Silence Her

by Douglas Fetterly

Beck looked behind him, but no one was in sight. “Probably just curious,” he said. “Where were we?”

  “How did you know…about the court case that went flat?”

  “I would rather not answer that one, if you don’t mind.”

  “I can understand,” Lishan said. Then she looked Beck straight on. “If you are coming to new terms with your values—if you are—how can you continue to work for the likes of the vice warden?”

  Beck didn’t like the question, but he knew why. It bothered him about himself.

  “The problem is that the prison and the local officials have been a great source of income for me, and I…can’t compromise…” His words trailed off.

  “Can’t compromise what? The loyalty to crooks? Your values?”

  “Ouch.” Standing, he walked a few feet, then back, like a caged mountain lion.

  “You just accused me of not living by my values.”

  “You wouldn’t be upset if I didn’t strike a nerve. Perhaps you are compromising.”

  Beck stopped and turned. “Suppose I am. You don’t know me well enough….” He stopped talking, then sat down. “I came here tonight to make amends, not to be judged.” His features had hardened.

  “Am I judging you, or are you judging yourself? If it’s you yourself, it’s not comfortable, is it? I know, I’ve been there. You didn’t think it would happen at the flip of a switch, did you?” Lishan let her eyes soften.

  Beck noticed. “It’s…. It’s me. Lishan, I…” He pursed his lips, his hands visibly shaking. “The restaurant is closing shortly. Could we continue this conversation? The lounge is open until two.”

  Aside from catching a train in the morning, she decided it wouldn’t hurt her to stay up. Besides, she had enough compassion to not leave him stranded at this crossroads.

  “Okay. For a while.”

  After settling the bill, they made their way to a quiet, dimly lit table in the lounge.

  To help soften the tone, Lishan added a personal touch.

  “I’m experimenting with an occasional mixed drink these days. I’ve always been a wine connoisseur, occasionally beer, but I managed to miss the boat for which tequila to buy, why rum, which gin. Maybe you have a few ideas.”

  “I have a few.” Beck was clearly comforted by Lishan’s decision.

  Half an hour into their conversation, the waiter came over. “We’re going to close early tonight, I’m afraid. I know it’s only eleven thirty, but business is slow and the bartender’s kid is sick. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Beck looked dejected. Lishan looked pensive.

  “Can we get the wine and cheese wrapped to go, please?” Lishan asked. “We understand.”

  Beck held a surprised look, but he said nothing.

  “It’s not an invitation,” she said to Beck. “I just want to finish our conversation.”

  That was part of it for Lishan, but she felt hesitant about her well-being ever since the poisoning attempt. Having someone to talk to helped.

  In Lishan’s room, they settled in on the couch. Their conversation eased from deceit and corruption to family and travel.

  As the last of the wine settled into their bloodstreams, they became more comfortable with one another. Beck no longer felt he was being judged, and Lishan was enjoying some distance from the recent threats and the tragedy of the poisoning. She tried to ignore it, but the wine had tempered her shell. Warmth encircled her loins.

  Damn, I’m getting aroused, she thought to herself. Is that okay? It’s been quite a long time.

  They continued talking. He was sharing stories of his travels to India.

  Damn, she thought again. The Kama Sutra.

  She pushed him in a purely playful gesture.

  Beck laughed, then pushed her back.

  The next move was all Lishan’s. She pushed him down on the couch, moving over him as she unbuttoned her blouse, unbridling her breasts. Half an hour later, they both lay there, a sweet exhaustion mixed with a sense of bewilderment. They looked at each other and just laughed.

  Beck made no reference to staying. He wanted to, but felt it was best if he let her be.

  Few words were spoken, but a certain levity filled the space.

  They kissed goodnight—a sweet, simple kiss. Then he left his card with her and was gone.

  Lishan snuggled into her bed for the balance of the night. It was the first time in days, perhaps weeks, that she felt at peace.

