by Su J. Sokol
I sit for a while now thinking about these things. Events I’d thought I’d worked through long ago. And then I think about what Al told me today. When your head, your heart, and your fears are telling you different things, which one do you believe?
There’s no movement on the water or in the air. The homeless are all asleep. Even the wild dogs are quiet. The night is very still. I think I’ll stay here for a while, quiet, immobile, like everything around me. There’s a peace in this stillness. But then I feel a small vibration on my left leg. It’s my mini-screen. I’m getting a message. Strange, because I thought I’d turned the communication function off. I pull it out of my pocket and look at it. A message from Erin, asking where I am. But from Chris’s phone. Chris, the cop, my good friend’s husband. Whom I like and trust. Could it be they have an override device? No, this is simply paranoia.
I stare at the screen. It’s blinking at me, demanding a response. I have no response. How I hate these technologies, tracking and trapping us, making us sick. I stand up and toss the screen as far as I can into the river. I watch with satisfaction as it soars through the air, high up. It makes no sound as it hits the water, sinks. A stupid thing to do, maybe, but it’s worth the momentary feeling of release it gives me. I decide I’ll get some air like I’d said I would some hours ago. In a different lifetime.
TWELVE
Janie
Before 2:30 a.m., my body knew it was too early to start worrying. After that, though, it was like an internal alarm had gone off, screaming and wailing. Now I’m wide awake, heart pounding, as I look at the empty space beside me in our bed.
There’s a good likelihood that Laek went out for a beer with Philip and Erin. It’s good for him to relax with friends after the emotional roller coaster he experiences at the end of a school year. I try to go back to sleep but it’s no good. I decide to call him even though he’ll accuse me of babying him. There’s no answer. He’s probably turned the thing off like he often does.
I read for a while, but can’t get into it. I think about cooking something, but I don’t want to wake the kids. Instead, I plug myself into some music. I put on something soothing, but that makes me want to scream with impatience. I probably shouldn’t be plugged in like this anyway. How will I hear Laek coming down the stairs?
I decide to shower. I’ve been sweating a lot and my sweat smells like fear. Maybe if I shower the smell away, I can feel more normal. Right now, I’m sick to my stomach and my head feels like it’s stuffed with a hive of tiny buzzing insects. This could simply be lack of sleep.
I get dressed, make our bed and look at my screen again. Nothing. I check Siri’s baggage and go through the camp packing list once more to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything. I’ve already done this about ten times.
It’s 7:30, time to wake Siri up. I’ve gone from fear to fury. When Laek does get home, I’ve decided I’m going to kill him. That will solve my problem once and for all. He should be here, helping me get Siri ready for camp. She’s going to be gone for eight fucking weeks, the least he could do is be here to see her off. Yes, I’ll kill him and then I won’t have to be sick with worry wondering if he’s lying in the street somewhere dead.
I’m able to keep this feeling of anger going until Siri asks me where Daddy is, at which point I feel like the ground has dropped beneath me and that all is lost.
“He’s a bit late coming in, sweetheart,” I say. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“Late coming in from where?”
I’m thinking about how to answer this when my mini-screen alerts me to a text message. I see that it’s Erin. She’s asking me if Laek got home OK. I walk into the bedroom, telling Siri to shower and get dressed since Michael and his parents will be here soon. I tell my screen to dial Erin and I’m soon facing her holo.
“Hi, Erin. Actually, Laek’s not home yet and I’m a little worried.” Nothing like gross understatement.
“Did he call?”
“No, but you know how he is about using his screen. Did you all go out for a beer?”
“We had planned to. I mean, Philip and I went, and Chris. Laek was supposed to meet us, but he never came.” She pauses. “But I don’t think you should worry much.”
“Why not?” It comes out sounding like a challenge, but I’m not looking for an argument, just a reason not to worry.
“I think Laek may have been upset about something I said.”
“What did you say?”
“You know how sensitive he can be, especially at the end of a school year. We were talking about student crushes and … anyway, he said he needed some time to himself and would meet us, but since he never showed up, I’m wondering if he’s still upset.”
“Maybe. At least it’s some explanation. Though I don’t get why he’s still not home.”
“Well … I’m sure everything’s fine. Do me a favor and let me know when he shows up?”
“Sure. And thanks for checking in.”
“Oh, Janie, one more thing before you go … Chris wanted to talk to Laek about the demonstration today in downtown Manhattan. Were you planning on going?”
“Laek was, yeah, but since Siri’s leaving for camp today, I thought I’d stay home.”
“Well, maybe Laek shouldn’t go either. Chris wanted to pass on a message to sit this one out. He has some information. It could be … a bad situation.”
“Bad how? Is Chris going to be on duty at the demo?”
“Bad, like dangerous. I don’t have the details. But no, Chris won’t be there. He’s actually calling in sick. That alone should tell you something.”
“I understand. Thanks. And thank Chris for us.”
“I will. And don’t forget to ping or message me. And Philip too.”
