"Look here!" Isaac cried.
Bibby crowded in beside him and took the sleeve in his hand. It felt like wool and it was definitely black, just like the pictures.
"Your Grandfather owns an SS uniform!"
"What's SS?"
"Those are the bastards who killed my grandfather at Auschwitz."
"How did they kill him? Why did they kill him?"
"Because he was a Jew. They killed him with poison gas because he was a Jew."
"Who told you that?" Bibby asked, incredulous. He had never known someone who had been murdered. Or someone whose relative had been murdered. This was exciting to Bibby. But the thought Grandfather had some role in murdering people—it was too much to fathom. It just didn't register in the brain that also denied women did stuff in their beds at night which, in Bibby's opinion, they shouldn't be doing. His whole notion of his family was now under attack, including his mother and Grandfather. Was this how it was going to be? he wondered. Was he going to find out even worse stuff, the older he got? He shivered and backed out of the closet.
"I don't think it’s Grandfather's uniform. It must belong to one of his friends."
"Uh-uh. It's his. I can tell. I can tell by how he doesn't like me."
"Of course Grandfather likes you. You're my best friend."
"Uh-uh. He knows I'm a Jew and my father is a rabbi. He hates me."
"My Grandfather never hated anybody!"
"He hates me. I know it."
"Shut up with that!" Bibby was angry and suddenly disliked his best friend. Was this why Grandfather always snorted and walked away when Bibby said something about what he and Isaac had been up to? Was this why Grandfather left the room when Isaac entered? In horror, Bibby began to wonder. Surely Grandfather wasn't a sinner like the priest warned about. Father Grumbacher hated sin. Did this mean Father G hated Grandfather?
Bibby feared his world was crumbling around him. For several days after the uniform discovery he wished they had never spied on Grandfather's stuff. The uniform was private and he hated Isaac for finding it. Maybe Grandfather was right to refuse to acknowledge Isaac. Maybe there was something wrong with his best friend.
Bibby was suddenly ambivalent—a feeling he had never known until then. He didn't like how he felt about his mother and her bedroom secret, but he still loved her even though he was mad at her for doing it. He didn't like how he felt about Grandfather and his uniform and killing Jews, but he still loved him even though he was angry at him for being a Nazi. And he no longer knew how he felt about his best friend in the world, Isaac, who had made him spy on Grandfather and who was, he had admitted to Bibby, a Jew. Then there was the Catholic stuff. He had heard Father G tell his parishioners the Jews killed Jesus.
Bibby was ten and he was very confused. Suddenly, he trusted no one. Not even Robb, his older brother, who was doing sex stuff in their bedroom at night, under the covers. Life was suddenly deplorable and Bibby found himself not only confused, but very angry. Only little Julie escaped his judgment. She was young and sweet and in love with her cardboard Betty Crocker oven. It made cookies with battery-power, which Bibby thought was nothing short of a miracle. So he turned to playing with his younger sister and wishing he was eight years old again, like Julie. Life had been so much simpler way back then.
Most of all, he worried if Grandfather really killed Jews he would also kill Isaac. Bibby would have to give this horror his special attention. So he began spying on Grandfather.
He listened to Grandfather's drinking songs when the Germans came over, and he listened closely to everything Grandfather said. He would warn Isaac, if necessary. He would prevent Grandfather from harming Isaac. Now it was up to him and he felt a huge burden laid on his shoulders, the burden of protecting his best friend from his own grandfather.
In the end, Bibby became a spy.
A spy on Grandfather.
Chapter Twenty-Six
On day thirty of Turquoise’s admission to drug and alcohol treatment, the Wickenburg treatment center notified Katy and Thaddeus about Family Day. It would be held in one week and, at its conclusion, Turquoise would graduate and be released back to her parents. Katy was delighted and immediately placed a call to Turquoise. Turquoise’s cell message said she was in-group—she was always in-group that month—and said she would call back, to please leave a message. Katy told Turquoise’s voicemail how proud she was of her, how proud Thaddeus was, and how they both would be coming to Family Day. Was it okay if they brought Sarai too? the mother wondered. Please ask and find out.
