He was so wound up that he leaped from his chair, not even noticing whether Tess reached for the button again, and strode to the window, then the doorway, then back to his chair, plunging his clenched hands in his pockets. “I cornered my father one day, he was coming home from job hunting, at least that’s where he said he was—he ever tell you this?— I jumped in his car when he pulled into the garage, and we sat there and I told him he was a fucking failure as a father, as a man, couldn’t get a job and support his family—Christ, first he was fired, then he went looking, he said, for a year, probably spent his time in bars or whorehouses. I told him he couldn’t face the world, couldn’t take care of his kids, probably couldn’t even fuck his wife anymore. A total fucked-up failure at everything. So what did he do, the fucker? Ran away. Just up and left, walked out on all of us, no note, no phone call, no nothing. All I wanted was a father who’d be proud of me and help me when I needed it, and he ran off. Fucking coward.”
There was a long silence. Tess’s eyes, had Mack paid enough attention to notice, were icy. She had not collapsed, as she had when Doug let slip the news of Mack’s return; this time she kept a visible grip on herself, muscles rigid, eyes locked on Mack, the good half of her mouth a tight line.
Mack’s face lit in a smile and he came back to the armchair. “But, hey, look, we shouldn’t be talking about this. You’re so pretty, you know, and it’s great that you’re fine, sitting up and all, we shouldn’t be arguing, or even talking about unpleasant stuff. I don’t know how we got on the subject. Truth is, I don’t think about all that anymore. I’m too busy conquering the world. I’ll bet you don’t believe I can do that. Not a lot of faith in Mack the Knife, right? Sara called me that once, she tell you that? That was after what’s-his-name, the pharmacist I accidentally stabbed. I mean, it was an accident, and she knew it, and she said she was sorry, but it’s like telling a jury to ignore something; shit, the words are out there, you can’t just pretend you never heard them.”
He shook his head in wonder. “She didn’t understand me, either. You know how easy it is to hurt people? It doesn’t take hardly anything, I mean, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing anything, you’ve barely moved, but you’ve…” He glanced at Tess, then away. “What I mean is, it’s too easy; it ought to be harder. If people knew how easy it is, they’d be a lot nicer.”
There was a long silence as Mack pondered it. Then he looked up brightly. “So, shall I tell you how I’m conquering the world? I know you’d like to hear it; parents like to be proud of their kids. You told me lots of times you wanted to be proud of me. Then you had to say you couldn’t be. Just had to get that in, didn’t you? Well, anyway, so here’s where I am. I’ve hooked up with this guy, better than my father, ’cause he likes me and knows how good I am, and he’s got a lot of irons cooking, plenty of room for me to move higher. No limit, that’s what he says.”
Tess thrust her finger at Mack, once, then twice.
“What? How the hell am I supposed to know what that means? You think I’m a goddamn mind reader?”
She pushed her finger toward him again and again.
“You mean me? What about me? Oh, you mean what do I do for him?”
Tess lowered her hand, nodded slightly.
“How about that? I figured it out. Pretty good, huh? You wanna know what I do for him.” He grinned his infectious grin, wide, eager, open, his blue eyes crinkling. “Maybe you’re wondering if I’m his hit man.” He laughed loudly. “He’s in real estate, Ma. He buys and sells buildings. And builds buildings. All over the world. I’ve seen more of the world working for Lew than you or my father ever did. Places you never even heard of, like you want to know what my favorite is? I even tell the kids stories about it, it’s so weird. It’s a goddamned rock in the middle of the ocean called Nauru, wide open, no regulations, everybody there happy to help you clean up your money.” He cocked his head, looking at Tess. “You don’t know what that means? Laundering? Well, leave it alone. It’s not your kind of thing. I’ll tell you what I’m doing now: you’ll like this. Lew’s been granted the license for a casino on the Fox River—you know where that is? Way the hell out in the boondocks west of here—that is, he’ll have the license as soon as he shows them he has the land. It’s the only license the legislature’s gonna okay for the next five years, and it’s just about in Lew’s pocket. I’m working on getting the land; some other guys want it, but they’ll drop out so we can build.”
