Flowering Judas(131)

“Mr. Demarkian is a consultant hired by the police,” Shpetim said. “He is the police here for as long as he is hired. And that’s a good thing, too, don’t you see? The regular police are not quite up to the job. The patrolmen who came here are clueless. The police commissioner is an idiot with spaghetti for brains. You don’t have to worry. They know all that themselves. They bring somebody in with a good mind and the work gets done.”

“I wonder what it’s all about,” Nderi said.

“I can’t imagine behaving like that,” Anya said. “Not the people at the dam. I can’t imagine behaving like that, either, but I was thinking of Chester Morton. Running away from your family like that. Disappearing into thin air and not seeing your own mother for twelve years. Your own mother.”

She went to the box and began to set things up properly. There were paper bowls for the lamb and beans, wider paper plates to put the bowls on and bread and butter. There were smaller paper plates for the pastries at the bottom. Shpetim watched in amazement as stuff just kept coming out.

“I brought real forks and knives and spoons,” Anya said. “We thought the plastic ones were too—I don’t know. Skimpy. The tines of the forks kept bending. I’m supposed to gather these up and bring them back when you’re done.”

“They wreck their families,” Nderi said. Then he blushed. “I shouldn’t say ‘they’ like that. It’s not everybody, not all the Americans. But a lot of them do. You can’t imagine running away and not seeing your mother for twelve years—”

“Well, you know,” Anya said. “Except for a politcal thing. If the authorities were hunting you and you were going to be killed. For politics. Like at home during the war.”

“Yeah,” Nderi said, “but I’ve heard all about Chester Morton. I didn’t really know him or anything, but I’ve heard. And the other Morton kid, too, Kenny, I’ve heard the same thing. And the Mortons aren’t the only ones. They hate each other.”

“Hate each other,” Shpetim said. “The families do?”

“The Mortons all hate their mother,” Nderi said. “And they talk about it all the time, even to strangers. And you can see why. I’ve met Charlene Morton. I’ve seen how she treats people. How she treats her own children. She hates them as much as they hate her.”

“I don’t believe it,” Anya said, very definitively. “How can a mother hate her own children? Her children are a mother’s life.”

Shpetim took the bowl of beans and lamb she handed him, and the fork, and then he got it. He knew what he kept being reminded of.

Anya reminded him of Lora, all those years ago, when they first knew each other. And Nderi reminded him of himself.

And, Shpetim thought, it was a good thing he’d listened to reason and decided not to oppose this marriage.

2

When Howard Androcoelho called to say he was bringing over Gregor Demarkian, Charlene listened, and told him she’d be at home, and then hung up. The air in the office felt very still. There was a fan pumping away somewhere, and the air conditioning was on, but the air didn’t feel as if it were moving at all. It was odd to think how long it had been since the first day she had sat in this office, knowing that Chester was gone. Charlene remembered that day as if she’d just lived through it. The air had felt very still then, too. Her skull had felt as if it were cracking open.

Charlene waited for what felt like a million years. Then she got up, got her pocketbook off the top of the metal filing cabinet, and headed out to the parking lot to her car. Stew saw her leave. Charlene saw him see her, and stand up as she passed, too. She went by as if he weren’t there.

Out in the parking lot, Charlene got into the brand new Focus and turned on the engine. She checked the rearview mirror. She checked the side mirrors. She looked at the nail polish on her fingers. It was an ordinary pink color. It was not like all those new things the girls had on their hands these days. She did her nails herself in her own bathroom once a week. That said something. That was true.

She got the car out onto the road and drove the long back way to Sherwood Forest. Just a couple of hours ago, she had been yelling at Kenny because he would not come home and be part of a united family front. That was how she had imagined this happening. They would all be together. They would be solid against the world. How had it happened that she had failed to instill that sense of family into any of her children? First Chester. Then Kenny. But really, all of them. Mark and Suzanne weren’t anywhere around when she needed them, either.