family is shattered as the great leader rules with an iron fist. What I did was No big deal before the twenty twenty four election. Most of the bad stuff that happened to our family was because of that. The rules changed. We either couldn't play by the new rules or didn't know how. A fistful of bucks As I walked out into the slush, I knew I was entering a new phase, giving up the last thing I cared.
The other side of the family was blown to pieces, with Uncle Paul and Aunt Ruth split up, Mickey gone, and Kate a drug addict. David was the only one doing okay, and he had to escape to New York to have a chance. What can you expect from left-wing radicals who never disciplined their kids? What I do know is that during those years we needed each other more than ever. I'd like to think what Garrett Uh maybe it did. It's twenty thirty two. My uncle Mickey has disappeared after the bomb.
My Aunt Kate is a drug addict. Great Uncle Paul is in prison, and his family is practically at war with his brother Garrett's family. It seems like there is only one person in the family who is escaping the craziness. David, with everyone in the family kind of flipping out, you were off at Columbia with your girlfriend being normal, right? Please, nobody was normal back then. But I have some great memories of that time, thanks to Sophie.
She wanted to come home with me for Thanksgiving. But I've always felt that a first visit with one's father in prison is a special time and should be done alone. So There I was in the waiting area at Racine Correctional, figuring my dad would be broken down and desperate, but when he showed up to see me, he was at the top of his game. Thanks to incarceration, he was finally following doctors' orders to exercise, maintain a regular diet, and stop drinking.
He'd set up a discussion group for inmates who wanted a break from TV to talk about how mass incarceration serves the ruling party. It somehow made sense he'd thrive on prison life. He stayed upbeat till I asked about Kate. I thought she was fine based on her glowing emails. My dad said fiction has always been Kate's metier. It wasn't just Dean who broke up with me, it was all six of his roommates.
They had issues with me ringing the bell at three AM, and apparently I didn't always respect the personal space of the others. At least that's what the gargantuan bald woman with the cello told me when she was explaining why I was never to come to that apartment again or the police would be silent. Being a mom got a lot easier once I realized that everything I did was controlled by someone with an unformed brain who was inarticulate and unspeakably selfish.
No offense, honey. It was as if I'd given birth to the great leader. Except, unlike him, Louise was smart and warm and funny and endlessly curious about the world around her. I would die for her, if need be. I was thinking this way because of the danger lurking in our house. and coming to a boil in the world she'd soon have to enter. One night I heard Terence moving through the house, then pushing on my locked door, I said, Terrence, do not come in here.
Terence couldn't find his gun. He was terrified someone had taken it, and was going to kill Baby Louise, who was seven years old. He was so wound up I told him not to worry about his gun because I had it. Then it all came spelling out. How I'd ruined his life and somehow I was responsible for Yeah. Louise heard her adored uncle and grandpa fighting. And she started crying. But it wasn't a child's cry. It was a wail of anguish. flesh from the depths of her soul.
Safe and happy world had come to an end, and life would never be the same. We both went crashing to the floor, and he got his hands on my throat demanding to know where I hid his gun, and I thought, is this where it ended? After all the horrible sh- I endured in the army. My own son chokes me to death in the family room. When he heard Louise cry, his whole body sagged and his hands loosened on my throat. And we hugged.
That's the only time my dad ever hugged me. All it took was me trying to kill him. That morning, I went down to the kitchen where my dad was making coffee, and Terrence was sitting at the table checking sports scores on his phone. There was this awful heaviness in the air, and I thought, these two jagoffs are so shut down, they could just motor on through the day and never talk about what happened last night. I said, I will not allow Louise to grow up in this house.
It got grim after they left. My dad was out hustling work and I'd get up late, walk all over town and come back when it was getting dark. We'd go days without seeing each other. One afternoon walking past the VFW, I started thinking about Bobby and how fucking much I missed him, so I went in to have a beer in his honor. I ended up honoring him a whole lot more than I planned, and just when I was about to leave, this black guy in a wheelchair Ronnie came rolling my way.
He started talking like we were already in the middle of a conversation and once I got a word in I couldn't stop. I told him I was living with my dad, but we didn't talk. So I was making up for the silence. Ronnie remembered Bobby from the VFW and we toasted him a whole lot more. Ronnie was living with his mom and said it would be fine if I moved in with him. She was the opposite of my dad. She never shut up, which raised a whole different set of issues.
It felt good to be welcomed someplace, even on the couch of a drunk stranger. Terence's stuff was gone, so after a few nights I figured he had another place to stay. Ella texted to say she and Louise were living with her friend Nandita. I texted back. Terrence had moved out, so it was safe to come home. But she didn't even remember. I could hear Hadley saying, now you've done it, baby. Without the distractions of my kids, I Death became real and proper way I had a glimpse of eternity.
I'd be out all day trying to rustle up a job and at night I'd be visited by the people who weren't there. Isaac and Hadley who passed, and Eller and Terence who jumped ship, and Louise, who I couldn't think about without tearing up. The one I always came back to was Mickey. I prayed he was alive so I could track him down. and bring them to justice. If I couldn't do that, my whole life would be about one thing.
not stopping the bombing. I couldn't go to the grave with that on my conscience. I started doing my own investigating. I'd go by the police station so often it was like I worked there. One of the cops finally told me I oughta face up to the fact that Mickey was dead, I told him he was wrong, not that I knew for sure. The cops had moved on, but I couldn't. We live by the rule of the law, or we don't. And that meant finding a little bit of a little bit of a little bit
I finally managed to land a bullshit position back at Odin Watch. Minimum wage to patrol the campus with rookies in their twenties. It was an insult, but I didn't care. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of being alone. Ronnie's mom talked faster than any human I ever heard, and she never stopped. But she knew something about everything. I learned a lot drinking coffee at the kitchen table. Her laugh was so explosive, the first time I heard it, I reached for my non-existent gun.
Ronnie said she used to teach English at the high school and was pretty normal. But when he got blown up in Iraq, her anxiety spiked, and she became this ferocious caregiver. Ronnie had been all set to throw in the towel, but she forced him to keep living. He didn't get a vote. I always assumed I'd go to college and find something I was passionate about and meet an awesome guy and have kids and become a big success.
But everything happened in the wrong order. I met the wonderful guy, and he died, and I had a kid, and didn't go to college, and never found that thing I was supposed to be so passionate about. I was living with Nandita and our kids, and we survived. But shouldn't life be about more than just getting by? I'm driving back to Ronnie's house when I stop at the light on prospect. For some reason, I look at the car next to me at the exact moment the driver turns my way. It's Isaac.
He's got that half smile he had as a little kid, like he knew something he couldn't explain. My first thought is Isaac doesn't have his license. Then it hits me. Isaac is fucking dead. Maybe I'm insane or drove into a different reality, but I know for sure that's him. The light turns green, Isaac drives on, and I'm frozen until the asshole behind me swerves around and cuts me off, and Isaac's car disappears into traffic.
