Elpida

by C. Kennedy

  Christy nodded. “Sophia is here.”

  Michael gave him a gentle hug. “Call me later?”

  “I will do this.”

  “Proud of you, babe.” He kissed the tip of his nose. “Talk to you later. Thanks for staying with him, Sophia. Later, Rob.”

  Michael exited the cabin and couldn’t prevent the worry that permeated his veins. The labels Christy had hurled at himself when atop the Ferris wheel told Michael that Yosef’s words in the courtroom had constituted nothing short of a wholesale slaughter of Christy’s self-image. Rob called it a setback, but Michael knew better. Yosef had shattered the fragile confidence Christy had built since leaving Greece, and now he faced the grueling task of rebuilding his emotional foundation all over again. There existed no word in the English language to describe how despicable Yosef was.

  He decided to walk through the main house and entered through the back door. He walked down the wide hallway with its high ceiling, polished tongue-and-groove floor, and rough-hewn walls. After three months, he still marveled at the beauty of the place. When he pushed through the giant oak door that separated the main room from the sleeping quarters, the smallest cyclone in existence jumped him.

  “Michael!”

  Five-year-old Darien ran to him, aiming to hug Michael’s leg, but he caught him and picked him up before he made contact at knee level. “Hey, little man! How’s it going?”

  “Is Christy home?”

  “Yep. Let him rest for a while, and maybe you can see him later.”

  “’Kay. Can I have a piggyback ride?”

  “How about if I give you one on Sunday at the barbecue?”

  Darien’s face fell. “You promise?”

  “Yep. I promise.”

  “Okay.”

  He wriggled out of Michael’s arms and headed back to a group of kids who sat among the brightly colored pillows on the floor. Michael caught sight of Jerry out of the corner of his eye and raised a hand in a brief wave. Jerry closed the book in his lap, hopped up from the recliner he sat in, and came toward Michael.

  Jerry Lafayette and Christy had become friends in art class at school, but sometimes it was hard to believe Jerry had graduated with them. He was small, wore funky little purple glasses, had a pink streak in his hair—and was immature as hell. He’d had a sheltered upbringing in a religious family and his dad had kicked him out when he discovered he was gay. Fortunately Rob agreed to take him in until he started college at NYU in August.

  “Hey,” Michael greeted.

  “Hey. How’s Christy?”

  “Good, all things considered. Are you going to see him?”

  “Rob said to wait ’til the barbecue on Sunday ’cause the trial was real hard for him. I guess he’s pretty ruined ’cause he wanted to jump from the Ferris wheel. I mean, who does that?”

  Michael gave him a tight smile. “Someone who’s been through more than anyone should ever have to go through. How are you doing?”

  Jerry shrugged a shoulder and didn’t say more, and his reserve surprised Michael. Jerry was a guy with zero filter on his mouth and even fewer boundaries on his behavior. “You okay, dude?”

  “I guess.”

  Michael guided him to a nearby chair and sat on the ottoman across from him. “What’s up?”

  “Nothin’. I just, well, Christy means a lot, you know? I mean, Christy’s kinda my first friend.”

  In spite of Jerry’s mostly annoying existence, Michael’s heart went out to him. “I know what you mean. We don’t want to lose him.”

  “I know the rules here say you can’t stay if you’re suicidal. Rob tattooed that on my brain when I got here. Is he going to make Christy leave?”

  “No, Christy’s okay. He just had a bad moment during the trial.”

  Jerry studied a frayed piece of cast and pulled on it. One of the haters at school lived in the trailer park that was once Jerry’s home and had beaten the crap out of him. Jerry spent some time in the hospital with a serious concussion and a broken arm. The drag was that Jerry was reckless, and his cast faced extinction on a regular basis.

  “When did Dad say he’d take your cast off?”

  “Pretty soon. He’s kinda weirded out because my last two fingers are numb, but I told him I didn’t care. I can still paint and do art.”

  Jerry looked seriously dejected, and Michael wasn’t sure what to say. “Christy will be okay, Jerry. He’s dealing with it.”

