“No,” Julie said. “But I’ve been to museums. I went on a school trip to the Natural History Museum once. We looked at the dinosaurs for hours.”
“The dinosaurs are gone,” I said. “Just like the stars.”
“The stars are there,” Charlie said. “Hiding behind the ash clouds, but they’re still there.”
“I don’t believe in anything I can’t see,” I said.
“You don’t have to see God to believe in Him,” Julie said. “You can feel Him and la Santa Madre and the saints. Like you can feel the sun, even though we can’t see it anymore.”
“I can’t see the stars and I certainly can’t feel them, so I’ve given up believing they’re there,” I said. “As far as I’m concerned, they no longer exist.”
“Look at it this way,” Charlie said. “Do you think there’s life on other planets?”
“Yeah,” I said. “And I hope they’re having a better time of it than we are.”
Charlie laughed. “Okay, then,” he said. “Picture Princess Leia on her planet, or a Klingon, or some eight-eyed thing with four brains. And whatever it is, it’s outside on a hot June night, looking at the ten thousand stars in its sky. Our sun is one of them. It can see our sun better than we can, and it has a name for it, like we have names for the stars. But Princess Leia doesn’t know we’re standing here looking up to where the stars used to be. Does that mean we don’t exist just because she can’t see us?”
I had never thought about that before: all the life on all the other planets throughout the universe as unaware of our lives, our suffering, as we are of theirs.
I wondered how many teenage boys there were out there and how many of them planned on becoming monks, and I laughed.
Charlie laughed with me and Julie did also. We were probably all laughing at different things, but that was okay. We were alive, we were together, and somewhere in the June sky there were stars.
June 13
Moving day.
Naturally it poured.
Mom stayed in and watched over Gabriel while the rest of us lugged stuff over to Mrs. Nesbitt’s. Food, blankets, sheets, the clothes we’ve been sharing with everyone else. Lots of books.
I didn’t believe it until Dad came back for Gabriel. But they really are gone. Even if it’s just down the road.
There are only five us now, and it’s so quiet.
Chapter 12
June 15
Lisa came over this morning, distraught.
“Alex says he’s taking Julie away tomorrow,” she said. “Miranda, you’re the only one he listens to. Please talk to him.”
I don’t know where people have gotten the idea that Alex listens to me. Matt listens to Syl and Jon listens to Julie, but that seems to be where the listening ends.
Still, I told Lisa I’d give it a try.
I walked outside to where the guys were chopping wood. “I was wondering if I could borrow Alex for a few hours,” I said, nice and casually. “I’d like to do some house hunting, and Mom doesn’t like me to go alone.”
“Good idea,” Matt said. “Alex, you don’t mind, do you? You and Miranda had great luck last time.”
“Sure,” Alex said. I get the feeling chopping wood is one thing he isn’t going to miss at the monastery.
We walked back to the houses and got our bikes. It was as warm a day as I could remember, almost muggy, and we biked slowly.
“No country this time,” I said. “Let’s do Fresh Meadows instead.”
“All right,” Alex said.
Well, that was easy. Maybe he was in an agreeable mood. Or maybe he didn’t like looking at half-eaten bodies any more than I did.
When I was a kid, I used to fantasize about living in Fresh Meadows. It’s at the other end of town from us, five or six miles away, and it’s where the doctors and lawyers live. Or lived before everything happened.
“These are nice houses,” Alex said as we climbed our way through an already shattered window. “The rich kids lived here, huh?”
“No one was rich in Howell,” I said. “But the richer kids lived here.”
“I like your house better,” Alex said. “It reminds me of home. All the people stepping over each other. We were pretty crowded.”
I pictured Alex and Julie and Carlos living in a filthy tenement, with everybody yelling in Spanish and hitting each other. “Where was that?” I asked.
“West End Avenue and Eighty-eighth Street,” Alex said.
There went my tenement fantasy. Actually, there went most of my ideas about Alex and Julie and where they came from. It costs a lot more money to live on West End Avenue and Eighty-eighth Street than it does to live in Fresh Meadows.
I guess Alex sensed my surprise. “My father was the super,” he said. “Not much salary, but they let us live in the basement apartment, by the laundry room and the furnace.”
“Oh,” I said. “No wonder our house reminds you of home.”
Alex laughed. “It’s better than I made it sound,” he said. “It was a nice apartment. But crowded and noisy.”
We walked through the house together, taking whatever pickings we could find. I taught Alex the cosmetic bag trick, and he admired the travel-sized shampoos and soaps. We went through three houses that way, all of them previously ransacked, probably more than once. But each had a little something we could use, and we both enjoyed the quiet and the nice furnishings.
“No food today,” I said. “No misers in this neighborhood.”
“No,” Alex said. “The rich don’t starve.”
“Are there special places for rich people, do you think?” I asked. “Did you ever see any?”
“There are safe towns,” Alex said. “But they’re hidden. Even Carlos couldn’t find one.”
Syl had mentioned trucks going to safe towns. Truckers must know where they were located even if the Marines didn’t.
“We’re safe enough where we are,” I said. “We have food and shelter. Julie would be safe, too, if you let her stay with us.”