He grinned again, thinking his mother’s immobility this time was amazement at his success. It was okay now that she couldn’t talk; she was an audience that didn’t ask questions or criticize. Maybe this was what people paid psychiatrists for. Mack sat back, voluble and expansive. “You wanna know how come the other guys are going to drop out? Lew fixed it. You gotta admire him, Ma, he knows how things work. How people work. See, the county decided they’d approve a new development on that land if the town next door annexed it. The town politicians have to vote on it, and Lew’s helping ’em decide. How, you ask. There’s ways of convincing politicians: same way all over the world. They always need money, and they like to play in the big leagues. You live in a rinky-dink town in the boondocks, how often you get a chance to work with a guy like Lew Corcoran? He helps ’em out with a little extra cash here and there—they don’t pay taxes on it, that helps, too— and they’re happy, so they vote against annexing the land next door as long as the other guys want to build on it. The other guys pick up their marbles and go home and—voilà!—the local politicos vote to annex as soon as Lew has his license in his hot little hand. And we build our casino, and guess who’ll be running it? You got it: yours truly, Lew’s right-hand man.”
He sat back, beaming. “You’ll see it; I’ll take you there. It’s a river-boat, you know, that’s what the license is for, only it’ll be permanently docked, connected to a second casino, offices, what all, onshore. You’ll be blown away, Ma, you won’t believe it: these huge gambling rooms, you can’t see from one end to the other, and five or six restaurants, high-class, not hot-dog joints, and marble bathrooms, the works. Lew’s a man of vision, and nobody gets in his way. You wanna be on his side.”
Leaning forward again, elbows on his knees, he stared earnestly at his mother. “And you know what? When the money starts rolling in, I’m gonna take care of you. Better than Sara, better than anybody. You don’t like the way you’re treated here, I’ll buy the whole fucking place and run it the way you want it. You want new clothes, I’ll get all your favorite designers here so they can show what they can do for you, in your chair and all. You want to see the world, I’ll buy a plane and a crew to take you wherever you want to go. All that money, Ma, I’ll have everything I want, and whatever you want, I’ll give it to you, everything your little heart desires. How about that? My father couldn’t take care of you, but I can. How’s that for a good son?”
He leaned back, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles. “I can take care of everybody, my whole family. I’m already doing it, you know: you should see the kids; happy as clams. I got Doug a gallery show; he tell you about that? His cute little carvings all over the Franklin Stoaner Gallery, that’s a legit place, you know, none of your amateur hole-in-the-wall galleries. He was—” Tess was pointing her finger again, stabbing it at him. “Now what?” He thought for a minute, then grinned. “You want to know how I did it? Pulled it off for a kid who couldn’t carve his way out of a paper bag?” Tess slapped her hand on her table, the unexpected sound like a shot in the quiet room. “Hey, okay, okay. He’s not terrible, matter of fact, he’s pretty good, but he’s a kid, we’re not arguing that, right? Well, anyway, how did I get him a show. I called some people. You know, you get people who owe you things, you can do a lot. Frank and his partner, they own the gallery, they were a little behind in their payments, not so far, but a little bit, enough for me to remind them that deliveries could dry up anytime.”
Tess’s face was contorted as she tried to frown.
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p; Mack grinned. “Anybody listening?” He made a show of looking under his chair. He was feeling happy and chatty. “Drugs, Ma, the lifeblood of suburban America. They come to the city for their weekly supply, or nice guys like me make deliveries. They get all kinds of deliveries out there, you know, groceries, newspapers, vitamins, medicines, UPS, FedEx, whatever they want. So I make deliveries; I’m part of the American way of life. It’s like when I helped Lew with his mess with Pussy… oh, you don’t know all that, do you? Not important, Ma, just one of the ways I make myself useful.” He grinned. “Indispensable. Lew shoots his wife; I make it look like suicide. Frank and his friends are crawling up the walls for their delivery; I deliver. And I let ’em get behind in their payments, just enough so when I need ’em, they’re there. That’s just good business. So I needed a gallery for one night and Frank and his partner helped me out. Boy, was the kid happy; it made him love me. See? Good son, good brother; what more could any mother want to make her proud?”
