“But why the secrecy?” Maxine asks. “You’re a grown man. How could I stop you from doing what you want? I never could.”
“Can you really say you would have been thrilled if I quit my job and decided to have a baby? You and Dad wanted me … you wanted me to do so much.”
“Look, Zach,” she starts. “I didn’t come here just to track you down. I’m glad I know where you are now. But there’s been a lot going on. I need to talk to you. About something very serious. Do you remember Thaddy?”
The way he squirms and refuses to meet her gaze unsettles her so profoundly she wonders if Thaddy has, in fact, sexually abused her son. She can’t bear to find out. So she keeps barreling ahead, explaining how she read the manifesto and came to suspect Thaddy wrote it. Tells him about the package that showed up in her office with Zach’s name and return address on the wrapping. Mentions the time Thaddy and Zach sent a similar package to Zach’s father.
Zach puts his hand to his mouth. Leans forward. Breathes harder and more erratically, rocking on the bench.
“Zach,” she starts, but he cuts her off.
“Thaddy has been writing me letters. It’s one reason I didn’t want anyone to know where I was.”
“You still keep up with Thaddy?” That can’t be what he means. “You kept up contact with him, after he left Ann Arbor?”
“He’s a lonely guy, Mom. I wasn’t surprised he’d write me. He always used to say I was like a little brother to him.” Apparently, Thaddy hoped Zach would see it as futile to reform the system from the inside. He hoped Zach would remember his promise that the two of them would drop out and live off the grid. Thaddy wrote that he quit his job and used his savings to buy a cabin in Montana. He loved spending his days outdoors, loved using his hands to achieve something tangible. Zach would love living there, too. The two of them living there together would be so much better.
“He wanted you to come live with him?” Maxine asks, even as she is sure Thaddy’s request wasn’t sexual. Thaddy would have preferred to live with a female lover. But if no woman would have him, then living with a younger brother he could teach to hunt, chop wood, and build a fire, someone who would listen to his philosophizing about the evils of modern life, was second best.
“He kept reminding me I promised to come out and live with him. And I did promise. But I was, like, fourteen. Plus, that whole business about how everyone would be better off if we went back to subsistence farming … Maybe not everything Dad did in Africa or India was for the best. But to romanticize poverty the way Thaddy does. All that backbreaking work. Not wanting people in developing countries to have any of the comforts we have here. I got tired of arguing and stopped writing back. I didn’t hear from Thaddy for a few years.
“Then he showed up in Oakland.” He turns to Angelina. “This was last summer? Just before you told me you were pregnant?” He turns back to Maxine. “He said the revolution was about to happen. The government was keeping surveillance on everything we did, and when people found out, they would finally rise up. Things would get ugly, he said, and he wanted me to be on the right side. The safe side. With him. Plus, he wanted me to tell him how the surveillance stuff worked. How someone could spy on you through your phone. Which they totally can, Mom. So, a lot of what he was saying made sense. But he didn’t seem to be the same Thaddy. He was really thin. And he had this faraway look. You know, like that Manson guy?
“When I said I wouldn’t leave with him, he got mad. He said I would be sorry if I didn’t come. That wasn’t the only reason I left town. I left to go get Angie and bring her here, to the cabin. But one reason I kept my location secret was I didn’t want Thaddy to keep showing up and bugging me. I didn’t mean to worry you so much. I just needed time alone with Angie. Time for us to figure things out. I couldn’t have imagined Thaddy would send you that package. Jesus, I’m glad you’re okay. You must have been scared to death. Maybe that’s all he wanted to do, to scare you.”
Maxine isn’t sure how to put what she wants to say. “To be honest, Zach, I didn’t know what to think.”
“But you couldn’t have … You didn’t think I was the one who sent it? When Thaddy and I did that to Dad, I was a kid. I felt awful! That’s when I stopped wanting to hang around with Thaddy. I realized he hated Dad. I thought it was about the Africa stuff. And to be honest, Mom, I kind of agreed with him. I was pretty young, and I thought maybe Dad did get off on playing the big white dude from America who showed up with all this neat technology so the natives worshipped him. But then I realized something else was going on. Thaddy hated Dad because Dad was married to you. Did they ever even meet?”