“No,” Alex said. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”
“But why?” I cried. “Charlie’s staying. He’s no more a part of the family than you are.”
“Did you hear yourself?” Alex asked. “That’s exactly why Julie has to go. No matter how much you say you love her, she isn’t a part of your family. She’s Carlos’s sister and mine, not yours.”
“Carlos isn’t here,” I said. “We are. You could be, too. You could both stay with us.”
“No,” Alex said. “Carlos told us what we should do, and we’re doing it.”
“You really will make a great monk,” I said. “You have the obedience thing down pat.”
“I have no idea what kind of monk I’ll be,” Alex said. “Or even if the order will take me in.”
“Wait a second,” I said. “You’re dumping Julie with some nuns and then you’re going to Ohio on the off chance you can become a monk? Are you serious?”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Alex said. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “Maybe I don’t understand, but you didn’t know if I would. You may know Latin and calculus and how to hot-wire a car, but you don’t know anything about me. I don’t think you know anything about anybody except yourself.”
Alex looked around at what had once been a very nice living room, now covered with ash and broken glass. “I’ll tell you what I know,” he said. “Everywhere there’s death. You think that pile of bodies was the worst thing I’ve ever seen? Or the corpse with the dog beside it? That was nothing. Every day for a year I’ve seen worse. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out why God lets me live when so many people have died horrible, lonely deaths. People better than I’ll ever be. For a long time I thought I was alive to protect Julie, but every plan I’ve made for her failed. Now I’m trusting in Carlos’s decision. And if God shows us mercy and gives Julie the protection I can’t, I’ll go to Ohio and beg the Franciscans to ta
ke me in and devote the rest of my life to serving Christ and my church. That’s everything I know, Miranda. Everything.”
He was crying. For days I hadn’t known he could smile, and now I found he could cry.
“Stay until Tuesday,” I said. “Go into town and get the food. Do that for Dad and Lisa, all right?”
He took a deep breath and wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Tuesday,” he said. “What’s today?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, but then I counted back to last Monday. That’s how we tell time: Monday to Monday. “It’s Thursday,” I said. “That’s just a long weekend.”
“All right,” he said. “We’ll leave on Tuesday. No more arguments.”
“None,” I said, but I felt a glimmer of hope.
Maybe Alex really does listen to me.
June 16
I opened one of the cans of dog food and put some in Horton’s bowl. When I checked this evening, he hadn’t touched it.
A couple of days ago Jon asked permission to give Horton a little bit of the shad. We have so much food in the house, Mom agreed, but Horton ended up not eating it.
He’s gotten so thin. He seems comfortable, and he can get up and down furniture and laps. Sure, he mostly sleeps, but he always sleeps a lot.
I’d hoped when everybody left, especially Gabriel, Horton would start eating again. I know he was eating a little before they came, because I fed him when Jon was away.
When Julie was in the house, Jon was distracted, and even now he’s spending most of his free time with her, either here or at Mrs. Nesbitt’s. But she’ll be gone in a couple of days, unless Alex changes his mind, and then Jon is going to have to face what’s going on with Horton.
If he can. If any of us can.
June 17
Charlie popped in, just like a neighbor might, to invite us over for Sunday prayer service, followed by dinner.
Syl said yes right away and Matt nodded. Jon said he would if he could pray with Alex and Julie, and Charlie said of course, they were hoping Jon would join them.
That left Mom and me. I said yes, more for the dinner than the prayers. Mom thought about it and said she didn’t have that many chances to be alone and whenever one came along, she grabbed it, so she’d stay home.
“You could come just for the dinner,” Charlie said. “It won’t be the same without you.”
“I’ll think about it,” Mom said, which we all knew meant “no, thank you.”
We’re in and out of both houses all day long. Julie comes over every morning for lessons with Jon, and more often than not, Jon eats supper at Dad’s. Syl goes over for Bible study. Mom sends me over with something for them, or Alex comes over with something for us, and Charlie and Mom have formed their own book club. One of them reads a mystery, then gives it to the other, and then they discuss it.
But Charlie always comes over here to see Mom. Mom never goes there. I can’t decide if it’s because she doesn’t want to see Mrs. Nesbitt’s house filled with other people or if it’s Dad and Lisa she’s avoiding. Maybe she thinks they want to avoid her. It can’t be easy for Mom having them so close by, but she might think it’s just as hard for them having her so near.
It’s only been a few days since they moved out. Maybe by next week Mom will start visiting them.
June 18
The four of us walked over to Mrs. Nesbitt’s this morning, splitting up once we got there. Jon went to the parlor, where Alex and Julie set up a little chapel, and Matt, Syl, and I stayed in the kitchen with everybody else.
Dad moved Mrs. Nesbitt’s table back into the kitchen, and we sat around it for our prayer service. It made things feel more ordinary, and I was glad for that.
Someone would start a hymn and whoever knew it would join in. I asked for “Take My Hand, Precious Lord,” since that was Grandma’s favorite. There were some prayers, and Syl talked about the peace she felt when she accepted Christ as her savior. I guess that happened after the moon goddess Diana proved to be such a dud.
