Apocalypse to Go (44 page)

“I’ve got to find out who sent me that hallucination in the park, so I can take over the driving again.”

“Now I know we’re really home. Let’s hope the flat’s still there and free of Maculates.”

I ran a quick SM:L. “Yeah,” I said, “it is. But you know, I bet that the Maculate woman who’s been bugging me isn’t going to stop. Claw was her mate, not just her supplier.”

“Supplier of ape meat, you mean? She’ll be furious when she finds out he’s dead.”

“The apes fight back!”

“If she causes trouble for you, she’ll have me to deal with.” Ari laid on the horn and swerved around a pedestrian, who screamed.

“Never mind that now! Just drive.”

When we got home, Ari called Itzak, and I called Annie. After I went through the flat to renew the Chaos wards, Ari and I had our shower, and its logical aftermath, then went out to a late dinner at the Japanese restaurant like a normal couple. That night, though, around three in the morning, Ari had the nightmare. I woke up to hear him barking orders in Hebrew, telling the Palestinian boy to stop where he was. In his sleep he flinched with a quick groan. He’d fired, I supposed, and killed the suicide bomber yet once again. I sat up and turned on the nightstand lamp.

“Ari,” I said, “sweetheart, darling, Ari, it’s okay, you’re just dreaming.” I repeated this litany a couple of times before he woke with a jerk of his whole body.

He sat up and looked at me, but it took a good minute for him to recognize who I was. His hair stuck to his face
with sweat. I held out my arms. He turned to me and let me hold him while he trembled.

“There isn’t any end to this, is there?” he said.

“End to what, darling?”

“I don’t know. The guilt, I suppose. And just the sight of it, the things you’ve seen, the things you’ve done. They come back up like vomit.”

The trembling eased, then stopped. He pulled away, tried to smile, failed, and ran both hands through his sweaty hair. “In the heat of the moment,” he said, “there’s nothing wrong with killing someone. That’s the hell of it, Nola. In the moment, you have to fire, and you do, and it’s perfectly justified and right. It takes time before the memory blows up in your face. Then there’s no way back or out.”

“That’s true about everything. There’s never any way back, whether it’s a good thing or a lousy one.”

“True.” He lay back down with a sigh. “Unfortunately.”

When I lay down next to him, he rolled into my arms. I left the light on and held him, just held him, until we both could sleep.

We’d just gotten up, around 11:30, and Ari was making coffee in the kitchen, when a hoarse Aunt Eileen called me on my landline phone. I sat down in my computer chair to talk.

“What’s wrong with your voice?” I said. “Are you getting a cold?”

“No, I was just on the phone for hours last night, telling everyone that Flann’s home.” She paused for a dry cough. “Dan and Maureen and Kathleen, of course, and Father Keith, and Rose and Wally, and the Donovans—well, you get the picture.”

“Let me guess. You’re throwing a party.”

“Yes, tomorrow afternoon. I hope you and Ari are coming. Your mother has to be there, of course.”

“Of course. Well, I’m tempted to say we can’t come, but damn it, it’s my family, too.”

“Exactly, dear. I’ll speak to her about things. After all, you’re the one who brought him back.”

“Will that really cut any ice with her?”

Aunt Eileen sighed. I heard a sound that implied she was drinking some kind of liquid.

“I hope so,” she said eventually. “You know what the problem is, don’t you?”

“Sure. My abortion when I was a teenager.”

“Not just that. I mean, she was honestly upset about it. We all were, especially you, but I really don’t think she’d have acted so horribly about that alone. She would have made your life miserable, but she never would have thrown you out of the house. It gave her the excuse she needed, in a nasty way.”

“Excuse for what?”

Eileen hesitated before she continued. “The sad thing is that you were always Flann’s favorite child, very, very favorite, really, though he tried not to show it in front of the other children. I suppose it’s because you’re the most like him in so many ways. Deirdre was so jealous. It was when you were nine, I think, that I saw it. We were having a picnic in the park, and I was watching Flann teach you how to kick a soccer ball. The way Deirdre looked at the two of you curdled my blood. Right after that she started in on you about your imaginary fat.”

