by Julia Karr
“Call right away. Promise?” Dee hugged me.
“I promise.”
When they were gone, I called Sal. No answer. I didn’t want to think about him with Paulette, or anything that had to do with his not being there with me. I finally called Wei.
“I’ll come right down to the hospital,” she said.
“It’s too late. I just wanted to talk for a minute.”
“Nonsense. I’ll have Chris drive me over. See you in a few.”
I called Sal again. Even if he couldn’t be with me, at least talking with him would be reassuring. No answer. I didn’t leave a message. Alone in the waiting room, I poured my fears and frustrations into the drawing I’d started earlier.
***
“Took me forever to find you,” Wei said. “The people working here are not helpful at all. Actually, the girl in intake was outright evil.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I met her. That’s how everyone treats low-tier and welfare people. And this is Metro”—I shrugged—“so those are the only people you’ll find here.”
“Really?” She tilted her head, casting me a quizzical look. “That’s no reason to be rude. People are people.”
It was my turn to be surprised at Wei’s naïveté. The thought had never occurred to me that Wei wouldn’t have any experience with life at the lower end of society. “Some people don’t consider anyone below tier three to be real people. Not worth much of anything, unless they’re doing them a common service, or, like Mike’s dad, testing out experimental meds for research.”
“Huh.” She sat back, a pensive expression on her face. “I hadn’t thought about that.” She glanced at my lap. “What’s that?”
“Nothing.” I flipped the cover over my drawing.
“Can I see? It looked cool.”
I didn’t show my work around, except for art class. But I trusted Wei.
I pulled back the cover. “It was this woman who was here earlier. Her daughter was gang-raped and died.” I’d divided the page and done the drawing as a triptych. One panel was of a girl, unconscious and hurt, with boys walking away in the distance. The middle panel was the mother weeping over her daughter’s body. And the third was the mother being stunned by the cop.
Wei looked at it for the longest time. “That’s amazing, Nina. As eloquent as one of your father’s speeches, and just as powerful.”
Wei was maybe thinking about the picture, and I was wishing that more people could see, really see, that this is what the XVI tattoo meant, when a family came in. The woman, puffy-eyed from crying, held a sleeping baby in her arms. An older woman, possibly her mother, was with her, a boy of about five in tow. They sat on the other side of the room and turned on the Family Audio/Video. The baby fussed itself awake. Between its cries and the FAV, there was enough noise that Wei and I could talk, carefully, without fear of being overheard or monitored.
“Nina. After we talked this afternoon, I called and set up a meeting with my friends for tomorrow. But now that Gran’s here, maybe we should––”
“No! I’ll make it work.” The Sisterhood. I had to make it—this was my chance, and I needed to do something other than sit in this room, waiting for bad news.
Just then, the waiting room door swung open. All eyes turned toward the entrance. My heart leaped into my throat as Dr. Silverman entered, expressionless, like a sphinx. It felt like an eternity as he walked across the room to me.
When he finally reached me, he said, “Your grandmother came through the procedure as well as can be expected. She’ll be moved to a private room where we can keep her under observation.”
I seized his hand. “Thank you! May I see her? Please?”
He extricated his hand, waving over one of the nurses standing near the door. “Sani-cloth. Stat. Then take this girl to the eighth floor.” Without so much as a glance in my direction, he said, “Five minutes tonight, that’s all.”
Snatching the wipe from the nurse, he walked out, vigorously scrubbing the hand I’d touched.
“Nice guy,” I muttered to Wei.
“Oh, he’s so much more than that!” the nurse gushed. “He’s a miracle worker.” Her adoring gaze followed him.
I bit my tongue. If the operation saved Gran, I guess it didn’t matter how much low-tiers, like me, disgusted the man.
***
On the way to the eighth floor, I called Dee. “Gran’s out of the operating room. I get to see her for five minutes. The doctor said she did well.” I didn’t add his caveat. No need to upset Dee, and no need to dampen my own little spark of positivity. “I’ll pick you up from Harriet’s in about half an hour.”
