by Lia Kane
“Is it this wild and crazy all the time?” I asked, setting the cardboard box in my arms down on the floor.
“Not quite. The kids are always high-energy around this time of day because we give them their vitamin supplements with their morning feeding. You’ll see the energy level drop in the early afternoon. Everyone goes down for a nap around three, and wakes up around five to get ready for dinner. We gather at six and finish up by six-thirty. Then we give baths and get everyone to bed no later than eight.”
“Sounds like a long, busy day.”
“You get used to it after a while.” Lucy attempted a smile, and a sound escaped her mouth that was half laugh and half cough. She had the deep, raspy voice of a chronic smoker.
“So Lucy, I heard that you’ve been working for Hope House since before it was officially an orphanage?”
“Yeah. I put in fifteen years at Blue Sky Regional Hospital, and was hoping to retire there, but then I lost my job. Long story… I won’t bore you with details. Right after it happened, I saw this job in the paper for a part-time pediatric VAM nurse, so I applied and got it. I don’t think there was a lot of competition for it. People are so afraid of the VAM disease, you know? Even nurses. But I got the job, and I’ve been the Hope House nurse ever since.”
“And do you like it here?”
“Yeah. Things have changed a lot over the years, but I stick around because I love the kids. It all started with Jermaine and Jervonne, who were surrendered to the state at birth. There were no foster parents or group homes willing to take VAM babies, so a separate arrangement had to be set up just for them. We started off as a tiny little orphanage downtown in the basement of the homeless mission. Then, several months later came Jonathan, our drop box baby.”
“Drop box?” I asked. “You mean someone threw him inside, like tossing laundry down a chute?”
“Pretty much,” said Lucy, looking down at the floor. She fidgeted with her hands, then crossed her arms. “When it was part of the homeless shelter, the drop box was there for the public to make food and clothing donations. When it became the orphanage, I guess someone thought that it was for throwing VAM babies down there instead.”
“No way.”
“I try not to judge whoever had to do it. I mean, you never know what that person was going through, you know?” Lucy shrugged. “Anyway, do you need any help settling in?”
“I’m ok for now. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.” She left the room.
The bed looked inviting. I seriously pondered throwing my sheets on it and catching a nap, but then I looked at the boxes on the floor and sighed. I knew I would get a better night’s sleep if I could get unpacked first. The box nearest me was labeled ‘OFFICE.’ I picked it up and carried it across the hallway.
I flicked on the light, placed my box on the desk and sat down in the swivel chair. The monitor of the ancient desktop computer in front of me was coated with a thin layer of dust. I opened the top drawer expecting to find it empty, but was surprised to find that Kelly had left it full of her belongings. Pens, pencils and paperclips filled a small tray at the front of the drawer, and a pile of papers and folders were crammed toward the back. I pulled them out for a closer look.
There were several forms related to orphanage operations: intake documents, budget reports and a copy of a discharge sheet from a child’s most recent visit to the doctor. Scattered in between were sheets of paper with handwritten notes on them. Midway through the pile of clutter, I found a photo of a man and woman. She appeared to be in her early thirties and was very obese, at least three hundred pounds, I was certain. She had a pretty face, shoulder-length blonde hair, and was wearing a blue formal gown. Standing next to her was a tall, strikingly handsome man wearing a tuxedo with a matching blue tie and cummerbund. He appeared to be slightly older than the woman at his side. He was physically fit with sparkling eyes, dark wavy hair, a goatee and moustache. The man looked vaguely familiar to me.
I turned the picture over to find a handwritten note on the back. Before I could read it, the phone on the desk rang and startled me.
I answered. “Hello? I mean… Hope House, this is Jerrika.”
The voice on the other end of the line chuckled at my blunder. “Well hello, Jerrika.”
“Hi,” I said. “Who’s speaking?”