“Once,” she says. She remembers crossing the Diag with Sam and running into Thaddy. Introducing the two men. Watching Sam reach out to shake Thaddy’s hand and Thaddy keep his hands in his pockets, refusing to fall prey to the older man’s attempt to charm him. “Thaddy was jealous of your father. Jealous that your father had a wife. Had me.”
“Yeah,” Zach says. “That makes sense. Thaddy started asking me all these questions about your personal life. Like, if you really loved each other? If you had sex?”
“Oh, God,” Maxine says. “I never should have suggested the two of you hang out. But you were so shy. Both of you. I thought you would be good for each other.”
“Of course,” Angelina breaks in. She smiles and pats Maxine on the sleeve, as if she, too, knows how reticent Zach can be and, in Maxine’s place, would have promoted such a friendship.
“He never …” Maxine doesn’t want to complete her question. “Thaddy didn’t touch you, did he?”
“Are you kidding? Thaddy? Mom, you know how obsessed he was with finding a girlfriend. He didn’t do anything to hurt me. And he would have dismantled anyone who tried. Don’t forget how much good he did. It’s because of him I didn’t spend my entire adolescence hooked up to a bunch of video games.” He waves to indicate the trees and lake. “He got me to appreciate the outdoors. He got me to think for myself. To be this independent. Don’t you get it, Mom? Angie and I lived here all winter. We did everything for ourselves.” Maxine can see Angelina nodding, looking at her son with pride. “That’s why, I’m sorry, I just can’t get my head around the fact that he’s actually killed people. If that’s the truth.”
“It is the truth,” Maxine insists.
“If it is, that’s a side of him I never saw. I saw his anger. I saw his frustration. But I never saw anything that would indicate he could actually kill someone.”
“I know this is all hitting you at once.” Maxine hesitates. “But there’s one more thing I have to tell you.”
The bewildered look that crosses her son’s face takes her back to a time when it was so much easier to protect him. When he relied on her for his survival. When the dangers seemed so much easier to fend off or control. “Zach,” she says. “Your professor at MIT. Professor Hertz?”
Zach snaps his head as if he has been struck in the face. “What about him?”
“He’s Thaddy’s latest victim.”
This revelation takes a few moments to register. “Wait. Is he alive? But why Hertz? Are you making this up?’
“I wish I were.”
“Shit! Thaddy doesn’t even know the guy! The only reason he would have done that would be to win me back. Maybe he thinks he’s getting even with the jerk? For my sake? How could he, Mom? Hertz is okay? Tell me! Is he okay?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I heard on the radio he was injured. They didn’t say how badly.”
Maxine moves toward her son, but Angelina is the one Zach turns to. “Oh, love, love,” Angelina says, “I’m so sorry.” She tries to embrace Zach, but he pulls away and paces. He regains his composure enough to ask if his mother has gone to the police.
“No,” she says. “I wanted to find you first.”
“I don’t get it,” Zach says. “Why didn
’t you tell them as soon as you got the package?”
She wishes she could lie. But lying would compound the betrayal.
“Wait,” Zach says. “You thought Thaddy and I …” He puts his hands on the back of the rattan chair beside the fireplace. “Seriously? It’s bad enough you didn’t trust me when I said not to come looking for me. When I said I needed some time off. Some privacy to sort out my life. But you thought, what, I mailed you a bomb? I tried to kill you? That’s something I would do? You and Dad … You suspected me of all sorts of things. Like burning down that playground? Like starving myself to death? You wanted me to care. You wanted me to change the world. You wanted me to be a revolutionary. But not too much of a revolutionary. I should care, but I shouldn’t care too much. Well, that’s not so easy. To care. To worry about all the shit you and Dad trained me to worry about. But only to worry and care a reasonable amount. You wanted me to make a revolution. But a nice revolution. A gentle revolution.”
He grips the chair harder. Lifts it from the ground. For an instant, Maxine thinks he might pick it up and hurl it. But he slams it back down, hard, and walks over to Angelina.