While I was talking with my sister, Wei called Chris to come and pick us up.
“Nina, maybe you guys should stay with us tonight?” Wei said.
“We’ll be fine at the apartment.” My thoughts ran to the mess the B.O.S.S. agents had made and how empty everything would feel without Gran and Pops. “It’s closer to Metro,” I reasoned. “And I know Dee will want to come down here first thing.”
We opened the door to Gran’s room quietly. I couldn’t tell just by looking whether she was better or not. There was more color in her face, for sure. She was asleep and had a tube in her throat, and was hooked up to a machine that appeared to be controlling her breathing. I stood beside her bed for my allotted five minutes, remembering back to the allotted ten I spent with Ginnie when she was in the Infinity machine, after which the doctor had switched it off and my mother was dead. This time, however, things were different. The hypnotic blips on the monitor were stronger and more frequent than they’d been earlier—tiny pulses of hope.
VIII
It was freezing outside, and dark. The glare of the canopy of overhead lights temporarily blinded me.
“Hey, I���m over here.” Chris was half out of his multi, waving to us. “Ladies, your chariot awaits.”
“You sit in front.” Wei crawled into the back and stretched out. “I’m pooped.” She let out a big yawn, and then silence.
I sank into the seat, too wired to relax.
Chris slipped into the driver’s side. “So how’s your grandmother?”
“Better, I think. She was still under the anesthesia when I left, but they said her heart rate was good and she wasn’t gray anymore.”
“That’s great. I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s an Oberon. I’ve heard they’re pretty tough cookies.”
That did it. I burst into tears.
“Whoa! I didn’t mean to start a river. Although it’s completely understandable.” He pulled a napkin out of the console and handed it to me. “Here.”
Wei leaned over the seat, groggy. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I sniffed, wiping my cheeks. “A momentary lapse of control.”
Chris reached over and squeezed my arm. “Your family’s been through so much. But you guys always bounce back.” He put the trannie in gear and eased out into traffic. “Dad and Wei told me about the writ, and then your grandfather . . . Now this.” He shook his head. “Lots of stuff going on in your life. You know, I’m sure it’s because you’re Alan’s daughter. I wonder if B.O.S.S. suspects he’s alive.”
“Ed thought so, but—” Catching myself just in time, I pointed skyward. Surveillance.
“Oh, not to worry. Trannie’s been modified by John and Sal. You can say whatever you want. No one can hear us.”
Sal. What I wanted was not to be reminded of Sal. Sal who wasn’t there when I needed him most, who was off somewhere with Paulette. Like my dad had not been there for my mom.
This whole night had brought back so many memories. How Ginnie’d had to face life alone after my father went underground. Sure, it had been for our safety as much as his—but, still . . . Ed, her boyfriend and Dee’s presumed father, murdered her all because she wouldn’t tell the truth about Alan’s being alive. I knew some of how Ginnie had felt, from reading one of her hidden notes in Dee’s baby book. She’d loved my dad, all the way to end. But what about him? How
had he felt all those years? There were so many unanswered questions.
For those last few weeks, I’d managed to keep myself pretty upbeat about an eventual meeting with my father. But there were times I was angry, really angry at him for choosing the Resistance over my mom and me. To stave off any more thoughts, I dove into the conversation with Chris. “Ed wasn’t sure my father was alive until right before my mother died. The nurse who was taking care of the Infinity machine that kept my mom alive those last few minutes was working with Ed. She overheard Mom tell me to find my father.”
“Yeah, I know,” Chris said. “She was dealt with.”
I sat up with a jerk. “Dealt with?” What did that mean? “You don’t mean . . . killed . . . ?” Was the Resistance no better than the GC, removing people who disagreed with them?
“Of course not.” Chris glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “We have a holding camp in the Himalayas. People there are as free as we can let them be. Most of them were coerced into working for B.O.S.S. anyway, but we have to keep them, uh . . . out of circulation, just in case. They’ll all be released after the Governing Council is brought down. Anyway, back to Ed. We found out that he’d been in regular contact with someone we only know as ‘A,’” Chris said. “But as near as we can tell, he didn’t have any solid proof about your dad to pass along. So maybe I’m wrong. It’s entirely possible that all of this is coincidence.”
