He hit the street and looked up at UNICO’s towering mother ship. The mirrored glass obscured the activity inside. He looked for cameras, knew they were there, but nothing the eye could detect. Are they watching me now? Probably.
It was a cool day. Lots of people, and the sluggish dance of stop-and-start traffic. He wandered aimlessly; his thoughts jangled. Sean, not returning his calls … I don’t blame him. I lied to him, kept stuff from him.
Compulsively he pulled out his cell and checked for voice mails and messages he knew weren’t there. His words to him in the hospital, ‘Was any of it real, Frank?’
He blew out a breath and stared across the street at the weathered stone wall that girdled Central Park. He gauged the traffic, caught a break and jogged across. In the distance he glimpsed the turret of Belvedere castle through the trees. He rolled on the soles of his sneakers and started to run with no direction in mind. It helped to have pavement beneath his feet, a dull ache in his shoulder and down his left arm, breeze against his face, and the chance to shut down all the crap that tormented him. From the news stories titillated by the discovery of his mother’s body. The headline in the Post had read, ‘Junk in the Trunk.’ The coroner’s final report had listed ‘catastrophic blunt force injuries’. She’d been struck by Dalton’s car … more than once. There had been extensive fractures and internal injuries, a savage end to his mother’s unhappy life. And while he tried to feel sad, all that came was relief, and a sense of being cast adrift. No family left, no biannual visits to the forensic hospital, no more acid-tinged missives in her tiny manic script. But just like her, he now had blood on his hands.
He hit a loping stride. The rhythm of his feet like the beat in one of Dalton’s songs. All my fault. Should have listened to Jackson … And what about Jen? With the Langs gone, no one at Hollow Hills questioned Grace when she’d sent the families home the morning after Act V. They’d tracked him to the hospital in the northwest corner of CT and visited. He’d felt uncomfortable with their gratitude. Now, he worried about them. Leona would have made good on her threats. But what about this Matt guy? Different suit, same devil. He’d answered their questions as best he could.
‘Will you stay here?’ Marnie Owens had asked.
‘I don’t know. Don’t think so.’
There had been a lot of tears, and he’d felt traces of what it must be like to be part of a family. True affection and love. They trusted him, but if they knew how close they’d skated to catastrophe … He pushed his legs faster, as their questions, some of them personal, tumbled through his head. He’d not hidden his budding relationship with Sean, and Daryl James-Morgan had asked, ‘Thinking of marriage and kids? It’s the best thing. You two should try it.’
But it was Jen, as only she could do, that brought him to the edge. ‘I’m going to be seven,’ she’d announced. ‘I’m going to have a party and you better be there.’
He stopped. He turned around and took in the lush foliage, the beds of iris, top-heavy peonies, and lion-faced pansies. It was like a fog cleared from his head. ‘I’m going to Jen’s birthday party.’ After that, no fucking clue.
A woman, tossing bread bits to pigeons from a bench, looked up at him. ‘That’s nice dear. I always like birthday parties. Celebrations of life, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, they are.’ He pulled out his cell, pressed for Siri and said, ‘Toy stores near me.’
Siri replied, ‘Here’s what I’ve found for “toy stores near me”.’
He scrolled through the results, found one with over a thousand positive reviews, said, ‘bye’ to the lady and her pigeons and ran off.
FORTY-FIVE
Frank arrived at the Westwood home of the Owens at one. Cars crowded the semi-circular drive of the fifties-era split level and lined the edge of the busy two-lane road it faced, and onto an adjacent side street, which is where he parked his new-to-him used Element. Not one for crowds or social scenes, he gripped his rainbow-wrapped package tight. Smile and get through this. He spotted Grace’s car and looked for Sean’s Jeep. It wasn’t there. He’d stopped calling. The message was clear. It was over and it hurt. Bad.
Ship sailed. As he approached, he heard the excited chatter of children and the background bass and treble of their parents. Balloons had been tied to the mailbox at one entrance to the drive and to a light pole on the other. While he treated kids, the normal joy of a little girl’s birthday party outside a hospital wasn’t something he got to see. It was all the other stuff. The sad stuff, like sitting in a family room outside a cancer ward to give bad news.