  26

  It was Monday, mid-morning, and time to take a break. Erik scanned a few channels on the television before coming to the conclusion he always arrived at: the canned applause and laughter, silly antics, and loud advertising insulted his intelligence. Feeling nauseated, he keyed in his favorite government channel.

  “Good day, Chairman Bechtel and members of the subcommittee. I’m Dr. Fred Sendlen, Director of the Center for Food Safety and Applied Nutrition at the Food and Drug Administration, which is part of the Department of Health and Human Services.

  As you are well aware, FDA is the federal agency that regulates virtually everything we eat, excluding meat, poultry, and processed egg products, which are covered by the USDA. I appreciate the opportunity to discuss the Agency’s efforts to improve food safety, which is what we are here today to...”

  Erik listened with relative detachment to the rhetoric that so often accompanied the opening, longwinded statements. He was about to doze off when a particular mention sparked him awake. Aspartame.

  “There is increased evidence that the FDA needs to reevaluate a tradition in the United States. Recently, the producer of aspartame—Ajinomoto—has come before the FDA, requesting a rebranding of the sweetener under the new name AminoSweet. Yet, aspartame, also known as NutraSweet, has a reputation in certain science communities as a dangerous food additive. It’s a reputation I believe the FDA needs to take under advisement again. Those communities state emphatically that aspartame can and does cause metabolic dysfunction, and that it increases appetite—counter to public belief—both of which far too often lead to obesity. Their arguments would have us look on our streets, in our schools, in our office buildings, noting that the incidence of obesity in the United States is appallingly high.

  These scientists state that we are, in their words, ‘yet again to be hoodwinked by an artificial sweetener, one whose marketers suggest trim waistlines when, in fact, quite the opposite—obesity—is the truth. Additionally, neurologic dysfunctions often accommodate this sweetener, resulting in headaches, seizures, vision problems, and more.’

  Because of the high visibility and popularity of this controversial sweetener, one the American public is quite attached to, I thought it best to alert you...”

  Again, the director droned on for several additional minutes before relinquishing his hold. A television camera panned the audience, settling for a few seconds on the FDA commissioner. He didn’t look pleased, focusing his gaze on the director who, in Schuler’s eyes, had said quite enough.

  An immediate clamor arose as people vied for the microphone. The chair then recognized Senator Ellen Barbara, D-California. After her requisite introduction, she continued.

  “I would like to address Dr. Sendlen’s statements on the matter of aspartame. The science communities you reference are none other than those recognized through the highly respected National Institutes of Health. They have repeatedly upheld, with supportive studies, that the science exists—that is, aspartame is a threat to our public’s health. They have posited categorically that it isn’t the science that’s lacking, but rather that political interests have blinded the FDA. As a result, a general mistrust of the FDA is growing out of the industry’s deep pockets laden at the expense of the public’s well-being.

  Additionally, the FDA has acknowledged that well over ten thousand complaints have been registered wherein members of the public have suffered some form of illness from products containing aspartame or NutraSweet. It is believed, if not known, that this represents only a small fraction o
f the real complaints, since most go unreported. We expect this number ranges in the millions.

  If the FDA is to promote the public’s health and well-being as is mandated, and to ensure its highest standing in the public’s eye, then it’s time for the FDA to remove these dangerous substances, along with the misleading marketing, from our precious food supply.”

  Erik just sat there, feeling upset. Shutting off his HDTV, he pulled out his laptop and searched PubMed, the public’s easiest window into the NIH database. Half an hour later, disgusted with all the evidence he’d found, he opened his cupboards and emptied them of anything containing artificial sweeteners.

  He felt drained today, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason. He decided it would help if he took a short nap. Twenty minutes. He remembered his foxy science of sleep professor in college, how she stressed that these short, daily naps were important for brain health and reducing stress. As he laid his head on the pillow, on his nightstand he saw the small, framed photo of his favorite foster mother and father. Erik didn’t think Lishan had ever seen it, given how he purposely oriented it away from view. It was a part of his life he didn’t tell anyone about, including Lishan. He knew that being shuffled between six different foster homes was nothing to be ashamed of, but he was still embarrassed about it.

