Show No Fear

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Show No Fear Page 5

by Perri O'shaughnessy


  The decision had seemed harmless at the time. When Bob asked her about it when he was older, she would say—oh, hell, she hadn’t thought anything through while she sat nursing him in that hospital bed, her nipples sore, feeling completely unready.

  When the DNA results came in, she’d look like a vindictive liar. Great.

  Showered and changed into dry clothes, she picked up little-boy litter as she moved from room to room. Aunt Helen’s place was a physical wreck inside. She had no time or money to embark on renovations, however, and only at night when she was too tired to think did staring at the blots on the walls bring on dreams of home improvement.

  “What should I bring to Grandma’s?”

  “Put your shoes on and wash that orange gook off your face. Then pack some toys. Oh, and grab Uncle Matt’s birthday present, okay? I think I left it on the kitchen table. Don’t forget to sign the card.”

  In her bedroom, she took a look at herself in the mirror. The black T with the peace symbol made her look younger than twenty-eight. Maybe makeup would help. She got out the magic mascara wand and went at her lashes one by one, put on some lipstick, then changed the shirt for a red sweater. Better. She tried smiling into the mirror.

  Reality flooded back like a stinker wave.

  Richard had left three messages the night before. He wanted to talk to Bob. Nina listened to them anxiously. She might have to get a restraining order or something, and that might be hard because Richard, a smart attorney, knew better than to get overtly violent. His intimidation was the menacing, underlying kind you had a hard time proving. How could she have loved him, even for one second? She felt unnerved and divided.

  She could imagine the hearing, the judge saying, “So all he wanted was to talk for a minute to the little boy? And you are opposing all visitation, I see, in the related custody matter.”

  If she wasn’t careful, Richard would outsnake her. She would look vindictive. Somehow it would be her fault that he had ignored Bob his whole life. Richard’s illness, his change of heart—she didn’t believe a word of it. He couldn’t have grown a heart from the wizened pea-sized object lodged in his chest.

  She should change her phone number on Monday, too. She had already written a note urgently instructing Bob’s school never to allow him to go home with anyone but her, Matt, or her mother.

  She had gone to see Jack right before leaving work the night before. He had spoken with Perry and told him she would cooperate with the orders.

  “Richard may have rights, Nina,” Jack had gently said. “But there’s a bright side. He’ll have to pitch in with child support.”

  “No!”

  “You can use the help, can’t you?” Jack asked mildly.

  “If I take money from him—” He would own her. He would be in her and Bob’s lives forever.

  Afterward, she went in to tell Klaus what was going on in more humiliating detail than she had offered to Jack. The old man sat behind his immense desk in the dusky office with its warm lamp, reading from a Supreme Court Reporter. Sensing her distress, he sat her down on the leather sofa.

  “This man accuses you? Of what?”

  Embarrassed, she told Klaus of the bad time after Bob’s birth, when she had felt so desperately needy she had gone home with strangers. Her boss had stood beside his window looking at her as if from a great and compassionate distance, though he was shorter than her now that advancing age was stooping him. He had picked up the intercom, buzzing the secretary. “Astrid, please screen Ms. Reilly’s phone calls. Don’t put through any calls from a person called Filsen, or anyone who refuses to give a name.”

  Klaus had told her not to worry about the legal fee, but she had insisted, and finally he let her promise to pay $50 a month for Jack to represent her in the custody matter. “Not to worry,” he told her. “If Jack gets too busy, I will take the case myself.”

  Nina collected her books for an afternoon stop at the library after Matt’s party and tossed them onto the floorboard of the MG with all the other papers and books she’d filed there, while Bob talked to his stuffy.

  Placing Matt’s present in the small space behind the car’s two seats, she tried to fluff the bow. Matt, her little brother, turned twenty-one today. Their mother had suggested—no, insisted upon—a party. Next to the present, in a cardboard box, sat Matt’s cake. BIG 21! said the cake in script. Delicately wrought blue flowers decked out the edges.

