Donovan Meanwhile: Kings of Sparta
Page 18
I put my hand on his. “That’s possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
His eyes sparkle. “It’s not stopping a nuclear attack and an entire Russian invasion, but, I do what I can.”
“Oh, you think I did all that for you, huh?”
He shrugs. I lean in closer and whisper in his ear. “I kinda did.”
Then I kiss him on the cheek, and leave him to recover in Tez’s good hands.
I thank her, too, and tell her I’m glad to have her in my life.
She grunts and pretends she doesn’t care.
After I give my report to Bellamy, she gives one to me:
She had already been in touch with my brother, Matthew, on the other side, and told him what Chekov said about the factory and the thousands of counterfeit shoes. He was “taking care of it,” according to her.
He said there was no evidence that the Russian army was planning to move anywhere anytime soon. Whatever plans the Marshal Chevko may have had for them, they seem to have died when the nuclear distraction plan didn’t pan out.
“And speaking of the Marshal,” she says with one eyebrow raised. “Apparently only one Mr. Chevko was recovered by police in his high rise penthouse, the other was apparently gone when they arrived. Same thing goes for Nadia’s body in the tunnel wreckage. No body was found there, either.”
“Neither surprises me,” I tell her. “Chevko probably had someone else in his penthouse who moved the body before the authorities arrived. And as for Nadia...We were going half the speed of sound through that tunnel. Just because they didn’t recognize some of the wreckage as a body, doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”
But Bellamy still looks skeptical.
“I’ve seen enough to know that, in the Meanwhile, nothing is ever simple.”
I nod. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”
“Speaking of which, now we have a bit of a problem.”
I know what she’s referring to, because it’s the same problem that’s been on my mind since I started this mission.
“I can’t be in two places at once.”
“And yet...”
“And yet, I have to be. At least until your Donovan Burke shows back up.”
“If he shows back up.”
Back at the White House, I make another late night entrance. My dad, Mr. President, is still up. He’s sitting with a bunch of papers, as usual, but he’s clearly straining to stay awake.
“Oh, hey, son,” he says as I walk into the room. “Glad to see you’re back for a while.” He seems so casual that I know he’s doing it for my benefit.
“Yeah.” I let out a sigh. “I’m tired. Gonna just go straight to bed.”
He blinks at me, and then nods with a forced smile. “Yeah, good idea. Me, too. I’m bushed.”
He gets up from his desk without even closing his document, and it occurs to me that he had been staying up just in case I came home. He didn’t have papers to read, not really, not this late at night.
“Hey, dad.” I stop in the middle of the hallway. He stops and turns back to look at me. “Actually, I’ve got a little energy left. Why don’t we talk, just for a bit. It’s been a pretty crazy few days.”
His face breaks out into a huge grin, one that couldn’t be faked or forced. “Well, alright, he says. “Let’s do that. I’ll put on some coffee.”
I smile.
I can do this.
I’ll stay up all night with this family, my dad, drinking coffee and asking him about his life. Then, when it’s over, I’ll go for a late night walk in my Meanwhile boots, find a quiet all night diner with a public restroom, and flit back over to the real world.
Not the real world.
I’m not calling it that anymore.
It’s the Meanwhile, and the Source, because it’s where I came from.
I’d have to explain to my mom why I left, again. Would I tell her the truth? I don’t know.
Probably not.
It’s not that I don’t think she could handle it. It’s that I think she would try to, and that’s more than anybody should have to carry on their shoulders.
To my credit, the following morning the plan goes off without a hitch. I sneak into the house unnoticed, climb into bed, and wake up as if I had never left.
But I woke up and went out to grab some cereal, and that’s when things fell apart.
Both of my parents are sitting at the table looking at me. “When did you get in?”
I shrug. “I dunno.”
Keep the lies vague and they won’t be as interesting.
“Did I interrupt something?” It seemed as if they had just been talking about me.
“Honey,” my mom says. “Your father and I have something serious to talk to you about. Why don’t you grab your food and come join us.”
Suddenly I’m not hungry anymore.
I put the cereal back in the cupboard and sit down at the table.
Up close now, I can tell that my dad has been crying. He didn’t look furious, like I expected, just sad and beaten.
My mom looks tired, as always.
“The last few days have been really hard on this family,” my dad says. He’s choosing his words carefully, picking them one by one like he’s going down a grocery aisle.
“I’m sorry.”
“Let him finish,” my mom says, and turns to look at him.
“Your mother and I have decided that it’s best if... That it’s best if we try to spend some time apart.”
I don’t understand. Time apart...from me? Like, they wanted a break from me? That was understandable, if that’s what they meant, but is that what they meant?
“Your father is going to get an apartment for a while, across town. We’re going to see how it goes.”
“Just so you know, this has been a long time coming,” my dad says through tears. “It’s not your fault.”
It’s totally my fault. I know it was. They even said, the last few days have been really hard. My leaving is causing my parents to get a divorce.
“Don’t do this.”
As unhappy as I was with my dad pretty much all the time, and as unhappy as he clearly was with me, I don’t want to be a home wrecker. Especially not my own home. My parents, like them or not, were my parents.
I can’t deal with another split reality.
“I promise I won’t leave again,” I say, pleading. “I promise! I’ll stay here, if you guys just stay together.”
My mom sighs and puts her hand on the top of my head. “Oh, Donovan. It’s just not that simple. Besides, we know that your acting up lately is just a response to the tension between us.”
She looks at him again, an he lowers his eyes.
“But it’s not! It’s definitely not. It’s got nothing to do with you guys—“
“This is just a trial,” my dad says. “But it’s our final decision for the time being. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you’ll be ok with it.”
“Your father is right, dear. Now I know this is a lot to process, but you should probably go ahead and go get ready for school. It’s important that life remains as normal and routine as possible if this is going to work out.”
I stand up. I think about saying something, but I have too many options and I don’t know if I wanted to be hurtful, or hurting. I opt to not say anything, just walk back to my room and closed the door.
Here I am, back in my world, and it isn’t even my world anymore.
I want to see Hanson again.
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