“This is Mayor Victor Drake,” he said. “I just wanted to give you a call and say welcome home to Blue Sky. I heard that your interview went incredibly well. I think you’re going to be a tremendous asset to the orphanage, and I’m so pleased to hear that you accepted the executive director position.”
“Oh,” I said with surprise. It caught me off guard to get a call from someone who knew so much about me before I even opened my mouth to speak. “Well… thank you, Mayor Drake.”
“Call me Victor,” he insisted. “I know we haven’t met in person yet, but I’m sure you know of me. I believe you were graduating from high school and leaving for college when I had just started my first term in office.”
“Right,” I said. I thought back to my high school days and tried as best I could to summon a mental picture of the Blue Sky mayor. I recalled that he spoke for a few minutes at our graduation ceremony. The memory came flooding back, slowly but surely, of a handsome, powerful-looking man in a suit and tie at the podium.
Glancing down at the picture in my hands again, I finally realized where I had seen the man before. It was Mayor Victor Drake, the man on the other end of the line.
“I’m calling with a request,” he said.
“Oh? What would that be?”
“Would you join me for dinner this evening?”
It had been a long time since I had been invited out to dinner. While I wanted nothing more than to say yes, I wondered how awkward it would be to arrive at a restaurant with the mayor of Blue Sky and refuse to eat. “Thank you so much for the invitation,” I said, “but I’m afraid I’m tied up this evening.”
“That’s too bad. How about tomorrow then?”
I sighed. “Tomorrow too.”
“And Friday?”
I cracked a grin. “I… uh… how about I give you a call back when my schedule clears up?”
“I hope I’m not giving you the wrong idea,” he said with a chuckle. “I just wanted to spend a little time getting to know you before you get too busy. Hope House is a very important part of this town and I just want you to know that I’m a friend. I’m here to assist you however I can. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable –”
“No, no… you’re not making me uncomfortable at all.” I smacked myself on the forehead. It started to dawn on me that turning down a dinner invitation from the mayor my first week on the job was probably a very big political faux pas. “Listen, I’d love to meet up with you, I’ve just had a very demanding couple of days, filled with a lot of change. Right now, food is the last thing on my mind. So if it’s alright with you, Mayor Drake, I can certainly meet with you, I’ll just pass on having dinner.”
“Please call me Victor,” he reminded me. “And that’s totally understandable. Does this mean you’re free to meet this evening?”
“Sure. This evening would be fine. What time?”
“How about seven o’clock? I’ll pick you up and we can head downtown. If your appetite comes back, there are plenty of good places to eat. Or we could just get a coffee and sit outdoors on the river walk. I’ll leave it completely up to you.”
This was starting to sound like a date. “Seven o’clock it is.”
“Great. See you then. Bye for now.”
“Bye.” After I hung up, I stared down at the picture again. I couldn’t get past how insanely good-looking he was. So much so that he seemed out of place standing next to the heavyset, albeit pretty woman at his side. To be fair, any woman aside from a supermodel would have been a mismatch for him. I flipped the photo over again. Victor and I, it read. Since I was rooting through the belongings left behind by my predecessor, I assumed
that the woman in the picture was Kelly.
I jolted when I heard a knock, then looked up to see Sarah. She was hovering just outside, her knuckles still on the door frame. “Hi there,” she said warmly. “Just wanted to see if you’re getting settled in alright. Anything I can do to help?”
“Not at the moment.” I dropped the photo back into the open drawer of the desk, feeling guilty and embarrassed that I had been caught snooping. Then again, this was now my office. I assumed I had inherited the contents of the drawer after Kelly’s quick departure.
“I fixed a little something for you,” said Sarah. “Hope you don’t mind.” She placed a coffee mug on the desk.
“Oh, thank you Sarah, but I’m not a big coffee dr –” I stopped speaking when I noticed that there was no steam rising off the liquid in the mug. It looked exceptionally dark, almost red.
Blood.
I looked up at her. “How did you know?”