  When she arrived at her mother’s, she found Matt sitting at the dining table wearing a cowboy hat. He had propped his grungy boots right over the pristine white Nottingham-lace tablecloth. Ginny sat across from him on an antique love seat. A long sleeve hung loose about six inches below the elbow of her left arm, which was the first thing Nina saw as she walked into the room.

  Nina kissed her mother on the cheek, then took a chair and sat down. “Hi, Matt.”

  “Yo.”

  “Hi, Uncle Matt!” Bob said, running toward him, giving his uncle a hug.

  “Hey, big boy.” Matt hugged him back, then Bob ran off to play with his cars.

  Matt put his feet on the floor. “I haven’t been feeling that great lately,” he complained. Nina watched his hands twitching in his lap, like an infant’s, out of control. She guessed he was doing crack again and sighed heavily. She didn’t allow Matt around Bob when he was high. He knew that. Was he high?

  Ginny noticed Nina’s distress and frowned.

  “I’m sick of my stupid job.” Matt worked out in Carmel Valley at Barney’s, a store for locals. “I never pictured myself as some dumb flunky working in a convenience store that caters to winos. But on the plus side the boss puts up with me, no matter how late I show up.” Behind a new and straggly spray of whiskers, his face still looked angelic. Even when he’d been toddling behind Nina on her treasure hunts or following her on tree-climbing expeditions, he had charmed people with that look.

  “Can you believe this? He says I’m getting too scary with the customers.” Matt’s expression hardened. “That guy acts like he’s giving me my big fucking break.”

  “Watch your language, Matt,” Nina said.

  Bob, running cars across the rug, seemed not to notice any of them.

  “Honey, you’ll get back on track soon. It’s been hard for you since Harlan and I—you can get back to school now. Work on your writing.” Ginny spoke quickly as if that would somehow etch a real truth onto his shifty skin.

  Looking at Nina, Matt said conversationally, “I’ve been wondering if someone’s been screwing around with my food. Nothing tastes right. Or injecting me with AIDS while I sleep.”

  The spooky words hung in the air for a moment. Ginny leaned over to pat Matt’s knee with her right hand. “I remember the day you were born. How happy we were. We loved having a girl first,” she said, turning wet eyes on Nina, “but I think all parents want a boy, too.”

  Matt patted her hand distractedly and said to Bob, “Hey, Bob-o. Wreck ’em!”

  Bob slammed two cars together. “Yeah!” he cried as they flew into the air.

  “Mom, how are you feeling?” Nina asked. Her mother looked so frail. Bony limbs protruded from a silky, mint-green dress that was now at least two sizes too large. Ginny wore a white cotton glove on her remaining right hand and moved with evident pain.

  “Better,” she replied. “But you know sometimes I think about animals. How careful we are to save them from suffering. Why’s it wrong to end people’s suffering?”

  “Mom, not this again. You were raised Catholic. You can’t think—”

  “We understand when our time has come. God’s on our side. He doesn’t condone needless suffering. The universe is infinite. We aren’t. Why not accept that?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake! Don’t talk like that. We need you.”

  Ginny patted Nina’s hand. “I’m not jumping off any balconies today, okay?”

  Matt looked at his mother, frowned, and got up to clump around the hardwood floor, whispering to himself, sputtering curses. “I
ought to kill those goddamned bunglers, those doctors of yours,” he finally shouted.

  CHAPTER 6

  “MATT. SIT DOWN AT THE TABLE,” HIS MOTHER SAID sternly. “Eat your cake.”

  Matt sat. He was trying hard, but he was barely holding it together. Bob scrambled onto a chair beside his uncle. They sang the birthday song. Nina cut the cake. She handed each one of them a piece on a paper plate.

  Ginny always used to cut the cake.

  “Nina,” Matt said. “White cake? You know I hate this shit.”

  “Don’t eat it then.”

  “I picked the cake, Uncle Matt. The flowers are your favorite color, blue. That’s what boys like, blue.” Bob’s serious face studied his uncle’s. “But I’ll eat your piece if you really don’t want it.”