  Jerry looked at him now, rubbed his eyes with his fingertips under the lenses of his glasses, and sniffed. “It sucks that we gotta be fightin’ something all the time.”

  “I know what you mean. But that’s life.”

  “You don’t have to fight anything. Your life is perfect.”

  Michael smiled a small smile. “Not always, man, but life can be seriously good if we work at it.”

  “Yeah, you know, someone should tell us that shit.”

  “Tell us what?”

  “That we gotta work at it. I mean, everyone thinks when you grow up, life is a piece of cake.”

  Now Michael smiled a full smile. “You’re right. Someone should tell us that shit. But they don’t, so we have to deal.”

  Jerry released a long sigh. “Sucks.”

  Michael half nodded and half shook his head. “Not always.”

  “Christy’s not going anywhere? He can stay?”

  “Yep. See you on Sunday?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Jerry stood from the chair, and Michael looked up at him. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yeah. See you Sunday.”

  Michael watched Jerry walk away and felt sorry for him. His parents sucked, and he was right about two things. Compared to many others, Michael did have a near-perfect life; and life didn’t get any easier when you grew up. He stood and spotted Zero sitting alone in a chair by a front window and headed over to him.

  “Hey. I’m Michael.”

  The kid looked up at him, his green eyes made ultrabright by the heavy guyliner the kid wore. “I know.”

  “Give Christy some time to rest. Then you can meet him.”

  “I heard Rob the first time.” The kid rose from the chair and walked off.

  Michael’s immediate reaction was to judge the kid as a jerk, but then he thought better of it. He didn’t know the kid from Adam.

  “EVERYTHING OKAY, bro? You were in there forever,” Jake asked when Michael returned to the limousine.

  “Yeah. Christy is happy to be home.”

  “That’s wonderful to hear,” Mac said.

  “Jerry seems a little depressed.”

  Jake scooted over on the seat to make room for Michael. “We’ll cheer him up at the barbecue on Sunday.”

  “The new kid from the city is here and wants to meet Christy.”

  “What kid?” Nero asked.

  “I guess in order for Rob to get the license for Wellington to be a group home, he had to take on a kid from the city and a new counselor. That way, Thimi could come here.”

  Nero nodded knowingly. “I’d forgotten that.”

  “What do you think of him?” Anna asked.

  Michael shrugged a shoulder. “I think he was pissed because Rob wouldn’t let him meet Christy.”

  “Look at that. Will they never stop?” Bobbie said as she looked out the window at the media parked just beyond the exit to the parking lot.

  “They never stop,” Anna said with a sigh.

  “They should be one hundred yards from the entrance,” Nero said, his voice cold and angry.

  They watched as Tad and two other security guards approached the media van. After what appeared to be a tense conversation, the reporters returned to their vehicles and departed.

  The ride to Michael’s house was uneventful until they reached the street they lived on.

  “Oh for crying out loud,” Bobbie said when she saw the press camped in front of their house.

  Nero looked at Mac. “Why don’t you stay with us?”

  Mac l
ooked at Bobbie, who pursed her lips. “I suppose. I hate to keep imposing on you.”

  Anna squeezed Bobbie’s hand. “Nonsense. We’re family.”

  Jake nudged Michael’s foot with his own, and Michael shrugged. “Just need to get clothes and let Christy know.”

  “ARE YOU all right, Christy?” Sophia asked in Greek from her seat on the couch.

  He nodded as he took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs and responded in Greek. “Do you know what happened years ago?”

  “No more than you do.”

  “Why won’t Ariel discuss it?”

  “I don’t know. She became very angry when I asked about it.”

  “What do you remember from when we are young?”

  She shook her head slowly. “I do not remember y—our parents being my parents.”

  “It is possible we are twins.”

  A smile flickered across her lips. “It is.”

  “This is comforting to me.”

  Now she did smile. “To me as well.”

  “In the end it changes nothing,” Christy said solemnly.