“You know the old expression,” said Sarah, “it takes one to know one. When you’ve had VAM for as long as I have, you can pick others right out. I’m sorry if it felt like an ambush. I just thought you might be hungry.”
“Actually, I am.” I lifted the coffee mug to my lips and swallowed. It was the first blood I had ever tasted aside from Whitney’s, and it wasn’t bad. “It’s great, Sarah. Thank you.”
“Glad you like it. The blood we get for the children is supplemented with vitamins and growth hormones. That’s the good stuff that you’re tasting, since O-negative is pretty bland otherwise.”
“Growth hormones?” I looked down into my half-empty mug. “Are they going to make me age prematurely or something?”
“Don’t worry,” she chuckled. “They won’t hurt you. It’s just a little boost to help make up for where the kids’ bodies are deficient in hormone production, so their growth won’t be stunted as they mature to adulthood.”
“Well they’re not bad,” I observed as I swirled my tongue against the roof of my mouth. Even the aftertaste was pleasant. “So, as the executive director, do I have access to the blood supply too?”
“Of course,” said Sarah. “For all live-in employees of the orphanage, part of your compensation is a monthly food stipend. Kelly used hers for groceries; you can use yours for blood.”
“Except blood costs a whole lot more than groceries, I bet.”
“Unfortunately, it does,” Sarah sighed. “Listen, not to change the subject, but while I’m thinking about it, I want to invite you to the VAMily Reunion.”
“What?” I raised an eyebrow.
“VAMily Reunion. It’s a group of VAM-Positive people who meet every two weeks here in Blue Sky.”
I laughed at the play on words. “Cute. Is it like a support group?”
“Kind of,” said Sarah. “It’s a support group, a social group, a family… whatever you need it to be. We just take care of each other, you know? We have a blood co-op, so if any of us are having a hard time getting blood, we share with each other. We also do some education and advocacy stuff, like letter writing campaigns to our representatives, begging them to put the pressure on insurance companies to pay for whole blood for VAM prescriptions. And we support Hope House, too. We plan special events for the kids, like VAM Camp in the summer, and the Christmas party.”
“VAM Camp?” I smiled.
Sarah nodded. “Yeah, it’s a summer day camp program with arts and crafts, pony rides, singing songs… everything except for bag lunches. The kids get blood in sippy cups instead.”
“It sounds like a great program. And a great group that sponsors it.”
“You’re welcome to join us. We keep it low-key, for obvious reasons. We rotate the meeting sites and dates around, and we don’t publicize the group to the general public.”
“Maybe one day,” I said.
“We’ll be there whenever you’re ready.”
I nodded and sipped the last of the blood in the mug. “This was great. Thank you, Sarah. And can I just ask you one small favor?”
“Anything,” she smiled.
“Can you keep it between just us for now that I’m VAM-Positive?”
“Oh sweetie, of course,” said Sarah.
“Thank you. I mean, I know that everyone else around here will find out soon enough, but–”
“It’s no problem at all,” she assured me as she collected the empty mug from my hands. “I completely understand. It’s your news to share, when and where and with whomever you choose. I’d never say a word to anyone else. I do, however, need to know if you’ll want more blood for dinner?”
“Not tonight, actually. I’ll be busy. I got a call from Mayor Drake. He asked me out to dinner.”
“So I guess he doesn’t know you’re –”
“No. I haven’t told him or anyone else outside of the orphanage. I’m just keeping it quiet for now,” I said. “For obvious reasons.”
Chapter Six
I HEARD THE loud rumbling of a car engine and peeked through the blinds of my office window. A candy apple-red Humvee was pulling into the driveway of Hope House. As the noisy engine shut off, the driver’s side door swung open and Victor Drake stepped out. He was wearing jeans and a navy blue polo shirt that nicely showed off his muscled arms. I hadn’t expected him to arrive in casual clothes.
I ran to my room and tore through my cardboard boxes to find my favorite casual outfit – jeans and a white peasant top. I stripped off the dress and heels that I’d put on for our outing. It hadn’t dawned on me until that moment that mayors didn’t wear suits and ties around the clock.