  “Oh, Bob-o. I’m just teasing your mom. See?” Matt shoved in a huge mouthful, nearly choking while Bob laughed.

  “Have another piece, Bob,” said Ginny, putting another small piece on Bob’s plate.

  Bob begged for television and, when everyone said no, returned to his other toys, a garageful of cars and trucks Nina had brought.

  Matt stood up and brushed cake from his T-shirt. “I should’ve driven you up to see another specialist. It’s getting worse all the time, isn’t it? There’s gotta be someone out there who can help you—”

  “Sweetie, it makes no sense for me to run off and see a new specialist every time I have questions,” replied his mother. “Don’t worry so much.”

  “Maybe Dad can do more,” Nina suggested. “He knows everyone. He should help.”

  “You’re an independent young lady, Nina, so I know you’ll understand why I don’t ask your father for anything more at the moment, okay?”

  “What’s going on with you and Dad?” Matt asked.

  Nina could hardly believe they were talking about this. Her mother did not discuss their father with them.

  “Things aren’t perfect. That’s natural. You know, we were married for thirty-one years.”

  “You’ve been divorced for a year now. Isn’t that right?” Matt said. “I figured the two of you had things settled.”

  “Not exactly,” Ginny said. “It’s ongoing. Even though we had an agreement, spousal support can always be modified. Maybe I should modify it more to my benefit, do more to help you kids.”

  “Mom, do not squander one single thought on us. Matt and I are fine.”

  Matt slouched, looking far from fine.

  “You need to concentrate on your health,” Nina said.

  Ginny smiled. “That’s so boring. I like thinking about how to help you all have better lives. That makes me happy. What do you think, Nina? Should I go back to court?”

  Nina pulled a card out of her wallet. “You know my number at work. You need to talk to Remy Sorensen for an unbiased legal opinion. She’s good.”

  “Thank you, Nina. Advice from experts is good. I know I should stand up for my rights, if not for myself, for you all, to show you what fair looks like. Yes, I was already thinking about seeing Miss Sorensen.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Nina studied her mother. She had come to think of her as something of a pushover when it came to Harlan.

  “But not about your father. I think I need to do something about the acupuncturist.” Ginny moved into the kitchen. “Would you get me a glass of water, Matt? I have to take my pills.”

  Nina sat back in her chair. She had been trying to get her mother to do something about the acupuncturist for ages. Another lawsuit? Now? What was happening? What was precipitating these lightning-swift changes everyone was going through in the family? She felt sucked down into a wave that wouldn’t quit, that just kept pulling her, her brother, her son, her mother, down deeper.

  Fear gnawed at her insides. She cupped her hand over her mouth, her throat tight. Get hold of yourself, Nina, she told herself. One thing at a—

  “That’s just what she needs right now, Nina. First the quacks, then bring on the shysters. More vultures to fight over the carcass,” Matt said as he got up.

  “Shut up, Matt!”

  Ginny Reilly put a pill on her tongue and accepted the glass. She drank, spilling a little. Matt returned, handing her a paper towel. “Thanks, sweetie,” Ginny said.

  “I need to say this, okay? Nobody fucks with my family and gets away with it.”

  “Control yourself, Matt. Set a good example for your nephew. You can do that, can’t you?” Ginny chided.

  “Oops. Sorry, Bob-o.” Matt’s voice sounded mocking to Nina. Heartsick, she felt certain now that Matt was high on something. Even in this cool house, he sweated.

  “Let’s pack up that nice cake your sister brought for you. And thank God for your good health, and the day he gave you to us.” Matt relaxed when Ginny hugged him, all the tics momentarily gone.

  “I need to rest.” Ginny leaned close to Nina and murmured, “Take the cake with you for Bob if Matt won’t. Just leave me a little piece for tomorrow. It’s so good!”

  Nina kissed her mother on the cheek. Ginny went to Bob and put her arms around him. With a final long hug and many secret whispered words, Ginny let go of him and went to her room.

  “Give me a ride home?” Matt asked.

  “How’d you get here?”