By nightfall, Turquoise had called back and spoken to Katy. Sarai couldn’t come, the facility didn’t want small children there, and they were very sorry. So it was decided Thaddeus would be the one to attend and Katy would remain home with Sarai.
The following Thursday night, Albert and Thaddeus took the Gulfstream to Phoenix, Albert flying left-hand seat and Thaddeus flying co-pilot. Thaddeus had recently obtained his pilot rating for the aircraft and was now qualified to sit beside Albert while the plane blasted west.
They landed in the blazing hot, dry air of Phoenix at Sky Harbor Airport. It was ten o’clock Friday night, and Family Day was tomorrow. They checked into their rooms at the Phoenician and said goodnight.
Thaddeus drove the rental out to Wickenburg, thinking about Turquoise the entire way. He loved the girl dearly, and said a prayer for her as he drove along. “She is my daughter I adore,” he prayed, and “my plea is she be healed of her drug use and her incredibly painful past.”
He looked at an old man standing alongside the road with a rolled up blanket and a liter bottle of water—he guessed it was water—slung over his shoulder with a rope. The man’s sign said, “Will work for ETOH” and Thaddeus sadly shook his head. As a recovering alcoholic himself, he knew all about it. Alcohol is king until you find a Higher Power and make it your king.
Before she had left for Wickenburg, Thaddeus had had a father-daughter sit-down with Turquoise.
“Let me tell you a little about my program,” he began.
“Dad, are you going to hit me with the God stuff? I really don’t need to hear that.”
He sat back hard in the kitchen chair, where they were gathered around the kitchen table as Katy was loading the dishwasher after supper.
“Whoa!” he said. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
Turquoise smiled and pulled her long hair to the side of her face. She began to examine the lush black hair for split ends—a practice which drove Thaddeus nuts.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, I just don’t believe in that crap. That’s all. But I respect your right to believe whatever you need to believe. Is that fair?”
She paused and released the long hair, waiting for his response.
“I guess that’s fair. Tell the truth, I wasn’t going to talk about your beliefs. I was going to talk about mine.”
“Yeah, but I’m just not into that stuff at all. You’re probably a Creationist and I believe in Charlie D.”
“Charlie D?”
“Charles Darwin, Dad.” She snapped her fingers. “Come on now, Thaddeus, try to keep up here.”
Thaddeus laughed. Her being at ease with them made him feel incredibly happy. Deep down, he couldn’t have cared less about her spiritual life—it would come. Once the treatment center and the Twelve-Steppers got hold of her, it would come. So he allowed her plenty of rein, let her go, listened as she went on and on about the Scientific Method and Darwinism and entanglement experiments by the students of quantum mechanics. He had to admit, she had been paying attention. In fact, he was pretty astonished at how much ground she had covered in just this first year in Chicago. It made him very happy and he smiled and listened intently as she explained her worldview. Whatever, he was crazy about this kid and would have stayed up all-night and listened if she had wanted.
Thaddeus nosed the rental car into the Visitors’ section at the treatment facility at exactly 8:40 a.m. Friday morning. He went inside and
registered. They required a driver’s license ID, which he presented. He waited while they ran the license through their system and studied his face and the likeness on the license. Holding the license facedown on the reception desk, the young woman asked him his birthdate. He recited it, while she compared the date he gave her with the date on the license. Finally satisfied, she made him a nametag which said “Hi, I’m Thad!” which he peeled apart and stuck to his blue button-down shirt.
“Go through that door, end of hall, then left. Room 150. Help yourself to some coffee and a pastry. They’ll have your daughter brought in at nine o’clock. It will be you, your daughter, her chemical therapist, her family therapist, and her temporary sponsor. That’s someone from the facility she’s chosen for herself. Then you’ll all go around the room and say whatever you need to say. Good luck!”
