by Ginger Booth
If you have any sensitive subjects lying around, don’t bring a teenager into your life. “Cabbage is good,” I informed Alex firmly.
“Not as good as filet mignon,” he whined.
“I grow cabbage and potatoes. Not filet mignon.”
“I think it’s delicious, Dee. You’re an excellent cook. Thank you for sharing.” Zack eyed Alex reprovingly. “Not many people are willing to share food these days. You’re lucky, Alex,” he reminded the teen.
“Yeah, yeah…” Alex hunkered down and inhaled his plate of cabbage and tomatoes, and new potatoes with drawn butter and home-grown herbs. “This is pretty good,” he allowed.
Just as Zack was trying to formulate a family-like dinner conversation for three, Shelley blew in, having crossed the side yard without benefit of coat.
“It’s cold, cold, cold out there!” she complained. “And now it’s sleeting!”
She grabbed her own plate of food from the kitchen. She was less predictable about dinner. She’d reliably eat the plate of food I prepared for her, but might come over later and reheat it, or take it next door with her. She hesitated, seeing Zack, nodded her head in greeting, and headed back home.
“How are you and Shelley getting along, Alex?” I asked.
“Good,” reported Alex. “Any dessert?” His plate was wiped clean.
“Saving it up for Christmas tomorrow,” I reported.
He shrugged and stashed his dinner things in the dishwasher. “Thanks, Dee. Later, Zack,” he called on his way out. He didn’t bother to wrap up again, just shoved feet into untied boots, hugged the rest of his outerwear to his chest, and exited.
“I’d sort of hoped for better dinner conversation from this arrangement,” I complained to Zack.
He laughed. Neither of us was half-finished eating yet. He swallowed, and took a thoughtful drink of water. “I did have one other thing to talk to you about, Dee. Um,” he paused for a long moment. “I was able to confirm what happened to Alex’s mom.”
“Oh?”
“She definitely went through the suicide doctor in the center of town.”
“The what?”
“You know that general practice clinic across from the funeral home on Main Street? Low pink building, with the parking lot in front? They’ve teamed up to do suicide and cremation services. Quite the business. They hand out those oxycontin bottles. You know about those?”
“Yes.”
“Well, apparently they offer a deluxe service, too, to minimize distress to the next of kin. A comfortable room to die in, with supervised suicide, and cremation, death certificate ‘of natural causes,’ all included at a low package price.”
“My God.”
“There are a lot worse places. In New Haven, there’s one outfit where people sign the papers and get loaded onto a bus. They have to down a full bottle of oxycontin when they board the bus. Then –” He took a deep breath, and blew it out slowly. “Sorry. Too much information.”
“Yeah. So that’s where they go, the ones who vanish.”
“Some of them. A lot of them. I got my hands on the register at the place in town. A whole lot of addresses from around here. One family went with three little kids.”
“May they rest in peace,” I whispered. “I guess… that makes sense.”
“There’s nothing that ‘makes sense’ about murdering your own children,” Zack said vehemently.
“There but for the grace of God,” I said vaguely, still shaken. “Zack, please. I’m not defending anyone to you. I just…” I swallowed. “I didn’t kill the people of New York City. I’m not killing them in Boston. But because I live, at their expense, because my government penned them up to die, because I help someone I believe in – you – to protect me against my innocent neighbors across a river, who are just trying to live, just like I am – Zack, I’m not a murderer, but my hands aren’t clean.” I wiped one angry tear out of my eye. I’d probably said too much, but the wild rumors everyone was passing included some truth by then. “I can’t judge them. I won’t judge them. I could have done more to help them. Maybe. But I didn’t.”
Tears were standing in his eyes too at that. But none fell. He nodded slowly. “Your hands are clean. Your soul is clean, Dee. We’re about building a new life here. Not just killing. I have to believe that.”
I nodded slowly. I broke eye contact and played with my water goblet. There was still a little cabbage on my plate. And I would eat that. But I sure wasn’t hungry. “Alex deserves to know. But not right now, OK? He’s building a new life, and it’s only been a couple months since his Mom left. Let him get stronger. His mom was his whole world. His world needs to fill in a bit more. This won’t help him now.” I gave a huge sigh. “But thank you. Now we know. I’d always wondered, where they all went.”
