Set the Night on Fire

by Libby Fischer Hellmann

  For days afterwards the sound of Alix’s weeping through the bedroom walls sliced through Casey like shards of glass. When she wasn’t crying, she wandered around the apartment peering into space, as if seeing Billy’s ghost. For his part, Dar fled the apartment every morning and stayed away all day. They must have been feeling the same grief, the same remorse, the same guilt, but they avoided each other, unable to share. The silence when they were both in the apartment was heartbreaking. The core of their extended family had collapsed. The others were upset, too, although they didn’t admit it. Rain tiptoed around, and Payton and Teddy were uncharacteristically quiet.

  It was Casey who went through Billy’s things at the boarding house. He took the bracelet Billy had been making for Alix, as well as the turquoise pendant his mother had given him and gave them both to her. At first she clasped them to her chest, but then she handed them back. “I can’t handle these. You keep them.”

  One night Dar didn’t come back to the apartment until dawn. Alix was still in bed but wasn’t asleep—she rarely slept more than an hour or two at a time. She lay staring at the ceiling, as usual, waiting for her nausea to subside. It had started about a month ago, mostly in the mornings. She figured it was the stress of taking care of Billy. She looked towards the door as it opened.

  “Alix?” Dar whispered. He stood in the doorframe silhouetted by the light from the hall. “Are you awake?”

  She nodded.

  He walked in, closed the door, and came to the edge of the bed.

  Alix gazed at him. He looked tired and thin and sad. He needed a shower. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. She got out of bed.

  “No. Don’t.” His hands shot up as if he was warding off danger. “We need to talk.”

  She shushed him with a finger against his lips, and then pulled him close. At first he tried to pull away, but she slipped her hand under the waistband of his bell bottoms and kissed him, teasing his lips with her tongue. He relaxed then, and kissed her back, his fingers tangling in her hair. She leaned closer, and his tongue moved down to her throat, her neck, her collarbone. He knew her body so well. She arched her back.

  She helped him take off his sweatshirt and tossed it on the floor. She saw the longing in his eyes. She watched as he took off his pants. He was ready for her, but she pushed him onto the bed and slowly unbuttoned the shirt she wore at night. His breath came faster. She slipped off her panties and straddled him, guiding him in. She rocked back and forth, riding him hard. When she came, a shudder wracked her body. Then he took over.

  Afterwards she lay beside him listening to his breathing. She’d seduced him. But he’d made all the right moves, whispered all the right things. Still, a seed of doubt had sprouted during their love-making. It wasn’t anything obvious, just a slight hesitation, a subtle shift from passion to awareness. The problem was she didn’t know if it was coming from him or from her.

  Dar was putting on his clothes when Alix woke a few hours later. “Alix, we need to talk.”

  She stretched and gave him a smile. “Good morning.”

  “Alix, I’m leaving. Payton and Teddy are moving out, too.”

  Alix’s stomach twisted. A dull pain gathered at her temples. “Why?”

  “I tried so hard to make it work,” he said softly. “You. Billy. Everything.”

  She got out of bed and went to him. “We both did.” She started to brush her hand across his forehead. “It wasn’t your … ”

  “No.” He pushed her hand away. She froze. Dar had never rejected her before. She didn’t know what to do with her hand.

  “At first I thought it was my fault,” he said. “That I’d failed you. That if I could have done more, been more attentive, made more money, Billy wouldn’t have died.”

  She let her hand drop. “I feel the same way, Dar. I … ”

  He held up his hand. “No. Listen to me Alix. The thing is, it wasn’t me. Or you. It was the system that failed Billy. He was fucked from the beginning.”

  “The system?”

  “The first screw-up at the ER. The fact that we couldn’t get him the right treatment until it was too late. There should have been procedures in place to protect Billy. Months before he got so sick. There weren’t.” He sighed. “Alix, I’ve decided Payton is right.”

  A sudden memory of Billy grinning when he mastered the chessboard flew into Alix’s mind. “About what?”