Thaddeus pushed through the doors and followed the directions to the room. He pressed the handle and went inside. The room was dark and smelled like an office. It consisted of a large gray conference table surrounded by eight easy chairs, and walls covered with pictures of children done by an artist Thaddeus couldn’t name, whose work he loved, featuring kids with huge eyes. He guessed where they were coming from, with the inner child stuff he had been exposed to in his own recovery program. Truth be told, he felt very comfortable there and was looking forward to seeing Turquoise.
At 8:55, the door on the opposite wall creaked open and Turquoise stepped in the room. Thaddeus stood and Turquoise ran for him. She shouted his name and embraced him and refused to let go, even when two more people came in and asked her to take a seat. She plopped down in the chair next to Thaddeus and drew her legs up under her. She was wearing bluejeans, a T-shirt featuring three wolves howling at the moon, and the necklace Katy had given her with the turquoise bear hugging a second turquoise bear. The necklace said it all, Thaddeus thought and he reached and took Turquoise by the hand. She hung on.
The two others—a woman in a yellow sweater-vest and an older man—found chairs and were unpacking files with a second woman entered carrying two pitchers, gold and brown. “Hot water for tea,” she said, nodding at Thaddeus, “and decaf. There’s cups on the sideboard. Helpee selfee.”
Thaddeus shook his head. He hated to let go of Turquoise’s hand and was quite happy just to be there beside her.
At nine o’clock the woman in the yellow sweater-vest cleared her throat and began speaking.
“Mr. M, my name is Luisa S. No last names. Please call me Luisa. I am Turquoise’s addiction counselor. Turquoise and I have spent just at twenty hours in one-on-one counseling sessions. That’s per the contract you signed with our facility, although you probably don’t remember the small print.”
Thaddeus smiled, “No, Luisa, I don’t recall. But I’m glad you spent time together. I’m impressed.”
“Well, we’re going to let Turquoise lead it off today. She’s going to share her experience, strength, and hope. Turquoise?”
“Hi, my name is Turquoise and I’m an addict-alcoholic.”
“Hi, Turquoise,” the room said in unison.
Thaddeus was shocked. He had known she was using pot and mushrooms, but alcohol? Where was alcohol coming from?
“I began using and abusing when I was nine years old. My uncle was sexually assaulting me. He gave me drugs and made me take them with whiskey. He said it was my sex sauce. I hated the taste of the whiskey and it made me sleepy. The drugs just knocked me out. For years I didn’t know if I was coming or going. Let’s see, I took cocaine, meth, barbiturates, yellow jackets, blues, crystal meth, peyote, and heroin. My father knew about this and turned his head.”
“Tell your father about your feelings.”
She shook her head up and down. “It made me angry. It hurt me, of course, but mostly I walked around in a rage. I got in fights at school, called kids names, stole stuff from lockers, had promiscuous sex with anyone who smiled at me—I did everything wrong and still no one caught me and gave me the help I was begging for. I just wasn’t asking the right way, I know now.”
“That’s your experience. Now share your strength.”
“Today I have found a higher power of my own understanding.”
Thaddeus smiled and nodded.
Turquoise continued. “My higher power is the thing that makes it rain. Sorry, dad, I know it’s probably not your idea of God, but it’s the best I got right now.”
“It isn’t necessary to ever apologize to anyone for your program,” said yellow-vest. “If your higher power is the thing that makes it rain and if that gives you the strength to stay clean and sober, that’s all the program asks of anyone.”
“In Step Three of the Twelve Steps I turned my will and my life over to my higher power. Now I don’t have to be in control anymore. Now I can just let life happen.”
“And what about your hope? Tell us about your hope.”
“Well, my one hope has been answered. I wanted someone to care about me and love me. My mom and dad are all of that anymore. I love Katy and I love Thaddeus. They’re everything anyone could ever want. I love you, Dad. Thanks for coming to my graduation.”
Thaddeus’ eyes filled with tears and he leaned across the chairs and embraced his daughter. The lump in his throat prevented words, but the tears flowing down his face said everything for him anyway.