‘Dr Frank,’ a man’s voice behind him, followed by a little girl’s arms grabbing him around the waist.
‘Dr Frank. You came.’
‘Hey Tara, how’s it going?’ he asked the six-year old as he turned and shook hands with her two dads, Daryl and Douglas.
‘Awesome. Everyone’s here,’ Tara said.
‘Looks like.’ He was struck at how well she looked, dressed in denim overalls and a vibrant tie-dyed T-shirt. Her dark hair covered her scalp, and she’d put on weight, no longer a bag of bones with a distended belly from liver failure.
‘We tried to get her into a dress,’ Daryl said.
Tara pouted and shook her head no.
‘She wasn’t having it. Insisted on farmer jeans.’
‘They’re new,’ she said. ‘I got two pairs. I’m having a birthday in two months,’ she added with uncertainty, as though testing the temperature of a bath to see if it was safe.
‘We’re flooded with save-the-date cards,’ Daryl said.
Douglas chuckled, ‘But Tara’s is going to be the best. Though we don’t have your current address.’
‘It’s unclear,’ Frank admitted.
‘Not staying in Connecticut?’
‘I don’t think so. I’m trying to get my position back in Cambridge. But if not there, another medical school, another hospital.’
‘Really?’ Douglas asked.
‘Yeah, but let’s not talk about that stuff.’
‘Sean coming?’ Daryl asked.
‘Also on the list of things not to discuss.’
‘Sorry …’ His voice trailed. ‘You two seemed good.’
‘We did. Things changed.’
A screen door banged open and Grace emerged in a figure-hugging floral-print dress. ‘There you are.’ She headed towards them. ‘Jen has turned into a tyrant, “where’s Dr Frank? Where’s Dr Frank? Dr Grace go and see if he’s here. Are you sure he knows the date? Did you give him the right address? Why isn’t he here?” As for me, apparently not so important.’
‘What’s it like in there?’ he asked.
‘A zoo. Time to be a chimpanzee.’ She linked an arm through his and headed towards the house.
Tara grabbed the wrapped gift out of Douglas’s hands and ran ahead.
‘Look at that,’ Grace said.
Daryl said, ‘I do … we do, every day.’ His voice choked with emotion. ‘A part of me doesn’t want to believe it’s real, like we’re tempting fate. But she’s OK, she’s really OK.’
‘Yeah,’ Frank said. ‘She is.’
‘And it’s because of you two,’ Douglas said. He draped an arm around his husband’s shoulders.
Frank kept quiet, as he watched the six-year-old, soon to be seven-year-old, Tara fly past the screen door and into the house wielding a purple and yellow box that likely held something cat related.
‘It’s OK,’ Grace whispered.
‘Why aren’t you more …’
‘Messed up?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘You did what had to be done. It’s that simple. She came at us with a gun … and a lot more. You did what had to be done. She would never have stopped. My one regret is that you didn’t kill the bitch.’
‘She has no cortical activity,’ he said.
‘Yeah, but brain dead is not dead dead.’
He grabbed the door and held it for her and Daryl and Douglas.
A youn
g girl screamed from somewhere stories below. ‘Dr Frank is here!’
There was a clamber of footsteps and children’s voices and giggles. A little girl in a green dress with short blonde hair emerged. She raced towards him.
He almost didn’t recognize her. ‘Jen?’
‘Dr Frank.’ She threw her arms around his waist and squeezed like he was a giant stuffed toy.
The scientist and doctor parts of his brain gathered data. Like Tara, she was now free from the toxic chemo and radiation. Her skin glowed and her hair finally had a chance to rebound. Her follicles were thick and her blonde shimmered with highlights that only the young get for free. He squatted down to her level as other children and their parents, grandparents and whoever all else got invited, formed a dense circle around him in the cramped foyer. ‘You look good,’ he told her.