  “We need to change society. Deep-seated, radical change. What happened to Billy should never happen again.”

  “But you said the Movement had spent itself. Too many factions. Foolish tactics. Divide and conquer.”

  “I know,” he admitted. “But I’ve been rethinking it. I’ll be an even bigger failure unless I try again.”

  Alix began to shiver, the way she had in the ER the night Billy died. “Try what?”

  “It’s better that you don’t know.” He paused. “Rain was right, you know. We’re … very different.”

  “That’s not true. Dar, I need you.”

  “I’ll tell you what the truth is,” he said slowly. “The truth is that you loved Billy more than me.”

  “You’re wrong. I loved Billy because he reminded me of you. And then when we were caring for him together, I felt like we were … ”

  “A family?” He turned an anguished face to her. “What kind of family? Alix, you told your father you’d go back to Indiana if he gave you money for Billy.”

  “What else could I do? I had no other options.”

  “Options.” He paused. “Yes. That’s a good word. Then you understand why I have to go. I have no other options.”

  “No!” Her eyes filled. “At least, tell me where you’re going. I can’t bear the thought of not being in touch with you.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand, gazing at her as if recording her features. Then he kissed her softly and walked out of the room.

  She was suddenly cold. Achingly cold. She hugged herself. Maybe he was still on the other side of the door. Waiting for her to beg him to stay.

  “Dar?”

  There was no reply.

  THIRTY–EIGHT

  Casey came awake all at once. For a moment he thought Payton and Teddy were having a conversation, but he was alone. Strange to have this much privacy after sharing for so long. Gradually he realized that Alix and Rain were talking in the hall outside the bathroom. They kept their voices low, but he heard the tension. When he heard the word “clinic,” he roused himself and stumbled through the door.

  Rain was standing against the wall, arms akimbo. “You have to go. What if it’s TB?”

  “I don’t have TB, Rain. I’m not coughing.”

  Rain shook her head. “You don’t know that. Do you want history to repeat itself?”

  “What’s going on?” Casey yawned. “Are you sick, Alix?”

  Rain’s face was tight. “She needs to see a doctor, but she keeps saying no.”

  Alix leaned against the other wall. “I’m all right.”

  Casey brushed his hair off his face. He’d tried to encourage Alix to go back to her jewelry business, but her heart wasn’t in it. Aside from the occasional trip to the grocery store, she wasn’t doing much except reading and, now that Payton wasn’t there to criticize, listening to the radio. Part of it was mourning Billy. Part of it was mourning Dar. And part of it was the brittle Chicago winter. Last year, their combined energy had fueled their souls and their bodies. This year, he’d started to notice how the cold seeped in, leaving a chill in every room.

  But Alix did look pale and listless. Casey couldn’t take a chance. “Rain is right. You’re going to a doctor. We’ll take you. No argument.”

  “And what did you have in mind?” Alix said. “It’s not like we have money for a Michigan Avenue practice.”

  “The Panthers’ free clinic is down on 16th Street. We’ll go there.”

  “Uh, excuse me, but I think Alix just might be the wrong color for that,” Rain said.

  “Mention Payt
on to them, and they’d probably treat her.” Casey shrugged. “But if that’s a hassle, I guess we can go to the ER.”

  “No,” Alix answered quickly.

  “Wait.” Rain held up her hand. “The Seed was just doing an article about a new clinic in New Town. Let me check it out.”

  Alix and Rain emerged from the Women’s Health Collective at the corner of Sheffield and Clark the next afternoon. Located in a squat building, the clinic had been started by feminists who wanted to provide women with an alternative to the male-dominated health care system.

  Casey was waiting at a coffee shop across the street. He threw fifty cents down on the counter and hurried outside. “What happened?”

  Rain’s expression was enigmatic, but Alix looked dazed. “I am so stupid.” She shifted her feet.

  Casey looked from Rain to Alix. “Did they do a TB test?”

  Alix said something, but the clamor from a passing El train drowned out her reply.

