Genealogy: a novel

by Mae Wood

  “Oh,” I said, processing what he’d just shared, and realizing that he’d kept it from me because he wasn’t sure he wanted me to know. I looked down at Thompson and noticed that Ben had dressed Thompson in a simple leather collar and leash and not with a vest or other markings that would tell the world that Thompson was anything other than a pet.

  “Yeah, I don’t like to make a big deal out of it, but because he’s a service dog, he can go anywhere with me. Restaurants, coffee shops, airplanes. And he’s with me all the time, even when I sleep.”

  I looked down at the yellow lab at the end of the braided leather leash I was holding. Thompson sat patiently, looking up at Ben for direction with his big brown eyes.

  Ben reached down and scratched him behind his ears. “Good boy,” he said softly.

  “That’s really cool.”

  “Yeah?” Ben said, turning his face to me. His eyes were open in surprise and I could tell he was waiting for the judgment.

  “Of course.”

  “And I don’t drive, which is—”

  “Ben?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s getting cold. Think we can keep talking inside?”

  “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

  At the hostess stand, Ben asked for a table for two. The hostess looked at Thompson and paused. “He’s a service dog,” Ben said. “Diabetic alert.”

  “Okay,” smiled the woman. “Right this way.”

  “Type I?” I guessed as I studied the menu with Thompson at Ben’s feet.

  “Yes.” He pulled out his phone, studied the screen, and tapped away.

  Clearly, I’d overstepped my bounds and he didn’t want to talk about it. I should have known better than to ask about someone’s medical condition. “Listen, I don’t want to pry, so I won’t ask more. I’m sorry.”

  He laid the phone down and held his hands out wide. “Ask away. I was just checking my glucose.”

  “You have a pump?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, and the continuous monitoring is sent to my phone.”

  “Okay, so you know I do cochlear implants and am a bit of a med device geek, but the tech on those pumps has made major leaps. It’s pretty astounding.”

  “You’re telling me. Huge change from when I was jabbing myself in the stomach all the time.”

  The waitress took our orders and I asked for a glass of wine.

  “Water for me,” he said and I knew better than to question him about what he wanted and what he needed. “And while we’re on the subject of me coming clean, my mom’s cancer scare wasn’t the only reason we made the move. It was a lot of things. My ex and I are both from around here, so family was nearby. We both missed the green and we thought a big change of scenery would help. It didn’t. And, what I was telling you before—I don’t like to drive.”

  “Related to your diabetes?”

  “Yeah. I blacked out while I was driving. The one and only blackout in my life. It was bad. My ex was in the car. We were arguing and I hadn’t eaten and… She’s fine, she’s fine.” I wasn’t sure who he was reassuring, me or himself. “Everyone is fine, but I got Thompson and I don’t like to drive unless I have to. So I needed to be somewhere with public transportation and Seattle, as much as the traffic is a nightmare, was the answer.”

  “Are you glad you came home?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It was a good move. You ready to leave home?”

  “Yes and no,” I said before I paused to think about my answer, and gave him the truth. “Well, this sounds silly to say out loud, but I’m ready to find a home.”

  “Seattle is a good one.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Back on the sidewalk after dinner, it was my turn to make things awkward. “Well, it’s been fun,” I said, trying to figure out how to end this date that wasn’t a date but was feeling more and more like a date every second.

  “You ready to get rid of us again or do you want to hang out some more?”

  “I’m not trying to get rid of you. And I’d never try to get rid of Thompson.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “My flight isn’t until midmorning, so I’ve got, what? About twelve hours to kill?”

  “Who needs sleep?”

  “Exactly. Who needs sleep when there’s a gum wall and a troll and lots to explore?”

  “You really want to see chewed up wads of gum stuck to the walls of an alley?”

  “Is it far from here?”

  “No, but it’s gross.”

  “If this might be my new home, I think I need to see it. Warts and all.”

  “Your funeral. Oh—” He stumbled over the words, and in the streetlights I could see his face pale from embarrassment, the happy dimple slipping away. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, and this time I reached for his hand. “Really, it’s fine. Lead the way.”

  The gum wall was indeed gross.

  “Other cities have love locks on bridges or shoes on trees. Why in the world is this here?” I said as I marveled at the slight sweet stench, even on a cool night.

  “Yeah, Austin keeps trying to say it’s weird, but Seattle is weird. Ready to go? Hey, I mean, let’s keep walking and talking, and I swear that I’m not a germaphobe, but this alleyway is starting to make my skin crawl.”

  “No worries. Remind me to write you an antibiotic script,” I joked, pretending to touch the gum and enjoying the gagging face he made in response. “I’m going to ask Jess if Austin can top this. Hey, can I share something that I didn’t before?”

  He stopped his playacting and looked at me square in the face.

  “It’s not about me, and it’s not about you.” And I saw the breath he was holding escape and his shoulders relax.

  “I think Elliott was a POW in the Second World War.”

  “Really?” He turned to walk out of the alley and I went with him, hand in hand.

