Pure

by Karen Krossing

  Leonard glanced unhappily at me, then away.

  “Stay strong, Lenni. Like a rock.” Elyle leaned close to me and whispered, “Remember that all they did was give the initial recipe a boost. You did the rest.”

  “Maybe.” I smiled.

  “Now, I have something special planned for us.” Elyle’s tone changed to be more serious, less whimsical. “You may not be pleased, but I think it’s important.”

  “What is it, Elyle?”

  “Mara’s been transferred here for some medical attention. She’s down on the third floor, and I’ve arranged for a visit. We need to talk.”

  “No.” How could Elyle even suggest it? I glanced at Leonard. Surely, he wouldn’t want to see her?

  “I know you’re angry and hurt, Lenni,” Elyle spoke in her soothing voice, “but we’ve got to work this through. You can’t ignore your mother, and Leonard has already agreed to it, for your sake. It’ll be best for everyone if we sit down together. Don’t you want to understand how all this happened?”

  “Why should I? She’s done enough. I have nothing more to say to her.”

  “Then do it for me. I think you’ll want to hear what we have to say.”

  family reunion

  How did I let Elyle talk me into this? I thought, as the elevator doors opened onto a waiting area and a large medic station. This floor was busier than mine, filled with people waiting for boosts or other ordinary treatments. People who managed to survive under the shadow of Purity. It was a world from long ago, a world I didn’t fit into anymore, a world I’d been expelled from. I held back as Elyle and Leonard led the way out of the elevator. Flanked by a Purity guard on each side, we lined the back wall of the elevator like statues. You’d think I’d be able to get some regular clothes to wear to the normal-people floor.

  “Mara has changed,” Elyle was saying. Then she noticed I wasn’t following her. “What are you doing?”

  Leonard turned, too, puzzled.

  “Come on.” The guard on the left nudged me with his elbow. I supposed that touching me through the cloth of his uniform wasn’t too infectious.

  I hesitated. Through the open door, I could see a mother with short blonde hair bending over a young girl, who was crying desperately. The girl was cradling her arm and rocking back and forth, obviously in pain. Poor kid. It was probably just a broken arm, so easy to fix, yet enough to hurt. These were simple people, who might be hassled by Purity but not hounded by them. I envied them, but they looked harmless enough.

  Then the elevator door began to slide shut, and the guard on the right slammed a button to hold it open. “That’s enough. Get going.” He didn’t dare to touch me, but his words were hard enough that I knew I had to move or get sent back up to my room.

  Get it over with, I told myself. I was only going to see Mother because of Elyle, and right now it hardly seemed worth it.

  I stepped out, keeping my eyes on the floor. The guards edged closer, blocking me from the two rows of people on either side, waiting in red plastic chairs. Like I was going to make a break for it, or reach out and contaminate an innocent bystander.

  We were halfway down the aisle of chairs when I heard a kid squeal beside me.

  “Momm-mmeee!” wailed the fragile voice. “It’s the girl from the news!”

  There were gasps around me. Someone dropped a slate. The crash ricocheted off the walls. The guards pressed closer.

  My face grew hot and my head pounded. The girl from the news. That was me. A monster shown on the New North Report. Beware. Skidge are among us. Hunting us down. What horrible things had they said about me?

  I dared to raise my head. The young girl with the broken arm stood facing me. Her mother was gripping her shirt, her hands clenched. The girl’s chin trembled. White-blonde hair hung over her huge eyes, which were wide with terror.

  People began to mutter.

  “What is she doing here?”

  “This is hardly the place for skidge!”

  “There are children here!”

  I had to endure this to see Mother?

  When the guard nudged me forward, I stumbled on, their words ringing in my head. What had I become? A beast in a Purity advertisement. A warning. An example. Purity had probably told them that I had infected Elyle, rather than healing her.

  I made it down the hall somehow, lost in the sting of the moment, following the slump of Leonard’s shoulders as we edged closer to Mother.