I floor it, and there's a flashing blue light, so I pull over, figuring it will only make matters worse to tell the cop I'm trying to catch up to my dead brother who isn't a very good driver. I'd think about poor Terence, struggling through every day, lost in his head, and feel guilty I didn't even know where he was. Nandita said, if I were you, As soon as she said it, I knew it was true. I told her I was going to be a better person. And she said, Does that mean we can't be friends anymore?
Robert Frost was a liar. He said, home is a place where when you have to go there, they have to take you in. He left out unless you're a raging dope fiend. I had no place to go. I tried crashing at the dorms, but the ID thing was stricter than it used to be, so I was living on the street. One night a homeless guy in a top hat told me about a new food source. I followed him to the Franklin Cafe and he led me around back to the dumpster, where we dined on pre-owned cheeseburgers.
It started to rain and he turned to me, chewing furiously with teeth that were mostly a memory, and said, It's a fucking hard life, but at least we stopped the socialist from taking over. He'd been a foreman in an auto plant and was a huge fan of the great leader, whose trade magic resulted in the plant shutting down, which wiped out his savings. Destroyed his marriage and dropped him down in a parking lot in the rain with a used cheeseburger and a hopeless dope addict.
But didn't this beat the hell out of whatever the socialists would do? Driving back to Ronnie's house with my speeding ticket, I tried to make sense of seeing Isaac. I was on the edge of something. Either I was going to be saved or this was the end. I was fine either way. So Uncle Paul, I'm not totally getting what happened.
You had to go to jail because you said something nasty about the great leader? That was your big crime? And your own brother busted you? What I did would have been no big deal before the 2024 election. The truth of the matter is, most of the bad stuff that happened to our family was because of that. The rules changed. We either couldn't play by the new rules or didn't know how.
Anyway, I got released in April. I'd made the most of my time in jail, having beaten the evil scourge of alcohol, and I was more than ready to celebrate with a drink or two. It was a fine spring day when I arrived back at two hundred seventy six Brook Street, where Phillips was installing bulletproof windows. I'm sure he was glad to see me, but he hid it well. Things are different, Paul. And they were. The old gang had moved on.
I met Paul for lunch. Feeling guilty I'd never visited him in jail. I told him Kate had been living with me, but I threw her out because she was stealing. Pathetically, I'd have put up with it if Angelica hadn't threatened to leave. Paul admitted he'd thrown her out after she slept with his friend Ted and stole his stuff. Neither of us knew where she was. Paul said, either this is tough love or we are the worst parents in the world.
One lost day on State Street, I was playing bridge over troubled water with a better chance of hitting Powerball than hitting the high notes when a well dressed woman stopped. She said, Katie, you probably don't remember me. I'm your mother's friend Pam Raynor. Of course I remembered Pam. Big house, perfect life. Pam was also genuinely nice.
She asked me how I was doing, which seemed obvious, since I was so thin a decent wind could carry me away, and I hadn't bothered to cover up all my needle marks. I was surprised to hear myself describe a rewarding life of taking courses at the university, dating a wonderful grad student, and playing music for the sheer joy of it. Pam squeezed my hand and said.
Katie, I have a guest house if you need a place to stay. She wrote down her phone number and put twenty bucks in my guitar case. I was surprised to see that I was still capable of embarrassment. Nandita never acted as if things were great. We were two young mothers with no college, no job skills, no money, estranged families, and nonstop stress. All of which added up to more laughs per day than I'd ever known.
We worked when we could, and took care of each other's kid, and had dinner parties where the guests brought everything. We'd tell them twelve people were coming and invite six, which meant high quality leftovers for weeks. Nandita made me realize how much energy I'd wasted pretending things were better than they were. Why? So other people wouldn't worry. What about telling the truth and letting them live with that?
One night, late, my phone's buzzing. I answer it, half asleep, and it's this mechanical voice. Like a robocall. I'm about to hang up when I realize it's my Uncle Garrett. Asking about school and whether I like New York. Huh? He had never ever called me. We're having this stilted conversation, and then he says, David, I'm wondering if You've heard from your brother Mickey. That's what this call is all about. I'm thinking even if I had, I sure as heck wouldn't tell you, Uncle Psycho.
One gloomy morning I wandered into a pawn shop called Rick's Old Gold with my guitar. It was too cold to sing on the street and I needed fast cash. As soon as I stepped in the door, I was blindsided by the memories. When I was in high school, Glenn and I would prowl around this shop looking for cool stuff. I remembered how excited we'd been, but now it was just straight ahead transaction. A fistful o' bucks, and my beloved guitar was gone.
As I walked out into the slush, I knew I was entering a new phase, giving up the last thing I cared about in order to get high. Terrence told me he had to get out of his friend Ronnie's house because his mother never stopped talking. He'd been sleeping in his car to get some peace, but Ronnie's mom would come outside in the middle of the night and bang on the window? and start talking. So even the driveway wasn't safe. Then he told me he'd seen Isaac, stopped at a traffic light on Prospect.
That's when I realized Hugh was in serious trouble. I asked if he was scared when he saw him, and he said, Why would I be scared of Isaac? I told Nandita that Terrence needed help, and she immediately said he could sleep on the sofa till he figured out his next move. I was patrolling the campus late on the And it was so quiet I thought the universe was.
was on a break. Then I realized we'd been back for a week. Students stayed inside and studied now, and they weren't allowed to gather of groups of more than eight. I trudged over to the security And all at once it hit me. What the hell had happened in my life? I had to sit on a bench. Till my heart stopped. I couldn't go home I open the door and there's my dad trying to smile, a sad middle-aged guy with a little stuffed kangaroo for Louise.
When Ella told me dad was coming over, I said I'd leave. She told me I had to stay for the sake of the family, which got me riled. The family? Seriously? The doorbell rings, Ella gets it, and I'm shaking. Nandita came up behind me, put her hands on the back of my neck, and I felt this warmth all over my body. She whispered, If you think your father's a dick, you should meet mine.
So when my dad comes in with this kangaroo, I'm smiling and feeling like I can get through this. I said, thanks, dad, how did you know I like kangaroos? He hesitated like I might be serious or more likely seriously nuts. And then he laughed, and we were good. Well as good as we ever were, which wasn't good. Then Louise came tearing into the room, yelling for my dad, who scooped her up. He had a hard time not crying.
