by Ann M. Noser
He smiles serenely, an innocent look on his face. “No. Nothing comes to mind. Like I said, I haven’t heard his name in years.”
I shake my finger. “You promised to never sugar-coat anything and to always tell me the truth.”
“In general, that is true. But keep in mind: it’s impossible to keep every promise you make.”
“Seriously, Gus, I trust you. Is there a real reason you don’t want me to be friends with Franco?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t have any actual objections.
“Not really.” He sighs. “I think he’s too old for you. And maybe… too associated with the past. You need to move into the future, not dwell any more on what might have been.”
“I agree about the future. And, as far as age goes, my mom thinks you’re too old to be my friend, too.”
“Ha!” Gus laughs. “Good thing for me that you never listen to your mother. But, truth be told, if you were my daughter I’d probably say the same thing.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not dwelling on the past. But I can’t talk to mom about the accident. Whenever I try she goes dark for days. I hate doing that to her. So it’s nice to finally have someone to talk to whose life was turned upside down that day, too.”
Gus turns away from me. “Believe me, Silvia, you weren’t the only one whose life changed that day.”
fter work, I hurry to the gym to meet Liam for another run. I’m breathless with the possibility that Franco might be hanging out with him. I take the gym stairs two at a time, scan my card, and rush inside. Right away, I spot Liam loitering near the front doors, surrounded by pony-tailed girls and no Franco in sight. I sigh and swing my gym bag to my other shoulder.
Liam excuses himself from the crowd. “You ready to run?”
I snort. “Sure you want to leave your fan club?”
He laughs. “You bet. I’ve been waiting all day for this. So hurry up.”
I change fast then meet him back at the front glass doors. Trying not to be obvious, I scan the room one final time in the fading hope that I’ll find a too-old-for-me, split personality, handsome botanical genius. No such luck.
“Should we do the same route as the other day?” Liam adjusts his watch. “Get used to it before we go further?”
“Hey, wait.” I point at his watch. “I want one of those, too.”
He grins. “So, you’ve finally seen the light.”
I shake my head. “I’m simply interested in the extra protein rations. Where do I sign up?”
“See? There are benefits with cooperating with the New Order.”
Liam leads me to the front desk where I rush through the paperwork as fast as I can, slap the GPS watch on my wrist, and head outside. Despite the long bike ride yesterday, my legs feel fresh today instead of tired. Now that we know the route, we run as one, moving in unison until we reach the park. Surrounded by the heady smell of lilacs, I glance over my shoulder, sensing someone is near. A dozen faces stare back, none of them familiar.
“Your head’s spinning like a top,” Liam pants. “What are you looking for?”
“Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I should’ve known that you spending time with Franco was a bad idea.”
My ears perk up at the mere mention of his name. I try to sound nonchalant. “Why is that?”
“Franco’s a great guy. Don’t get me wrong. I mean, he’s related to me, how could he be anything but awesome? But, seriously, the guy is hyper-paranoid, conspiracy-theory, brainiac-scientist kind of crazy.”
“Really? I didn’t notice.” Oh, yes I did. And Liam forgot to mention Franco’s split personality.
Liam chuckles. “He always thinks someone’s hurting his precious plants, or after his top-secret scientific experiments, or that the environment isn’t clean enough to sustain human life.”
I play Devil’s Advocate. “And what do you think?”
“I think he worries too much. Life is meant to be enjoyed. That’s why I’m training as hard as I can—with your help, of course—to win this race so that my work ethic and athleticism are noticed by those who matter.”
“You really think you’ll get Chosen just by winning this race? That is assuming you can win it. What if somebody’s faster than you?”
We turn another corner and run under the cover of some shade trees.
“Nobody wants this more than I do,” Liam says. “I’ve got to see what else is out there. Travel to all the Great Cities. See what life’s like at the top. Don’t you want more than you have now?”
I shrug.
