Clean Sweep

by E. B. Lee

  She asked, “For what?”

  “You know.”

  She stared. “What was wrong with you?”

  “Don’t know. Sometimes, like I said, you just need a break.”

  Carli didn’t respond. She knew the real story was more complex.

  “If you ever need alone time,” said Grant, “let me know.”

  Carli thought for a second. “Why don’t you take Cedric’s pills back. I’ll visit him when I can.”

  “Got it,” he said. “And let me take you to lunch tomorrow.”

  “What? No way. We’re good.”

  “Seriously,” said Grant. “Meet me at St. Mary’s tomorrow.”

  “Sure,” she finally said, hoping to see for herself how Grant was doing.

  Nineteen

  Carli stepped through the archway of St Mary’s to see Grant leaning against one of the closed doors to the chapel. “Perfect timing,” he said. As he picked up a parcel with a long baguette sticking out the top, he added, “We’re headed to the Meadow.”

  “You mean in the park?” she asked.

  “Exactly. It’s time to soak in this sun and watch a few softballs fly. Not to mention, celebrate.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Carli.

  “They made it to spring. All of them. Well, except for Lucy.”

  Yes, she thought, they had.

  Carli sat on the lawn, tilting her head to the sun. By her account, Grant was acting fine. She let her hands gently dig through the grass into the soft earth. “When I was young, I planted marigolds every summer,” she said. “I loved putting my hands in the dirt.”

  “It’s how you learn,” said Grant. “By touch.”

  Carli turned her head. “I do. Yes. How about you?”

  “I’m done learning,” said Grant, pulling a few items from the bag.

  “Oh, come on ...”

  “No, I am. Sometimes I can’t get what I see out of my head. Better to turn off the learning switch,” he said.

  “I doubt that’s possible.”

  “I used to have a garden. Big back yard too,” said Grant. “Did all the usual chores – weeding, mowing, watering, mulching, you name it.”

  “You miss it?”

  “Not a bit. That was my old life.”

  “Sounds like what you say about the street sleepers,” said Carli.

  Grant gave her a funny look. “I guess it is, isn’t it?”

  “So ... Thelma and Mrs. Thompson are sprucing up Lucy’s old gardens,” said Carli.

  “We can carpool to her service,” he said. “Along with L and T, if Thelma’s taking them.”

  “Yes, with L and T. Thelma finally said she would take them in.”

  “It’ll be nice for all of them, but aren’t you going to miss your two little scouts?”

  “I wish they were staying,” she said. “It’s going to feel empty, and I definitely love them.”

  “Dogs are the best. Always say the right thing.”

  Carli laughed. “It sounds like you had a dog or two in your life.”

  “Me? Sure did. One,” said Grant. “Kind of a weird little mutt.”

  “The best kind.”

  “Good ol’ Bonaventura,” said Grant.

  Carli jerked her head forward and stared sharply at Grant. “Bonaventura?” she asked softly.

  “Odd name, I know,” said Grant.

  “Bonaventura,” she whispered again.

  “Yup. The one and only,” he said.

  “The one and only,” she repeated. Carli continued to stare at Grant. She felt her arms begin to shake. “Did he have a … nickname? Something not so long?” Carli asked.

  “Actually, yes. Most of the time, we called him ‘Tura.’ He had other names too. Like most dogs, right?”

  “Tura?” she asked. Carli slowly placed her hand over her mouth, all the while staring at Grant.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Grant.

  Carli continued to stare. She tried to speak but couldn’t.

  “Seriously, Carli, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  Carli slowly pulled her hand from her face and reached forward to touch Grant’s arm. “Henry ...,” she said quietly. “You are Henry.”

  “What?” asked Grant. “Who are you talking to?”

  “You,” said Carli. “I finally found you.”

  Grant turned to look behind him and asked again, “Who are you talking to?”

  “You,” said Carli. “Aren’t you Henry?”

  Grant looked pale, as though he had seen a ghost. “Of course not,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s me,” she said. “Tessie. Your sister.”