After dinner, when Terrence was reading to Louise and Chandy in the other room, I told my dad I'd hit on the idea of getting a service dog for Terence. He was all over the idea. He'd have been all over anything I suggested at that point. The great leader loved everything about campaigning, the blazing spotlight that followed him everywhere. The vicious attacks on his opponent had been
The raving psychotic madness of his rallies, the triumphant display of his racism, misogyny, ignorance, and rage, which was guaranteed to inflame the opposition and fire up his weary base. But the election of twenty thirty two was Different. It was too easy. The excitement was gone. He learned the hard truth about show elections. They aren't as much fun. The rest of the world kept a wary distance.
all-powerful, untrustworthy man baby watching television in the Oval Office, who could make a promise and break it in the same incoherent sentence. David, it sounds like staying in New York, you were able to separate yourself from all the craziness the family was going through. Was that the plan? To escape the family? Except you can't ever escape this family, haven't you noticed? My med school graduation took place in 2033.
On the hottest May 12th in recorded history, a pleasing 118 degrees. They rushed through the ceremony, but people were fainting before we finished the bees.
For eager young doctors, it was good practice reviving our fallen parents. I was surprised that both of mine showed up. Mom said Angelica had wanted to come, but It was more risky than ever for people without papers, since the great leader's latest executive order was a national population goal called 100% pure, which meant arresting and jailing every non-citizen.
David had always been in a hurry. He graduated high school in three years, then he worked right through the summers to get out of college in three years, and here he was. Graduating med school in record time. And like the rest of us, he knew he had to get things done before it was too late. I worried about David staying in New York City, but he and Sophie had big plans which they wouldn't tell us.
Growing up, David was the most normal of our children, but now he was a mystery, which is why I kept asking him questions. Paul accused me of nagging, but I looked at it as a healthy parental interference. I mean interest. I learned long ago not to tell my parents much that mattered. They'd get too excited by remote possibilities and too upset by small disappointments. Plus, my siblings provided them with all the family drama they could handle.
Sophie had taken a deep dive into alternative medicine. One night we hit on the idea of a storefront clinic. According to the great leader, if we give everyone health insurance, they'll just want to get sick. So, there were many people whose medical plan consisted of hoping for the best. Our notion was to provide walk-in, pay what you can, eastern-western healthcare. We spent a whole lot of time trying to decide what we'd call it. We finally settled on a small blue neon sign that said, heal.
The Great Leader's Department of Injustice was busy with lawsuits against all but one of the major networks for their anti-American bias. That left Fox State News as the one dependable government news source. The chill was immediate. Cable stations were put on notice, and jokes about the great leader became toothless and affectionate.
He was now our lovable uncle, a bit eccentric and vulgar, who had, like most cowards, an unquenchable thirst for violence. With honest political reporting off the menu, The networks gloried in bold and hard-hitting takes on pop culture. The Kardashianization of America was complete. All the service dogs were super trained and knew a hundred commands. And the longer I was there, the more I couldn't make up my mind about which one I wanted.
Then Jarvis caught my eye. A black lab. Calm like I wish I was. A fucking beauty. We took a walk and that was it. Ella asked why I chose him and I said, the dude gets me. After a week with Jarvis, I got more sleep than I'd gotten since I deployed. He did my job, checking the perimeter, making sure everyone was safe. And when I was upset or scared or having a nightmare, he was there. I told my dad I made the right choice with Jarvis and he said it looked like Jarvis had chosen me.
Either way, I had to take my game up a notch to be worthy of him. After dinner one night. Terrence is in the screened in porch with Jarvis, listening to the Brewers game. I always loved sitting out there after the rain, but Terrence got there first, and I was careful not to be alone with him. I started upstairs, and then I think stopped. I am so done being a victim. That is the single worst thing I could pass on to my daughter.
So, I grab an old Milwaukee and go to the porch. We listen to the end of the fourth inning, and during the break, he thanks me for Jarvis. I tell him it wasn't easy for me to help him because of what he'd done. He starts to explain about his PTSD, And after all those years, I make myself say it. Terence, I'm talking about what happened when we were children. You and me. We sit there in silence.
The fifth inning is starting, and he's struggling. And I think, fuck you, Terrence. I am not gonna help you out. Deal with what you've done. He sits there, cold, angry, shut down. I see the enraged little boy in his eyes, and I think he's gonna hit me. And maybe he would have. Except Jarvis starts gently rubbing his snout against Terence's leg. Terrence's face starts to relax, and then his whole body sags. He finally says, in this small, broken voice I can't forgive myself for that.
I take his hand and say, Well, you better find a way, Terence, because I'm not going to lose another brother. Everything got better once Jarvis came along, but he couldn't help me figure out what to do with my life. One night I ask Ella what she thinks our mom would want me to do, and she says get an education, which you could do for free on the GI Bill. So I found out I had to take a remedial writing class. I said fuck that. But Ella begged me to do it for mom.
The first day, I'm there with all these goofball kids who don't know Dick but are smarter than me. And the teacher comes in, this black guy, Daniel, who says we're gonna do a writing exercise. I walked out. I can barely get through a sentence talking, and now I'm supposed to write some kind of college bullshit in front of everyone? Daniel follows me out and I tell him it's nothing personal, I can't do this. He says writing is just thoughts you write down. And I can think, can I?
I tell him not so much with the PTSD. He says, man, do we ever need your voice in this? He tells me to do the writing exercises and I don't have to read them to the class. Between Ella and my dead mom and this Daniel guy, they had me surrounded. So I go back in, I try to write. But I know I'm a fraud since I never even read. Nandita suggested she take Louise on her free days so I could get a part-time job.
It sounded good until I considered my lack of skills, experience, and education, coupled with my laziness, bad attitude, and limited availability. But I knew if I didn't get in the game, I was doomed to finish life at home. A bitter old sow with barely any sexy memories to get lost in. The best I came up with was appointments at several temp agencies. Things were so much better with Terrence, he offered to pick up Louise and make lunch for her so I could do the interviews.
It was a criminally hot day. Yet another record breaker, but we'd stopped caring about such things. I was sweating and nervous and tried too hard, but I gradually calmed down and found, to my surprise, I was having a good time. By the end of the day, I was making fun of my own hilariously thin resume, and the woman interviewing me started laughing, and we just talked to each other like friends. She told me I'd do fine out there, and she could probably get me a job at the agency if I wanted.
I floated out of there feeling like I should maybe turn in my lifetime all-inclusive past to the festival of self-loathing. I got home, and there's Terence in the kitchen creating this amazing sandwich for Louise. I told him about my triumphant day, making myself sound funnier and more confident than I actually was, and he told me about picking up Louise, as if it's some kind of dangerous top secret mission. Then I asked where Jarvis was. He looked like he got slapped and yelled Jarvis.
We went running outside. The heat slammed into us and we're scared shitless of what we'll find when we open the car door. But Jarvis wasn't there, so Terrance ran down the street to look. I went charging back inside, and Louise jumped out from behind the door, shouting, My fellow Americans! She was wearing a big rubbery Richard Nixon mask. I nearly collapsed from fright and screamed, What the hell are you doing, Louise? And she started to cry. I ripped off Richard Nixon's face.