Though I got the feeling Zack had known all along, or at least strongly suspected.
Zack shrugged. “A bunch of them might have gone into arks.”
I shook my head. “Maybe a handful. More, on the richer side of town, but not around here.”
Zack took a deep breath. “There’s you and Mangal. The UNC ark.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said.
He paused. “You know, I can’t see you in an ark. Divorced from the sleet and soil and wild berries, cut off from the Earth. Whisked away from the land you know and love, and incarcerated in Tennessee. That’s not you. That’s not real, to you.”
I stared back into his hard blue eyes, doubtfully. I swallowed. “I like tech. I’m good with hydroponics. I could do it.” I listened. “I think that’s Adam’s car. Excuse me.”
I opened the front door onto a full ice storm. Adam carefully walked toward me on the lawn where possible. The slick icy grass provided better traction than the smooth paved walkway to the front door. He wore the most gorgeous charcoal wool greatcoat, large lapels elegantly tied up around his ears with a classy dark green scarf, tied with a European slip-knot.
Adam came bearing gifts. “Ho, ho, ho!” he cried.
“Ho-ho and merry-merry, hello!” I kissed him with a quick peck. “I wasn’t expecting you. Ah, Adam, you remember Zack?”
“I do! Merry Christmas, Zack!”
Adam showed no concern over catching me at dinner with another man. I wryly decided that left him in a much stronger position than either Zack or me. He was a class act, no doubt about that.
“You didn’t have to have bring us presents,” I said, taking them into my arms.
“Ah, so you didn’t get me anything. Oh, well.”
I grinned and pointed my head to a basket under the tree. I did have a fake Christmas tree up, with baubles and hand-made toys hanging from the branches. I just didn’t put lights on it.
“I should go…” said Zack, collecting up his maps and gift bags of Christmas vegetables.
“Are you on foot, Zack?” Adam asked. “Hang on, and I’ll give you a lift. The footing is pretty treacherous. Dee, I just wanted to drop off presents on the way to the train. I’d planned to drive down to Greenwich in the morning, but the weather isn’t going to cooperate.”
“You’re driving to the train station?” I asked doubtfully.
“Totoket station, not New Haven. That car has pretty good traction. The batteries make it heavy.” We all nodded ruefully. He poked in the basket and found dried tomatoes, a jar of roast peppers, and a cabbage, just like the box I’d brought to Vermont for barter. And a two-pound block of Vermont cheddar. He grinned in memory.
“Hard to know what to get for the guy who has everything,” I said defensively.
“It’s perfect, Dee. Thank you.” He kissed me again. “I ought to run. But open the big thing tonight. It needs to go in the fridge. Talk to you soon. Ready, Zack?”
With deep misgivings, I watched from the door and waved, as Adam backed out onto the street, fish-tailed on the ice, and drove away. I wondered what they would talk about in the car. I hated to think of them comparing notes on me. But neither man seemed the type to
do that. Adam was too classy to do anything but assume possession and leave it at that. Zack was just too reserved to discuss it. Or so I hoped.
The ice-storm, at least, was nothing new. A classic Connecticut Christmas ice storm, it left half an inch of ice coating everything, and brought down trees onto power lines across the state. That was a bit heart-stopping, by then. Each time the power or Internet went out, you had to wonder if it was ever coming back.
The refrigerated gift was a spiral-sliced honey ham, to share with Alex and Shelley. Other boxes contained cotton flannel pajamas printed with Vermont black and white cows, and gorgeous matching steampunk earrings and necklace, in brass cogwork and amber. I loved them. And I felt really guilty.
I still really liked both guys.
Chapter 12
Interesting fact: Electric power generation in New England was dominated by natural gas and nuclear, followed by hydroelectric and burning refuse, with smaller contributions from oil, coal, wind, and solar power. Natural gas reached the region via pipelines from Texas, Tennessee, and Canada.