  “I don’t have a sister,” said Grant. “And why are you saying this? You said your name was Carli.”

  Carli pulled back her hand and straightened up. “Are you messing with me?” she asked quietly.

  “Me? I’d say it’s the other way around. What’s going on?”

  “I had a dog once. His name was Bonaventura,” said Carli. She continued to look at Grant’s face. “And I had a brother, too. Until he vanished from college. I thought you were my brother. He used to call me Tessie. But now my nickname is Carli.”

  “Quite a coincidence,” said Grant. “What are the odds of another Bonaventura?”

  “Exactly,” said Carli. “And my dog’s nickname was Tura.”

  Grant began gathering the extra food and wrappers.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Home, I guess. I thought we were done.”

  “Done? We barely got here. But you stay. Enjoy the day. I told Sarah I would meet her.”

  “Now?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Carli gently squeezed Grant’s arm, stared at his face, and said, “Forgot all about it.”

  In the fifteen-block walk to her apartment, Carli was certain she didn’t take a single breath.

  “He’s Henry. I know he is,” said Carli.

  “I thought you finally accepted he wasn’t your brother,” said Kristin.

  “How many dogs are called Bonaventura?” asked Carli.

  “What?”

  “How many people would name their dog Bonaventura?” Carli repeated.

  “Well ... probably not many,” said Kristin.

  “Exactly. My dog was Bonaventura. His dog was Bonaventura. And we both called him Tura for short. That’s more than a coincidence,” said Carli. “Composers are named Bonaventura. Artists are named Bonaventura. And a couple of musicians. I bet we had the only canine Bonaventura in the world.”

  “So, you found him. You finally found him,” said Kristin. “I can’t believe it.” She gave Carli a hug and said, “You found your brother!”

  “I did. And it was unbelievable. It was better than I could ever expect. Then, it was awful.”

  “Awful?” asked Kristin.

  “He said he didn’t have a sister. He looked at me like I was crazy,” said Carli.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know what the hell happened. And now, he thinks I am totally weird.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Kristin.

  “Me neither. I mean, what the hell.... I didn’t know what to do. I was so shocked I left.”

  “I guess you wait it out and see what happens. Are you certain?” Kristin asked. Then she shook her head and said, “Forget I said that. Bonaventura is a unique name. Grant has to be your brother. Why did he refuse to recognize you?”

  “I don’t know, but I have to find out. Oh, my God. Kristin, I found him.”

  Carli was grateful to find Mercy’s open door. She practically collapsed into the seat on the opposite side of Mercy’s desk. Today, Carli didn’t notice what gem of an outfit Mercy was wearing. As soon as she sat, she said, “It’s Grant. And he’s a mess. So am I.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Mercy. “Take a breath, Carli. Looks like you just had a major breakdown.”

  “You’re telling me. The short of it is Grant’s my brother. I know it. Only, he claims he doe
sn’t have a sister. He says he doesn’t know me.”

  “How is it you are so sure?” asked Mercy. “You had doubts. Now you seem certain.”

  “I am certain. We had a dog. As kids. How many dogs named Bonaventura do you know?”

  Mercy nodded. “I see.” She continued to nod. “And he claims he doesn’t know you?”

  “Right,” said Carli. “He’s been such a mess, on and off, that I wouldn’t even know him, except for Bonaventura and the other little things that looked so familiar. Other than that, he’s been drinking, and on and off looking like crap, and maybe even clinically depressed sometimes. That wasn’t how he used to be. Today, he seemed fine ... until he didn’t know me.”

  “I talked with him a couple of times,” said Mercy. “I know what you’re saying. This dog bit is another interesting piece. But first and foremost, what can I do for you? Not Grant, but you?”

  “I have no idea,” said Carli. “I feel like I’m in some surreal world. Or I’m losing my mind.”

  “In a way, you are. This is not your normal world. Not at all. So, this is what I want you to do. I want you to help yourself. I have a good person you can talk to, if you want. And we can also see if Grant, now, or down the line, can meet with this person, as well, and figure out what’s going on with him. It definitely seems like he needs help.”