Anne tried to comfort her and she said, Uncle Terrence was showing me old Halloween costumes. Dear God. I went racing up the stairs to the second floor, up the stairs to the attic, threw open the door, and the heat nearly knocked me down. I had to blink through my sweat to see anything, and as I staggered around the attic, I I tripped over Jarvis, who wasn't moving.
I picked him up, all 90 pounds, and went stumbling down the stairs, and ducked into the bathroom on the second floor, put him in the tub, and started running the water on him. Terence! I yelled, and he bounded up the stairs. One look, and he took charge. I heard Louise crying, so I went running for the stairs, tripped on the rug and took an epic tumble, rolling all the way down, landing on my back. When I opened my eyes, Louise was standing over me.
You shouldn't run on the stairs, mommy. That's what you always tell me. I pulled her down on top of me. She said she'll never be Richard Nixon again. And I told her nothing was her fault. If Jarvis is okay, we'll all be okay. I came home and the house was quiet. I went out to the porch and Terrence was just sitting there. I asked if he was okay, and he couldn't talk. I thought he might have had a stroke or something. He finally said, My days are over, Daddy.
Then Jarvis came padding in, barely moving. Tried three times before he was able to jump up on the sofa. Any other dog would have died. But Jarvis knew our little family couldn't have gone on without him. Ella wanted to know how the writing class was going. I stupidly let it slip that Daniel was okay with me not reading my stuff out loud. She asked why I was such a pussy, and I knew I had to go to the next class, read my story, and get it over with.
How bad could it be? My story was about the cousins when we were high school seniors. We'd make this speech at Sunday dinner about what we were going to do next, and how each of us got treated different. Me the most when I said I was enlisting instead of going off to a big deal college like Mickey and Kate. When I was writing it down, it hit me that the story was about me and my dad. I got to class feeling like I'm gonna throw up, but I can't have my little sister think I'm a pussy.
This nervous white lady comes in and says she's the new teacher. I ask if Daniel's coming back and she said no. Daniel isn't at the university anymore. I packed up my story and walked out. Fuck it. 2034. We're at a place where I remember some stuff pretty well, like Jarvis almost dying. But there's some family issues I never knew about.
Mom, I have to say that I never got that you and Uncle Terrence had such big problems with each other. It was always complicated with us, ever since we were little kids. I think it would have been easier if we'd talked to each other, but that was never easy. I decided I had to try. One night you were Sorry, Louise was running around with the crown I got for being winter queen.
She was doing these crazy poses, and we were all laughing hysterically. About the only time Terrence laughed was with Louise. Seeing the two of them together made me think about Bobby. If I hadn't been so stoked to go to the Snowflake Ball and get that crown, I'd have been with him that night he needed me, instead of off on a dumb date which meant nothing to me, and he wouldn't have disappeared.
Louise would have a dad, I'd have a husband, and Terrence would have a best friend. My selfishness had wrecked our lives. And there was poor Terrance, lost in his head and hurting, and he didn't even know the truth. After Louise was in bed, I finally told Terrance the thing that had haunted me since high school. What happened to Bobby was my fault, and I couldn't forgive myself.
Terrence sat there for a long time and finally said, Ella, all these years I've been blaming myself. I was his best friend and I didn't have a clue what was happening with him. So there we were, finally admitting our guilt. Then Terence said that when he was getting therapy through the VA, the shrink got him to see that Bobby was dealing with stuff that was much bigger than Terence and me.
We couldn't have stopped it no matter what we did. Bobby was one more casualty of war, even though his thing happened here. I don't know if that's true, but it made me feel better. What really made me feel better was talking to Terrence about it. We were closer than we'd ever been, which isn't saying much, but it was a start. As it turned out, that conversation made Terrence feel better too. Something lifted. Instead of lying around all day with his phone, he started to help out.
I was making dinner every night, and he'd pitch in. The kitchen had been enemy territory for Terrance, but now he was an occupying force. We'd plan dinner, make a list, go out and shop, and I could see he was starting to like the structure. Anyone who can read a recipe can learn to cook, except my dad. But Terrence was on a mission. We decided to go page by page through mom's cookbooks, a different recipe every night. He started to get the hang of it.
I was good enough to show him the basics, but there came a point when he started to take over. Our mom used to play old Broadway cast albums, which got lodged in our heads, so I'd find Terrence in the kitchen. Shirtless, in an apron with a brewer's cap on backwards, singing. On the street where you live as he's slicing and dicing. With most things? Like work or
Or making friends, Terence tried too hard and got in his own way, but cooking was different. The more he cooked, the deeper he got in the zone. I told him he was way past me as a chef. He started blinking and said, My whole life This is the first thing I've ever been good at. Once his confidence kicked in, he was unstoppable. He'd read cookbooks and watch cooking shows and challenge himself to get to the next level. Something inside him had been unleashed.
He told me he dreamed about food more than sex, and started telling me a dream. I said, if it's a food dream, I'll listen, but otherwise you're welcome to shut the fuck up. Paul and I had bought 117 Poplar years ago through university housing. Once he lost his job and moved out, the mortgage was an issue, and the university wanted to buy the house back.
I'd always assumed we'd roll out of there on twin gurneys, but like most plans, it was ultimately pretty laughable. After all those years, we had to get out. We were at our usual haunt, the Franklin Cafe, and everyone else was getting served, and we didn't even have menus. Finally, the waiter came with our food. Ruth, who can be a bit rough on the human race, waiters in particular, pointed out that we hadn't ordered.
The waiter said, compliments of the chef, and left ribs for me and grilled swordfish for Ruth, which just happened to be our favorite. That's when Terence came out of the kitchen wearing an apron and a big puffy chef's hat and a huge smile. When he tried to brush off our compliments, Paul said, Knock off the false modesty, Terrance. You're brilliant. Terrance laughed, which I hadn't seen since he was about nine years old.
Paul and I had gotten together that day to deal with money problems, but we left Terence a giant tip. He gave me hope the rest of us could somehow make it through the storm. I turned out to be a uniquely gifted dope fiend. I had a kind of genius for knowing who was carrying quality product and where the finest nearly new cuisine could be found. One night I went to the Franklin Cafe and the back door opened and there was my cousin Terrence with takeout bags.
Terence, the misfit, the black sheep, the loser, was giving handouts to me, the undisputed star of the family. Who at the moment happened to be an emaciated drug addict with a rapidly diminishing life expectancy? I said, Thank you, Terence, grabbed a bag and hightailed it out of there. He called to me, but we both know there really wasn't anything to say. Terrence told us about Kate appearing like a ghost and grabbing the throwaway food and rushing off into the night.
My dad blamed Kate for what happened to Isaac, so we never mentioned her name. But this was so disturbing, Terrence had to tell us. The other side of the family was blown to pieces, with Uncle Paul and Aunt Ruth split up, Mickey gone, and Kate a drug addict. David was the only one doing okay, and he had to escape to New York to have a chance. My dad said, what can you expect from left wing radicals who never discipline their kids?