  He had learned not to trust anyone’s love, though the loving faces in the photo came the closest for him.

  Go to hell, the woman yelled at him. You are so unlovable. He tried to run, but his legs were like rubber. Trying. Trying. I knew I couldn’t trust your love, he screamed over his shoulder. Finally, Erik’s alarm rescued him.

  27

  “Mr. Conner, Henry Krager from Krager Grocers is on hold for you.” It was 11:30 Monday morning.

  “Henry, good morning. How was your weekend? How’s Maggie?” Conner's irritation was rising. Krager never called him until after his afternoon Scotch. He hoped the account wasn’t going south.

  “Maggie’s fine, Jack. The board’s not. Since the last meeting, they decided to do some investigating on their own, hoping to head off any potential downsides from an association with Conner Foods. Unfortunately, a quorum of members uncovered far more than I think you wish to hear about. It doesn’t look good for you, Jack. They’re beginning to seriously consider other suppliers. Someone leaked the news to the press, wanting to head off a stockholders uprising. I thought you should know.”

  Conner was practically speechless, thanking his previous friend for the heads-up. Within seconds of hanging up, all Charlotte could hear was the smashing of everything that wasn’t nailed down.

  “Mazzini, dammit,” were the only intelligible words she could hear through the door as she saw his phone line go active.

  - - -

  Lishan made the 9:15 a.m. train back to D.C. Before losing cell signal, she received a call from Marie Elena.

  “Hi, M.”

  “Hi, Lishy. Whatcha up to? Not coming in?” She knew Lishan quite well.

  “Elizabeth Walker gave me the day off. Perhaps Jerry wasn’t informed.”

  “Got it. I’ll tell him. What are you bringing me?” She loved to tease Lishan.

  “Chocolate. Imported.”

  “My favorite, as you know.” Marie smiled. “Meet anyone sexy this weekend?”

  “M!” They both laughed. “Are you keeping track?”

  “As a matter of fact, writing a steamy novel. Okay, pretty woman. I’ve got work to do. See you…tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow. Don’t forget to schmooze the boss for me. On second thought, don’t bother.”

  “Ohh. He must be in trouble. Something to do with the therapist, as the rumor mill goes.”

  Lishan paused. “Beck.”

  “Beck, what?”

  “Answering your unanswered question.”

  Marie Elena hesitated, then laughed out loud after hearing the smile in Lishan’s voice.

  Lishan settled into the train. M was always fun to jest with. She’d been there since the previous summer. She was a tough chick, having lasted this long with Hanson.

  - - -

  It was late afternoon as the train passed through Maryland’s tenement housing bordering the tracks. Lishan knew it was time to call her aunt and tell her everything that had happened recently, including the attempted poisoning. She knew she should have before she left for the Cove, but she just didn’t have the energy for one more in-depth exploration of her life. And, sometimes, she felt her aunt could be a bit too judgmental.

  “What’s my lovely niece up to today?” Niesha was warm and jovial as usual.

  “Hi, Auntie. I’m coming into Union Station, from upstate New York. Albany. Do you have time to meet? Things have been a little challenging these past few days.”

  “I can get to the train station in about thirty minutes. How’s that? Are you okay?”

  “Am I okay? Mostly. Don’t worry. Okay, thirty minutes?”

  Niesha was knee-deep in writing a proposal for an essay she was presenting to a world affairs magazine. An editor had encouraged Niesha with a nod, but she said she needed the proposal before proceeding. The editor wanted it in the next three days so she could fit it into the editorial budget.

  She could feel exasperation at her niece’s request. “Kaka,” she said in her native tongue. I don’t have the time for this. Niesha stifled further frustration by acknowledging this was what family did for one another. That still didn’t make it easy at times.

  As Lishan entered the station and departed the train, she spotted her auntie. They walked to a local café, during which Lishan gave a brief picture of her trip to Albany.