Christmas turned out a lot more fun than I expected. Shelley and Alex helped me bake a coffee cake for breakfast, and we exchanged good gifts. Shelley gave me all of her remaining Dee-clothes. We’re about the same size. I gave her a basket of hard-to-find toiletries, including large bottles of her favorite shampoo and conditioner. Alex knitted me a hat, with skill I’d never suspected him of. I gave him a hundred dollars to spend on video gaming as he saw fit.
There was still no power from the ice storm, so video gaming and work and Internet surfing were off limits. The giant batteries were reserved for running the furnaces and fridges. We got out a board game and played for a while. By noon we were thoroughly bored.
About then, Mangal dropped by to invite us to a last-minute community party being thrown at the non-denominational Protestant church hall. We dispatched Alex to invite the neighbors and everyone he knew. Shelley and I carved up some of Adam’s huge ham into bite-size pieces to share. Then we dressed up in our party finery for dancing and set out.
The church was only a half mile away. The roads were melted clear, easy walking in the bright sunshine. Icicle-covered trees shone brilliant in the light, with tinkling and dripping everywhere. We called out a few neighbors I knew along the way. Others came out to inquire as they saw a gathering throng of people dressed up and marching past with food. Many of them had nothing better to do, either, and grabbed some stuff and trailed along.
The church parking lot wasn’t large – most people walked to this church – but it was empty. Kids already had a kickball game going out there when we arrived, and more kids joined in all the time. Inside the hall, we were among the first fifty, but eventually hundreds came and went. My ham wasn’t the only extravagance shared on the potluck tables, either. Other plates offered roast beef, cheeses, and Christmas candy, among the more common rice and pasta dishes, pies, and mounds of Christmas cookies. Someone even donated a small beer keg.
Alex appeared out of nowhere to introduce me to Zack’s sister Delilah, apparently on demand, then zipped away again with his teenage friends. She was as blond and blue-eyed as Zack, nearly six feet tall, and dressed in an Army camouflage uniform. This looked a lot better on Zack, but Delilah was an athletic and handsome woman. She stuck out a large, garden-worn hand to shake firmly. Unlike Zack, she had the ancestral Finnish scary manic grin down pat.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you, Dee!” she boomed. The crowd was getting a bit loud, but she was easily louder.
“Pleased to meet you, Delilah! Zack mentions you all the time. Are you on duty?” I asked, with a wave to encompass her Army green pullover sweater, down to ochre Army boots.
My own dress wasn’t steampunk that day. I wore a deep Christmas red with low square-cut fitted bodice and wide flouncy knee-length skirts for dancing, topped with a deep green bolero short sweater for warmth. I’d added a tacky holly-and-berries broach, and the steampunk jewelry from Adam.
“We should all be on duty!” she replied with a fierce grin. “Zack says you garden, but aren’t organic. This’ll teach you.”
I popped a bit of honey ham in my mouth and smiled pleasantly while I chewed, mouth closed.
Still grinning, she said, “You know that ham was probably raised in a gestational crate. Locked up for months –”
“Mm, it’s delicious,” I interrupted her. “I brought it. Try some.” As it happens, it was organic free-range pork, but damned if I was going to tell her that.
She took a piece wryly, and chewed. “That is good,” she allowed. “Zack says you never took a plot at the community gardens because we’re too ‘organically correct.’ Is that supposed to be a joke on ‘politically correct’ or something?”
Yes, obviously. Sadly, the woman appeared to be humor impaired. “You seem very protective of your baby brother,” I suggested.
Her grin lost some firmness. “Zack’s my older brother.”
“Ah. I didn’t mean anything by it. You look about the same age.”
She looked over my dress. “These are hard times. Zack needs a tough woman. Not a frill. Not a pacifist-lover.” She jerked her head toward Mangal and Shanti’s clique.
I grinned at her. “Good thing he has you to look out for him.” This was actually sincere on my part. I thought it was kind of cool that his sister was looking me over, for Zack’s sake if not for mine. “So did your grandmother teach you mushroom hunting and gardening too?”
“Well, Zack liked to work more than I did when we were young. I liked to fight more, but then he was the one who went into the Army.”
I indicated her uniform. “Now you’ve got your chance too.”