But we were all thinking about Kate out there, trying to survive the night. You're supposed to make your kids take what they want out of the house when you sell it. But Mickey and Kate were gone, and David said we should throw out all his stuff. It was pretty emotional, going through Mickey's old sports trophies and clippings, and Kate's room was like an archaeological dig of her ever changing passions.
We found the Yamaha guitar we got her at age fourteen, which she left in a closet when she bought a fancy new one. Paul insisted on holding on to it, and we kept all their high school yearbooks and a few random things we didn't have the heart to throw out. In David's room we found the football Terence gave him in the old video of his miracle touchdown at the Thanksgiving football game. Paul and I watched and it was still awesome.
There we all were before the storm hit. The general and Hadley and Isaac and Ella and Kate and Mickey and Terrence and Paul and me and little David catching the pass and jumping up and down in pure joy. My dad would take off after dinner, and we never knew where he went. Terrence thought he had a girlfriend.
That was the thing about our dad. If you asked what was going on, he'd give some cryptic response so you knew less than you did before. I didn't give him the satisfaction of asking him what he was up to. I was persona non grata at all the shelters in town, which takes some doing, so I found myself living in Tent City, a bunch of recycled disaster tents the city put up in a vacant lot, so we'd die slower.
It was a ragged, writhing mass of emaciated creatures who were already dead but hadn't been told. I was one of them, but somehow I managed to hold on to my snobbish, judgmental nature. That will be my last faculty to go long after. One freezing night I couldn't scream. I tottered back to Tent City, cold. Dope sick and desperate. I slithered into the stinking, snoring tent and huddled for warmth against another person,
Maybe a man, maybe a woman, maybe neither, maybe both. The distinctions had become irrelevant. I had my first coherent thought and days. That this is where I would die. That's when the flap opened and a harsh light probed the tent and I heard a voice. Katie? Terrence was manager of the Franklin, and we were rooting for him to succeed, but we had second thoughts when it meant waiting for a table. One rainy day the place was understaffed and people were getting rowdy and impatient.
Ruth and I were about to leave when Terrance came out of the kitchen, trying to decide whether he should make a sweep through the dining room or keep cooking. I said, Terence, how about I help you out? Take orders, bring food? He said, Do you have any experience, Uncle Paul? I told him I'd been a busboy at a vegan joint in college for several hours before quitting over creative differences. And he said, You're hired.
And would it kill Aunt Ruth to pitch in? The old Terrance would have been a puddle of misery, but this Terrance was smiling like he knew it would work itself out. We divided up the tables and took orders and brought food and when we'd emerge from the kitchen with someone's order the whole place would cheer. As it turned out, Paul and I were both pretty good waiters, except for him.
He'd get in conversations with the customers, which slowed things down, but I'd forgotten how much fun it was doing stuff with him. I was headed back into the kitchen at one point and he pinched my ass, which made me squeal and got a big laugh from the lunchtime crowd. It meant something different to me.
I managed to extricate myself from the disaster tent and move toward the light which was shining right in my eyes. I had no idea who was rescuing me, and it didn't matter. That's when I saw who my savior was. Uncle Garrett. The wind was whipping through the vacant lot, rippling the tents, and I was shivering uncontrollably as he guided me to his car. When my teeth stopped chattering, I asked how he found me, and he said, I just kept.
The temping was working out okay, but it was hard always being the new person, so I was all ears when Aunt Ruth told me Terrence could use some help at the Franklin. Paul put up a sign in the kitchen of the Franklin Cafe that said under new mismanagement. Whenever Terrence gave him a hard time, he'd point to it. Jarvis was always calm, except for the first day Terrence brought him to the Franklin.
We were prepping for lunch, and he went padding into the kitchen, and with the food and the smells and the people, he suddenly started rushing around as excited as a writer at an open bar. My friend Ronnie came wheeling into the Franklin one day.
He asked if I was still at the U and I told him my writing teacher had left, so I quit. Turned out he knew about a writing workshop for vets in a church basement run by a black dude named Daniel. I figured, what do I have to lose, other than my self-respect? Writing was hard, but I kinda miss Daniel. Terrence, Louise, and I were playing Risk when my dad came in with Kate, who was thin, pale, and drawn.
She'd always been so beautiful and confident. I used to worship her. But now the light was gone from her eyes. We just stared, but Louise ran into her arms yelling, Kate! Louise was always way ahead of me in knowing what to do. Terrence and I hugged her, and Dad said, Let's get Kate set up in the guest room. After she'd gone to bed, Dad said Kate made him promise not to tell her parents where she was. I asked why he'd worked so hard to find her, since he'd vowed never to see her again.
He shrugged, like he hadn't even considered it. For a smart guy, my dad never had words for the big things, like forgiveness. Waking up in that sunny bedroom was a dream. I couldn't quite believe I was really there. There was a knock, and Louise came charging in with a book, nine years old and ablaze with possibilities. She hopped up next to me in bed and I read to her and got a tiny glimpse of what life could be.
That first day everyone was so gentle. Ella made me lunch and told me about Terrence and the Franklin Cafe and He'd started a chef, and then they'd made a manager, and now the owner had health issues and was selling him the place, giving Terrance amazingly generous terms. Terence's unlikely success had given everyone hope, even me. By late afternoon I could hear the ominous drumbeat of need, ever louder, and then the sick craving announced itself with a vengeance.
I needed to score. I told Ella I was gonna take a walk, and I almost made it to the street before Garrett pulled into the driveway. I cheerfully announced that I was off for a bit of exercise, and he told me to get in the car. Talking back was useless. Where are we going? I asked. He just stared at the road ahead. For a savior, he was being a major dick. Daniel played it cool when I showed up for his workshop in the church basement, but I could tell he was glad to see me.
I listened to the other people read their stories. Near the end, Daniel said, Anyone else feel like sharing? I raised my hand, then pulled it down fast, but Daniel had seen it. No way out. My voice was shaking, but at the end they all cheered. That made me feel pretty good. Until I remembered they'd clapped for everything, even the random shit that made no sense.
But Daniel made a point of telling me I should keep writing about my family. We're driving and driving and it gets dark, and Uncle Garrett's got Fox State News on the radio, and I ask him again where we're going, and he pulls over to the side of the road and stops. He's looking at me in this intense way and I think, Oh fuck, is he going to kiss me?
His voice gets scary low, so I have to lean in to hear him. He says, Katie, you and Mickey have always been close. You need to tell me where he is. I want to help him. I'd tell him I have no idea, I haven't talked to him since before the bombing. He just smiles this creepy smile like he knows I'm lying and off we go. And I'm thinking the only reason he saved me was to lean on me to get to Mickey?