  Mercy called Dr. Greenberg at Avenue Partners before Carli left her office. There was too much in Carli’s life, let alone Grant’s, to pass over. Carli was grateful for the last-minute appointment. Before she stepped into the hall, Mercy said, “It will work out.” To Carli, it sounded unlikely.

  Two days later, Carli stepped up to the door of Avenue Partners, on the posh Upper West Side of the city, pressed the entry buzzer, and stepped into the softly-colored waiting room for her first appointment with a psychiatrist. She felt like a failure.

  Upon meeting Doctor Greenberg, Carli knew she had come to the right place. It was high time. The first visit didn’t allow nearly enough precious minutes to spill out her worries and concerns, the trauma of losing Henry, and the recent events of finding him. Maybe that was why she was given a fifteen-page questionnaire to complete at home before her second visit.

  “As to your brother,” said Dr. Greenberg. “He might need deprogramming. Cults can be very powerful at having their members disassociate from former connections, including family. The cult becomes the family. Depending on how long he was involved, it can take concentrated effort to bring him to his pre-cult life. The drinking and, as you describe them, mood swings, might be related to the transition away from the cult, or they could be a separate condition. I would have to meet with him to give an evaluation. In the meantime, let’s you and I explore your concerns with loss.” Dr. Greenberg was a beacon of hope. Finally, Carli had the help she needed. If only she had been to a doctor forty years ago.

  The next day, Carli awakened, surprisingly ready to try again. Her phone calls to Grant went unanswered, so she tried to track him down at St. Mary’s. No one had seen him. Three days later, Grant finally phoned. “Meet me at Lucy’s church,” he said. “Tomorrow.” Before Carli could say a word, Grant hung up. At least, he was talking to her.

  The next day, Carli sat inside St. Mary’s through the entire lunchtime. Grant didn’t show. She passed down the steps through the archway and started home. That’s when she heard the strange rustling of branches behind her. She turned to see Grant stepping out from the tangled landscape plants near the church. He walked quickly to Carli and said, “Keep walking.” Carli stopped to face him. Grant said, “Keep walking.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Where are we going?”

  “Just walk,” he said. Grant pushed her lower back as they moved away from the church. “I knew you’d keep looking,” he said. “And I knew you’d find me someday.”

  “What?” asked Carli. She stopped and turned to face him. It sounded like he was admitting he was Henry.

  “You’re the one, aren’t you?” asked Grant.

  “The one?” she asked.

  “The scum who’s been poisoning my friends. It’s you, isn’t it?” said Grant. “From Nirvu.” Carli felt she might crumble to the sidewalk. She hadn’t heard the cult’s name in decades. Couldn’t even talk about it by name. To Carli, it was still the cult, nothing more specific. Grant was as serious as she had ever seen him. He looked down on her. This, too, sent her body into full alert. She would have run if she thought she could have gotten away.

  “What?” asked Carli. “What are you talking about?”

  “I knew you’d keep looking.”

  “Grant, I am not from a cult. I’m your sister. Tessie.”

  “It’s just like you, to pretend to help these people just to get to me,” he said.

  “Grant, what are you talking about? You’re the one who asked me to help with Outreach. I’m not with a cult. It’s me. Tessie. Your sister.”

  Grant stood a moment. He continued to stare, now with anger in his eyes. “Look, if you want me, just take me back. But leave my friends on the streets alone.”

  “Grant, I am not from a cult.”

  “If your name is Tessie, why have you been calling yourself Carli?” he asked.

  “It’s a long story.” Grant continued to stare. “Look,” said Carli. “I am not from a cult. I don’t want to take you anywhere,” she said.

  Grant said, “I don’t want to see you with any of them again.”

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I want to help,” she said. “And I’m glad you asked me to help with Sarah and Vera. I won’t abandon them.” She turned slightly so as to look directly into his eyes. They stared back, with the feel of bullets about to hit their target. She said, “I can prove it. Listen ...,” she said. Carli sang their childhood song. Then she said, “We all used to play on the street – the Delaney twins, the Humphrys, the Santiagos ... And ... ‘Cranky Flower’ was our secret password.”