  Elyle stopped us outside a closed door, secured by a single Purity guard. Her sympathetic eyes landed on me. “I’m sorry, Lenni. I never thought…”

  The guards nodded to each other then stood at ease, ignoring us.

  I shrugged. This would happen everywhere I went, over and over again. I would never be welcome anywhere, by anyone. I glanced at Leonard. He was looking miserably away from me, glumly examining the door handle.

  “Well, I just wanted to warn you about Mara before we go in.” Elyle sighed. “You’ll find her much worse.”

  I exhaled noisily. Leonard rubbed his eyes. I would never be ready for this. My head was still clouded with the drugs Doctor Frank had injected, my skin was clammy, and my stomach churned.

  Elyle opened the door. Leonard and I followed her into a large, light-filled room, much bigger than mine. A bouquet of flowers scented the air. The walls were a warm yellow. The window overlooked Center Block and the throng of people scuttling about the square. The change of view was so refreshing that I envied Mother her room. Then I looked toward the bed.

  Pillows supported the figure among the blankets. Without her glasses, Mother’s face appeared rounder, more pasty. Her pale blue hospital gown was brighter than her cheeks. With her eyes closed and her arms limp on the covers, I was startled by her frailty. This was not the powerful, controlling Mother I knew.

  “Mara,” Elyle whispered. She lifted Mother’s wilted hand, holding it gently.

  A food tray lay untouched on the side table, and the scent of spiced meat turned my stomach. Don’t wake up, I thought. I don’t want to do this.

  Mother’s eyes fluttered open, glazed with sleep. She glanced around but didn’t seem to recognize any of us.

  “Mara, can you hear me?” Elyle whispered. “Leonard and Lenni are here. Do you remember what we talked about?”

  “Elyle? Don’t leave me again.”

  Still giving orders. Mother rubbed her head, tangling her knotted hair even more. She shifted higher on the pillows and blinked then squinted at me.

  “You!” Her voice wavered but the tone was accusing.

  Familiar anger welled up in me. “What?”

  “You had to show off. You had to heal Elyle. If only you’d been quiet.”

  “Now, Mara,” Elyle began.

  “I’m not talking to her,” I backed away. “I don’t need this.”

  “I told you to be careful,” Mother continued in a whining voice, “but you had to make friends with boys and sketch strangers in the commons. You had to lead Purity right to us!”

  “Don’t talk to me!” I shook with anger, hating Mother, hating this pattern of accusations, hating Leonard and Elyle for allowing it to continue.

  Elyle gave Leonard a pleading look.

  “Please, Mara.” Leonard tried to pat her arm. “Quiet down. This isn’t Lenni’s fault. She didn’t know.”

  Mother’s dazed look vanished and she concentrated her gaze with clear, angry eyes. “You did this to us!”

  “I never… ” I couldn’t utter the words.

  “Enough Mara!” Leonard’s voice rang out. His eyes were fiercer than I’d ever seen them. “This is not Lenni’s fault. It’s ours.” His voice fell. “All our fault.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Leonard was standing up for me.

  “You?” Mother turned her narrowed focus to Leonard. It was as if she could only concentrate on one person at a time, and it took a great effort.

  “Yes, Mara. It’s Leonard. And it’s time we squared things with Lenni.”

&n
bsp; After all these years of letting Mother run our lives, Leonard was helping me.

  “You have no claim here.” Mother half-rose off her pillow. “You’re not her father.”

  Leonard’s face paled. “You just try to take her from me,” he hissed.

  Mother sunk back, startled.

  I glanced at Elyle, who was looking from Leonard to Mother, amazed. “This isn’t what we talked about. Remember, we’re here for Lenni,” she begged. “To explain.”

  Leonard nodded, still looking fierce. “That’s right, Elyle. We’re here for Lenni,” he said, but he didn’t take his eyes off Mother.

  “Leonard.” I was struck by his strength, his willingness to finally defend me. “Dad.” I touched his shoulder, saying the word deliberately — maybe to spite Mother, or maybe because I meant it. I wasn’t sure yet, but it felt right to say it.

