by A. L. Tyler
Lena looked into the doctor’s eyes, hoping to detect some trace that he would continue to say there was something she could do—but he was impassive. He was doing his job, as he always did. He had learned over the years not to get attached, because patients lived and died. His loyalty was to the paycheck, the only thing that undoubtedly allowed him to save more lives.
“Do you know who he is? He was born in South Carolina. At the residence of…my grandmother’s sister, was it?” Lena asked, nodding at Brandon, her throat gone dry.
The doctor pursed his lips. “I can speculate.”
Lena was surprised by how steady her voice had remained. “Then you can speculate that Griffin isn’t the father, and he has no bearing on whether it’s the best thing to take him away from me. You won’t take him because you’ll only do it over my dead body. This is my son, and I’ll be making the decisions here, so you can go and tell that to Griffin. I’ve suffered a great deal over the last few years. I’ve been in exile. I’ve survived off of crackers for this child, and sometimes not even that. I’ve lied, stolen, and begged for him. I’ve slept in churches, homeless shelters, cars, and parks with him. I’ve seen other people lay down their lives for him and I would do the same, so when I say that you are not taking this child from me, I mean not now and not ever. I’ve suffered many losses in my time. I’ve been strangled, kidnapped, and shot. Twice. I’m still here, and I’m damn near untouchable with everything I’ve survived. So tell him and everyone else to bring it. I’m not afraid anymore. This is my son, and he can’t have him.”
The doctor, however, was seemingly unimpressed. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take it up with Master Corbett yourself. I understand he’s put you in a situation; he seems to have told you there will be dire repercussions if you refuse your cooperation with this process. If it’s any consolation to you, I’ve become very adept at treating withdrawal over the last few months, and he’ll be well taken care of.”
The doctor leaned back in his chair, but didn’t get up to leave. Lena looked over at him, annoyed, wondering if he was staying only to delay having to pry Brandon from her arms. But when their eyes met, his expression was still completely blank. He raised his eyebrows.
“You can leave now.” She said.
“As I’ve said, failing to thrive is a symptom of withdrawal in Silenti babies with cognitive addiction.” He sighed. “If you should happen to convince Master Corbett to allow this to continue, you should know that the symptoms in young children and adults can be at times quite similar and quite different—as I’ve said, it can give you unusual resistance to pain and injury, allowing you to survive and function, even in extreme situations, so long as he has you with him. Of course, it’s easier for babies to become addicted with a parent because they tend to spend so much time with their mothers, but it isn’t the only way. Diagnostically, it can happen to anyone who spends enough time with another person, or even has strong enough emotions surrounding another person for a long enough period of time. Without you, as an adult, he will no longer run the risk of laying down his own life if you are gone or die, but it will most certainly be difficult for him. He won’t be able to function. It will take him longer to heal. Miss Collins—Lena—what I’m trying to say here is that this child has the potential to hold a political office, and if he does and you two are for some reason separated, I would not expect him to be able to hold his office and station as is needed without your presence. The world could, potentially, fall apart. As a doctor, I cannot allow that to happen.” He stared at her as if this would change her mind.
“I don’t care. He’s my son.” Lena said, giving the doctor a sidelong glance.
The doctor sighed again, this time rather heavily. He spoke quickly, and with unusual emphasis. “Of course, you’re right. The benefits of such a situation are innumerable. Say, perhaps, that he is shot—I say this only as an example, because it has been known to happen amongst our political leaders. But let’s say he suffers a bullet wound of some sort, maybe in the arm or the shoulder. Without you, the recovery would be a long and slow one, but with his propensity to heal with you around, he might not even take notice of the injury so much. Why, he could do amazing things—he might even be able to travel cross-country, barely sleeping, as long as he had you. He might be able to take two bullets in the arm and shoulder, and still make a remarkably quick recovery. I would bet that would make him seem like a remarkably strong leader in the eyes of his followers.”
Here he paused and looked over at Lena. She furrowed her brow. What was he getting at?
“He would be a powerful leader with the added strength of your presence, or an abject failure without it. It’s a precarious situation, and doubtless I would never diagnose such a condition in such a powerful leader, upon which so much hinged, because to do so would be to admit an embarrassing weakness of sorts. People have access to that paperwork. He would never want anyone to know about such an ailment, even those with whom he may be closest. Do you take my meaning, Miss Collins? That an individual with this addictive disorder would never wish to have it exposed publically?”
Lena nodded. The doctor wasn’t talking about Brandon.