  “I think he was held by the Japanese for years. One website lists him as the longest-held civilian during the war. And your great-grandmother Pearl is listed on another POW site, along with your grandfather and his brother. Your great uncle Eugene? He didn’t survive the camp.”

  Ben blinked at me a few times, but didn’t say anything for a long moment.

  “There are Red Cross indexes of POW records online,” I said, not sure what else to say other than to give him facts.

  “I didn’t know that. I don’t know if my mom knows that. She never said anything.”

  “I can send you the link. Where to next?”

  “The art museum isn’t far.”

  “Cool.”

  “I really don’t think my mom knows that. But that also explains why she doesn’t have any pictures of them from before they moved to California. She said she thought there’d been a house fire at some point and family stuff had been lost.”

  “More like the entire world was on fire.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll give you the pictures. She can have them, but the letters—”

  “I’m not taking Alice’s letters.”

  “Oh,” I huffed out. “Thanks. I know it’s weird, but—”

  “They aren’t mine to take.”

  “What can you tell me about Elliott?” I asked as we strolled past the art museum. “Because I’ve got this whole idea of him in my mind and I’m really curious about how much is completely wrong.”

  “Not much, to tell you the truth. My mom said that Elliott was serious and quiet and liked classical music and opera. I still can’t get over the whole POW story. Years being captive? Not knowing if your family was alive? Not knowing what would happen to you? Man.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to share? Maybe they didn’t want to remember? I read about the place he was kept. The Japanese moved a lot of the important—and valuable, I guess—prisoners to one camp in northern China. The rest of his family was held in Manila. I kept hoping it was another Elliott Keller, but the pieces kept coming together.”

&n
bsp; We slipped into silence, walking with our fingers still laced together.

  “How far away is the troll?” I asked.

  “A long way. Not walkable.”

  “And the mystery soda machine?”

  “Also a hike. Back toward where we came from and then farther. If you’re going to live here, you’re going to have to learn the bus system.”

  I glanced at my watch and wondered if my sister was going to kill me for leaving her alone all day. I hadn’t heard from her since the thumbs-up at sunset. “Troll or soda machine?”

  “If I had to pick? Troll. But this is your tour.”

  “Troll.”

  Thirty-five

  Ali

  February

  “Is now when you tell me that you’re really a psycho killer, and instead of me luring your mom into some sort of scam, this has been a scheme to lure me into a well in your basement?” I asked when we stepped off the bus in a quiet residential neighborhood.

  “Your skin is pretty on you. Let’s keep it that way. And I think the serial killer confession is more of a second date topic.”

  Second date. Somewhere this had turned into a real date, not just the imaginary date I’d wished for, and I couldn’t stop the happiness that bubbled up inside me at the idea of going on a second date with Ben.

  “You want to hold his leash again?” Ben offered.

  “I would, but I don’t want to take him from you.”

  “He’s not a guide dog, so you’re more than welcome to walk him.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that,” I said, happily taking Thompson’s leash and wrapping it around my hand.

  “It’s this way,” he said and we began to walk. “Star Wars or Star Trek?”

  “Eh…” I said, cringing slightly. “Is this over if I say neither?”

  “Nope. I kept going when I found out you like licorice,” he said, taking my hand in his again, and sending a thrill of happiness directly to my heart.

  “Good. Because here’s a critical one. Toilet paper over or under?”

  He looked at me sideways, the dimple in his left cheek more pronounced in the shadows cast by the streetlights. “You’re going to have to explain that one.”

  I wiggled my hand free from his and with a series of awkward gestures, tried to show him how toilet paper could be installed to hang over the roll or under the roll.

  “If I say that I’ve never thought about it, is this over?”

  “No, I think that’s fair. I’m an over-the-roll girl, and as long as you’re neutral, we won’t have a problem.”

  “I’m Switzerland when it comes to toilet paper.”

  “Swiss chocolate, yes. Swiss watches, yes. Swiss toilet paper? Probably not so much.”

  “To be fair, I’ve never thought about toilet paper as much as I am right now.”

  “I get it, but we’re hitting the high points. You’re neutral on toilet paper and I’m indifferent in the Luke Skywalker versus Captain Kirk debate. What else do we need to cover?”

  We came to a stop under a street lamp and this time he took both of my hands in his, pushing my hand through the loop of the leash so that we could weave our fingers together. “I like you, Ali.”

  Thompson sat on my foot and I giggled and Ben’s dimple disappeared as the smile fell from his face.

  “Oh, I’m not laughing at you,” I said, regretting anything I did that made him feel that I didn’t like him. “That was a happy laugh. I’m happy. You make me happy.”

  “It’s Thompson, isn’t it? All the ladies love Thompson.”

  “Now you’re fishing for a compliment,” I scolded him with a smile on my own face.

  “And did I catch one?” His dimple was back.

  “How’s this?” I said leaning toward him and hoping that he’d do the same. Hoping that the hand-holding and the I-like-you weren’t simple friendliness.

  And that bit of worry evaporated when he leaned forward, our mouths a hairbreadth apart, and whispered, “Best compliment ever,” before his lips landed on mine, filling me with a happiness I hadn’t even dared to imagine would find me. “He’s watching us,” Ben said when we parted.