  Casey motioned to the train. “What?”

  Alix dug out a card from her bag. When the train had passed, she said, “The doctor did the test. I’m supposed to check my arm over the next three days for any of these things.” She handed him the card, which had four squares with various bumps and drawings of what she should look for. “But the doctor doesn’t think that’s the problem.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “She thinks I’m pregnant.”

  Casey took a startled step back. His mouth dropped open.

  “I should have known. I mean I was putting on weight, even though I was hardly eating.”

  “And the nausea,” Rain added.

  Alix nodded. “So they did a pregnancy test. I’m supposed to call next week.”

  Casey hung back, still speechless.

  But Rain was already making plans. “If you are pregnant, there are places that can take care of you. A couple of girls at The Seed told me about one in Lincoln Park. Very clean. Almost a hospital.”

  “Take care of me?” Alix looked surprised. “You mean an abortion?”

  Rain nodded. “It’s gonna be legal one day. Has to be.”

  “I don’t want one,” Alix said quietly.

  “What do you mean? Of course you do.”

  “No, Rain, I don’t.”

  Rain waved one hand over the other. “Are you crazy, Alix? This isn’t just a fifteen-year-old boy who wandered into your life for a year or two. This is a baby. It will change your life. Forever.”

  For the first time since Billy died, a genuine smile spread across Alix’s face. “I know, Rain. But it’s our baby, Dar’s and mine. Don’t you see? Now he’ll have to come back.”

  A week later the clinic confirmed that Alix was nearly four months pregnant. When she went in for a follow-up appointment, she received another surprise. The doctor detected two heartbeats. She was carrying twins.

  “Casey, we have to find Dar. He needs to know.”

  Casey’s lips tightened. “I don’t know where he is.”

  “But you’re his best friend.”

  “And you’re his girlfriend. Doesn’t mean we know what he’s up to.”

  “There must be some way to find out,” Rain said.

  “Are you sure you want to?”

  Alix looked worried for a moment. Then her forehead smoothed out. “Don’t worry, Casey. It’s going to be fine. We’re going to be parents.”

  She was already talking about turning the back bedroom into a nursery. And even though the babies weren’t due until July, she was making plans to shop for blankets and cribs and two little mobiles to hang over them.

  Casey ran his tongue around his lips. “Alix, what if he doesn’t? Come back, I mean?”

  Her smile wavered. “Why? Do you know something I don’t?”

  “Of course not. But I don’t want … ”

  “He will. These are his babies.”

  Casey and Rain exchanged glances. Then Rain asked, “Have you called your parents? They should know.”

  Alix bit her lip. “Not yet.”

  It took Casey three weeks and several trips to Weiss’s, the local hippie bar at Belden and Lincoln, to find someone who knew someone who could make contact with Dar, Payton, or Teddy. All of which made Casey nervous. Why were they so deep underground?

  Finally, on a crisp, sunny February morning, the same day most of the Chicago Seven defendants were convicted of crossing state lines to start a riot, Casey found a message in their mailbox. Scribbled on the back of a piece of brown cardboard was the following:

  The record store on Wells at 9. Listen to Volunteers in the booth.

  Casey felt a spit of irritation. This wasn’t a James Bond movie. But he’d promised Alix, so that night, at ten past nine, he showed up at the record store a few doors down from Up Against the Wall. He was the only customer in the shop, and he browsed through bins of records, studied the album covers on the walls, smelled the incense. The guy behind the counter, a black guy in a dashiki with dreadlocks and lots of gold in his mouth, watched him carefully.

  Finally, Casey went up to the counter, feeling foolish, and mumbled, “I’m looking for the Volunteers album.”

  The guy grunted and pointed to a curtained-off booth at the back of the room. “I’ll bring it to you, mon.”

  Casey went inside the tiny booth, where a turntable and speakers lay on a waist-high counter. A stool sat in front of it. What was he supposed to do now? He sat on the stool, drumming his fingers on the shelf, wishing he could leave and go home.