He stood up, and brushed his hands across his knees. “Now, I’ll leave Brandon with you for the time being, but only as I’m going to the room next door—the one Master Corbett has been occupying during your stay here—to report that you do not wish to be separated from your son. I’ll let the two of you work this out together. As I’ve said, your pleas and demands must be made to him. Of course, I’ll treat this as a private family matter, and my policy of doctor-patient confidentiality will apply regardless of your decision, because I realize what a delicate matter this is given the current political climate. I would never discuss the private medical concerns of a patient with another. As well, I am no politician, but you might want to check into current laws regarding the familial status of children. I’m no politician, Miss Collins, and I may be wrong—I’m here for advice of the medical, and not the legal, kind. Regardless of paternity, the children of female human-born servants are servants. The laws, I’m told, are written that children are the property of their mothers first, and as you and Master Corbett are not legally married, well—I’m just a doctor. You may not want to listen to my advice in this arena, and please allow me to excuse myself for overstepping such bounds.”
He turned to go. Lena’s mind was buzzing; except for the last bit, he wasn’t talking about Brandon at all.
“Doctor Evans!” She called.
He stopped at the door and turned around; his face was still impassive. How is she?
“She’s fine. She’s great.” Lena smiled weakly. “Thank you. For everything.”
The doctor gave her a brief smile and a curt nod, and then his white coat disappeared behind the door.
It was a valuable card to play if Griffin didn’t have any legal standing to claim Brandon because they weren’t married. It was stronger still to know that Griffin couldn’t kill her without shooting himself in the foot in the process. He had developed an addiction to her, when she came to Waldgrave or before—the doctor was right. He lost all manner of control over the situation when she wasn’t around. It was the way it had always been, though she had never noticed; without her he was careless, apathetic, and weak. With her, he was the undisputed king and he knew it; he tore down any obstacle that got in his way with ease.
“You’re not keeping him here.”
Lena looked towards the door; at some point, Griffin had snuck in. His cat was not with him this time.
“Hello again.” She said, trying to keep the smile from her face.
“You’ve turned him into a common servant I won’t have it. He’s destined for greatness and I won’t let you hold him back with this…ridiculous coddling.” He was walking toward the bed, clearly intent upon removing Brandon from the room.
“Oh, holding him back? Is that what I’m doing?” Griffin was leaning over her, reaching toward Brandon. She grabbed h
is wrist and stared him in the eye. “Because I could swear that I’m doing just the opposite.”
Griffin glared at her hand on his wrist. He was shaking; he swallowed and closed his eyes, refusing to look at her.
“What did he tell you?” He asked through gritted teeth.
“Nothing.” Lena said coldly. He wasn’t taking Brandon from her; not now and not ever. “He tried to explain to me why you were so concerned about this. Really, he never said anything—the convictions that man has concerning doctor-patient confidentiality are amazing. He didn’t say anything. You, on the other hand, just said everything.”
Griffin wrenched his wrist from her grasp and stepped back. Lena watched him for a moment; the fire burning in his eyes, the way he was holding his wrist where she had touched him.
“He’s staying with me if you want this to stay between us.” Lena said confidently.
Griffin’s eyes were searing into her. It was a look that she used to be afraid of. She thought he was going to speak, but instead he just left.
*****
The next several days brought many people in and out of Lena’s room just to see Brandon. As it turned out, Master Colburn had volunteered to host them almost immediately when Griffin claimed the child was his heir. The heir—the child who could open the portal, if it was ever found. Lena hadn’t discussed it with Griffin, but they both knew their frail situation would break if news that the portal had been at Waldgrave all along ever got out. For the time being, at least, it was a secret; Lena knew she couldn’t destroy it, but she knew she would have to make the portal disappear irretrievably, in a volcano or at the bottom of the ocean, if Griffin ever started to act like it wasn’t going to be a secret anymore. The many members of the Colburn household were in and out of the room—everyone from Martin’s one-hundred-and-two-year-old great-grandmother to his five-year-old sister. The Perrys, being the family of Martin’s wife Serafina, came next; they were not as numerous as the Colburns, but still a much larger family than Lena ever would have guessed. The head figures of households came to Council, but the many siblings and their children only rarely made the trip.
These times were a great ordeal for Lena, as she refused to allow her son to be passed around to strangers. Regardless, everyone had to touch him, speak to him, offer him gifts—some people just had to be in the room with him. Serafina was especially bad on this account; Lena had never gotten along well with Serafina, and had been somewhat relieved that she had missed the last Council on account of her pregnancy. But that child, a boy, had been lost and never recovered in the fiasco of the last several months; stolen as Martin and Serafina attempted to travel to Council. Serafina would sit in Lena’s room for hours on end, watching the two halves of her family faun over Brandon, and Lena tried to be at least tolerable toward her.
Alexis had become her near constant companion, watching over Brandon in the few times that Lena could not, and sleeping in a twin bed the Colburns had moved into Lena’s room for her. She informed Lena that she hadn’t heard from anyone in her family since coming to stay with Griffin, and while the bodies of the most of her family members had been recovered, her younger brother, Ivan, and two younger nephews were still unaccounted for. Despite Griffin’s efforts, no one had come forward saying they had been asked to watch them, and with little concern Alexis had accepted the fact that she might never see them again.
