The Organization (18 page)

“Did she now?  Well, that’s something.  Does she want you to move in with her?” Erin asked, tearing off a piece of naan and using it to soak up some of the sauce on her plate.

“No, I don't think so.  I mean, she hasn’t asked.  She just said it’d be better if I had a key so that I could come and go more easily.”

Erin was quiet for a while before she said, “I thought you said she was married.”

Charlotte hesitated before replying, “Yes, I did.  But the husband is sort of out of the picture now.”  She didn’t tell Erin the story that Harriet had created and relayed to her nosy neighbor – that she and Thomas were going through a rough patch and might divorce, and that Charlotte, her “cousin,” was helping lift her spirits.

“Wow,” Erin said, her eyebrows lifted.  “I didn’t take you for a home wrecker.”

“It’s not like that.  I mean, it wasn’t because of me,” Charlotte said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.

“It just seems a little sudden, and more than a little convenient,” Erin replied.

“Convenient, maybe, but it wasn’t sudden.  I just didn’t realize how things were between them when I met her,” Charlotte said.

“If you say so,” Erin said.

“Well, I do,” Charlotte replied, pushing her food around on her plate.  “Anyway, let’s talk about something else.  How’s work been?”

“Nothing exciting.”  Erin worked as a personal assistant for a patent attorney.

“Did your boss get you anything for your birthday?” Charlotte asked hopefully.

“Actually, yes,” Erin replied and smiled, and went on to describe the hideous scarf that her boss seemed absolutely certain that Erin would love.  Charlotte listened with relief, just wanting things to be easy between them again.

#

Charlotte had been spending more and more time at Harriet’s place.  The neighbors stopped eyeing her suspiciously – there was something of a neighborhood rumor mill, so everyone knew, and apparently accepted, Harriet’s story of her impending divorce and compassionate cousin.  Perhaps they thought Charlotte was a poor relation, given that she often arrived at Harriet’s door wearing ill-fitting trousers and the same baseball cap.

She had only used Harriet’s key for running out to complete errands while Harriet cooked, showered, slept, or was otherwise occupied in the house.  But a few days after Erin’s birthday, Charlotte received a diginote from Harriet while she was at work.  It read, “Might be running late today.  Let yourself in.”

Winter was approaching, the weather was becoming more bearable, not quite as swelteringly hot, but the daylight hours were also shrinking.  Charlotte arrived at Harriet’s door when the sun, although rising, was still too low in the sky to provide any direct light to Harriet’s street.  She fumbled briefly with the key before managing to open the front door and closing it quickly again behind herself.

“Navigator,” she spoke to Harriet’s house computer, “Lights at fifty percent.”  Harriet had programmed the computer to respond to Charlotte’s voice as well as her own.  Charlotte didn’t ask whether she had deleted Thomas’s voice file.

Charlotte set her bag and jacket down on the floor against a wall and decided to lie down on the couch until Harriet would arrive home.  She walked into the sitting room, but the sight of something new that dominated the space stopped her in her tracks.  Her eyes were fixated on the baby grand piano that stood majestically in Harriet’s sitting room, the furniture pushed into a more compact formation to make room for the new addition.

She approached the piano slowly, reverently, and ran a hand lightly over its lid until she reached the front.  She pulled the bench out and sat at the piano.  She closed her eyes and enjoyed just simply sitting at a piano again, not that she had sat at one like this before. She had only had keyboards and, for a while, an upright piano.  She felt her heart beating in her chest and hesitated before gingerly lifting the fall to reveal the keys.  She looked them over, pleased.  She set her fingers upon the keys and allowed them to twitch and tap on the keys without depressing them.  She played
Für Elise
in her mind, her fingers gliding over the keys without making any sound.

“Will you play me a song?”

Charlotte turned. Harriet leaned against the doorframe at the far side of the room.  She looked happy and relaxed, one ankle crossed over the other.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Charlotte told her.

“I’m quiet.  It’s not a bad skill to have when one’s in my position.  Besides, I came in the back door,” she replied, crossing over to Charlotte.

Charlotte stood and embraced her, and said, “Welcome home.”