  “I agree.”

  Christy gestured with a hand. “Life continues.” His phone buzzed with a text message from Michael, and he retrieved it from the coffee table and read the message. “The media is at Michael’s house. They will stay with Jake.”

  “It would be best if my publicist handled the press.”

  Christy rubbed his face with a hand. “You’re right.”

  “Nero said you spoke with Thimi.”

  He nodded. He didn’t want to argue with her about Thimi and waited for her to speak her mind.

  “Are you absolutely certain you wish to care for him?”

  She’d labeled Thimi an animal merely because Yosef was his father and Petros his grandfather, and it goaded him no end that she’d prejudged him. “You know my answer, Sophia.”

  She frowned. “You are asking for more trouble from the Sannas.”

  “It isn’t his fault Yosef is his father.”

  “True, but having Thimi with you puts you at risk.”

  What Sophia didn’t realize—more probably, didn’t want to face—was that the Sannas wouldn’t leave Christy alone as long as he still breathed. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, they were obsessed with him, and having Thimi with him wouldn’t make one damned iota of difference in risk. But he wasn’t going to tell her that. It would only upset her. “He is twelve. He has nowhere to go. He has no one to care for him. I cannot leave him in an orphanage in Greece.”

  “You have asked Nero to arrange to build a home like this, a Wellington Ranch in Greece. Why can’t he stay there?”

  “He will stay with me. This is my final decision.”

  She capitulated with a sigh. “What can I do to help?”

  Surprise filled him. “You want to help?”

  “If I can’t change your mind, I will try to make the best of an awful situation. Now, what can I do?”

  “I must prepare the cabin for Thimi. I must design and shop. Will you shop for me tomorrow?”

  She smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “NO COMMENT!” Michael shouted to the reporters right before he and his parents entered the house, and he slammed the door. “Man! I’m getting to the point where I hate those guys!”

  “It is overwhelming,” Mac agreed.

  Michael ran a hand through his hair. “How many days are we going to be at Jake’s?”

  Bobbie tried to offer an encouraging smile. “Probably the weekend, honey. Hopefully it will die down by Monday.”

  “Only to get weird again in two weeks when Yosef is sentenced.” Michael headed down the hallway to his bedroom and shut the door behind him. “What a freakin’ crazy couple of days,” he muttered as he stripped the scrubs off and tossed them into the laundry basket in his closet. He reached into a dresser drawer for boxers, then into his closet for a pair of jeans and put them on. He went back to the dresser, rummaged for a T-shirt, came up with one bearing “Running: the only sport that requires two balls instead of one,” and slipped it on.

  Next he reached into the closet for his overnight duffel and stuffed it with clothes, including his running clothes and track shoes. He and Jake had made the USATF tryouts and had exactly two weeks to be ready for the Trials in July. It felt like a lifetime since he last ran, but it had only been four days.

  Next he gathered his toiletries, stuffed them into the bag, and tried to cram his laptop in too, but it didn’t fit. He packed his laptop case separately and zipped it up. Finished, he zipped the duffel closed, slung the strap over his shoulder, and headed back down the hallway.

  “Ready?” Mac asked.

  “Yeah. I can’t believe Jake and I have only two weeks to get ready for the Trials.”

  Mac chuckled. “Things will settle down now, and you’ll be ready.”

  “Man, I hope so.”

  “How are you doing, Michael?”

  He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  Bobbie came down the hallway with her suitcase on wheels and an overnight bag, and Mac tried to help her with the luggage.

  “I have it. You need to get your own bag,” she insisted.

  “We’ll take the bags after we get you back to the car, Dr. and Mrs. Sattler,” Tad said quickly. “Yours too, Michael.”

  Michael let the duffel strap slip from his shoulder and handed the bag to Tad along with the laptop case, and Tad set them in the foyer with the other luggage.

  “Honey, is everything locked?” Bobbie asked.

  “Everything’s taken care of, dear,” Mac assured her.