Pulling me out of the car. Two towering, take-no-shit dudes drag me into the building, and I'm fighting for my life, but one of them hits me up with a shot of something consequential, and the night is dead. I wake up in a tiny cell, bed, sink, toilet. There's a button labeled press for assistance, so I do. A woman in a red jumpsuit opens the door and says she'll take me to the cafeteria. It's practically empty. I go through the line and there's only one choice. Is that even a choice?
An unfathomable stew. I sit at one of the long tables and call to a frumpy, frightened fiftyish woman sitting alone. Excuse me where am I? She puts her teeth back in and smiles. That's up to you. What the fuck? I'm talking location, GPS, not Eastern philosophy. I'm finishing my mystery stew when the woman says you'll feel better now. They put it in the food to level us out. She struggles to get to her feet and wanders out, and I realize I'm the last one there, so I leave, not feeling so bad.
Maybe there really was something in the stew. I'm walking down an endless hall lost in a paranoid dreamscape of surveillance cameras and institutional lighting, and there's a PA announcement. Lights out in five minutes. I walk faster, which only makes sense if you're headed in the right direction, which hasn't been the case since middle school.
I see a red jumpsuited woman locking one door after another. She gives me directions slowly as if she's telling a drunk four-year-old how to get to preschool, and it's a relief to return to my empty room. has to be a home because I have no other. How come Grandpa Garrett saved Aunt Kate? Was it just to find out about Mickey, or did he really care about her?
Do you have any idea, Aunt Ruth? I honestly don't know. What I do know is that during those years we needed each other more than ever. I'd like to think what Garrett did came out of love. Uh maybe it did. I had my hands full. I couldn't face the harsh truth that after all these years I'd have to leave 117 Poplar, so I made no plans. It was my old book club friend, Pam Raynor, who bailed us out. She invited me and Angelica and Gabriel to move into her guest house.
So in the spring of 2036, there we were in a luxurious gated community with all the amenities like a pool and a beautiful garden for cocktails at the end of the day. After a couple of martinis, we'd make dinner, everyone pitching in. And there was no question that Gabriel was expected to pull his weight, which Paul and I never demanded of our precious children. Maybe that's why they pursued careers as criminals and addicts. We were on a tight schedule at the R. J. Manning Rehabilitation Center.
That's where Uncle Garrett had taken me in an act of inspired perversity. There was no personal time, just the relentless process of breaking us down, rebuilding us. We were a neighborhood of teardowns. Drifting off to sleep one night, it hit me that the regimen at R. J. Manning seemed pretty close to the way Mickey described his brief time in the Psych Center. Angelica and Gabriel and I settled into an easy rhythm at Pam's house. Her marriage was over and she liked having company.
Here in paradise, with my lover and her child and my old friend, I was happier than I'd been in ages, which meant that it couldn't last. I changed up the menu and the Franklin Cafe took off. Carl, the owner, was my biggest fan. He'd say Terence, you're like the son I never had. When I pointed out that he had two sons, he said, I'm eighty one years old. I can't be expected to remember everything. He put me on track to be the owner in three years.
His wife had passed, and he said he wanted to visit Florida while it was still there. I told him he'd better hurry. One sunny morning we were scrambling to get Gabriel ready for school when Angelica got a phone call. She sounded dead serious, but she didn't tell me what was happening until we dropped off Gabriel at school and we were headed back home.
She had gotten word that her husband, Dr. Morales, had, after years of detention, made it over the border to Canada. We walked in silence back to our spectacular home on that perfect spring day. I got worried that the popularity of the Franklin was getting to be a problem. I'd see people give up on our line and leave. I wanted to make Carl proud of me, so I started scouting around to open a sister restaurant. I got it down to two locations but couldn't decide which.
I asked Nandita sin she had strong opinions about everything. She chose the one on Livingston and then I asked if she'd manage the place. She said she didn't have any experience, but I told her I knew she could do it, and I needed someone I could trust. When the deal went through there was a story in the paper with a picture of me with a p smile that was way too big for my face. I hadn't looked that uncool since my class photo in sixth grade. Still, it was a pretty heady time for me.
Late afternoon, Pam and Angelica and I were out back of Pam's house having cocktails and watching Gabriel play soccer with others. A girl scored a goal, and the laughter and yelling felt timeless. Children playing as the sun goes down. A lovely glimpse of Americana that we once thought would go on forever. I said, it's good to be reminded what innocence looks like.
Pam pointed out that this brutal era will pass, and if we're patient and hopeful and stay involved, we'll get our country back. We sat in silence until Angelica said, You are wrong, Pam. It's too late. While we sit here with our drinks, people are locked up and broken and dying, and their lives will never be the same.
And the people who love them will never be the same, so life will never be normal again. She didn't raise her voice, but it came from the depths of her soul. She got up and walked back to the guest house. Angelica and I were still sleeping together, but I was already missing her. When I got a tap on the shoulder from a guard at RJ Manning, I was ready to confess, but I couldn't think of a single thing I'd done for. Security directed me to an office down the hall where this guy was staring at me.
It wasn't till he smiled that I recognized him. That summer, we started experiencing the truth about climate change, which, like just about everything else, was far worse than anticipated. In a rambling three-hour Mussolini-chinged press conference, the great leader had a good laugh about global warming.
He remembered much hotter summers when he was a typical orange cheeked racist child millionaire coming of age in Queens. How hard his tiny brain had to work to not understand what was happening all around him. His closest advisors were required to not understand the same things he didn't understand, to preserve a solid core of ignorance at the top.
Discussing the weather had become a political act. The way to show your patriotism was to deny science, common sense, and that your Mini Cooper was melting into a puddle in your driveway. I'd hear people at the Franklin talking about where to move to escape the heat. I couldn't imagine leaving town, but staying here was starting to seem foolhardy.
The man smiling at me was Neil, Isaac's old friend. Hello, Kate, he said, What are you doing here? I'm a drug addict, I proudly announced. What are you doing here, Neil? He told me that after Isaac was killed he'd done time for the kidnapping of the Senator's daughter, then bounced around and finally got a gig as a social worker. He got early release'cause his dad stepped up with a sizable contribution to the great leader's perpetual re election campaign.
In America 2036, you get all the justice money could buy. Your pardon was your receipt. The great leader was privatizing everything he could think of, and the company Neil worked for, Pearl, got the contract to handle rehab for the government. As for Neil, he was clearly a pawn in a bigger game, like the rest of us. But I couldn't help but hold him responsible for what happened to Isaac. Even so, it was nice to know I had someone on the inside.
I'd observe people disappear from this place, and it wasn't necessarily through the miracle of recovery. A week later, I got an assignment outside the facility because of my impressive progress. This was a big step. Working on the outside meant you could expect to get released if you didn't fuck things up, which was historically a high bar for me. Carl, the former owner, came up to me at the grand opening of the Livingston Cafe when diners were cheering and told me I had the magic touch.