I walk into the kitchen to make breakfast. I have a spatula in my hand when I finally think I hear something. Laek walks in the front door, closing it behind him quietly. I just look at him, my spatula suspended in the air. He seems a bit drawn, but otherwise in one piece.
“Are you OK?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
That out of the way, I ask him where the hell he was all night.
“I’ll explain, don’t be angry. Here, let me do that, I’m supposed to cook today.” He walks over and tries to take the spatula from me.
“Get your hands off my fucking spatula.” I raise it like a weapon. Laek freezes. I stare at my upheld kitchen utensil and carefully bring it down to the frying pan, blowing air out through my closed lips before speaking. “Siri’s supposed to be leaving for camp in less than half an hour. She’ll be gone for eight weeks. Did you even remember?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Couldn’t you have at least messaged me?”
“I lost my screen.”
“Lost it how?”
“I threw it into the river.” He says this as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Threw it into the river,” I repeat. “Could you fucking explain that, maybe?”
“Can I explain later? Please, Janie, I need a shower.”
I open my mouth to argue but think better of it. I’d rather talk about this after Siri’s left for camp. “Fine. If you want to shower before we eat, you’d better hurry up.”
I put breakfast on the table as Laek comes out of the bathroom, hair wet and wearing clean shorts and a white t-shirt. He seems refreshed, smiling and joking, and looks way too good to have been up all night doing who knows what. Simon comes out in his pajamas, sleepy-eyed and somber, probably thinking about his sister being away at camp all summer. Soon Rebecca and David arrive and we chat for a few minutes while Michael helps Siri with her luggage.
“Thanks so much for taking Siri to camp for us,” I say.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rebecca replies. “We’re taking Michael anyway, and besides, Siri’s practically a member of the family. I’ll call you later.”
“Great, thanks.” I kiss Siri good-bye and warn her to be careful with her han
d. Laek hugs and kisses her too, telling her to have fun. Finally, Simon gives her a sad, awkward hug. Siri musses his hair and tells him that she’ll bring him home a souvenir.
After they’ve left, Laek takes Simon to his friend Henry’s house. When he returns a short time later, he asks me to sit with him and I do, though I think that our conversation would go better if I could keep my hands busy. I’m not as angry as I was, but I’m still in a state where I fear I might jump down his throat at the slightest provocation. I’m seriously having trouble imagining how it’s something other than thoughtlessness that could have resulted in him staying out all night and never even trying to send me a message.
But that reminds me of something. “Before we begin this conversation, you need to check in with Erin. And Philip too. I wasn’t the only one who was worried.”
“Could you do that for me?”
“Oh, right,” I remember. “Your screen is at the bottom of the East River.”
“Technically, it’s not the East River at that point, it’s—”
“Do you really think I give a crap which river it’s at the bottom of? I’m not planning on swimming over and fishing it out now, am I? You can use the house screen to call.”
“Please, Janie, just do it for me, OK?”
“Fine,” I say, exasperated. I send off a quick text to the two of them. “I’m listening—get on with it already.” I settle down on the rocking chair across from him.
“I was waiting for you to send it.”
“Believe it or not, I can listen to you while sending a simple message.”
“I want you to be fully focused. Not sending messages or whatever.”
“You were the one who asked me to send the message.”
“This is getting us nowhere. Turn off the screen, OK?”
“Erin said that you argued?”
“Argued? No, not really. It happened after. I saw someone. A man.”
“Yes?” I respond. He waits, glances at the screen. I lean forward and turn it off.
“A man from before. From before I knew you.”
“What do you mean? An ex-lover or something?” I’m trying to be casual. I know Laek has had a lot of lovers, men as well as women, but he’s never mentioned anyone in particular and I’ve honestly never felt jealous about his other relationships.
“No, nothing like that. I mean someone from my … group.”
He’s fingering his wristband. A new one, but it looks old. Where could he have gotten it in the middle of the night? “Oh.” I sharpen my focus. “What happened, what did he say?”
“Well, the long and short of it is that my ID could be compromised.”
“How does he know this?”
“He didn’t give me all the details, but the fact that he was able to find me.”
“Can they be interested in you after so long? You were just a kid when all that happened.”
“There’s the fact of my arrest.”
“Fair enough,” I make myself say. I don’t know why I’m questioning him on this. I’ve heard of activists involved in the same kinds of things Laek was involved in, who’ve since been found and arrested. And some who’ve simply disappeared. I just can’t help playing devil’s advocate. Maybe because I have a sharp uneasiness about where all this may be heading.
“But Laek, you told me that your ID was pretty solid. It was good enough for the Department of Education and they aren’t slack about their background checks.”
“I said the same thing. But what he told me makes sense. That there’d be better tracking programs now, and … it’s like I’m pushing my luck. I guess I realized this danger myself. It’s why I use my Uni as little as possible. It’s why … it’s why I let that cop …” Laek pauses and looks down, wrapping his arms around himself like he does sometimes when he’s feeling vulnerable. That gesture, more than anything he said, makes me want to go over and hold him. But I don’t.