This mild sparring match was interrupted by a couple violins striking up. To my delight, the neighborhood supplied two fiddlers (formerly from different bands) and a dance caller for contra line dancing. The pastor, Reverend Connolly, went around herding people back to arrange a clear dance floor in the social hall. Overflow squeezed out the door into the church nave to sit on pews and socialize in the aisles.
On a lark, I seized Delilah’s arm. “Dance with me!”
“Oh, no,” she objected.
“The caller will start by teaching us the steps, you’ll see,” I encouraged, dragging her into the center of the hall, where couples were already converging. I saw Shelley looking around dejectedly, then a clump of three guys matching Delilah’s uniform. “Maybe they’d like to dance?”
I dragged them onto the floor, too, along with Shelley, for three guys to match with three women. The one who teamed up with Delilah, I’d seen before. I suspected he was her husband or somesuch. Shanti laughingly dragged Mangal out to the floor. My own partner was a medium-height black man named Jamal, younger than me, one of the new imports from New Haven. From true enthusiasm and shyness, I suspected Shelley’s partner was pleased and frightened to be thrust into the arms of a blonde his own age and more attractive than he was. I liked him.
As the beginner training dances progressed, I got to swing a few rounds with each on the men’s side. You rarely spend much time with your own assigned partner in contra dancing. It is greatly less confusing, though, to keep men on one side and women on the other, to cue you in on whose hand to grasp next. I was glad I hadn’t partnered with Delilah, as the beginners array kept hiccupping on the two successive lesbian couples in line, inexperienced at the dance. The male gay couple were no trouble, as they were old hands at contra, and moved confidently. After the first dance, the good-natured caller, looking rather Amish with a great flowing grey beard, laughingly asked the same-sex couples to show an emblem or trade partners for clarity. We muffed the steps a lot less after that.
After 20 minutes of training, we all fell out laughing for refreshments and a breather before the real dances. Grinning from ear to ear, I tapped Delilah on the arm, and asked, “You had fun? Oh, here.” I unpinned my tacky holly brooch and pinned it on her fatigue sweater.
Delilah laughed, and leaned t
oward my ear. “I was wrong about you. You’re fun.”
I curtseyed. “Thank you, Ma’am.”
A commotion at the outside door caught my eye. Zack and a few other guys appeared, in uniform and fully armed. Delilah and her trio of guys headed over to intercept. Weapons and ammo were exchanged at the door, rather than bring weapons into the church hall. At something Delilah said, Zack looked over and met my eye, looking a bit alarmed. Then he laughed and punched his sister lightly. Delilah’s team departed, loaded for bear. Zack threaded his way through the crowd toward me.
“Merry Christmas, Dee,” he said, and kissed me on the cheek. I returned the kiss with a smile. “My sister asked me to return this.” He placed the holly pin in my hand and squeezed my hand closed over it. “Sorry about that. I mean, I hope that was alright. Delilah can be a bit, um, intense.”
“A family trait,” I twigged him. “It was fine. I enjoyed how she tried to protect you from the ‘useless frill.’” Zack’s eyes closed in a grimace. “But we’ve lost our contra dance partners. And we’d just trained up the lads not to step on our feet.”
“Oh? I’m pretty good at stepping on feet.” He waited for me to purse my lips, then added wryly, “I used to be a regular at the contra dances down at the Rec Center. Ah, I had a regular partner I broke up with last year.”
“A useless frill, no doubt,” I intoned solemnly. “I brought honey ham for the buffet, but it went fast. You should drop by for some before Alex devours it all. You know how teenage boys are.”
“I remember it well,” he agreed. He loaded up a plate from what was left on the buffet, mostly cookies and roast squash. We sat on a pew and chatted, missing muster for the first real set of dances. He’d just come off a six hour shift at the Route 1 barricade down by the reservoir, having walked there and back, and wanted to sit for a bit before dancing. I chose to keep him company rather than seek another partner.
“No Christmas truce, huh?”
“Nope,” he sighed. “Nobody in charge on the other side to negotiate a truce with. It hasn’t been bad today.” He smelled like gunpowder, though. I think his barricades had been in operation barely over a week, at that point.