Cincinnati, OH
Wednesday, August 23, 2000
11:05 PM CDT
THE HUGE HOSPITAL’S BUILDINGS were connected by tunnels. Beds and other
facilities had been crammed into them as part of the shelter program, and now they
were being used simply because there were so many patients coming in from the
refugee centers. When Leo was released from intensive care, they’d put him down
in the tunnels.
After the through-traffic finally thinned out for the day, and Leo and the
baby were asleep, Sarah was watching the news close-captioned (with the sound off)
on a battered TV (donated by Mary and William Huff, 1991, the little brass plate
proclaimed) when someone stopped instead of continuing past her. It was a woman,
in slacks and a top that fit; not another refugee dressed in castoffs of a
half-dozen sizes, none right. “Yes? Can I help you?” Sarah asked, annoyed,
because it had taken a long time to get Charlie down, and she had been winding
down for a few minutes before going to sleep herself.
“Abbie Neumann. I write for the—”
“You’re a reporter?” asked Sarah, coming closer so she would not have to talk
too loudly.
“Yes. For the Cincinnati Post.”
“Please, go away. I’m not going to wake up Leo to talk to you.”
“He’s going to be all right, dear. They wouldn’t have put him down here in
the tunnels if he was still in danger. This is one of the best hospitals in the
country. In the world.”
Sarah paused, looking at Leo and then down at little Charlie in his carrier,
and then back at Leo, before she continued. “It’s a good hospital. I don’t think
. . . ” Sarah decided she didn’t want to finish that thought for the reporter.
“Listen, you seem nice, but Leo can’t talk to you. He doesn’t want to talk to any
reporters. Take my word for that.”
“Well, Sarah. What about you?”
“Knowing my name doesn’t make you my friend, Ms. Neumann. How did you get
down here? We told the hospital, no reporters.”
“I was a candy striper here. Long before you were born, but this part hasn’t
changed much. I know ways to get in and out. These tunnels were old then.”
“Then you can use one of those ways to get out.” Sarah picked up the call
button.
“All right, I’ll go. But I won’t be the last reporter you’ll see. Would you
at least give me a chance to tell you what I want to know? You don’t have to
answer any of my questions.”
Sarah hesitated. If the reporter had been a man, she would have pressed the
button. But she did remember one reporter she’d liked, and somehow this fiftyish
woman reminded her of Jenny Lerner. That led to a brief memory of the happy time,
when Leo’s sudden fame had brought them closer together. Sarah did not release
the caller, but she took her thumb away from the button. “I don’t want anything
in print or on TV unless Leo says it’s all right.”
The reporter nodded.
“Okay, what are you so anxious to know?”
“I want to know why you’re refugees.”
“We’re from Virginia. Who’s from Virginia and isn’t a refugee?”
“No, I want to know why you weren’t evacuated. Surely there was a place for
your husband and his family in the Ark?”
“Yes, there was. But not for my family.”
“But you could have gone with him, you and your baby.”
“Not Charlie. Not for sure,” Sarah said. “Leo . . . ” Sarah was seeing that
night again, almost as if she were there again. She looked away, at Leo, and then
at Charlie, fighting the images, fighting the futile regrets about what she could
have done, should have done.
“Your child? There’s no way—”
“He’s not mine. I mean, he wasn’t mine, then . . . Charlie is my brother.”
Sarah turned back to the reporter, and saw she had surprised her. “I guess you’re
not as shit-hot as you thought you were. It’s not a secret, about Charlie.”
The reporter stared at her for a long time. Then, she relaxed her stance, and
said in a new voice, “I watched you a long time before I came up to you. From
there, where the light’s out. I didn’t want to bother you while the baby was
fussing.”
“And?”
“And I would have never guessed you weren’t his mother. Not after seeing you
with him.”
“Thank you . . . I have to be his mother now. He won’t remember Mom and
Dad.” Sarah switched off the forgotten TV, took her blanket from her chair, and
unfolded it. “You seem nice. But please, go. I’ve told you all I’m going to
tell you.” She wrapped the blanket around herself, sat down, took a last look at
Charlie and Leo, and then closed her eyes.
Sarah heard the reporter say, very softly, “I’m leaving my card on the table.”
“Good night.”
“Good night.” Sarah heard footsteps going away.
But, before she really fell asleep, she caught Leo trying to get out of bed.
Arguing him into using the bedpan woke Charlie up, and it took hours more to
settle him down again. When she noticed the card in the table the next day, Sarah
tore it into tiny pieces before Leo woke up.
Emergency Relocation Camp 127B
Covington, KY
2:40 PM CST
Monday, September 25, 2000
“WHAT’S WRONG?” asked Leo, rising from his cot as Sarah and Wanda came into the
tent. They both had wet, bloodshot eyes.
Sarah gave him a brief hug and kiss, but then she said sharply, “You
shouldn’t leave Charlie on the cot alone, Leo. He could fall off.” She went over
to the baby and sat down next to him. He stayed asleep, even when she gave him a
light caress on his forehead.
Wanda hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder. He put his arms around
her, and patted her back. “Is it your Dad?”
“They found his body three weeks ago,” said Wanda, breaking away and going to
her own cot. “But they didn’t identify it until yesterday.” She brushed away
fresh tears. “I was thinking, maybe he just walked out, nothing more he could
really do for the others. But he wasn’t like that. He was never like that, no
matter how fucked up he got.” She laid down, and turned away.
Leo wished he could sit down next to Sarah, but the folding cots had a nasty
habit of collapsing or upending if too much weight was put on an end. So he knelt
down on the splintery wooden floor and leaned over to her, so he could whisper.
“What’s going to happen to Wanda now?”