He was off to Florida on vacation, and I was in charge of two hot restaurants. Nandita was learning the ropes managing the livingston, so I got called over there a lot. see things that weren't quite right, but business was so good I didn't want to rock the boat. One day I got a call that the air conditioning was down at the Livingston, and when I got there the lunch crowd had left. You didn't stay anywhere without AC.
Over the next few weeks we built our business back up and then the AC started going out. It was like a monster trying to kill us. And it did. The word on the street was that the Livingston wasn't up to the standard. Of the Franklin. We were getting smacked down because of our own success. I talked to our accountant, Ed, who'd walked me through the numbers. We were overextended. This was not sustainable.
I was on a team charged with cleaning a small office building. With the immigration freeze there was no one left to do such work, and there were many jobs Americans wouldn't do anymore, from cleaning to harvesting to defending the Constitution. Time to call the addicts. It was pretty exciting to be out in the world, even though they kept a close watch on us, and our team leader Rayleen would write us up for the tiniest infraction.
Louise and I would start the day by checking the heat index and air quality and gauge whether it's a little bit more than the other She was smitten with rollerblading and absolutely fearless. And we'd go flying along the bike paths, dodging in and out of bikers and boarders, and skaters and runners. and had a ton of close calls, but we were just so happy to be out there. Everyone was. You couldn't take mornings like that for granted anymore.
One morning, as the heat kicked in, we got juice from the truck and sat on a bench taking off our blades. When Louise said, Why are there so many mosquitoes? One more thing I sensed, but couldn't allow myself to know. They were everywhere. Uncle Paul said they were on a mission to kill off the species that was destroying the Earth. I used to think Uncle Paul was joking about stuff like that.
We hurried to the car, slapping them away, and for the first time I saw fear on Louisa's face. This is the world we're leaving her, I thought. Great job, everyone. Thanks for caring. One night I was cleaning an office when I noticed a family photo on the desk. It was a jolt to see who the dad was. My old boyfriend from university, Glenn.
I left a note on his desk saying he looked even better than he did in college, and I was glad he'd found happiness, unless that was just a random family that came with the picture frame. The next night there was a super serious letter telling me he'd always felt guilty about how our relationship ended and how he thought about me all the time. Whoa. I flashed on Glenn on a warm spring night.
The two of us sailing on quaaludes in a fine bottle of Cote d'Arone we'd lifted from an upscale faculty meet and greet, and in the first blush of sunrise tight rope walking between drugs and alcohol. I asked him if he loved me and he whispered, baby, I love you so much. I'd like to clone you and have a threesome. That was Glenn, a perfect master of wild sex and getting high and doing stupid crazy shit. This person in the letter sounded ominously mature, like the fun had been surgically removed.
He tried to explain what had happened in college when he checked into the Psych Center as a volunteer lab rat. There was a whole medicated truth-telling side of what they did, which made him believe his true destiny was going back home to take care of his family business. But he'd since come to the conclusion they'd broken his spirit at the Psych Center, and what he thought was the truth was in fact surrender.
This was a heavy trip for a simple cleaning lady to process. I wrote him a breezy note wishing him happiness and a good life, and in his next note he said he needed to see me. This shit was getting real. Did I want to have a potentially hot meetup looking like what I was? A dope addict just trying to survive another day? I sat at his desk trying to figure out what to do.
The fates had conspired to make our lives intersect after all this time, so I wrote him a sexy note telling him if he was in his office at eleven o'clock the next night, we could catch up and see what happens. I put the note in his desk drawer and leaned back in his chair to reflect on exactly how horrific this decision was, when I saw on the top of the bookcase a red hat. Is Glen a red hat?
Just then Rayline materialized in the doorway, glaring at me. What the fuck are you doing, girl? Sitting on your scrawny ass like a motherfucking CEO? I bounced up from my chair, pleading with her not to write me up when she started laughing. Look at this shit I found in some VP of Dick Licking's office. She had a high end trove of executive snacks and we started chowing down, laughing like the criminally insane we almost were.
I asked her if we'd get busted and she said no. This was the last night we'd be in the building. It wasn't until we were in the van heading back to R. J. Manning that I remembered I'd set up a romantic interlude with Glenn that was never going to happen. Fuck it. Fuck all the red hats. But don't fuck him.
I had overslept and was running late and Jarvis was taking his sweet time, so I pulled him out the door. We were in the car driving to the Livingston and then I noticed Jarvis coughing softly over and over. I headed straight to the vet and told Ella and Nandita they were in charge. Terence had been doing so well that we stopped worrying about him. I should have known PTSD doesn't just go away. When he told me about Jarvis, I heard the old Terence, lost and scared.
I told him we'd take care of the restaurant. Nandita and I were an excellent team, and we planned how we were going to break it to Terence that he worked for us now. I think we were kidding. But we had no idea how bad the situation was with the restaurants because Terrence didn't tell anyone. The only one who knew was Jarvis, his dog. When the vet told me Jarvis had heartworm, I started to cry, even though I didn't know what it meant.
Turned out he'd gotten it from the mosquitoes, and he'd survive with injections I could give him at home. Jarvis had saved me, and now I was going to save him. Ella and Nandita would fill me in on the restaurants, but the issues were either too big to deal with or not important compared to Jarvis. Either way, I was spending most of my time at home with my dog. Terence had expanded at the exact wrong time.
How could he have known that the heat would be so savage people would start leaving? Those who could afford it went to their summer homes in the upper peninsula. Others moved in with friends and relatives in parts of the country that weren't hit so hard. The people left behind kept saying, Why us? And I would think, Why not us? What's upside down is checking out the way the media described what was going on in 2036 and what everyone in the family is telling me. It's like two different countries.
Is that what was happening, Uncle Paul? Yeah. The media reported on the great leaders America, which was a demented fantasy of a country where the economy was booming and everyone was happy and got along. He'd brag about uniting the country, which is what dictators do. But we were living in the real country where elections had become as ritualized as in any authoritarian state, a kabuki dance of dominance.
We were cut off from the news because rehab wasn't possible if we tried to shoulder the weight of a collapsing world on top of our own struggles. But Neil told me about the storm that hit Florida. Hurricane Ronan destroyed everything a touch. There weren't even points of comparison anymore. The storms got worse and worse, and once again the fate of the nation was up to prisoners and addicts and anyone else who didn't have a voice worth listening to.
which was a rapidly growing percentage of the population. Neil showed me footage of Florida, which looked like the end of the world. I flashed on the death and the devastation and got a wink from my old friends Fear and Chaos, who led me down such dangerous paths. But it also given me such great joy. I asked Neil if I can volunteer and he said, you already did. Once Jarvis recovered, I went back to work.