  After settling in a booth at the café, Lishan took a deep breath. Niesha couldn’t help but notice.

  “What’s going on, Lishan?”

  “Someone tried to poison me. I didn’t handle it well, and now a child is in the hospital. A consequence of my actions.” Lishan stalled, at a loss for words.

  Niesha had so many questions, but she just said, “Go on,” taking hold of her niece’s hand.

  “I received a box of cupcakes four days ago at the paper. They came in a box from the boulangerie I frequent. They were from someone I supposedly met at a county meeting. Just a thank you. I gave one to a coworker’s daughter. They were poisoned. Now she’s in the hospital.”

  “Is she going to be okay? And why didn’t you tell…” Niesha stopped, not wanting her niece to feel admonished, but she was irritated that Lishan hadn’t told her.

  Lishan caught the shift and was thankful to just let it go. “It didn’t look good the first twenty-four hours, but her vitals stabilized. The doctors are hopeful.”

  Lishan stopped talking. Niesha could sense the disarray in her niece’s thinking, the emotional disturbance, so she took the lead.

  “Why would someone want to poison you? Oh. Conner.”

  While Niesha listened, she sipped her coffee and made mental note of the trigger words—exposé, Conner, taxi driver, editor, poison.

  “Okay, so you’ve pissed off somebody. Likely Conner, from what I know of him. He seems like the type who would step on any bug in his path. And the daughter? What’s her name?”

  “Jennifer.”

  “We don’t know yet that he was trying to kill you. He definitely wants to frighten you so you’ll cease and desist writing about him. Not to minimize the poisoning. Still, why would he care? Most men like that seem immune to public scrutiny.”

  “My friend JoJo, who works for the FDA and hears rumors, said it’s likely that board members for some of the companies that buy Conner’s products are upset with the publicity. It makes them look bad. JoJo thinks one of the large companies threatened to take their business elsewhere.” Lishan paused. “You know, maybe you’re right. He just wants to scare me. That’s bad enough. Maybe my life’s not in danger.” Lishan didn’t believe her own words, but she wanted to.

  “Still, you can’t take any chances.” Niesha had a questioning look on her face, then one of resolve. S
he just couldn’t hold back a comment, try as she might. “Lishan, can you understand I’m hurt that this happened four days ago and you’re just now telling me?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, Auntie.”

  “You don’t need to be sorry. I just want to know you understand.” Niesha paused, then continued. “Tell me more about your trip to upstate New York.”

  Lishan didn’t have the emotional energy to tell all of it, but she expanded on the salient points as much as she could.

  Niesha took it all in, letting her compassion shine through. “Okay. Can I give you a ride home?” Niesha said. “I have an assignment I need to get back to, if that’s okay.”

  On the ride to her apartment, Lishan brought up the topic of her therapy.

  “I didn’t know you were in therapy.” Niesha seemed disappointed to not have been told, again.

  “I thought I should investigate the relationship side of my life, including Erik.”

  “I’ve often wondered how you do it, maintaining all those men.”

  “All those men? Auntie, I’m not at my best, so no lectures, okay? And there haven’t been that many in recent years. I’m growing up, you know.”

  “Okay, I’ll concede that to you, but lectures? You don’t use that tone with me unless someone has gotten to you.”

  “I’m sorry, Auntie. That was disrespectful of me.”

  “Apology accepted. It did hurt a little. Okay, no lectures.” She lightened her voice, giving it a loving, motherly tone. “Empathy, you know. Once, when I was dating three fellas at the same time…”

  “Auntie?”

  “Yes?”

  “From the child’s perspective, parents and aunties don’t mess around. No sex. Okay?”

  “I forgot.” Two seconds of silence. “So, tell me what’s troubling you.”

  “I’m not sure. Whenever I consider commitment, I can feel myself shying away. Auntie, you remember that bad patch when I was a teenager, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I do. It was a difficult time for you, but not an uncommon one for someone your age, then. Do you feel injured from it?” Niesha jumped back in. “I’m asking too many questions.”