by Nancy Widrew
“I want pea butter and jell!” screamed Jon.
“That’s peanut butter and jelly,” corrected Karen, before smiling in sympathy at the two unhappy faces. “You know as much as I hate to admit it, she does have a point.”
“Rachel always has a point. But I’m almost twelve. I can make my own decisions.”
“Yes, you can,” Karen agreed before taking a bite from one of the sandwiches Helene left behind. Gagging at the bitter taste, she placed a hand over her mouth while looking between the slices. Inside was an indecipherable brown substance, and she remembered Rachel’s comment about eating worms for lunch. She threw the sandwich down where she wouldn’t have to see it. Still her mind continued to work. Addressing only Randy, she said, “Next time it’s definitely peanut butter and jelly, but tell me … did Rachel also say not to speak to me about your trips above?”
Randy’s eyes opened to the size of ping pong balls, and he slunk down like a cat cornered by a large dog. “That was Rahm, not Rachel. But how did you guess what he said?”
“Just a hunch. Whenever I bring up the subject, you either change it or ignore it. But you don’t have to worry. I’m not asking you to choose between me and Rahm. I just need to picture the world again, my world above, and I need your help. It’s been so long, I’m afraid I’ll forget.”
Turning her face up toward an imagined vista, she spoke as if she were reciting a poem, her voice faint as if it came from far away. “It must be beautiful this time of year. People strolling along city streets, going in and out of shops. The smell of flowers. Families picnicking in parks, the grass thick and green.”
“What’s green?” said Jon.
“A color. The color of nature. I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot that you only see in black and white, but I”—she stopped, alarm registering in the cleft suddenly appearing between her eyebrows. She got up on her knees and reached for a small box, opening it. “Phew,” she said, flooded with relief. “I can still see the difference.” Fingers trembling, she pulled out the green crayon, aligned between a blue and red one, and handed it to Jon along with a sheet of paper. With the boy busy scribbling, Karen’s eyes reddened and her nose began to run as she remembered home and all that it signified: her mother’s hair just beginning to turn gray near the temples; her apartment with its mismatched furniture; her silly cat, Boots, aptly named with his white paws; and her Jade “money” plant with its smooth, fleshy water-drop leaves—green.
Randy took a large gulp of air like he was drinking from a cup. “Karen,” he said. “There is something I’ve wanted to tell you. The grownups think I’m too young to understand, but you treat me differently. You listen to me.”
Karen patted his knee, encouraging him to continue.
“Everyone thinks I don’t realize what’s been going on all these months, but I do, and I want you to know that I feel awful about it. But Rahm knows best. Doesn’t he?”
Karen spit out a laugh and her face hardened to what it would look like decades into the future. Randy shrank back, alarmed.
“Rahm’s a maniac,” she said. “A narcissist. An egotistical bastard. ”
“I don’t understand those words,” he said, his voice high, quivering. “You still like us, don’t you? I mean me and Jon?”
“Of course I do,” she said, ordering herself to calm down. “This has nothing to do with you and your brother. Unfortunately, that doesn’t change my situation. It’s still wrong to hold people against their will.”
“But Rahm said we had no choice.”
“What about my choice? He’s taken away my freedom. Made me a prisoner.”
“But we’d die off without you. Rahm says …”
Karen took his hand, gave it a squeeze. “Then maybe you shouldn’t be down here at all. Maybe you should be above.” Karen pointed her index finger up, moving it higher and higher.
Randy sat silently while Jon climbed on Karen’s lap. “I don’t like school today,” he said, wrinkling his brow which had recently grown a fine layer of short white hair. Longer ones, whisker-like, grew on the skin along the outer sides of his eyes. “Can I have another story?”
“It’s okay,” said Randy. “Go ahead and read to him. I want to go.”
“Why?” said Karen. “Is it what I said? None of this is your fault.”
“But I’m almost twelve,” he repeated, emphasizing the number. “Almost a grownup. Anyway, I need to think.”