  “I’m beginning to understand why Nero hates the press so much,” she said with a sigh.

  Michael hooked an arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “Like Dad says, it’ll die down.”

  She patted his cheek. “How did I get so lucky as to have you for a son?”

  “Dad’s fault.”

  “I accept the award. Ready to brave the horde?”

  Michael half laughed. “Is this when I let loose my Braveheart scream?”

  Mac chuckled. “Are we victorious?”

  “No. Definitely no victorious happening.”

  “You look nothing like that heathen, William Wallace. I call that a victory,” Bobbie quipped.

  “I could grow my hair long.”

  “Don’t even think it,” she said as Tad opened the door, and they faced the horde.

  SOPHIA AND Christy surveyed the empty cabin. “What do you think?” she asked.

  Christy rubbed his chin in contemplation. “It is too much space. Thimi will not feel safe.”

  “What do you propose?” Rob asked.

  Christy walked to the wrought iron spiral staircase and gestured upward. “The loft.” He climbed the stairs, and Sophia and Rob followed.

  “Here. He will live here.”

  Rob winced. “It’s only four hundred square feet, Christy.”

  “It is good. We will need the small bed, and the shelves for the clothes.”

  “Not a closet?” Sophia asked.

  Christy shook his head. “Never. And never the shower. He suffered much in these places.”

  “What do we do with the rest of the place?” Rob asked.

  “Put the furniture like me. It will take time, but he will come down.”

  “He has to come down to eat, bathe, and for meetings and group time,” Rob said.

  “Only with me for the first week. Then we will see.”

  Sophia studied Christy intently. “What will happen if you’re not here?”

  “I will be here. We have no school, and Michael has the practice for the Trials. It will be a good week for Thimi.”

  Rob continued to scowl in contemplation. “Dr. Jordanou and General Sotíras will be here for a week.”

  Christy turned to him. “This is good. Make the bed for Dr. Jordanou below.”

  “You expect him to stay here?” Sophia asked.

  Christy nodded as he continued to
think about the other things Thimi would need. “The loft is the space for Thimi, and no one can enter without the permission.”

  “I don’t know if I can agree to that, Christy. At the very least, he has a daily room check,” Rob said.

  “Okay. So you explain this will happen, how long it will take. Say he must give the permission for this. Nothing will be taken or stolen, and he may supervise the check. I will help him.”

  Rob gave him a dubious look. “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”

  “No. Come. We will eat and make the list of things to buy.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “HOW IS Christy?” Nero asked.

  Michael looked up from his dinner plate. He’d been so busy shoveling food into his mouth he hadn’t paid attention to anyone at the table. “Okay. Kind of hanging on by a thread, but if you’re worried about him committing suicide, you don’t have to. He’s excited that Thimi’s coming here. Why?”

  “Only concerned. How are you?”

  Michael glanced at Nero, then at Anna and Jake, then at his parents, and back at Nero. “Okay. The video was a shocker, but I know exactly what happened.”

  “What do you mean by ‘what happened’?” Bobbie asked.

  He met his mom’s even gaze. “Christy spent thirteen years learning how to keep Yosef from hurting him, so he did what he had to do.”

  Jake pushed his plate forward and sat back in his chair. “You aren’t pissed off?”

  “Seriously pissed off, and if I ever get my hands on that fucker again, he’s dead. Sorry for the language, but that’s how I feel.”

  “In this instance, it’s acceptable,” Mac said.

  “I agree,” Anna said softly.

  Nero looked at her, surprised.

  “Don’t look at me like that. The man is vile.”

  “Go, Mamma!” Jake held his hand up for a high five, and Anna touched it lightly.

  “I don’t think we need to worry about you ever coming into contact with him again,” Bobbie said.

  “For his sake, I hope not,” Michael said as he rose from the table to take his plate to the kitchen.

  “Michael, sit. Rosa will get it,” Anna insisted.

  Michael forgot he was at Jake’s house. Though they’d grown up together, he often forgot the Santinis had house staff. “I got it.”