He smirks. “Then what is it that Silvia Wood wants from life? Why are you training for this race with me?”
We pass by the open-air pavilion. A young girl watches us run by, her arm raised up to hold hands with her father. Her mother stands across from them, a camera in hand, and says, “Mila, look at me. Now smile!”
My breath catches in my throat.
That’s what I want. My childhood. All over again, up until it abruptly ended eight years ago.
Liam interrupts my thoughts. “Hey, look who’s here!”
I shake my head, my vision fuzzy for a moment, and I see him. Franco leans against the back of the refreshment stand, flipping through what I presume is one of his many treasured books. We turn in his direction and slow our steps. I’m immediately concerned that I may not have put on enough deodorant today.
Liam waves as we approach. “Hey, Franco. We were just talking about you.”
Franco looks right at me. “Yeah, I bet you were.”
My stomach performs a double flip. His gaze sets my face on fire. Yep, I definitely don’t have enough deodorant on for this.
“You should join us tomorrow, man.” Liam punches Franco on the shoulder. “You bike while we run.”
Franco frowns at his cousin. “That sounds sort of lame.”
“Yes,” says Liam. “We need a timer to tell us when to run up-tempo. I can’t figure out how to set this watch alarm to ten-minute increments, and I lose focus if I have to keep checking the time.”
“We need you,” I agree, jumping on board with Liam’s plans. Even if I have to be all sweaty and gross, I’ll grab any opportunity to spend more time with my super-scientist crush.
“Fine.” Franco sighs. “But we can’t do this here in the Arboretum. It’s way too crowded.”
Liam glances at the crisscrossing walkers. “I suppose you’re right. But where, then?”
I instantly devise a plan. “How about the road out to your greenhouse? It’s ten miles long, and there’s hardly any traffic whatsoever.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” says Franco. “But you’ll have to get permission, of course.”
“What kind of running surface is it?” Liam shifts from side to side to keep up his heart rate.
I have Franco’s presence to do that for me.
“Gravel… with a lot of potholes,” I explain.
“Okay.” Liam wipes off his brow. “That should be challenging enough. I’ll put in a request at the gym.”
“Just let me know when and where to meet you.” Franco straddles his bike.
I tighten my ponytail, my mind racing in search of something to say to keep him around.
“What is that?” Franco grabs my watch.
Again, an electric shock jolts up my arm, but apparently I’m the only one who feels it.
“I thought you weren’t going to wear one of these.” He scowls.
Liam shakes his head. “Don’t harass her. She’s doing it for the extra protein rations. And she’ll need them with all the miles we’ll be logging.”
Franco drops my arm like it’s coated with poison. “I guess everyone has their price.”
I flinch, trying to hide how much his words sting.
“How long will it take for you get permission?” Franco asks Liam.
“Not sure.” Liam scratches his head. “I’ll ask as soon as we get back, so hopefully tomorrow.”
“Le
t me know.” Franco sets a foot on the pedal. “You know I’ll always help you… even if I don’t approve of what you’re doing.”
Frowning, I watch him leave, the back of his jean jacket shrinking in the distance. “Why is he so mad about this contest?”
Liam sighs. “Ever since my dad died, Franco’s never trusted anybody outside our family. He can be overbearing sometimes, but he means well.”
I bite my lip. “About your dad… I meant to bring this up earlier today, but it’s not like it’s a happy subject… Franco told me that your dad died in that big fire in the Wardrobe District eight years ago.”
For a moment, Liam’s eyes don’t glow with their usual brightness. “Yeah.”
I hesitate a moment before speaking. “Did you know I lost my dad in that same accident?”
Liam’s mouth falls open. “No. I don’t usually talk about what happened because then it seems like I’m just looking for sympathy. But I never knew—I mean, I never expected. Of course, so many people died—”
“Fifty-three.” I hate that number.