Karen nodded, satisfied that she had accomplished her goals for the day: Randy questioning Rahm’s judgment and his ceasing to use echolocation. As he stood up to leave, Karen almost said, remember no cheating, but before she could speak, he lit the candle. Karen swallowed her words behind an exaggerated cough, grateful she had stopped before proving to be another condescending adult.
She assuaged her guilt toward Randy by doting on Jon. Not only did she read another story but gave him a lesson in shapes.
“How’s that?” he asked, holding up the finished product of circles, squares, and triangles he had glued onto a piece of yellowed newspaper using fish offal for paste.
Karen cupped his pointy chin, raising his face. She smiled. He was kind of cute, she decided, once you stopped comparing him to other children. “I like it,” she said. “You know if I were home I’d hang this picture on my refrigerator.”
“What’s a re-refrigator?”
“Never mind. It’s not important. But now we have to go back. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.” Karen told him to head off on his own since his method of travel was unequivocally unique. She stood watching as he climbed a wall barefoot, using his gummy hands, toes, and exposed knees. She waved him off, imagining his shoulder blades growing feathers then turning to wings. Is it possible? she wondered. She tilted her head, placed a finger to her mouth, and stood there transfixed.
Chapter 22
Karen joined the other women, already engaged in a noisy discussion regarding Randy’s upcoming birthday party. “Where are the men?” she asked.
“Too busy with important work to be bothered with a party,” said Mary. Everyone in the group laughed.
“Actually,” said Rachel, “Rahm and Norman bought a real cake. Yellow with chocolate frosting. They did a special shopping trip. It’s got preservative so it shouldn’t be a problem till Saturday, but we got it down in the root cellar just in case.”
Lily scoffed at the word preservative.
“Eating cake with preservatives once in a while won’t kill you, Lily. Anyway, no one’s gonna force you to eat it.”
“I’ll take a small piece,” she said, brushing off the lecture with an ice-cold stare. “But, I’m sure Randy will like it. What does he know about preservatives?”
Helene, who was taking notes with a pencil, nibbled on the thin wooden casing surrounding the dull point. Somewhere was a pencil sharpener, but she couldn’t remember where and was too lazy and uninterested to bother looking. “How do you spell preservative?” she asked.
“Sound it out,” said Rachel.
“I bet you can’t spell it either,” countered Helene.
“Now ladies,” said Mary, “try to control yourselves and remember why you’re here. Randy’s been gloomy lately. Let’s make this a party to remember.”
Janet’s hands flew up to her chest as if it were exposed. “‘Gloomy’? Why’s he gloomy?”
“For goodness sake, Janet,” said Rachel. “Do I have to explain everything? You’re his mother. Haven’t you noticed?”
“Well, uh …” said Janet, fidgeting in her chair while she picked at her nails.
Helene spoke up. “He’s not gloomy,” she said. “He’s horny. For Karen.”
Everyone tittered, except Karen who flinched, recoiled, and ultimately protested at the insinuation. “Don’t be ridiculous! He’s just a child.”
“You can’t miss the signs and you of all people should know better,” said Helene. “You’re a teacher; you’ve been around adolescent boys.”
Karen squir
med; she did know better and she did notice the signs. She had just chosen to ignore them, having enough on her plate. “Well, it’s not natural for him to be around adults so much. There are no boys or girls his age for him to socialize with.”
Rachel leaned forward. “I have a secret. Actually, it’s no secret ’cause you’ll hear more about it at our next community meeting.”
All murmuring stopped and everyone turned to her.
“New people will be joining us soon. Remember Sandy and Larry?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Mary. “The couple with the twins. They dropped out before making a final commitment. Sandy was the holdback.”
About to speak, Rachel’s chin rose and jutted forward.
Karen noticed the motion, having always referred to it as an I-told-you-so grin.
“The kids would be, what seven or eight now?” said Rachel. “Norman’s kept in contact with Larry over the years. Apparently, he lost his job, and, well, you know … there are the other usual reasons—life above sucks. So Sandy says yes.”