“That’s your experience, strength, and hope, and we can cross that off your list, Turquoise. Congratulations. You’re got thirty checkmarks on your sheet. You’re done. Ready to graduate?”
Turquoise smiled happily and nodded. “Am I ever. I just want to go home and sleep in my own room now.”
“What about people, places, and things?” the older man said. “Can we touch on that?”
“Sure,” said Turquoise. “I need to get a new circle of friends. Sorry, Melinda, but I can’t do drugs with you anymore.”
“Do you really owe her an apology?”
“No. I guess I don’t.”
“Then don’t. You don’t have to explain anything to anybody. You’ve been set free, Turquoise.”
“All right. As far as places, I need to stay out of slippery places. That includes the clubs in Chicago. I choose not go clubbing anymore.”
“Good enough.”
“And things? What about things?”
Turquoise shook her head. “I’m working on myself for the next year. No boyfriends, no romantic relationships. I need a year of sobriety before I’ll even go out on a date.”
Thaddeus sat there in amazement. Was he really hearing these things coming out of Turquoise? For a girl who had always had so little to say about her private self, she was suddenly very open and accepting of this new way of life.
One hour later, Thaddeus watched in awe as Turquoise walked to the center of the stage and accepted her certificate of accomplishment from the treatment center. Then she turned and walked off the other end and gathered with the rest of her class.
Refreshments followed, coupled with teary farewells and exchanges of phone numbers and emails, and Facebook friendings.
On the flight to Chicago she had the entire passenger area of the Gulfstream to herself. The in-flight hostess brought her coffee and chicken salad while Turquoise watched the geography change 35,000 feet beneath her. Thaddeus came back twice and sat beside her. They talked and she asked about the drug case still pending against her.
“You’ll have to go to court at least one more time, maybe twice,” he told her. “We’re not done there yet.”
“Will my voluntary treatment help my case?”
He nodded. “Sure should. I’ll call the D.A. on Monday and see if we can’t cut a deal. Your graduation certificate can be faxed over. My guess is we’ll plead you to simple possession and see you get a year of community service. Something along those lines.”
“I can do that. I can do community service standing on my head.”
“I’ve got a feeling you’re just about to get your chance.”
He left her alone with he
r thoughts and her electronics. The plane was equipped with wi-fi, so he was sure she’d keep herself very busy for the next hour until they touched down.
Community service. He thought Katy just might have something to say about that.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
LODZI STORY 6
In 1978—during football season—my office had arranged a meeting with the US attorney for the Northern District of Illinois. His name was Raymond Moore and he was a Jimmy Carter appointee. The meeting was actually with his assistant for international affairs, Rosalyn Zeller. Ms. Zeller was a forty-something-year-old graduate of Yale Law School who had served ten years in the State Department. She was said to have the inside track on war crime policing and strategizing and she would be the one responsible for extraditing Janich Heiss.
Except it wasn't to be.
Kaleb Rajski and I were shown into Ms. Zeller’s office at eleven a.m. on a Thursday morning. She was an attractive woman with black hair just starting to show gray, wearing a pinstriped women’s suit, a plain white shirt, and a small red tie. Her hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore her reading glasses on the tip of her nose. "Welcome to my mess," she said, indicating her desk smothered in files. "Take a chair."
Rajski and I each took a visitor's chair. I was wearing my usual law suit, navy, white shirt with yellow foulard tie and Rajski was wearing trousers with a navy blazer, and open collar blue shirt, which he had worn that morning to work at Motorola. We were both anxious, and we both wondered where were the FBI agents my office had suggested should be in attendance? When asked about this, Ms. Zeller replied, "I thought the agents might be premature, thinking the three of us might want to meet first and see what we have to work with."
"What we have to work with," I told her, "is none other than Janich Heiss himself."
"I understand from your secretary the man is allegedly a war criminal."
Unspeakable Prayers: WW II to Present Day (Thaddeus Murfee Series of Legal Thrillers) Page 17