I was stunned. There I was, the psychology major, Miss Psychic Talent herself, so proud of my insights into everyone else, but I’d never realized that my own mother was jealous of me.

“That’s where the eating disorder comes from, I bet,” I said.

“Yes, and I’m so glad you can finally admit you have one.”

“I could see the dust fleck in someone else’s eye, but not the splinter in my own.”

“You’re not the only one, dear.” Eileen paused for a long moment to have another couple of swallows of whatever she was drinking. The pause gave me time to wonder: did she know about my mother and father’s marriage? Had she dreamed the truth but kept the secret for all these years?

“Sorry,” Aunt Eileen said. “I made myself some herb tea and honey for my throat. Anyway, do you think Deirdre will ever admit that she’s jealous of her own daughter?”

“No. I guess she still is, huh?”

“Probably more so than ever, now that he’s back. I’m about to call her. If she says one word to Flann about your pregnancy, I’ll strangle her with my own hands.”

And yet, of course, Eileen would never strangle anyone, and Mom knew it. I doubted if she could resist the chance to drive a permanent wedge between me and Dad. Maybe not right away. She’d probably enjoy thinking about it, savoring the prospect, but sooner or later the subject would come up. I could imagine the fake sorrow in her voice as she dropped the bomb on our relationship.

“Why don’t you and Ari come over for lunch today?” Aunt Eileen said. “We can talk more then. We need to come up with a strategy for dealing with Sean’s problem.”

“Sean’s—oh right. What Dad’s going to say when he realizes Sean’s gay.”

“Exactly. Sean and Al are willing to hide it for a little while, but eventually Flann will just have to face facts.” She paused to sip more tea. “Do come over. I’m honestly sick of talking on the phone.”

“You? Sick of talking on the phone?”

For a reply she coughed.

“We’ll be glad to come over,” I said. “That way I won’t have to eat whatever Ari cooks.”

What Aunt Eileen was cooking was a wonderful chicken soup and blueberry muffins. I found the soup easy to eat, but the muffin stuck in my throat, even though it was delicious. I could not stop my mind from counting calories, worrying about fat content, and all the rest of the compulsive details that had obsessed me for so long. I did manage to get most of a muffin down, but it was a struggle.

“You should eat more,” Ari began. “You—ow!”

Aunt Eileen had kicked him under the table. “One step at a time, dear,” she said. “How about some fresh coffee?”

Ari sighed and reached down to rub his shin. She got up, poured coffee all round from the carafe on the stove, then sat back down.

“I don’t know where Michael and Sophie are,” Aunt Eileen said. “It’s probably just as well, too. I—” She hesitated at a sound from outside.

An ancient truck came clanking up the drive. Aunt Eileen got up and looked out the window over the sink. “It’s Jim,” she said. “I wonder what he’s doing home?”

He enlightened us as soon as he got in. “I took the afternoon off,” Uncle Jim said. “Flann and I are going to go get his truck out of storage. They should be here any minute.” He looked at me, hesitated, and sighed. “I should have called home first, honey. Sorry. Deirdre’s going to be with him. She took the week off work, he told me.”

I stood up. “It’s okay, Uncle Jim. You didn’t even know we were here. Ari, let’s go.”

We weren’t fast enough. Another car trundled up the drive and parked behind the truck.

“I’ll head them off at the pass.” Uncle Jim fled the kitchen through the back door.

Ari and I ran for the front door, but just as we reached it, my mother opened it. She was wearing jeans and a gingham shirt, the first time in thirteen years, I figured, that she’d dressed so casually. Her Qi, too, flowed around her smoothly, quietly, in a way that I remembered from my childhood. She was looking back over her shoulder and talking to someone behind her.

“I must have left it in the living room,” she was saying. “I’ll just see.”

She turned. What she saw was not whatever her missing item was, but me. We stared at each other for a long, cold moment.

“I’m surprised you’d show your face around here,” Mom said eventually. “Aren’t you afraid of what your father will think of the things you’ve done? He must know about the live-in boyfriend. But I bet there are other little matters you haven’t mentioned.”

“I know what you mean. Have you told him?”

“No, not yet.”