“At least they won’t be kidnapped,” said Karen.
“Don’t you have anything else to talk about besides that?” snipped Rachel.
Karen said, “Fangul,” certain Rachel wouldn’t be familiar with the Italian slang for “fuck you.” Helene, however, was, thanks to her Italian grandmother, and smirking like a smart-alecky teenager, she reached out to exchange a high five with Karen.
“What’s going on?” said Rachel, glaring at the co-conspirators. Are you two making fun of me?”
“Of course not,” said Helene, tapping the pencil against her leg. “We were just joking around. Weren’t we, Karen? Now let’s get back to the party business, before I eat this point.”
“Yes,” said Mary. “Let’s.”
After another hour of tiresome party details, trivialities, and humdrum girl-talk, Karen got up to leave, without bothering to make excuses or caring what anyone thought.
“Where you going?” asked Rachel.
When she didn’t answer, she heard Mary exclaim, “The nerve of her,” followed by a chorus of squawks and snorts from the other women. Karen ignored them all.
Entering her room, she found Jeremy prioritizing and strategizing as he awaited her return. Sure of his plan, he didn’t ask her advice. “Let’s aim for tomorrow,” he said. “Our path toward liberation. Look for Randy in the common area, and try not to let him see you following him.”
Karen blanched at the bombshell, although she knew it was coming. “What if I screw up?” she said, shaking like a student before finals.
“You won’t. You can do this. You have to.”
Karen winced, her body grew cold. “I’ll do my best,” she said. But would her best be enough? Closing her eyes, she recalled a Biblical story from Sunday school: the parting of the waters, setting the Israelites free. But would she be free? Would Jeremy? If you’re out there God—if you can hear me—please don’t let me fail.
#
Karen’s head jerked forward, startling her out of a catnap. As planned, she was in the common room, but finding herself with her eyes closed and sprawled on a couch was not in the blueprint, and immediately she began clicking despite the two blazing lanterns. The vibrations bounced off David, sitting on a nearby chair with his left hand held at a funny angle in front of his body.
“Oh, no!” she cried. “How long was I out?”
“Not too long. You weren’t here when I passed through a short while ago. Something wrong?”
Karen deflected the question and looked at her watch, hiding her self-reproach. But at least David was right. Only half an hour had gone by. “Was that you moaning? What happened to your hand?”
“A little accident. I hit it with a hammer. Mary said I may lose a nail, but nothing’s broken, thank goodness.”
Karen nodded. “Must hurt a lot.”
“My pride most of all, but on the plus side, I won’t have to work with Brian tomorrow. I’m afraid I hit him too. His thumb’s already swelled up twice its normal size. If it wasn’t for Norman hearing him scream, the fat tub would have killed me.”
“‘Fat tub.’ You didn’t call him that, did you?”
“Yeah, I did, but only after he called me a homo. Hey, tit for tat.” He spit out a chortle while pushing down on the chair with his good hand. “Well, I’d better get going. Mary said she’ll bandage me after she finishes with him.”
Karen smiled to herself. Two injured men worked in her favor. She sat up straight, afraid of falling asleep again. Hearing voices, she turned in their direction, but it was only Janet and Lily.
Lily asked the inevitable “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” said Karen, sick of the question but careful not to give away her agenda. Playing the role to the hilt, she glance down at her abdomen, adding, “I’m just a little tired.”
“Of course you are,” said Janet, “but it won’t be much longer.”
“Are you worried?” said Lily. “I mean about the delivery?”
Janet raised her palm in a universal stop gesture. “Now don’t start her worrying, Lily. Having a baby is perfectly natural. Why I remember—“
Randy entered the common room, his posture and pace, determined and eager. In a seamless minute, he said hi to his mother, waved to the women, and walked on.
Karen scrambled to her feet. “I gotta go,” she said. The women raised their eyebrows but shifted their attention as Brian slinked in, sporting a splint and a large gauze pad on his thumb.