  He finally, reluctantly, pulled his eyes off Mother, and gave me a grateful smile. Then he sighed, shuddering deeply. “I tried to tell you before, Lenni, but all my words came out wrong. We never meant to get you into this mess. We just wanted to help you to be all you could be. If only you could understand all we’ve done. I had to falsify your DNA records, and every time you went for a medical checkup, I bribed the doctor. And the worry!” He wiped his forehead. “We were always concerned, always watching out for you.” He glanced at Mother. “I’m not sure we realized the toll this would take on all of us — the great effort we would have to put into protecting you.”

  They’d done all that? “But why use gen-eng in the first place?”

  “To give you every benefit we could!” Leonard threw up his hands. “I know you can never understand. I know you’ll probably never forgive me. But we did everything for you. Even the mistakes.”

  “Your mistakes!” Mother piped up. “Not mine.” She smiled smugly. “I knew what I was doing.”

  “Now, Mara,” Elyle said. “You promised to talk to Lenni. Tell her now. Go on.”

  Mother stopped, confused. She seemed more dependent on Elyle. “Tell her?” She paused. “Yes.” She ignored Leonard and centered on me.

  I stared her down, guarded against the next attack, the next insult.

  “It’s wasn’t easy, but I did it,” she began. “Leonard’s mother died a terrible death from cancer, and I had to protect you from that fate. So I did a little research of my own,” she smiled proudly, “and came up with the perfect specimen. It was a challenge, yes, but it was worth it. His name was Ricard Brahan.”

  “Brahan?” I glanced at Elyle. The same last name!

  “Yes, Lenni.” Elyle nodded.

  “Elyle, what is she saying?” Leonard demanded.

  So he didn’t know who my real father was either.

  “Lenni’s biological father was my husband,” Elyle admitted, her face solemn.

  The room was silent, except for the buzz of energy between us. Leonard — poised, tense, so furious at this news that he seemed ready to strike someone down. Mother — smug and plump on her mountain of pillows. Me — so astounded that I could have fallen over. And Elyle — a bridge between us all.

  “I knew nothing until after he died,” Elyle began, “when the notice came from the DNA bank. It seems he’d donated just before his accident. I never understood why. Maybe he’d wanted to help people who couldn’t have children — donate so they could conceive. The ironic thing is that we’d been planning our own family.” Elyle’s voice quavered. “I followed it up because I was grieving. It was my only link to him. You can’t imagine how much I wanted him back.”

  It explained so much. Why I wasn’t like my parents. Why I felt so different from them. And Elyle, I wasn’t related to her by blood, but she was my mother, in a way. My stepmother.

  “So Ricard,” I tried out his name — the name of my father, “he designed the waterstone basin. He was an artist, too?”

  “When I found you, I wanted to care for you, to help you as much as I could. I looked for signs of Ricard in you, and found them everywhere. And the waterstone, his craft — it was important for me to share that with you, to shape a stone as he would have done.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wouldn’t have made you any safer.” Elyle shook her head sadly.

  The door suddenly burst open and Rylant exploded into the room. “I think we have all the information we need.” She sounded triumphant.

  “Not you!” Mother began.

  Rylant put a hand on Elyle’s arm and started directing her to the door.

  “No!” Mother was rising off the bed, putting a shaky foot on the floor.

  “Do you see now, Lenni?” Elyle pleaded over her shoulder, as if she’d expected Rylant’s interruption. “We did everything for you. All of us. Even Ricard.”

  “Time for a little questioning.” Rylant nodded at the three guards who had entered Mother’s hospital room.

  “Don’t take her!” Mother began to sob pathetically.

  Dazed and angry, Leonard stared at Elyle, then at Mother, who was stumbling across the floor after Elyle. I wanted her to stay, too — to ask her more questions, to understand what was happening. But I also understood that Elyle had sacrificed for me, revealed this information even though Rylant had been listening because she knew I needed to hear it, to possess the whole truth, to make sense of it.

  Rylant swept Elyle from the room, as Elyle called, “Find your peace, Lenni! It’s all I ever wanted for you.”