I felt pure rage build at the implied threat in that “yet.” I squelched what Qi I could and looked her straight in the face.

“You know, Mom, we both have secrets to keep, don’t we? You keep mine, and I won’t tell the rest of the family yours.”

“And just what do you mean by that?”

“How you’re twice an O’Brien, by birth and by marriage.”

My mother went pale. Even through her makeup I could see the pallor form. Her hands shook so hard that she nearly dropped her handbag.

“I know it’s been hard on you,” I went on. “Waiting and wondering if Dad was dead or alive. You risked damnation twice over to marry him, didn’t you? More than twice. With every child you gave him, you risked it again. Well, he’s back, and he’s yours.” I paused for emphasis. “All yours. A little peace and quiet would be nice now, right?”

I tensed and waited for the explosions to start. None came. She took a step backward and caught her breath with a little ladylike gasp. I took a step forward.

“Does he have to know everything that happened when he was gone?”

“No.” Her voice shook. “It would only cause trouble in the family.”

“A lot of trouble.”

I smiled. She tried to smile.

“Okay,” I said. “Subject closed—forever, as far as I’m concerned.”

My father came walking around the corner of the house and joined us on the porch. He started to say something, then paused to look back and forth between us. His eyes narrowed, just slightly.

“Is something wrong?” Dad said.

Mother forced out a smile. “Oh, no,” she said. “Nothing at all.”

That’s when I knew that I’d truly won. He put an arm around Mom’s waist and pulled her close. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he smiled, not at anything in particular, just perhaps at her touch.

“Coming to the party tomorrow, Noodles?” Dad said.

“You bet,” I said. “It should be a really good time.”

“Maureen and her children will be there, Jim tells me. She has children! I’m a grandfather. How did that happen?”

“You don’t look it, Dad. You’re too young to be a grandpa.”

Dad grinned and gave me the thumbs up sign he’d always used to show approval. Together, snuggled close like teenagers, he and Mom walked past us and went inside. Aunt Eileen had come into the living room to wait for them. I caught a glimpse of her expression—a horrified fascination, as if she were watching
King Lear
or some other tragedy play out—before she smoothed the expression into a welcoming smile. She knew, all right. She must have known from the beginning. She’d said nothing, no matter how it must have tormented her, given her deep faith in her religion. Now I was going to follow her example and share the burden. I promised myself and the family that I’d never say a word.

Mom and Dad headed across the living room toward the kitchen. Why shouldn’t they be together now? I thought. They’ve both been through hell already, thirteen years of it. That’s when I realized that I’d forgiven them for the marriage. As for forgiving Mom for other events between us, that would take me a while more. I turned around and found Ari smiling at me.

“Brutal,” Ari said, “but effective.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“Do you want to go home?” he continued. “You still look tired.”

“I am tired. Yeah, let’s go before Dad starts in on me about getting married.” I summoned a heartfelt scowl. “Dad and, of course, you.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I know you don’t want to marry. I should stop badgering you about it.”

A ploy if I ever heard one! I stayed silent.

“But,” Ari continued, “I doubt if your father’s going to stop. So why don’t we just get engaged? Formally, I mean. And then we can just keep putting off the date for the wedding. Our jobs, you know. Much too busy. Important government affairs.”

He meant it. I finally heard what his SPP was trying to tell me: he was being sincere.

“That’s a thought,” I said. “A thought I’m surprised you had, but a good one.”

“Nola, I want you to marry me because you want to marry me, not because you’re sick and tired of saying no.”

If that was a ploy, it was the best one ever, but again, I knew he meant it. I put my hands on his shoulders and reached up to kiss him.

“Okay,” I said. “Consider yourself engaged.”

AH
Audio Hallucination

ASTA
Automatic survival threat awareness

CDEP
Chaos diagnostic emergency procedure

CW
Chaos wards

CDS
Collective Data Stream

CEV
Conscious evasion procedure

DEI
Deliberately extruded images (visible only to psychics)

DW
Dice walk

E
Ensorcellment

FW
Fast Walking

HC
Heat conservation

IOI
Image Objectification of Insight

LDRS
Long distance remote sensing