“Mom!” Carrie cried, rushing in. Her face was flushed. She looked challengingly at Mack. “Were you supposed to be here?”
“And hello to you, too,” Mack said gaily.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hey, can’t a guy visit his ma? You’re here; why not me?”
“Because…” She frowned deeply. “I thought Mom said she didn’t want to see you.”
“Mom can’t say anything,” Mack pointed out.
“She can, too! You shouldn’t talk that way! She says lots of things; we understand her! And she writes things, too, don’t you, Mom?” She went to Tess and kissed her on both cheeks. “How are you?”
Tess laid her hand along Carrie’s face, then pointed to the magazine in her hand.
“That’s what I came to tell you.” She hesitated, unsure of what Mack’s presence meant, and uncomfortable with the odd way he was looking at her. In fact, the whole room felt uncomfortable right now. But her mother didn’t seem to be sick or fainting or anything like she was when Doug made that awful mistake. So maybe everything was okay. “I got published!” she said, perching on the arm of Tess’s chair. She laid the magazine on Tess’s table and opened it. Then, through her discomfort, honesty made her say, “Mack did it. Remember I told you he promised? Well…he did. See, look. This one’s mine, and this one, and the next one. Three in a row!” Her excitement returned as she talked. “And my name! In print! Carrie Hayden, three times!”
Tess put her good hand on Carrie’s, then slowly turned pages in the magazine. They were thin, almost transparent, and the type seemed to fade in and out, making the letters look as if they were different sizes. The cover was blue paper, a little heavier than the inside pages, and on it was printed in large black letters, NEW STORIES. Tess opened the first page, and then the second; there was no masthead, no listing of publisher or editor or staff, and no copyright information. At the bottom of the second page was a name, MH Publishers, and a post office box in Chicago. On the next page, a table of contents listed six names in alphabetical order; Carrie’s was the first. Tess flipped pages to the back of the magazine to find biographical information on the authors, but found only two more blank pages. There were just eight stories between two paper covers—three for Carrie, one for everyone else.
Tess turned the pages slowly, reading some of each, while Carrie beamed at the close attention her mother was giving them. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she cried, jumping up. “Isn’t it amazing? I mean, Mrs. Norton at school said I was too young to be published; Sara didn’t believe I could, either. But Mack can do anything!”
Tess looked up and met Mack’s eyes. His look had turned wary, his face closed. “I haven’t had a chance to read it,” he said flatly. “Carrie grabbed it. But she should,” he added with a bright grin. “She’s the author.”
Tess was gazing at him steadily, and, abruptly, he stood. “Time to go, friends and neighbors. Duty calls.” He turned to Carrie, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “I hope you weren’t worried about interrupting us when you got here.”
“What?”
“You might have worried about interrupting us and hung around out there, waiting to come in.”
“Yes, but not very—” Caught off guard, Carrie stopped herself, knowing exactly what he was talking about. “No, I…came right in.”
“Right in.”
“Right. I mean, right in, right away.” She giggled uncomfortably, wishing she didn’t feel inadequate or guilty so often with Mack. “I mean, I wanted to talk to Mom, you know, that’s all I wanted.”
“No peeking through keyholes?” he pressed teasingly. “No listening at doorways?”
“No!” Desperate to feel better, to be happy with Mack again, Carrie turned and threw her arms around him. “Thank you for the magazine, thank you, thank you. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. I’ll make you proud of me, I promise. I’ll write and write and someday I’ll be famous and I’ll tell people it was all because of you.”