“Ivan was only a little one, you know? You met him the one time at breakfast? It’s easy to misplace small things, and he was not the family heir. I suppose I am grateful to be here with you and my cousin—I am the last one now. It is very generous of Griffin to keep me.” Alexis said, gently rocking Brandon in his cradle. “It’s not required of him.”
Lena looked down at the child between them, and then back up at Alexis. “But they had money at least. You could take it and start a new life, somewhere…”
Shrugging heavily, Alexis sat back and forced a smile. “I wasn’t the beneficiary of any of the accounts, Lena. I don’t know who was. I don’t even know how any of the money worked…it might have been seized by the governments or the banks or anyone who assisted with it. I have no money. I’m worthless now.”
Lena only shook her head. “You’re not worthless, Alexis.”
But Alexis only shrugged again. “I guess I’m lucky you need a nanny.”
Pursing her lips, Lena reached over and searched the drawer of her nightstand until she found a pen and a piece of paper. She wrote down an address on it; the one she stared at for hours on the bus she boarded in Florida. It had been written on the back of a tourists’ advertisement pamphlet; long lost in the time between, Lena had spent a lot of time considering what made a person worth something while staring at Colleen’s loopy scrawl.
“I don’t need a nanny,” Lena said, pushing the paper at Alexis. “What I need is a friend who can send a letter. I lived at that place for a while, and some of the people there care more about me and Brandon than anyone here. I need you to tell them we’re okay, and you can never let anyone here know that the letter was sent.”
Alexis looked down at the address, and her eyes came back up to Lena’s with sheer shock when the name of the place clearly indicated it was a homeless shelter. “We assumed…we thought…You must have had money, Lena! That Griffin was at least looking after you, wherever you were!”
“It’s the last place anyone would have looked.” This time, Lena shrugged. “That’s what he wants me to tell people. But the truth is, I couldn't have taken any money from anyone here without someone being able to trace it, and I didn't know who I could trust. I didn't have any money either, but people were kind to me. Maybe that’s why it’s required of him.”
Alexis looked back down at the note doubtfully; she didn’t seem to believe that Griffin would be so soft. However, when she looked back up, she gave Lena a curt nod and a grateful smile; if it wasn’t Griffin that was keeping her, it must have been Lena.
She sent the letter. Lena never heard from Colleen again, and she was happy. Colleen had been on a good track the last that Lena knew; she hoped that her friend would never cross paths with the Silenti again.
Lena had asked for Howard several times, but Alexis informed her that communications between the Old and New Faiths weren’t amicable enough at that time. On the third day at the Colburn mansion, Alexis told her she had convinced Griffin, only begrudgingly, to send a letter to her uncle saying that she was well. It had been so long, a letter hardly seemed enough to reconnect with her family back at Waldgrave. Lena’s nineteenth birthday wasn't that far off. She wanted to be home, at the place she remembered—showing Rosaleen and Howard her new baby, sitting in the summer gardens, visiting with Hesper. But that place didn’t exist anymore. Not for her, and not ever again.
The doctor had her on a regimen of light pain killers so that she could be more mobile, and towards the end of the first week she took to eating meals in the dining room with the many other household guests. She kept mostly to herself, speaking through Alexis when she chose to. Griffin made himself extremely scarce, and Lena found herself becoming more and more lonely as she longed for her own family and friends—but politics refused to accommodate her.
She didn’t know what was in her future. She supposed Griffin had something in mind, but as he was no longer speaking to her, she didn’t know what it was. She only saw him occasionally, sulking around, talking with other Council members, or eating the rare meal with company. Lena knew that he was probably moving forward with his plans, rallying support through Brandon, but at least he had enough respect to give her space. Then, one dinner, perhaps a week after her arrival, he actually came to eat downstairs.
The Colburns’ large dining room was packed with visitors, and Griffin had taken the opportunity to place himself in the middle of all the commotion. After much debate with Alexis, and a few conversations with the Colburns' remaining staff, she secured a place at a smaller, private table off in a corner. Lena was somewhat disappointed that none of t
he staff had known Devin, who had worked for the Colburns for many years, but she wasn’t surprised. The Colburns had turned out their whole house after Rollin had started making trouble, and they must have hired on new, young servants sometime recently. There wasn’t anyone that looked over the age of sixteen.
Amidst all of the conversations that were happening, and all the confusion as the inexperienced staff tried to figure out how to serve so many people in a timely manner, Lena passed Brandon off to Alexis and excused herself to get more pills out of her room. As it always did, leaving Brandon made her nervous, and she swept her eyes around the room looking for anyone that seemed particularly interested. Griffin was at the head of the table, smiling and talking with Martin and his father; he looked up just as she was about to look away, and their eyes met.