“I could get used to hearing that,” she replied, smiling.

Charlotte gestured to the piano and asked, “How did you – I mean, I didn’t even know there were pianos around still to buy, and I can’t even imagine how much this must have cost you, Harriet.”

“Then don’t worry about it, my darling,” she said, giving Charlotte a quick peck on the cheek.  “So will you play me something?”

“It’s been a long time… I’m probably incredibly rusty.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Charlie.  I’d just like to hear you play – anything, really.”  She moved to sit in a chair, turning it so she could face the piano.  “There’s no pressure,” she added, seeming to try to reassure her.  Charlotte couldn’t help but think that the expense of the instrument meant there was indeed some pressure to perform.

Charlotte lifted the lid onto its stand then returned to her seated position on the bench.  She ran her fingers over the keys playing a few scales, listening approvingly that the piano had been properly tuned.  Charlotte took a deep breath, wondering why she was feeling so suddenly nervous, before playing Liszt’s
Liebestraum No. 3
, followed by
La campanella
.  She had tried to show off by playing the latter piece.  She faltered during her playing of it, hitting a wrong key more than once, but she was elated at the muscle memory of her fingers.

“That was beautiful,” Harriet commented.

“Thank you,” Charlotte said quietly, lowering the fall over the keys again and turning to face Harriet.  “Obviously I need to practice.”

“Really now, a lack of confidence isn’t becoming,” Harriet replied, and although she smiled, Charlotte sensed there was some truth to that statement, that Harriet preferred confidence and strength.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Charlotte didn’t know why she still scavenged.  Her salary was sufficient; indeed, she had a relatively healthy savings.  Maybe it was out of habit that she kept the spare bits of metal, glass, and circuitry, and felt it worth her while to haul them across town, to have only a few digicredits added to her account.

With her bag slung over her shoulder, she turned the corner to approach the recycling buyback station.  Between the station and where she was, three police officers stood in her path, questioning a young man.

She knew they weren’t looking for her and that she had every right to walk down the street and trade in her bits of scrap.  But the sight of the officers spooked her, and she turned on heel to go back around the corner and return another day.

“You there, stop!” Charlotte heard a voice call after her.  She felt her spine stiffen and she was tempted to run.  She stopped and turned back to face the officer, who was looking at her, confirming her fear that he was indeed talking to her.

The officer quickly closed the distance between them and asked, “Where are you headed?”

Charlotte’s heart pounded in her chest.  She replied, “I was… I was just going to the buyback station up ahead but I… changed my mind.”

He stared at her.  “You don’t sound like you’re from here.  Where are you from?  Let’s see your identification.”

Charlotte held still, tensely, as the officer’s handheld retinal scanner flashed in front of her, and then she placed her thumb upon the designated square to complete her ID lookup.

“Just as I thought,” he said, reading his screen, which displayed Charlotte’s photograph and a number of personal details.  “You’re a foreigner.”

“I’m a citizen, actually,” she said, starting to feel angry.

“Yes, I can read.  It also says you were born in North America.”  He looked up from his screen to her face, meeting her eyes.  His expression was flat.  “That makes you a foreigner in my book.”  He put his digireader away in its holster.

Charlotte decided it was in her best interest not to reply.

He said, “I didn’t think we let your kind into the Union anymore.”

“You don’t,” she replied.

The officer continued, “What’s in your bag?” 

“Scrap,” she replied.  “I told you, I was on my way to–”

“I heard you the first time.  You changed your mind for some reason.  Let’s have a look in your bag.”

Charlotte lifted the bag off and over her head, and moved to hand it to the officer.

“Open the bag,” he demanded.

Charlotte gritted her teeth and pulled the flap back on the canvass bag, positioning it so he could see inside.

He peered inside then waved for her to close the bag, almost as though he were disinterested in the contents.  “Do you work?” he asked.

“Yes, if you just looked at your–”

“Yes or no is sufficient.  Besides scavenging, do you work?”

“Yes,” Charlotte replied.

“That’s surprising.  I didn’t think you lot had much of a work ethic.  So you just like to scavenge for fun?  You’re into the dirt and grime of it all?”