“I don’t know. Orphanage or a foster home, eventually, unless they find some
relative she doesn’t know about. I wish she could stay with us, but—”
“Maybe she can.”
“Leo, we’re too young, we’ve got no money and no home. I’m scared someone
could take away Charlie.”
“My parents could take her.”
Sarah twisted around to look at Wanda for a moment. When she turned back to
Leo, she bent down so her mouth was just by his ear. “Maybe, but you know our
mail isn’t getting to them. Sometimes I have to do stuff just to get my prenatal
supplements and things for Charlie. God knows what they’d ask for to get a
message out. And how could we be sure they really sent it?”
“Stuff?”
“Stuff.” She pulled back, took his wrists, but didn’t look into his eyes.
“You always tell me that you did what you had to do to get back to me. I do what
I have to do. You really want me to tell you?”
Leo made fists so tight they hurt, and felt fiery tears burning down his
face. When he felt back in control, he put his hands around Sarah’s face, gently
bringing it up to look at him. “The governor’s coming in a few days. He’ll want
to see us. There’ll be reporters. The election—”
“Leo, that may not be a good idea,” she said, blotting his face with her
sleeve.
“Why? Why, for God’s sake?”
“They took pictures. I think they do it with all the women they get to do
stuff. To be sure we won’t tell. They’re not just mean, you know; they’re
crooks.” She held his head, and kissed him many times, all over his face. “We
won’t be here forever, you know.” She pulled him to herself and hugged him and
let him hug her for a long time. Then she stopped still for a moment while an
idea coalesced. She whispered, “Maybe the Governor could help us with Wanda.”
Leo swallowed, and said “Maybe.”
“Maybe. After all, how much would he like to do a favor for the famous Leo
Beiderman? And with the election coming?” Sarah kissed him on his lips. “Come
on. We need to get cleaned up before the Gundersons get back. I don’t want them
asking too many questions.” She got up and picked up Charlie, who stirred and put
his little arms around her neck. “You too, Wanda,” she called. “Come, come,” she
said, poking Wanda in the ribs.
At the end of that day, Sarah spent a long time writing in very tiny print,
secretly, during her last visit to the latrine. She went to bed with a headache
from eyestrain, loath to ask for an aspirin from the staff. The worst ones
generally had night watches, and she had a fair idea why. It took her a long time
to fall asleep. But at least she didn’t have one of her screaming nightmares.
Emergency Relocation Camp 127B
Covington, KY
9:10 AM CST
Friday, September 29, 2000
LEO IMAGINED HOW PLEASANT it would be to smash the staff sergeant’s face into his
desk many times, until his nose was shapeless and teeth began coming out. But he
kept his own teeth clenched, as if he were biting down on his anger. The sergeant
and the two tech-4’s paid Leo little attention; they were really interested in
Sarah, although one of the tech-4’s gave Wanda a look that made Leo remember her
father’s last words to him.
“Just a few words to the wise before you meet the Governor. You’ll be
careful, right?”
“Right,” said Sarah.
“Good. Good, because, well, things can happen. You haven’t had any trouble
about the kid, have you? I heard Child Welfare was sniffing around the camps,
maybe I missed something?”
“No, you didn’t miss anything.”
Leo made an intense effort to control himself before saying, apparently
calmly, “We want to ask the Governor if he can help my parents take Wanda. And
make sure we don’t have any trouble with Charlie. That’s all we really want to
tell him.”
“Well, that’s sensible. You’re a smart boy, Mr. comet-finder.” He reached
out and pinched Leo’s cheek very hard. “Stay smart.”
One of the tech-4’s drawled, “You ladies want to stay awhile? We got time.”
“No-o,” said Sarah with a cracking voice.
The sergeant said, “Well, maybe some other time. You can go. You have a
nice chat with the Governor, hear?”
10:15 PM CST
THE LIGHTS WENT OFF at ten. The Gundersons had been gone for a couple of days,
and no one else had moved in yet, so the tent was filled with just Leo, Sarah,
little Charlie in a portable crib, and Wanda, who was snoring already. Wanda had
the gift of falling asleep anytime she wanted. But Leo was still awake, and his
eyes were adjusted to the dark now, so he could see Sarah didn’t seem to be
sleeping. “Sarah?”
“Yes?”
“You think it will work?”
“I hope. You mean the Governor?”
“Yes. What did you think I meant?”
“Oh, nothing . . . Probably. We made him look really good today. Especially
you, Leo.”
“God, it was hard not telling him. I can’t stand thinking those bastards are
going to get away with what they’re doing.”
“They won’t. They’re not that smart. Someone will catch them.”
“I hope it happens soon.”
“Maybe it will . . . go to sleep.”
“In a minute . . . who was that reporter you shook hands with for so long?”
“Ms. Neumann. She’s with the Cincinnati Post.”
“How do you know her?”
“She came by when you were in the hospital. I told her some stuff, but I had
her promise not to print anything until you gave your permission.”
“You never asked me.”
“No . . . but she kept her word. She’s nice. Really nice. Only reporter
I’ve really liked since Jenny Lerner . . . I love you more than life, Leo
Beiderman, but if you don’t let me go to sleep, I’m going to have to kill you.”
But Sarah didn’t go to sleep for a long, long time. She kept listening for
someone to come in the tent, wondering if someone in the staff sergeant’s ring had
seen her pass the note to Ms. Neumann.
She had a nightmare that night, a bad one, bad enough to wake people in other
tents. Leo just managed to keep her from falling off her cot. A soldier came to
check, one Sarah didn’t remember seeing before. She somehow convinced him that
there was nothing seriously wrong, or at least got him to leave.
After that, she began sleeping on the floor.
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