“Even the writ?” I wasn’t convinced.
“Well, your grandfather wasn’t . . .” Chris seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Which was a good thing. I was at the end of my last nerve and knew I wouldn’t deal well with someone accusing Pops. “Let’s say, he had a lapse in judgment.”
He was right. Completely right. “That happened after the writ was filed. You’re definitely not wrong about the Oberons. We do have a habit of speaking our minds at precisely the wrong time.”
“Well, the right times, too. You should hear your father’s speeches. He’s an amazing orator.”
The best I could muster was a lame smile. Pride swelled my heart, yet at the same time, pain pricked it. I’d only “heard” my father once, ever. That had been weeks ago on my birthday when he called me. I wanted to hear more—lots more. Like how everything got so messed up in my life. Surely, once he knew about Gran and Pops, he’d do something. He’d have to.
***
Chris parked his trannie in front of my building, “I’ll walk you up.”
“You don’t need to,” I said.
“Where are we?” Wei mumbled from the backseat, where she had been sleeping.
“Go back to sleep,” Chris said. “And you, Nina—humor me.” He bounded out of the multi, raced around, and opened my door before I could say okay. Bowing low, his eyes twinkling, he stretched out his hand. “Madam.”
When I placed my hand in his, I felt some of his strength flow into me. A smile tugged the corners of my lips, and I gladly went along with his silliness. It was the perfect touch of humor to lighten my mood. “Thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure.”
Placing my hand on the recognition pad, I said, “Nina Oberon and guest.” Chris put his face next to mine for the ID.
“Proceed to your apartment at once,” an automated voice intoned. “Important notification posted at eleven-thirty p.m.”
“What’s that about?” Chris cocked his head.
“I have no idea. We’d better go up there before I pick up Dee from Harriet’s.”
I paced around the elport while Chris tried to calm me down. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably a change in procedure of some sort.”
The message screen by the apartment door was flashing. I pressed it and a paper slid out. Bolded across the top, it said: NOTICE OF EVICTION.
“What?” I slumped against the wall for support. “How could this happen?”
Chris cupped my elbow. “Let’s get inside.”
My hands were shaking as I pressed in the code. “Why would they evict us? We haven’t done anything wrong. The rent goes straight from Pops’s pension to the building fund.”
Once we were inside, Chris let out a low whistle. “Wei said B.O.S.S. paid you a visit. This is their version of home decorating?”
“Yeah.” I saw Pops’s ginger tin on the floor, open, dented, and bits of candied ginger were scattered everywhere. I knelt down and started picking up the pieces. It was the only thing I could think to do.
Chris squatted beside me. “We should look at this notice,” he said gently.
He helped me up and sat next to me on the sofa. Our legs were touching. Oddly, that was comforting.
“‘Dear Mrs. Oberon,’” he read. “‘Due to the subversive activity of Mr. Oberon—’”
“My dad? They don’t know he’s––” Chris clapped his hand over my mouth, shaking his head.
Surveillance. Pops’s arrest was undeniable proof B.O.S.S. had us under surveillance.
“Dead. He’s dead.”
“Okay.” Chris scanned the paper. “It says here that because of your grandfather’s recent arrest, the building management is giving you, your grandmother, and Dee twenty-four hours to vacate the premises.”
I stared at the marks on the paper, unable to focus on the fact that they made words. “Twenty-four hours? Where will we go?” A shiver ran down my spine. I pictured Dee and me, homeless, like Joan, eating out of garbage cans, wearing rags, always cold. And Gran. Where would she go when she got out of the hospital? I was so deep in my misery that I hardly noticed Chris making a call on his PAV.
He clicked off. “It’s settled. Mom said all of you are going to live at our house. At least until this business with your grandfather is straightened out and your grandmother is healthy again. So where’s your room? Let’s get you enough things to see you through tonight. You want to get Dee’s things, too? Then we’ll stop by your neighbors’ and get her.”