‘I’m not sick. I’m not dying. This is my seventh birthday.’ She sounded giddy. ‘I’m supposed to get a special present. Do you know what it is?’
‘I don’t.’
‘I’m hoping,’ her voice quivered, she put her mouth next to his ear, ‘for a kitten.’
Marnie Owens emerged from a crowded kitchen. ‘Jen, let our guests inside. Daryl, Douglas, Tara … don’t you look wonderful.’
Familiar faces surrounded him. Ken and Petra Jeffries, and little Carter, who if you didn’t know his left leg was prosthetic, you’d never guess from how he raced around the other kids. Marvin and Shavon Thomas, and Lakeesha who sported an exuberant weave of yard-long braids dotted with turquoise beads, which a month ago her own hair could never have supported. Hands slipped into his and helped him up. They squeezed and clasped. Others patted him on the back and both children and adults demanded hugs.
Marnie Owens planted a kiss on his cheek, and her reserved husband James said, ‘What the hell.’ And did the same.
Marnie, to save Frank, shouted, ‘It’s time to open presents, everyone into the living room.’
A hand grabbed his. ‘Sit with me,’ Jen said. It was not a question.
‘Of course.’
‘You too.’ She snagged Grace’s hand.
‘You bet.’
‘Where’s Sean?’ Jen asked, she stopped and looked around. ‘He’s supposed to be here. Why didn’t he come with you?’
Before Frank could formulate an age-appropriate response, she shouted, ‘There he is.’
Frank turned back, because coming down the driveway, bright-green package in hand, was Sean. Dressed in jeans and a blue polo, the sun sparked gold off his hair, his expression unreadable behind blue-mirrored glasses.
‘Now we can open presents,’ Jen said, and then almost like reciting a prayer or incantation she murmured, ‘please please please please please.’
With Frank on her right and Grace on her left Jen held court, as she ripped open packages. She was gracious, but Frank sensed, with each gift, her anxiety ratcheted higher. Every doll and stuffed cat was far from her heart’s desire. Her little sister Kayla grabbed all the bows and ribbons. The ones with tape she stuck on her head and to her party dress.
Frank felt frozen. He glanced at Sean, who returned his gaze a single time and then looked away. There was no mistaking his anger. I certainly fucked that up.
Jen glanced at him, as she unwrapped a cat-themed jigsaw puzzle from the Jeffries. She bit her lip.
And while Frank had talked with all the parents about no longer needing to be super-cautious of infectious threats, such as a pet might carry, he understood why Marnie and James would hold back. Who could blame them? If it weren’t for Caesar and Lavinia, Frank might not be so certain that the effects of his telomere compound would hold.
Jen stared wide-eyed at the mountain of torn paper and boxes. Her smile was forced. Tears welled.
‘You know,’ Marnie Owens said, ‘I forgot a box. James, where did I leave that other box?’
On cue, he returned with an unwrapped box that had once held a Samsung microwave.
Jen looked up. She bit her lower lip. And Frank again heard, ‘Please please please please please.’
Marnie cleared a space on the coffee table in front of the couch where Jen had opened her presents. James lowered the microwave box.
Jen stood. She peeled back the flaps and gasped. She shot her arms out to the sides, her fingers trembled. ‘Mommy, Daddy, thank you!’ Tears streamed as she reached both hands into the box and pulled out not one, but two, eight-week-old long-haired tabbies.
Mesmerized, Frank watched Jen make eye contact with each of the mewling fuzz balls. She looked at him; there was fear in her voice. ‘I can keep them?’
‘Of course,’ her mother said.
‘Do they have names?’ Jen asked.
‘Not yet,’ Marnie said. ‘The one with a white patch is a little boy, and the one that’s all tortoise is a girl.’
‘Then he’s Frank and she’s Grace,’ Jen said, as she sat back and cuddled the kittens in her lap. But the newly named Grace was more intrigued by a piece of blue satin ribbon and little Frank pawed at the air and wanted to get back into the box.
On the periphery Frank saw Sean turn towards the door. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said, and followed him.