  I nodded to Elyle, not trusting my voice to speak. It was so much to absorb, to process at once. My knees felt weak. My body shook with longing to rescue my stepmother. “Leave her alone,” I yelled at Rylant, but it didn’t help.

  “Bring her back!” Mother stumbled a few more steps, her chunky legs exposed below her robe.

  The door thumped shut.

  Mother sagged. She turned to me. “I can’t do it,” she moaned. “Not without Elyle.”

  We were the same — both wanting Elyle — and I hated it. I was about to twist away from Mother when her face blanched white then green. Her legs quivered. She wiped a shaky hand over her eyes then swooned, falling to the floor with a thud before anyone could catch her.

  into the ache

  I looked at Leonard, and our eyes locked. We’d seen Mother faint before. Now she’d betrayed us, and I suppose we both hated her for it. Yet a silent understanding passed between us then, and we became chillingly practical. No matter how much we despised her at that moment, we would help her.

  “I’ll get a medic,” Leonard said, his voice strangely calm.

  I nodded. “I’ll watch her.” I couldn’t possibly lift her back onto the bed, and who knew what the medics would want to do with her.

  Leonard made for the door. “And Lenni?” His look was frenzied, but his voice was composed. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know, Dad.” My head still reeled from Elyle’s news. I had two fathers now and two mothers. Life was more complicated than ever, but I was suddenly tired of fighting, tired of trying to understand everyone’s complex motives. Forgiving Leonard had become easy, but Mother was different.

  Then I was alone with Mother. Unable to leave because of the guards in the hall. Locked in with the woman who had done the most to hurt me, and the most to protect me. Had her illness been partly my fault? She’d only been trying to shield me. I found myself stroking my waterstone for comfort, and wondering if Mother, too, was a victim. She’d suffered years of worry and anxiety.

  I examined Mother from a distance. She lay still on the hard floor, her eyes closed, her lips soft and open. It was such a different face from moments before. She looked depleted.

  “Mother?”

  I kneeled to watch her chest rising and falling slowly. Still breathing. When would the medics come? There had been a long line of people waiting for attention. Maybe they were too busy.

  I didn’t really want her to wake, didn’t want to deal with her anymore. She would never be strong, and I would always be plagued by the effects of her po
or health. Maybe the way to be finally free of her — to free us both — was to heal her. But I couldn’t heal anymore. Could I? I closed my eyes.

  Mur, are you there?

  I waited for a response. Maybe Mur would come.

  Silence.

  Mur?

  I was foolish to try. I remembered how I had sketched Elyle and the others, but I didn’t even have a slate. Could I do without? I began to trace an outline in the air above Mother.

  An ache grew in my stomach, an ache for the loss of Mur and sketching, for Jonah’s treachery, for Mother’s scheming ways. A tangle of emotion lay embedded in my gut, as if all the pressure and stress had found harbor there. Although I tried again and again to connect with Mother, each time was a disappointment, just like with the squog. Finally, I dropped my hand and hung my head. I’d failed. I’d lost Mur. Once I’d been able to sketch and to heal, but the seizures and the fever had stopped all that. I’d overloaded myself. My art was lost to me forever.

  I slumped beside Mother on the cold, sterile floor.

  The ache inside me grew stronger. I curled over into a ball, trying to ease it.

  Seizures, aches, fever. I could never trust my body again. I would never be what I had been. The ache tightened my chest now, like a band squeezing me.

  I entered the growing ache. I had no choice. It was overpowering. The heat of it, the cramping. As if I were confined in chains, my muscles contracted, another seizure struggling to begin, straining against the device in my neck. I tried not to fear it, or question it. Just surrender to it. This ache, this failure and confusion, was all that was left.

  Inside the pain, I somehow found myself thinking about how my body carried my history — my genetic code — who I was and who I had become. Every seizure. Every damaged cell. Every change Mother and Dad had made to me. Just like my genetic records, my body held it all: my birth, the joys and horrors of my lifetime, the passage of my ancestors, the father I would never know, the very flow of my life.