  Grant looked stunned. He said nothing more. Just turned and left. Carli watched him weave his way through a crowd of people on the sidewalk. He walked quickly and disappeared down a stairwell to the subways. Carli phoned Mercy and Dr. Greenberg with an update. Then she slid shut the door to her apartment and poured herself a drink to settle her nerves.

  The next day, Carli swung down past Wilson’s park. She was disappointed to find his bench empty. Carli continued along to look for Vera. The Third Avenue standpipe at Thirty-Seventh Street stood alone. Carli took both absences as signals for her to return to her studio. There, with Lila and Terrance alongside, Carli set painting aside to begin a sketch of her two little street dogs. She could practically draw them from memory. In a few short months, Lila and Terrance had become the constants in her life. They had uncertain pasts, but their current challenges were minor and few, like deciding when to chase a ball around her studio floor, and when to sleep. It was a good life they had. When Carli finished, she started shopping from the comfort of her window seat. Flippin’ Dog had exactly the going-away gifts she was looking for. She felt good about her purchase of new collars with their names embroidered on them. Yes, she would miss the two of them. She would also be forever grateful that they had brought Henry back to her, even if he didn’t know her.

  Three days later, as Carli exited Four Bridges, she ran smack into Grant, with his arms wide open. She nearly screamed. He dropped his arms, but Carli continued to shy away. Was the old Grant back, or was this a ploy to grab her? Were his accusations of cult-ties buried behind them? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Except she had to know. Why didn’t he know her? Why wouldn’t he admit he was Henry? And why did he threaten her?

  “Come, visit Cedric with me,” he said.

  “I thought you had him covered,” said Carli, continuing to keep her distance. “I’m fine sticking to Vera and Sarah.”

  “No,” said Grant. “Cedric needs you.”

  “What do you mean?” Carli looked at Grant for several moments, wondering if he would bring up the cult and cha
nge back to the frightening expression of his last interaction with her. Grant continued to look like his old self. Carli slowly started walking.

  “Wrong way,” said Grant. She froze.

  “What do you mean?” She could only hope Mercy would hear her from inside if she yelled loud enough.

  “He moved,” said Grant.

  “Moved? Oh, no,” she said. “The hospital?”

  “No, and he wants you to visit.” Grant was smiling. “At the shelter.” Grant’s turquoise ring caught a flash of sunlight as Grant placed his hands on her arms. “He’s in.” Looking directly into her eyes he added, “Don’t know if it’s for good, but it’s a start.”

  Carli studied Grant’s face. She wanted him to remove his hands. “How?” she finally asked.

  “He was ready.”

  “That’s it?” she asked.

  “Yup, that’s it. He’s at a transitional place,” said Grant. “He’ll be applying for something more permanent, and, hopefully down the line, a job as well. Deena, the social worker up there, thinks he’ll be ok for it, but they have to continue to check his TB first, for his sake and the sake of others. They’ll evaluate him for a bunch of other things too. It’ll take him longer than he thinks. Doesn’t know how out of touch he’s become.”

  “He needs socializing, you mean,” said Carli.

  “They all do,” said Grant. “Just has to take it day by day.”

  Together, they walked to Cedric’s new home. It was comforting knowing exactly where to find him. Carli and Grant paused while a funeral cortege with black limousines blocked their route. Carli took another long look at Grant, out of the corner of her eye. So far, so good.

  “He had another run-in with the cops,” said Grant. “Better with them than with the stinking can snatcher. At least they’re trying to help. I didn’t bother to tell you about it. It couldn’t have hurt that he had been inside with people who cared about him. At the hospital, that is.”

  They climbed the steps to the shelter and Grant said, “Wait here. You have to pass some bunks to get to the lounge area. Might be someone sleeping.” Carli watched Grant disappear into the building. Two men exited as Carli waited. A third wandered inside.