Taken aback, half turned from Tess’s unwavering gaze, Mack dragged a hand across his face, wiping away the expression that had crossed it, like a shadow. Tess would never be sure whether it had been chagrin, as she first thought, or a trick of the light, but something had been there, and Carrie had seen it, too. Puzzled, unable to sort out everything that was going on, Carrie went back to perch on the arm of her mother’s chair, frowning slightly at Mack, putting her arm protectively around Tess’s shoulders. She felt strangely grown up, her mother small and vulnerable inside the curve of her arm.
Mack faced the two of them. “Two Harpies,” he murmured.
“Two what?” Carrie asked.
“Beautiful women in Greek mythology. Loved by everybody as long as they behaved themselves.” With a faint thread of his earlier grin, he waved over his shoulder as he left.
“He’s strange, isn’t he,” Carrie observed. It was not a question.
Tess picked up her pencil and scrawled on her pad of paper, Sara.
“Hey, that was easier for you!” Carrie exclaimed. Her mother’s hand seemed steadier than it had been in years. “You’re getting better! I knew you would, I knew if we waited long enough—”
Almost impatiently, Tess tapped the word she had written.
“Oh, right. What about Sara? You want her now? Are you feeling sick again?” She jumped up. “I’ll call her right away.”
Tess put up her hand.
“You’re not sick? You’re okay? So, when do you want Sara? Tonight? Tomorrow?” She waited for a reply. “Well, I’ll just tell her to come as soon as she can. Is that all right? I have to go home for dinner, and Sara can call and leave a message at the desk about when she’ll be here. Is that all right? I mean, are you sure you’re all right? I mean, everything’s okay, isn’t it?”
When Tess gave a small nod, Carrie kissed her again and again. “Love you, love you,” she said, and ran outside to the bus stop.
“She wasn’t sick,” she told Sara in the kitchen, helping make the salad. “But she wasn’t right, either. She was writing better, but, you know, she was so quiet. I mean, she always is, but… oh, you know. And she wrote your name. I was kind of worried.”
Sara turned off the stove. “This is done; I’m going over there. You take care of dinner for you and Doug; I’ll eat when I get back.”
“What about Abby?”
“She’s taking a nap. I’ll check on her later.”
“She’s always taking naps! What’s wrong that she can’t even be awake and part of our family? It’s like she doesn’t like us anymore. I mean, she didn’t crack her head or anything in the accident, just her arm, so why is she acting crazy? I mean, it wasn’t a tragedy, it was just an accident and nobody was killed or—”
“That’s enough,” Sara snapped. “I’m ashamed of you. It was more than just an accident, it was everything with Sean, her own judgment, how she can face her friends, how she can face herself. And there’s the fact that she doesn’t have a car anymore, a small matter, re
ally, but it’s part of everything. Abby went through a lot, and it will take awhile for her to deal with it and understand it. What you can do is be nice to her when she’s awake and let her work things out in her own way, and not decide whether she’s being crazy or not.”
“I’m sorry,” Carrie flung out. Then, more quietly: “I guess her arm hurts.”
“Probably everything hurts, especially her thoughts. It’s pretty painful, being ashamed of something you’ve done.”
“But it wasn’t her fault Sean wanted to rob a place and the man got hurt! And he wasn’t killed; Sean’s friends just hit him a few times. Abby wasn’t even there!”
“She drove them there; she waited for them; she knew they’d be committing a robbery and had to get away in a hurry. She knew it was wrong even if she wasn’t part of it, and she knew she shouldn’t be there. She knew all that and just…went along.”
“Because she was in love.”
“Because she wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m going, sweetheart, you take care of you and Doug; I’ll be back as soon as I can. Oh, one more thing. Was Mother upset by anything that Mack said?”
“I don’t know. Is Abby ever going back to school?”
“Of course she is. It’s only been a few days; please, Carrie, don’t worry so much. She’s a strong person; she’ll work this out. And if she wants our help, we’re here. Did you hear anything Mack said to Mother?”
“No! I don’t know anything! I couldn’t hear anything!”
Sara studied her flushed face. “You heard something and you don’t want to talk about it, right? Well, I don’t want you to betray Mack, but I do need to know what might have upset Mother. Do you understand that?”
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