  A minute later, the guy behind the counter knocked on the door. When Casey opened it, he slipped him the Volunteers album. A scrap of paper was taped to the cover, directing him to an alley near Clybourn and Division, about a mile away. He sat for a moment, wondering if he was expected to play the album before he left. He decided not to and exited the booth. He dropped the album on the counter. The guy manning the store was nowhere to be seen.

  Rain and Alix were waiting outside.

  “Well?” Alix asked.

  Casey explained. “This is a stupid idea. It isn’t safe,” he added.

  Rain said she was happy to forget the whole thing and go back to the apartment, but Alix insisted. “Please, guys. Do it for me. And the babies.”

  Casey capitulated. It was a cold night, but there was no snow and the wind was calm. They could walk.

  The three of them headed down Wells. This part of Old Town was safe and well-lit. The Ambassador East, a luxury hotel, was a few blocks away. As they turned west, though, the neighborhood changed. Once they passed Sedgwick, the sidewalk became cracked, and there were slippery patches of ice. The streetlights were dim, and angry shadows loomed between buildings.

  Two minutes later they reached the alley. It was bricked along most of its length. Someone had made an attempt to banish the darkness with a weak floodlight, but it looked gloomy and sinister. The smell of decay wafted out from a dumpster. They quietly crept past it, Casey starting when a cat streaked across their path. Rain shivered and pulled her parka close. Only Alix—the girl who’d been protected and coddled all her life—marched fearlessly.

  At the far end it made a surprising ninety-degree turn, opening onto an abandoned snow-mottled field. The field was littered with trash and bottles and tires, but new buildings surrounded it, and Casey suspected it wouldn’t be long before it too was developed. He stepped gingerly, trying to avoid broken glass. He didn’t want to think about what else might have been dumped there.

  A streetlamp splashed a watery pool of light onto the field. Casey saw a tall form emerge from the shadows behind it. Dar. Alix spotted him, too, and started to sprint toward him. Half way there, she slowed, as if she’d just realized she was pregnant and had to be careful.

  Casey watched as Alix threw her arms around Dar, who let his arms sag, but then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he hugged her back. She buried her face in his coat. Though Dar wasn’t that close to them, the coat looked unfamiliar. Casey wondered what had happened to his pea co
at.

  He couldn’t hear their conversation, but he watched as Alix made wide gestures with her hands. At one point, Dar straightened and reared back, as if surprised. Then there was more talk, after which Alix lifted the wool serape she was wearing because she couldn’t button her coat, and placed Dar’s hand on her stomach. Covering it with her own, she looked up at him. Casey could see her cloud of blond hair escaping the hood of the serape. He imagined her hopeful expression.

  Then Dar withdrew his hands and shoved them in his pockets. Alix went still. She said something. Dar shook his head. A moment later she held out her arms one more time, but he stepped out of reach, and disappeared into the shadows.

  Alix watched him go, not moving, her solitary figure etched in the weak light. Then she turned around and trudged slowly back to the alley.

  When Alix reached Casey and Rain, she spoke only one word, “No.”

  That one word held all the sadness and despair that comes with the end of a dream.

  On the street, at the far end of the field, the dome light of a car snapped on. Casey caught a glimpse of Payton in the driver’s seat. Someone was in the back—he was sure it was Teddy. Dar slid into the passenger seat, the door closed, and the car sped off.

  THIRTY–NINE

  It was a stormy spring. News of the My Lai massacre became public and triggered a fresh wave of outrage. In March, a bomb accidentally went off, leveling a townhouse in Greenwich Village and killing the three Weathermen who’d been assembling it. Closer to home, at the end of March, a bomb went off in a recruiting office on Chicago’s north side, shattering windows and destroying furniture. A month later Nixon announced he’d sent forces into Cambodia.

  Casey found it all hard to absorb. Time seemed to have accelerated, compressing events into a procession of shocks with no distance or perspective between them. On one hand he felt battered and desensitized; on the other, he was hurtling toward oblivion.