Charlie gave a sermon, if you could call it that. He said he’d been thinking a lot about Noah and his family lately, what it must have been like for them those 40 days and 40 nights. As far as they knew, they were the only people left on Earth. Everybody would be descended from them but only if they survived, and they had to trust in God that they would.
“I bet the rabbits weren’t worried about that,” Charlie said. “They just did what rabbits do. But it’s our curse and our blessing to remember the past and to know there’s a future.”
He reached over, touched Lisa with his right hand and Syl with his left. “Our past is gone,” he said. “But our future is in this house right now. Little Gabriel, sleeping peacefully in his crib. The children Syl will bear. Miranda and Julie, too. Their babies, born and unborn, are God’s gift to the future, just as the ark was.”
Dad squeezed Lisa’s hand. Matt squeezed Syl’s. I felt very much a part of something and very much alone.
Alex, Julie, and Jon came in, and Dad and Lisa served us dinner. It was crowded in the kitchen, and we couldn’t all fit around the table. Dad, Matt, and Alex ate standing by the sink.
We never used to have Sunday dinner. Sunday was for track meets and skating competitions and baseball games. But even with a beef jerky main course, Sunday dinner felt special.
“I should get back to Mom,” I said.
“I’ll walk you home,” Alex said.
It felt funny to be outside without needing a coat. It felt funny to be walking with a boy. It felt funny and awful to think in a couple of days I wouldn’t see him again. He and Julie would be like all the other people who’d been part of my life and then left me.
“Have you changed your mind?” I asked him. “About Julie staying?”
“No,” he said. “Did you think I would?”
I shook my head. “I’m still hoping, though,” I said. “And that you’ll stay, too.”
“We’re leaving on Tuesday,” he said. “It’s better for everybody. There’ll be more food for you.”
“Thank you for being so noble,” I said. “But we’d rather be hungry with you.”
Alex laughed. It surprises me every time he does.
Then he surprised me again. “You would have been my dream girl,” he said. “Before. Beautiful and smart and funny and kind.”
“I don’t have to be,” I said. “A dream, I mean. I’m here. You’re here. Why leave?”
“Because it’s best,” he said. “Maybe not now, this minute, but for the future.”
“You drive me crazy,” I said. “You. Charlie. Everybody. You talk about the future like you’re so sure we’re going to have one.”
“You have to believe in the future,” Alex said. “Otherwise there’s no point being alive.”
“That’s easy for you to say!” I cried. “You have your faith, your church. But I don’t believe like that. Maybe I used to but I don’t anymore.”
I thought Alex would get angry at me then, but he didn’t. “You don’t have to believe in the church,” he said. “Or even in God. Believe that people can change things.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t know that anymore.” My mind flashed back to the dead man with his dog lying beside him. “We’re all helpless,” I said. “There’s nothing we can do. There’s nothing left to trust in.”
“Trust in tomorrow,” Alex said. “Every day of your life, there’s been a tomorrow. I promise you, there’ll be a tomorrow.”
“Do you trust in tomorrow?” I asked.
“I have to,” he said. “For Julie’s sake.”
“But you don’t trust in us,” I said. “To look after Julie.”
He answered with silence.
“You don’t trust in anything, either,” I said. “Not really. Your God, your church, your tomorrow. You don’t even trust Carlos. You’re just doing what he tells you because it’s easier.”
“That’s not true,” Alex said. “You don’t understand.”
“I do unde
rstand,” I said. “But I don’t care. I’m not a dream girl. I’m a real human being with real feelings. How can I trust tomorrow? Tomorrow terrifies me. I wake up every morning scared and I go to bed every night scared, and all those tomorrows I’ve lived through are exactly the same. Hunger and fear and loneliness. Exactly the same as you, as everybody. Only you’re worse, because when we ask you to share our hunger and our fear and our loneliness, you turn your back on us. I may be lonely and scared and hungry, but I haven’t given up on loving people yet. You have. Or maybe you never loved anyone. Maybe all your life was dreams.”
Alex grabbed me. I knew he would. I knew he’d kiss me, and he did, and I kissed back. Only it wasn’t a dream-girl kiss. It wasn’t a kiss of love or even excitement, not the way I’ve been kissed before.
There was so much anger in his kiss. In mine, too. We shared it, the electric volt, and when we broke away from each other, we were both shaking.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.” He gestured wildly, as though he was taking responsibility for the last horrible year of my life.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It was just a dream.”
I walked the rest of the way home alone.
June 19
I was nervous someone would suggest that Alex and I go into town to get our food, but Dad and Jon ended up going instead.
Alex and Julie came over this evening to thank us for our hospitality and to say good-bye. Julie looked a wreck and Alex didn’t look much better, and when they left, Jon ran to his room and hasn’t come out since.
I wish Alex would go already. I wish he would never leave.
Chapter 13
June 20
The first official day of summer.
I checked the thermometer and it was close to 60. But then it started to rain, and it never stopped.
Jon spent the day sulking. I did, too. Matt and Syl spent it in their room, but I doubt they were sulking.
I don’t know if Alex and Julie left. He was so determined, but the weather was awful.
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