He nods. “I’ve met a couple other people whose relatives died, but…” His eyes fall on my scarred wrists, but for once I don’t flinch. I don’t care that he sees them. He raises his gaze, his eyes questioning mine.
“Yes. I did it because I missed my dad. Don’t you?”
Liam shrugs. “Lucky for me, after Dad died, I had Franco.”
“You did?” This I’ve got to hear. I lean in closer.
“Franco saved our family. He gave us his rations. He’d already been working at Plant Production for a few years. He even lived with us for a while, so we didn’t have to move into a smaller apartment. We were lucky to have him. He made sure I would be okay. And so I am. I’ve never felt deprived or”—he glances at my wrists again—“depressed or anything.”
I flush. Too bad Franco doesn’t want to be my knight in shining armor—or a shiny white lab coat. I could so handle that. Instead he makes me feel dirty for wanting more food.
“And I have two sisters, so we had each other,” Liam continues. “You’re an only child, right?”
I nod. “Maybe that makes a difference.”
“Maybe. Plus my mom was really strong through it all. How’d yours cope?”
I blink back tears as painful images flood my mind. Every night, after Mom thought I was sleeping, she’d sob into her pillow, my father’s picture in her hand. She never realized I could see through the crack in her bedroom door. I’d wait there in the hallway until she fell asleep then creep back into my own bed and shiver under the covers.
I straighten my shoulders. “Mom fell apart. I’m the one who had to put us back together.”
“You?” Liam can’t help but glance again at my wrists.
“Yeah. Me. That’s why it took so long.”
fter logging a few more miles then cooling down with yoga, I shower at the gym and head for home. Our apartment is filled with the heady scent of tomatoes and melted soy cheese. Ever since Mom rejoined the Orchestra, she’d been cooking up a storm. I take this as a good sign.
“Mom, I’m home,” I call out.
“I’m in the kitchen.” Pots bang and plates clank. She’s really going all out tonight.
I let the gym bag slide to the floor and head in for supper. Mom’s humming and smiling to herself. For a moment, I wonder if she’s met someone new. Can people her age get crushes, too? Why not, I guess? I want her to be happy, but part of me doesn’t want her to forget about Dad. But, then again, if Mom never moves on, she’ll just always be sad.
She pulls out two cloth napkins. “How many miles did you run today?”
“Nine. Trail running mostly, but some on the road.”
“That’s nine more miles than I’ll ever run.” She dishes up a spaghetti-style hot dish. “Dig in. Don’t worry—there’s no protein cubes. I used nuts this time.”
“Franco says everyone will have fish soon. He’s so smart about everything. He’s even helping out on a huge hydroponics project.”
“Oh, that’s right. You had a Plant Production tour yesterday. How did that go? Do you think you could transfer there?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I belong there.”
Mom pauses mid-step, holding a pot in the air. “Why do you say that? It’s what you’ve always wanted, ever since you were a little girl. You and Daniel used to…” Her words falter.
“I’m not saying I don’t like plants. And the greenhouses were like a dream. Dad would’ve loved them. Beans trailing from the ceilings next to sunflowers two stories tall. It’s remarkable.”
“Then why don’t you want to work there anymore?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Honestly, I don’t. I should want to work there.”
Mom frowns. “I don’t understand you.”
“Maybe this won’t make any sense to you, but it hit me while I was there that I didn’t belong with all those shuffling white coats quietly working in the humid, hot air. It didn’t feel like home to me. I belong in the cold basement of the hospital. With loud classic rock in the background. With Gus.”
Mom snorts.
“Gus needs me. Besides, as marvelous as all of Franco’s experiments are, the human body is the biggest miracle of all. I love everything about it. I mean, isn’t it amazing how we’re put together? How every organ has a job—the kidneys, the liver, the lungs? And, most of the time, they work in perfect unison.”
Mom shakes her head. “But all the bodies you work with have already failed. Don’t you find that depressing?”
“No. I don’t find anything depressing anymore.”