  “Who?” I said, worried.

  “The troll.” He pointed under the overpass, and in the deep shadows the torso of a giant rose from the ground.

  “Whew,” I said. “So glad. Worried it was that psycho killer.”

  It was late when Thompson, Ben, and I walked into the hotel lobby. “Well, thanks for seeing me back,” I said.

  “Let’s not do that,” Ben said, renewing his grasp on Thompson’s leash and looking at me straight in the eye. His dimple wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  “Do what?”

  “The thing were we pretend that this day didn’t happen. We’re not doing that.”

  “Okay, but I’m going back to Kansas City in the morning.”

  “And you may end up here. And if you do, I’d like to hang out again. And if you don’t, we can keep in touch.”

  “Ben,” I teased, drawing out the sound of his name into multiple syllables and batting my eyelashes at him. “Are you asking me to be your pen pal?”

  “Yeah,” he said, huffing out a little laugh and lacing our fingers together again. “Let’s start with that.” The smile was back on his face. “It’s been a great day, Ali.”

  “It has.”

  He leaned in toward me again, not demanding, but inviting me, inviting me to be here with him in this goodbye that I hoped wasn’t a goodbye.

  Back in my hotel room, I found Jess lounging in bed, watching a movie. “You’re alive,” she said clicking the TV off and sitting up.

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling bad for ditching her for a whole day. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. So it was a date?”

  I nodded and tried to keep my smile reasonable and not the million-watt version that was trying to light up my face. “Yeah, it was a date.” I set my purse down and took off my shoes.

  “Oh Ali, that’s great. And I won’t tell anyone. But if anyone asks, you were exhausted and crashed out and ordered room service and that’s why you missed dinner with everyone.”

  “I didn’t know we were doing a big family dinner. You should have told me. I would have come.”

  “Executive decision. You needed your date more than you needed a dinner where Becca threw a roll at Charlie and then Charlie took the lid off his cup and poured milk all over the floor.”

  “That sounds less than awesome.”

  “It wasn’t their finest moment. Made me glad that mine are older. Heads up though. Patrick wasn’t exactly thrilled about you being MIA.”

  “He’ll get over it. I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

  By the time I’d showered the long day off me, brushed my teeth, and put on my pajamas, Jess had turned off the lights. I carefully navigated in the darkened hotel room, trying to find my bed without tripping over anything.

  “Time for my bedtime story.” Her voice wasn’t drowsy or sleepy. She was very much awake.

  “Okay?” I asked, crawling under the covers of my own soft hotel bed.

  “Last night it was Alice and Elliott. Tonight, I want Ali and Ben.”

  “I don’t know what to say about it.”

  “You spent over eight hours with him and you don’t know what to say? That’s ridiculous. Spill.”

  “We clicked, I guess.”

  “You two turned a quick coffee into a whole day. You definitely clicked. Now tell me about him.”

  And I did. I told her about his cute dimple, and his glasses, and that he was funny in a way that made me laugh, and how he was a data whiz, and about Thompson, and how he’d given me a tour of the city.

  “He give you a tour of his place?”

  “Jess!” I lobbed a pillow at her bed. “I just met him!”

  “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” She giggled.

  “What’s next?”

  “If I get the Seattle job, we’ll see each other again. If I don’t, we’ll k
eep in touch. He’s a cool guy.”

  “And you’re a cool girl, Ali. Really. He’d have to be stupid not to like you.”

  Waiting at the gate for my flight home the next morning, I opened my text thread with Jess and saved Ben’s number that he’d sent to her from my phone.

  Me:Hey. It’s Ali.

  Ben:Hey. At the airport?

  Me:Yeah.

  Ben:Next time you come, I’ll make good on the mystery soda machine.

  Me:Fingers crossed on the job offer then.

  Ben:Got other options in the pipeline?

  Me:Orlando is a definite possibility.

  Ben:That’s moving in the wrong direction.

  Me:Right direction is toward Seattle?

  Ben:Right direction is to Seattle.

  Me:Gotta get an offer first.

  Ben:You’ll get it.

  Me:Fingers crossed.

  Ben:Fair warning. I’ll be charming and try to convince you to take it.

  Me:Fair warning. I’m not moving across the country for you.

  Ben:Don’t expect you to.

  Me:Note: I didn’t say I wouldn’t move for Thompson.

  Me:About to take off now.

  Ben:All the ladies love Thompson. Text me when you get home.

  Ben:You home?

  Me:Yes. Busy week ahead. You?

  Ben:More of the same. But tomorrow is sushi day in the cafeteria.

  Me:Sushi! Your cafeteria is nicer than mine.

  Ben:Welcome to tech. They throw us bones so we don’t jump ship.

  Me:And sushi is the way to do that?

  Ben:The sushi chef at work is really good. He makes sushi for me that gets creative and feeds me while keeping my carbs in check.

  Me:You have a personal sushi chef at work? I should have stayed in computers.

  Ben:Not my personal sushi chef, and Hisao is a good guy.

  Ali: Favorite vacation. Beach or mountains?