Charlotte didn’t know how to answer, especially not with a yes or a no.  “It’s just a hobby.”

The officer laughed as though her response had been funny, but his eyes remained humorless.  He gave Charlotte a long, hard look then said, “All right, you’re wasting my time.  Move on.”

Wordlessly, Charlotte headed away from him and the buyback station.

#

At lunch that night, Charlotte sat with Joanna under the streetlight and told her about the encounter with the police officer.  As she finished retelling the story, she realized that she was shaking with anger.  She held out her hands in front of herself, briefly observing how unsteady her hands were before shoving them into her pockets. 

Charlotte said, “I’m sorry.  I don’t know why it has me so worked up.”

“Because you were harassed for no reason,” Joanna replied.

“But there was a reason.  That police officer saw me as a foreigner,” Charlotte said sullenly.

“That’s exactly what we’re trying to fight.  The longer this hateful government is in power, the more xenophobic people will become.”

“I hear you.” 

Charlotte liked Joanna, but she wasn’t sure what to think about her.  Harriet and Daniel both seemed to imply that there was something about Joanna that she should be wary of, yet she didn’t doubt Joanna’s passion for the cause.  And in the time Charlotte had known her, Joanna had been a reliable friend.

Several moments passed before Charlotte asked, “So I’ve been wondering, what’s going on between you and Harriet?”

Joanna was caught off-guard before she covered her emotions with a smirk and an attempt at humor, replying, “Nothing is ‘going on’ – at least, nothing like what’s going on between the two of
you
.”

Charlotte forced a small laugh before she said, “You know that’s not what I meant.  It’s just… it seems like you’re not on the best of terms anymore.  Is there something I should know?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Joanna replied sharply.

Charlotte shrugged and replied, “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I just wanted to know your perspective.”

Joanna was quiet for a moment or two before she said, “Well, it isn’t that we’re not on good terms.  We just see the future of the organization differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, no one’s calling for a coup or anything.  Everyone admires Harriet – she’s smart, well-connected, alluring…”

Charlotte stifled a smile and said, “Yes, you don’t have to sell me on Harriet’s good qualities.”

Joanna didn’t seem to think this was funny.  She said, “She’s a natural leader.  But some of us… including me… think she’s gotten a bit comfortable.  We need to make some bold moves.  We’re all tired of living under the Union’s oppression and we think we should at least consider all alternatives.”

Charlotte could feel herself starting to perspire, despite the air being a pleasant temperature.  “All alternatives, like a new leader of the organization?” Charlotte asked, willing her voice to be even.

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Joanna said quickly.  “Of course not.  But Harriet is convinced that we should rely on the media and the government, on slow and subtle changes, to advance the cause.  And I… we… think she should think about more aggressive measures.”

She let Joanna’s words sink in before she replied, “And you’ve voiced this concern to Harriet?”

Joanna sighed and said, “Many times.”

Another long moment passed before Charlotte asked, “What kind of more aggressive measures?”

“There are all kinds of possibilities.  Anything, really, to bring attention to the cause.  Even the threat of violence would make people realize that the government is fallible, that they haven’t squashed us out of existence, that we’re still here and willing to fight for our cause.”

Charlotte felt unsettled by Joanna’s words.  But she also trusted her friend and realized that she didn’t know the whole history of what the organization had been trying to do, how, or for what period of time.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Harriet returned so late that the sun had been high in the sky for several hours already, and although Charlotte’s body was ready for sleep, she stayed awake waiting for her.  She greeted Harriet with a cup of tea, made in Harriet’s own kitchen, and asked how her meeting went.

Harriet sighed and replied, “Fine.  Daniel was worrying for no reason.”

Charlotte thought about how it was an awfully long meeting over nothing, then.  She said, “Daniel seems very loyal.  Have you known him long?”

Harriet set the teacup down on the table in the foyer as she kicked off her heels and hung up her jacket.  She wore a form-fitting cobalt dress with a belt and a plunging neckline.  The dark color of the material was a stark contrast to her pale skin.  “Yes, a very long time.  Loyal is an interesting word choice, though.  Why do you say loyal?”