  “I hitched. People are so naive. I could be a psycho killer. They ought to be more careful.”

  “Sorry, Matt, I can’t give you a ride. I have to go the library.” She gathered up Bob’s things, which filled most of a large backpack.

  “Okay. No problemo.” Matt used a wall phone, murmured a few words, and said, “See you in five.”

  “You lined up a ride?” Nina asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Go ahead, open your present. I’ll be right back.”

  Her mother was lying down, fully clothed, on top of the bedspread.

  “Let me tuck you in,” Nina said.

  “I’m fine. Sit down a second. Are you all right, honey?”

  “Please don’t worry about me, Mom.”

  “That’s the problem. We all worry about each other but don’t talk enough. Is something special going on with you right now?”

  “I don’t want to add my problems to your problems.”

  “Tell me,” her mother commanded, still able to pack a wallop.

  “Richard Filsen turned up.”

  “Well, he lives in Seaside, doesn’t he? You must see him now and then.”

  “Actually no, I don’t. But he’s back and he wants back in our lives. He filed a suit for joint legal custody of Bob and for visitation. They’ll be taking Bob’s DNA to compare it to Richard’s.”

  “But this is—sickening.” Her mother did look sick. “What the hell is he up to?”

  Trying not to react to the rare profanity, Nina said, “He claims he’s been sick.”

  “Oh, he’s sick all right.” Her mother frowned so deeply even her rigid face registered severe alarm. “I knew you couldn’t trust him. I told you not to trust him.”

  “You did. But he left us alone, and I really thought I was off the hook. Now all I can think about is that he wants some kind of relationship with Bob and that means one with me. Oh, Mom.”

  Her mother’s bright eyes caught and held hers. “Don’t you dare let him scare you. He’s nothing. Nobody. He can’t get custody, you know that.”

  “Even so, I can’t believe I allowed this to happen. That man could be in our lives forever.”

  “That will not happen.”

  “It’s just—it all starts to feel like—”

  “Too much. I know the feeling.” Her mother tidied her sheet. “Tell me everything he said, okay? Matt can wait a couple more minutes.”

  When Nina returned to the living room, Matt grabbed her around the waist with his strong arms and picked her up, laughing hysterically. “Smoked almonds, my favorite food from my favorite sister.”

  “I picked them,” Bob said. Matt picked him up and tickled him, while Bob laughed.

  Nina
watched them. Matt was getting worse. She would have to talk to somebody about him. If she called county services, would they help him or put him in a cell to rot? She dreaded involving Matt in the legal system.

  If she did nothing, he’d involve himself soon enough. He was as sick as her mother in his own way.

  Had the divorce done all this to them? How could she take the lead for them, get some control of this careening descent?

  The doorbell rang. “Um,” Matt said, “talk to you for a second, Nina? Can you get the door, Bob?”

  Bob went for it.

  “Got a few bucks you can spare till I get paid, Nina?” Matt whispered.

  “Define ‘few.’”

  “Twenty?”

  She pulled her folded wad of cash out of her jeans pocket and counted it. “Eighteen big extras until my next payday. Will three help?”

  He pushed the money back at her, gently. “Forget it, Nina. Buy Bob a Happy Meal. Buy yourself one, for that matter. You look like you could use it more.” He smiled his sweet smile at her and went to the door.

  Zinnia, a friend of Matt’s Nina had never met and had only heard some unsettling stories about, stood in the open doorway, one hand in the pocket of her ragged khakis, gazing vacantly at Bob, a finger wound through her long black hair.

  “Bye, all,” Matt said.

  “Yeah, and, hi, all.” Zinnia waved an unenthusiastic hand at them, turning to leave. “You get the money?” she asked Matt before she got out of earshot.

  “Birthday bucks from my mom. I’m good.”

  Nina and Bob left a few minutes later. Ginny closed the door behind them, locked the latch, and picked up the hall phone.

  Dust on the table, she noticed, pulling her index finger over its surface. She used to take much better care.

  He answered after three rings.

  “It’s me, Ginny Reilly.”

 

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