I pulled myself together. It was no time for me to fall apart, even if I was exhausted, emotionally and physically. So much had happened in less than twenty-four hours. Pops, Gran, and now this. But—I wasn’t helpless. I wasn’t alone. I had friends, friends who were helping me.
And now I had a focus. “How about you go get Dee while I pack some things. Harriet Pace is in D14. I’ll call and tell her you’re coming.” Chris took off and I called Harriet, telling her that we had been evicted, and explaining the plan, and trying not to get sucked into the rabbit hole of grief that threatened to envelop me. “Yes, Dee knows Chris. He’s a good friend. We’ll be fine. I’ll be sure to call you tomorrow from the hospital and let you know how Gran is doing.”
I started gathering a few things from the mess in the living room—a digi of Ginnie and my dad, and Pops’s ginger tin.
The door opened, and Chris and Dee came in. “I told Dee what was going on,” Chris said. “Hope you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” I hugged Dee. “Deeds. You okay?”
“I’m tired.” She pressed against me. “Gran’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”
“Uh-huh.” As if I knew.
“And Pops. You’ll get Pops out on Monday, won’t you?” She gazed up at me.
I threw Chris a look of complete despair. Pops’s hearing. “I’ll do my best.”
“You know,” he said, “there isn’t a lot we can do right now, except sleep. Let’s get your stuff, and we can talk tomorrow about what to do. Want me to help you get some things together, Dee?”
After Ginnie’s death, we’d had six days to vacate the modular we’d been living in. Because Dee and I didn’t have much, it had been relatively easy. Gran and Pops had come and helped us move. This time wouldn’t be much different. While Chris and Dee were in Dee’s room, I stuffed a bag with the finds from the living room, my art supplies, and most of my clothes. We met back in the living room.
“What are we going to do about this?” I waved my arms at the mess of things. “We can’t get all of it now. And the big things . . .”
“Nina,
let me see the eviction notice again.” Chris took the notice from me and scanned it quickly. “Damn. Everything has to be out by six p.m. Tomorrow.” He rubbed his chin. “Okay. I’ll come back early with a couple of friends. We’ll pack everything up and get stuff moved. Mom’s putting you guys in the downstairs apartment, the one my sister Angie and her husband didn’t want. It’s furnished, but we can move whatever you don’t need into storage to make room for your stuff.”
“That won’t be much,” I said. “All the furniture belongs to the building. Except for Pops’s chair and my bed, we hardly have anything.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. We’ll move it all, and then when your grandmother is feeling up to it, she can make the decisions of what to keep.” He took Dee’s bag. “You ready?”
She nodded.
“Then let’s go.”
IX
To me, Wei’s house was the most beautiful place I’d ever been. It was an ancient three-story brownstone walk-up. Even as exhausted as she was, Dee’s eyes widened in amazement as we walked up to the front of the house. Lights glowing on the stone-pillared front porch welcomed us. “This is ultra,” she whispered to me.
Chris activated the retinal scan hidden behind the brass numbers. “I’ll program you guys in tomorrow.”
Mrs. Jenkins must’ve heard us coming, because she was descending the marble stairs as we stepped into the foyer. Showering Dee and me with motherly hugs and murmurs of reassurance, she said, “Consider this your home, girls. I’ve put a few things in the chiller in your place, in case you get hungry. We’ll figure out everything else tomorrow.”
There were two apartments on the first floor. One was Mr. Jenkins’s office. The other was now ours.
“I hope this will be comfortable.” Mrs. Jenkins opened the door to our new home. Even as tired as we were, it would’ve been impossible not to be impressed.
The living room was furnished with an overstuffed sofa and two chairs that were so big I was sure I’d sink down and get lost in one. A FAV hung on the wall across from the sofa. Flanking it were two bookshelves, filled with books—real books, not just chips like we used at school. I was awestruck at being surrounded by so many precious historic things. We’d had a few real books back when my mom was still alive, but they’d all been confiscated by B.O.S.S. after she died