I heard a knock at the front door, followed by Claudia’s heavy steps down the hallway. She welcomed him inside. I quickly changed and made my way to the foyer. When our eyes met, Victor smiled broadly.
“Miss Jerrika Rand,” he said, extending his arm. I zeroed in on his left hand and couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.
I shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mayor Drake.”
“Victor,” he corrected me again. “And the pleasure is all mine.”
Outside, he held the door for me while I climbed into the larger-than-life Humvee. Taking his seat behind the steering wheel, he started the ignition. The engine growled to life like an angry lion rousing from a deep sleep.
He must have noticed the frown on my face.
“I hope you’ll forgive the obnoxious vehicle,” he said.
“If you think it’s obnoxious, why are you driving it?” My directness was a side effect of simply being nervous. Most normal people act timid when intimidated, but I, on the other hand, was far from normal. Feeling anxious made me bold and outspoken. It was a defense mechanism I had developed over the years; a lingering side effect from my near-death experience in college. After being dragged to a frat party, then drugged and drained of my blood, I often looked back on that night and counted all of the times I should have spoken my mind. I realized how I had screwed myself by not being assertive, and vowed to never let it happen again.
Victor swiveled around to check the rear as he backed out of the driveway. “It’s a gift from one of the local dealerships,” he said. “I’m not a big fan of Humvees, personally.”
“It’s a gas guzzler, isn’t it?” I asked. “These are horrible for the environment.”
“True. But sales have been down for the past couple of years at the dealership and they’re teetering on bankruptcy. The idea is, people see me driving around town, and they think –”
“If a Humvee is good enough for the mayor of Blue Sky, then it’s good enough for me,” I completed his sentence. “Celebrity appeal. I get it. Couldn’t the dealership get you a hybrid?”
He shrugged. “You know what they say – you can’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Contrary to popular belief, small town mayors don’t get a huge paycheck, so any vehicle they wanted to give me was just fine with me.”
“Well, it makes a statement,” I said.
“That it does,” he laughed. “So Jerrika, any chance
your appetite has returned?”
“Not quite. But if you’d like to go to a restaurant, I’d be happy to sit and chat with you while you eat.”
“Great,” he smiled. “I’m starving.”
He took the long highway leading into Blue Sky and once again, I saw the Anti-VAM billboards on the side of the road. I tensed up as they came into view and expected Victor to make a comment. I was relieved when he didn’t.
We hit midtown and slowed as we filed into traffic. A small town though it was, even Blue Sky had its rush hour. As we crept along at a turtle’s pace, I stared out at the storefronts lining the highway.
“No way!” I said softly.
“What?” asked Victor.
“Marcelle’s Boutique is shut down! When did that happen?”
“A couple of years ago. Marcelle couldn’t make ends meet here, so she closed the store and moved somewhere up north.”
“That’s where I bought my prom dress,” I pouted. “Seems like just yester – wait a minute – Duffy’s is closed too?” I blinked furiously as we rolled past another out-of-business sign on the door of one of my favorite hangouts from my youth. Duffy’s had been a pizza parlor, movie theatre and arcade, all under one roof. It was one of the few places in Blue Sky where a kid could go with $20 in hand and be entertained for an entire evening.
“Yes, unfortunately. Duffy’s hung in there until about six months ago, then the owners filed for bankruptcy.”
“Why?” I asked. “What’s going on in Blue Sky?”
“You’ve heard of Wainright Textile Mills, haven’t you?”
“Yes, of course. My father worked for Wainright when I was a kid.”
“So I guess you know about the closing.”
“No,” I said with surprise, “Wainright shut down?”
Victor nodded. “Five years ago. They relocated the mill elsewhere.”
“Oh no,” I said softly.
“Oh yes. And it was devastating for Blue Sky. The mill employed about 6,000 people – about a quarter of our town’s population.”