Karen hurried off, grateful for the diversion. She kept a good twenty paces behind her target, either slowing down or speeding up as needed. After passing through Downtown and Suburbia, Randy paused to light a candle, and the muscles in Karen’s lower face relaxed. Still, she worried he might hear her clicking or the scuffling of her feet, but his constant whistling and singing worked in her favor as he ran through the jingles Karen had taught him.
No sooner did he finish one song then he switched to another, and what he lacked in quality he made up in enthusiasm, especially with his own compositions, a mishmash of words, whoops, and yelps.
Mary’s conjecture that the lower level led to an escape route proved correct. Unfortunately, the open space, adjacent to the lake, held nothing solid to hide behind, forcing Karen to stay farther back. She sent out a single note on a long exhalation, bringing a continuous stream of images to the fore. While sifting through the information, she prodded Randy with telepathic messages to sing louder. Until recently, she had never been a believer in such phenomena, but the past months had her reconsidering old beliefs.
Randy stopped to skim the shore, and Karen held her breath until he resumed walking. They passed the clotheslines where laundry flapped in the day’s breeze; passed the peat where the wild mushrooms cast a neon glow; passed the berry bushes with their fruit hanging in funny, pear-shaped, upside-down clusters, now a shade of deep royal purple.
The knowledge that Randy couldn’t see except within his immediate circle of light, gave Karen courage and hope. Her mood sunk, however, when she arrived at the one place she dreaded more than any other: the shallow pool where she and Rahm had intercourse months before. She purposely thought of it in its technical term because other words or phrases containing love or sex were either an affront or tantamount to a joke.
Although she tried not to, she fixated on the small body of water. Her high-pitched reverberations told her that her “pearls” were still within, floating placidly in their fluid home. Not liking the pictures they roused in her mind, she returned to her objective, and sent out an unbroken tone in search of Randy, horrified to find him gone. She listened carefully for his singing. A faint sound told her he was out there—somewhere.
Karen hurried, turning her head every which way as she clicked. She came to a bend in the passage and ran her hand along the wall’s bumpy exterior. When it suddenly disappeared inside a fissure, she stopped. The cleft in the wall formed a keyhole shape, small on the bottom, round on the top. St
anding on tiptoe, she poked her head inside the larger area just in time to see the light from Randy’s candle disappear above.
Finding herself in a short, but narrow, vertical chasm, she scratched her head, having no idea how to proceed. Then it came to her.
Months before she had been inside something similar. Of course, she was twenty pounds lighter then, but the muscles in her arms and legs were stronger than they had ever been, and, besides, she had no time to think about complications. With her back pressing against one side of this “chimney” and her feet on the other, she applied pressure, pushing her body up. The maneuver, a horizontal walk, was more tiring than difficult, and she stopped midway to relax her muscles. When her legs quivered in response, she cursed, made bargains with long dead saints, and fumbled onward with silent words of encouragement: Just a few more feet; I can do it; Almost over.
She came to the top and rolled onto a level of solid ground, covering her mouth when a grunt threatened to escape and expose her presence. She rose, stretched, and took a step, slamming her calf into a small boulder. Once again she repressed a groan while rubbing the sore spot, tingling under her touch. Assured she did no major damage, she quickened her pace with a warning to be more careful.
The passageway now switched to a steep upward angle. Karen recognized it as a good sign, yet faltered with the next maneuver. In imitation of Randy, she sunk into a crouch as the ceiling dropped. With knees to her chest and arms held out for balance, she waddled like a duck. At any other time, she would have found this amusing, but laughter didn’t come when she fell backwards onto her bottom, her bulging middle stifling her way.
Although harder on her knees, she switched to a crawl, grateful for Randy’s slow pace. Actually, he had no choice since the candle hindered his progress. Frequent gusts of wind blew it out, necessitating his stopping to relight the wick.
Karen knew he wasn’t used to getting by on the candle’s feeble light and worried he’d be tempted to switch to his voice. She panicked when he leaned against a wall and purposely blew out the flame.