he’ll do to get what he wants. I owe this man that. He’s good and innocent. That consideration is moot, though. For as we sit there, each lost in our own thoughts, Drew approaches.
“Why the long faces, gentlemen?” Drew asks, but he is staring at me.
“Bad news, boss,” Bob says.
Drew ignores him for a second. “I was looking for you, bro.”
“I’m right here,” I say.
“That’s true.” He smiles. “My brother. Always reliable.”
We continue to stare at each other. Though that charming smile shines, his eyes try to rip the truth from me. He needs to know how far my disobedience has spread. Not showing up to the trailer. Leaving Lauren’s car in the middle of the street. Letting the police find it so quickly. So conspicuously. Could it be my “stupidity,” or something more?
I do my best to stare back at him as if nothing is wrong. As if his plan is moving ahead without a hitch.
“I swung by your trailer today,” Drew says. “Did you forget we were supposed to meet?”
“No,” I said. “I just lost track of time.”
“Is that it, huh?” he asks.
To my surprise, Bob jumps in.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” he says.
We both turn to him. He is smiling, his face like that of a misbehaving child.
“He lost track of time with that brunette he has waiting in his truck.”
It’s like the ground suddenly disappears under my feet. Though I stand frozen in place, I feel myself plummeting. I just stare at Bob. I can’t look at my brother. But I feel Drew moving closer to me. Almost touching me. When he speaks, the tone is flat and perilous.
“A brunette, huh?” he asks. “Anyone we know?”
I shouldn’t have brought her here. I had planned to be in and out. Bob wasn’t even supposed to be here. And I parked a good four blocks away. Too risky. But it was a mistake. How big, though, I’m not sure yet.
Oblivious, Bob laughs. “I didn’t get close enough to tell. Maybe you should ask your brother.”
I know Drew. I can guess what he’s thinking. It’s one thing if he didn’t know where Lauren was. Even if he didn’t trust me. Even if he could give me enough credit to think that maybe I have my own game playing out. He couldn’t move on me. It would be too risky. But now, he could hold me here and call the police. They’d find Lauren in my truck. That, paired with her car being parked in the middle of the street. The description from the guy with the beard. It would be enough. Lauren would play along and Drew would send me to jail. I changed plans on him. I put him at risk. I know my brother can’t stand for that. And I want to hit myself for being so freaking stupid.
I spit words out like they are shards of glass. “I have to go.”
My brother’s fingers seize my biceps. He squeezes, the pressure like a vise grip, slowly tightening to the point that I might never get away.
“Wait up,” he hisses close to my ear. “I think we have some things to talk about.”
Bob notices. He takes a step back, obviously uncomfortable. I fight the urge to pull away from my brother. I can’t make more of a scene. I just need to get out of here.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Bob says.
He turns and walks away, leaving us alone. This was planned. This is why I came, to talk to him, to make him wonder. But Bob saw Lauren; he told Drew about the brunette in my truck. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
“You brought her here?” he hisses.
I don’t answer right away. “I had to,” I say. “The p
olice were all over the place.”
“Of course they are,” he says. “You left her fu . . . her car right in the middle of traffic. What did you expect?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” I say, stammering.
Can he not see what I am doing? With Drew, I never know. I just need to play my game. And hope it is better than his.
“I’m taking her to the trailer now,” I say in a soft whisper.
Drew nods. He looks around, making sure no one is too close to us. Then he moves in, that half smile back on his face.
“This is about Patsy, isn’t it?” he says.
My voice cracks. “What?”
“I saw you last night. The way you were looking at her. The way you stand when you talk to her. I’ve seen it since the day you met her. You’re always staring at her. Practically drooling.” He laughs. “But you know what, Liam? She thinks you’re a total loser. She thinks you’re disgusting. That trailer of yours. Your pathetic jobs. I try to tell her you’re okay, but she just laughs at you.”
My cheeks burn. I turn, looking toward the door. I need to get the hell out of here. I need to get away from him. I wish I had never come. And he senses all of this. He latches on like a pit bull.
“Oh, wow. You really thought she might be into you. What? Did you think she was going to leave the future governor for you? Come on, bro.”
He grabs my shoulder, his fingers digging in to the bone.
“Look, we’re almost there. It’s so close I can taste it. We just need to stick to the plan. When the story breaks, we’ll be right there to lead the search. I’ll”—he makes little air quotes—“put the campaign on hold. Her life is more important than anything. It’ll play like a damn cute kitten video.”
He gets even closer. I can feel his breath as he speaks.
“And once it’s done, once I win, you won’t have to worry about anything. I’ll get you whatever job you want. You know how hard I’ve worked for this. You know what we’ve been through together. Just stick to the plan, okay? Just do what you need to do, this one last time, and everything will finally work out. We’ll be together. You’ll finally be safe.”
The Perfect Plan Page 11