Mom picks up her fork. “Well, I’m glad to hear you say that.”
I smile and dig in. All this running makes me ravenous.
Mom clears her throat. “And now I’d like to hear more about this Franco person. Is he giving Liam some competition for your attention?”
I flush. “He’s been working at Plant Production for quite a while now. He’s in charge of a lot of projects. He’s really smart.”
“He must be if you keep saying so.” Mom raises her eyebrows. “What I’m more curious about is whether or not you think he’s cute.”
I clear my throat. “Very much so, I’m afraid.”
She laughs. “You know, before I met your father, I had a crush on my Orchestra Conductor. And he was quite a bit older than I was.”
“Not that ancient guy who’s there now, I hope.” I shudder, remembering how he used to glare at me as a child.
“Not at all! This was a different conductor. But then I met your father…” She sighs. “But enough about me and my foolishness. Let’s focus on you. Tell me more about this Franco. He’s not married, is he?”
“No. At least, Liam didn’t mention it.” The thought makes my heart sink. But surely it would’ve come up in conversation by now. Right?
“Then Liam knows Franco? Does he know him well?”
“Yes. They’re cousins. In fact, it sounds like Franco took care of Liam’s family after the accident.”
“What accident?”
I cringe, realizing my mistake. Mom and I never talk about my tenth birthday, for good reason, and now I’ve brought it up without thinking.
I clear my throat. “The accident, Mom.”
Her face pales. “What’s Liam’s last name?” she whispers.
“Harman. Do you remember them?”
She stands up, pushing her plate and chair away. “I can’t believe you’re friends with them. Harman was Dad’s replacement. The whole reason your father died is because that man didn’t show up for his shift.”
My eyes widen. I don’t remember any of this. “Are you sure that was the name of Dad’s replacement?”
She glares. “It’s not something I’d likely forget, is it?”
I scramble for the TV remote. “I’ll bet there’s a history file on the Memorial Service. It was sponsored by the government, after all.” I click on the search function, punch in the date
, and wait for the programs to load.
“Are you sure you want to see that?” Mom wrings her hands, hovering a few feet behind me.
I answer her question by clicking on the Memorial Service program option. Yellow words flash across a black screen.
In the worst factory accident of modern times, fifty-three people burned to death in the Wardrobe Production District. The New Order investigation found faulty wiring to be the cause. Due to this horrific incident, new regulations on the use of electric heat and lighting have been implemented. This will never happen again.
Mom exhales. “That’s what they always say. So many empty promises.”
Footage of the families follows. I remember the long line of mourners, every one of them wearing the traditional black scarf of mourning around their necks. A long row of sympathizers passes by, shaking everyone’s hands, perhaps giving a quick hug. It’s so odd to watch myself staring at the ground, shunning any gesture of comfort. That day, all my senses were muffled. I could barely hear my mother’s voice or see her face. Everything was fuzzy. Even her hand, pulling me from place to place, felt fake.
But this time as I watch the footage, I’m fully awake. I search for one face in particular, to prove he’s telling me the truth. First I see Liam, a young light-blond boy with a face smeared with tears. My heart reaches out to him. After the long line finishes, I see him walk slowly, hand-in-hand with one of his younger sisters who was just a toddler. They walk past me, my ten-year-old self. Liam pauses for a moment, his sister breaking away to move on ahead without him, then a younger Franco crosses the screen, puts his hands on Liam’s shoulders, and steers him away.
I point. “That’s him. That’s Franco. And Liam is the blond boy in front of him.”
Mom doesn’t say a word. I feel bad for making her relive the worst day of her life. The names of the fallen roll across the scene. Daniel Wood and Jack Harman jump out at me.
Mom’s voice sounds hollow. “When your father called that night and said he’d be late, it was because Jack called in sick. Why would you call in sick and then show up afterward? And why didn’t Daniel come home when his replacement arrived? Why were they both killed? That never made any sense to me.”