“I know. I’m not doubting any of that. It’s just … I mean, what are you thinking of doing?” My heart is pounding and I have that weird deja vu feeling again. It’s like I’m following a script with a bad ending that someone else has written. It makes me furious.
“Maybe we could move away. Start over,” Laek says.
I’m still experiencing the deja vu, yet this is not what I thought he was going to say.
“Move where? Wouldn’t it still be simply a matter of time until they found you?”
“I’m not talking about moving to another city or state. I mean leaving the United States.”
“Leave the country? Where would we go?”
“Well, I had this idea … Do you remember the article in The New World Citizen? About how Montreal had declared itself an international sanctuary city?”
“Yeah. You were intrigued by the title: “The New Metropolis.” But you’re not thinking of us moving up there, are you?”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing, would we be safe? From what I’ve heard, in the mainstream media anyway, it’s some large-scale social/political experiment. A few months from now, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police could gallop in, arrest everyone and shut the whole thing down.”
“The movement has municipal authority on its side as well as provincial support.”
“Are you fucking serious about this idea? No way. It’s crazy.”
“What’s so crazy about it? Why are you reacting without thinking about it?”
“I’m not the one who isn’t thinking here! What, we just slip across the border, hoping they’ll let us stay? And … what about the fact that we don’t speak French? I couldn’t practice law in that jurisdiction, and you couldn’t teach. How would we earn a living?”
“These are all small, temporary problems. We could learn French and we could see what it takes to get licensed in our fields. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Not that big a deal? I’ve never managed to pick up Spanish despite the fact that I’ve been working with Spanish speakers my whole adult life. Even if I could learn French and pass the bar, I’d have to argue my cases in a second language. Can you imagine that, trying to advocate for the underdog in a second language?”
“You could do it.”
“Laek, my way with words—English words, that is—it’s my only weapon. It would be like trading in a sharp, shiny sword for a rusty kitchen knife.”
“I wouldn’t want to face you with a kitchen knife either.” Laek gives me one of his smiles.
“Don’t smile at me,” I snap at him. “I can’t tolerate that right now. How can you drop this on me? Casually suggest we leave our whole life behind, friends, family. What about the kids?”
“The kids’ll be fine. They’ll adjust.”
“Like you did?” I’m being mean when I say that, but fuck it. I didn’t have kids so that they’d suffer but “grow stronger for it.” Laek may have survived his own screwed-up childhood and emerged as a good and somewhat sane person, but it wasn’t without scars.
“What I want is for the kids to grow up with their father. Is this too much to ask?”
I collect myself. He’s being emotional but I need to get him to look at this rationally. “Of course not, but this guy from your past, is he the one who put this idea in your head? About leaving the country, about going to Montreal?”
“Kind of, but I’d been interested in Montreal even before we spoke.”
“Laek, do you trust this man? Does he have your best interests at heart?”
“No. Yes. Janie, stop cross-examining me. I hate when you do that.”
“You still haven’t told me why you threw your screen away.”
“Erin called. Well, Chris actually. But I thought I’d turned that function off. I got paranoid. Especially just after talking about the government tracking me down.”
“Oh, remind me later to tell you something. But Laek, listen, did it occur to you that maybe you’d made a mistake? That you left the communication function on?”
“It’s possi
ble, but I don’t think so. Still, I agree, what I did was a bit impulsive.”
“Maybe this whole plan is a bit impulsive. Kind of like pitching expensive tech into the river. What about all we’ve tried to achieve here, for our kids, for … for the community?”
“Aren’t you sick of putting band-aids on huge gaping wounds? Because that’s what you’re doing. What we’re all doing here, those of us who are doing anything.”
“That’s not fair. My work is important. I’m keeping people in their homes, off the street.”
“For how long? Until the next case? Maybe they won’t get to you in time for the next one. Or be too sick from all the other impossible problems in their lives that you can’t solve.”
“If you think putting down my job and making me feel like shit is going to make me want to go away with you, you should probably rethink your strategy.”
“Janie, I have no strategy.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“Stop,” he says, raising his voice. “You’re purposely twisting my words around. Can you listen and try to understand what I’m saying for a minute?”
I unfold my legs and begin rocking in my chair, gesturing for him to continue.
“Just once, wouldn’t you like the chance to be a part of something new?” Laek asks, leaning forward towards me. “Something that could actually be allowed to succeed? Here we are, putting our fingers into little holes in the dyke when the whole fucking thing’s coming apart. We think we can’t take our fingers out, but all we’re doing is allowing the pressure to build, not accomplishing what needs to be accomplished, which is rebuilding the dyke. But they won’t let us near there. And, they’ve taken all our tools away. So we’re scraping with our fingernails, banging our heads against the wall …”
“OK, Laek. Enough mixed metaphors. I understand what you’re trying to say. We all feel this way sometimes, but what choice is there? We can’t give up. We have to keep fighting the good fight, even if we feel we can’t succeed in our lifetime. There’s no such thing as utopia. If you’re hoping for that, forget about it.”