“No,” Maxine says. “I didn’t think you would hurt anyone. Not willingly. But I thought Thaddy might have … maybe you and Thaddy …” She stops trying to explain. She hadn’t really thought her son capable of mailing a bomb to anyone. Had she? She has driven all this way to make sure Thaddy didn’t kidnap Zach. To make sure Zach was here of his own free will. Although, to be honest, she also has been trying to prove she isn’t one of those mothers who, when the police reveal her son has been stockpiling weapons, insists he couldn’t be a terrorist. And in doing so, she has violated the very definition of a mother. Because even if your son does turn out to be a murderer, aren’t you supposed to be the one person on earth who believes him innocent? She has betrayed her son in such a way he might never forgive her. Although, knowing Zach, he will pretend he does.
“This is all too much for me right now,” Zach says. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. You must be hungry, too, Mom. And Angie needs to eat.”
Zach goes to the icebox and takes out a pot of lentil stew he cooked to make sure his girlfriend receives the nutrition she needs to give birth to a healthy child. While he stands stirring it at the stove, Maxine feigns normalcy by asking Angelina if she has any siblings. Yes, Angelina says, she has an older sister, a nurse in the Marine Corps. Her mother works as an accountant for her father’s nursery. Her father is disappointed Angelina didn’t go to college, which was the reason he and Angelina’s mother came to the United States, but he is pleased she wants to follow him into the business of growing and tending plants. Angelina’s morning sickness lasted six weeks. So far, she hasn’t suffered the heartburn that made Maxine so miserable when she was pregnant with Zach. They have been told the baby’s gender, but if it’s all right with Maxine, they will keep that a secret, for now. Angelina’s words are sometimes garbled. Maxine is tempted to close her eyes so she can focus and listen harder. But she reminds herself nothing that afflicts her daughter-in-law could be passed on to her grandchild. What upsets her is that she is about to become a grandmother. At fifty-five! If she is a grandmother, there is no longer any ceiling between her and the older generation. No immortality for her. She will never live to greet the Singularity.
“What will your parents think of all this?” she asks.
“I am not sure,” Angelina admits. “My parents met Zach a long time ago, when he took me to the prom. But they don’t know we are still seeing each other. I am not the sort of person who enjoys lying. But they would hate him if they knew I got pregnant and he wanted me not to have the child. Or not to marry me. So I had to invent a story. I said I was going to work in the Upper Peninsula studying the trees, and it would be very hard for me to call because my cell phone wouldn’t work. I have been writing letters every day so they won’t be concerned. I dread when they find out the truth. But they will be happy we are getting married. My mother will jump up and down to find out she finally will be an abuela.”
That her son’s in-laws will be happy about the pregnancy highlights that Maxine isn’t as thrilled as she wishes she could be. Zach has quit his job and, aside from this scheme about buying a rundown factory and converting it to a vertical farm, he and his fiancée have no way to support themselves. Maxine was two years younger than Zach when she married his father. But she and Sam waited to have Zach until they were in their thirties and had good jobs. And Sam wasn’t suspected of being in league with a serial terrorist.
Angelina puts on her crutches and helps serve the dinner Zach prepared. The stew, for all Maxine had been hoping for something more substantial than lentils, turns out to be so comforting she asks for a second helping. Thank God the cabin has no working television; otherwise, she might feel obliged to put on the news and learn whether Zach’s professor has died of his injuries or Thaddy has mailed another bomb. As Zach scrapes the remains of the meal into the compost bin, she reminds him he will need to drive to Detroit the next morning to talk to the FBI. When Zach hesitates, she says this isn’t the same as tattling on some kid who burned down a play structure.
“I’m not trying to protect him!” Zach says. “I just can’t believe any of this is really happening.” The lid on the compost bin won’t close; Zach slams it with his fist. “I’m going to need time to close up this place. To make sure the chickens go to a good home.”