He caught up with him half way up the drive. ‘You’re just not going to talk to me?’
Sean stiffened and didn’t turn.
Frank walked around. There was no mistaking Sean’s anger.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t see another way out. If there had been any other—’
‘What are you talking about?’ Sean said.
Frank lowered his voice. ‘Leona. I didn’t see another way.’
‘Jesus, Frank. For someone so fucking brilliant you are an absolute moron.’
Frank started. ‘Then what did I do?’
Sean looked around. He tapped his foot on the ground and shook his head. ‘I don’t want to do this here, or now. I shouldn’t have come.’
‘Jen would have hunted you down.’
‘Yeah,’ his expression softened, ‘she would. You really don’t get it, do you?’
‘I don’t,’ Frank admitted, and like Jen praying for a kitten, all he wanted was for Sean to not go away.
‘You lied to me … a lot,’ Sean said. ‘I get that you had your reasons … they could even be good reasons. But …’ He winced and looked away. ‘I need to get out of here. I can’t be with someone I can’t trust.’
‘And that’s it? We’re done?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sean spat back. He clenched and unclenched his fists.
‘Tell me what I can do,’ Frank said.
‘Tell me the truth, but that ship sailed.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Did you sleep with Dalton?’
‘No, but he would have.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about your mother?’
‘Seriously?’
‘Fine. I can almost give you that one,’ Sean admitted, cracking a smile that lasted less than a second. ‘You nearly died, Frank. You and Grace both.’
‘I know.’
‘You still don’t get it.’
‘Tell me. I’m dying here now. You’re about to walk away and then we’re done.’
Sean moved in close to where less than a yard separated them. ‘I can’t be with someone who lies to me. It’s too much like the day job. All this shit with Dalton and Leona was going on, and you never told me. Why? It plays over and over in my head. If you’d just trusted me, I could have done something. But you didn’t. Why?’
Frank paused. ‘I didn’t want you to get involved, or hurt, or …’
Sean stared at him, he twisted the corner of his mouth, ‘But that’s the problem, how do I know what’s true and what’s not? It’s like there are two of you running at the same time. The Frank you see and the one who edits out all this other shit. I’ve been with guys who’ve lied to me. I won’t put myself through that again.’
His words hit like a punch. He’d never thought about the constant stream
that ran through his thoughts. ‘You’re right.’
‘I am. It sucks and it hurts. Goodbye, Frank.’ He started to turn.
Frank felt Sean slip away and the weight of decades of needing to keep things back, to not let people glimpse his madness. The dragon to be faced was no longer outside, but within. ‘You know about my mother, what you don’t know is what came after.’
Sean turned back and met his gaze. ‘Tell me.’
And out it poured. The voices inside his head, the psychiatric hospitalizations, the outbursts that left him tied down to a stretcher with blanks in his memory. And his darkest secret, one he’d never shared with Dr Stein or even Grace. The fundamental truth that he knew made him defective and unlovable. ‘She’s inside of me.’
Sean, who’d listened in silence, closed the space between them. ‘No, she’s not.’ He ran a hand up the back of Frank’s head. His words choked and tears welled. ‘You are nothing like your mother. I really love you. You’re brilliant and kind … and weird. But I need to trust you, Frank. Without that we’re not going to work. You can’t lie to me and that includes not telling me stuff.’
Frank shivered. He gripped Sean’s waist. He felt winded and tried to make a joke. ‘You want the telomere formula?’
‘Don’t be a wiseass. But either I’m in this with you all the way or none of the way. You have to decide.’
‘All the way.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes.’ His lips crushed against Sean’s. Driven by hunger and passion they kissed and held one another close.
‘Here’s the thing,’ Sean whispered, still holding him. ‘I’ve thought about this a lot. I saw Leona, and those kids. I know what you and Grace can do. We now know that’s why Jackson was murdered. But it’s not going to stop, is it Frank?’
‘No, but it’s changed. UNICO wants me to bury it.’
‘The formula? Why?’
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