She tries not to entertain the suspicion he will use these chores as an excuse to run off. But he is still keeping something from her. What he has told her is true, but only as far as it goes. She should insist he drive back with her, leaving Angelina to lock up the cabin. But Angelina can’t drive. And Maxine already has betrayed her son by suspecting he might be implicated in Thaddy’s crimes. The best she can do is get up early, drive straight to Detroit, and tell the FBI everything Zach just told her. She will assure them Zach will be coming in himself, the following morning, with whatever lawyer Rosa and Mick have found.
If only she could do what a mother is supposed to do and tell Angelina more stories about Zach as a little boy. But she can no longer keep her eyes open. She settles back on the sofa. At some point, a male presence spreads a blanket to her chin. She takes the man’s hand. In her addled state, she almost presses it to her breast. Because this is Sam. Isn’t it? Sam is still alive, and Zach is all grown up, working for a company in California, and Sam has come in from spreading pepper around the tires to ward off the porcupines.
She lets the hand drop, then wills herself deeper into the dream in which Sam is still alive. Hours later, she needs to pee. If she is going to force herself from the warmth of the sofa and go outdoors to use the outhouse, she might as well get up and start the long trek back to Detroit. The fire in the stove has died down, and she is looking forward to getting in the Buick and turning up the heat.
For a few moments, though, she stands at the foot of the bed and watches Zach and Angelina breathe. The quilt doesn’t quite cover all of them. She bends and touches her son’s filthy, callused soles. His girlfriend’s much more delicate, twisted feet. How miraculous, that her son and his pregnant fiancée should be sleeping in the same bed in which his parents created him. If human beings lived forever, would the progression of generations be so compelling?
She is thrilled that her son is loved. Proud he has achieved what Thaddy couldn’t. As his mother, she must have done something right. He is a compassionate human being. A man who accepts responsibility for his actions. A man of conscience. And yet, her son has been lying to her all his life. He is lying to her even now. Their troubles aren’t over. Why does she suspect they are just beginning?
… Turns Herself In
She has slept only a few hours in the past two nights. But exhaustion amps her into a bionic realm in which she is hyperalert to the data streaming through the Buick’s windshield. Photons ricochet off a farmer’s pond. A coyo
te slinks along the median. The breeze ripples its fur. But even as she registers all this, she is rehearsing the information she will reveal to the FBI. She will minimize her son’s relationship to the terrorist. She will try to explain why she gathered evidence of the previous morning’s prank and, instead of going directly to the authorities, drove to her family’s cabin up north.
At noon, she catches a brief update on the radio. Professor Hertz’s condition is described as “serious.” The bomb wasn’t as powerful as the earlier devices the suspect mailed. Maybe Thaddy is running out of cash to buy supplies. Maybe he only wanted to send a message to her son: see what I can do to get back at those assholes we know are ruining our society. Although how will she convince the government Zach isn’t the most likely suspect, the professor’s former student who holds a grudge?
She stops to use a restroom. Not until she sees a sign for Ann Arbor does she recognize the pain in her gut as hunger. She is tempted to stop to eat. But if another victim is injured, she won’t be able to excuse the delay. Nothing, she thinks, marks a person’s dislocation from her former life as uncannily as driving past the exit for her own home.
She passes the airport. A few miles later, the giant Uniroyal tire towers beside the highway. This is the same tire that served as the Ferris wheel at the 1964 World’s Fair in Flushing. Stripped now of its gondolas, it serves as an advertisement for the company that put rubber on the automobiles that made the Motor City famous. But every time Maxine sees it, she imagines the tire being rolled here by some playful giant to remind her of the fair. On one visit, her mother had declared she’d had enough of science; it was time the family did something fun. Why, only a few weeks earlier, Jacqueline Kennedy had taken Caroline and John-John on this very same ride! Against Maxine’s wishes, she and her parents joined the line. Up and up they rode, until the gondola stopped to allow more passengers to climb on below. At the time, Maxine had been annoyed at her mother for caring so much about Mrs. Kennedy. Now, she realizes that in insisting they ride the Ferris wheel, her mother had made sure Maxine would have this memory to appreciate—the view from the top, the dinosaurs at the Sinclair Oil exhibit gamboling at their feet like pets, she and her parents healthy and alive, enjoying something as unremarkable as each other’s company.
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