I'd wake up every morning with a knot in my stomach and spend the day trying to make sense of what was happening. We were underwater. Finally, I dropped by Ed the Accountant's office. He said, Terence, I talked to someone who might be of interest to you. Terrence told us he got approached by a company that wanted to buy both restaurants. He said the deal was no better than okay. And anyway he couldn't do it without Carl, who was the legal owner for the next three years.
Carl was still in Florida and unreachable because of the hurricane. If Terrence took the deal, he'd feel like he failed. If he didn't take it, he was headed for bankruptcy. Ella told him he'd had an amazing run and now it was time to get out. She'd take charge of tracking down Carl so the restaurants could be sold. Dad said, Someone did a damn good job raising you two and Terence blurted out, Yeah, I miss Mom. It could have gone either way, but Dad laughed and said,
I do too, Terrence. That's when the weather events were piling up on top of each other. Wildfires, hurricanes, droughts, tornadoes. The world was spinning out of control. I was watching the weather channel every night to see if Florida was still on the map. I had to find Carl, so Terrence could sell the restaurants. I kept running into dead ends until I reached his son Jimmy, who told me his parents used to stay at the Sagamore in Miami.
The relief work in Florida was an excellent test of whether I could stay off drove. The Pastel Florida dream was a desolate battlefield where both sides lost and the wounded were dying. We worked all day searching for survivors, and there was no life remaining. Except one day in the Sagamore Hotel, squishing down a soggy hallway, there was a man walking ahead of me I didn't recognize from our crew, so I called out, but he kept going.
Just before he went around the corner, he looked back and smiled. It was Isaac. I screamed and ran after him, but when he darted into a room, I followed yelling, Isaac! He wasn't there. Then I heard a gurgling sound from underneath a sofa that had been hurled across the room by the wind. Neil came rushing in and we moved the sofa, revealing an old man barely breathing. Strangely enough, the old guy turned out to be from my hometown.
Terrence gave me credit for finding Carl, but I had nothing to do with it. By the time I found out he was alive, he was on his way home. The night before the closing, me and Carl decided to say goodbye to the Franklin. Everything had been cleared out, so I brought food and started cooking, and we called up Ella and Andita and Aunt Ruth and Uncle Paul and had a monster of a last supper.
The regulars showed up with cases of beer and wine and it turned into just about the best night we ever had there. Carl made a speech about how the single best thing that ever happened to him was meeting Terrance. Except for marrying his wife and having two kids, and the Brewers winning the World Series, and the first time he ate lobster, and buying a Harley when he was eighteen, and finding his dad's Playboy collection when he was eleven.
And he went on for maybe five minutes about all the things that were better than meeting Terrence. We watched Terrance smiling at the old man. When he finished Terence stood up and said I can't top that. I love this man, and I thank God or whoever else is responsible for saving him. I saw a couple of the regulars waiting on Paul, and it hit me why the Franklin had been such a sensation.
This little community had a life of its own, and people could feel it when they walked in. Word spread, and yes, Terence's ribs were legendary, but what made it special was a bunch of people caring about each other and having a good time. Boy, did we ever miss it when it was gone? I was a kid, but I remember how every summer was hotter than the last one. Even I could see that it was happening really fast, and no one did anything about it. The great leader was still calling it a left-wing hoax.
Which meant half the country was saying the same thing, even when they were dying from the heat. Oh, were people just stupid? I think we were all scared and defeated. It had been 12 long years since he took over the country in 2024. We were tired, and it was just too hard to fight. Neil and I left Florida when we got orders to head to California where the wildfires were out of control. There used to be a season for these things. The Santa Ana winds and the wildfires and the rain.
But now the only thing predictable was chaos, but you couldn't always count on that either. Neil had worked things so he and I drove the van cross country. and the others got some kind of roll the dice Spirit Airlines flight, where there was a forty percent chance the plane would fall out of the sky, but you couldn't beat the price. We'd split the driving, and there'd be long silent stretches
And the words would come in a rush. Neil asked if I was scared when I saw Isaac and the Sagamore, and I said, why would I be scared of Isaac? I knew Isaac and Neil had been close, and finally I asked him if they had been lovers. Neil said, It wasn't anything like that. I was a disciple. Driving through the night, we started to feel that Isaac had brought us together. It made me look at Neil differently. Maybe he was just as innocent and just as guilty as the rest of us.
I was about to leave the general's room at Blue Hill when Ella and Louise burst in. Of course the general and I wanted a full report on everyone. Ella gave us an update on Garrett and Terrence and her friend Nandita, and then Louise said, Mom, you forgot about Kate. Ella froze. That's when I found out they all knew about Kate. Except for Paul and me, her parents. It was still called the Franklin Cafe, but it wasn't the same.
I probably would have remained a regular because I don't notice things like lousy food and rude waiters, but Ruth has standards. She invited me to Pam Rainer's for lunch. Ruth whipped up a salad that tried hard to be interesting and told me Kate had been found and was in rehab. For a few moments I couldn't speak, an affliction I and the world don't normally have to endure. I asked who was responsible for this hopeful turn, and she said
Your brother Garrett. It was starting to get dark. We were both exhausted, and driving all night was not an option. Neil said, keep your eyes out for a motel, Kate. Here we go. A motel. There was absolutely no way I would sleep with him. We were two lonely souls on a cross country trek between coastal disasters, and I could feel how much he wanted me, so I'd have to be strong.
I saw a days in up ahead but didn't say anything. He stopped anyway. We went inside, and there was a pasty faced cipher with a name tag that said Dick at the reception desk. If he'd been any more bored, he'd have tipped over. I was waiting to pounce just as soon as Neil tried to book us in the same room.
This was my moment to clarify things once and for all. The only reason I was going through this rehab ordeal was to get my life on track, and sleeping with my sponsor would be a giant step backwards. For him to put me in that situation was immoral. Then I heard him say, You got two singles, Dick? What the fuck? He didn't think I was hot enough to even make a token pass? Fine. At least I knew where I stood. He handed me my room key and I headed for the elevator without a word.
He asked what was wrong and I snarled, Figure it out before letting the elevator doors close on his face. The general seemed to have the inside track on what was happening in the family, so I went over to Blue Hill before confronting my brother. He was always a tricky dance. with my dad, trying to avoid the gaping sinkhole of politics. He'd stayed on board with the great leader until basic human decency caused him to jump ship. Now it was hard to tell where he stood.
He'd spent his life in the military and had fierce Conservative views. But the ruling party had long since abandoned conservatism in their cowardly embrace of the great leader, whose ideology didn't go much past what excited him from one moment to the next, whether it was ripping infants from From Mama's breast, or wiping out the pygmy raccoon, or sucking reflectively on his second scoop of ice cream.
while you had to settle for one. I asked if he'd seen Kate, and he said no. She was still at the rehab facility Garrett found, but Ella and Terrence and Louise had seen her before she went in. all those sleepless nights haunted by my lost daughter, when the rest of the family knew exactly where she was. It's the thoughtlessness that counts.
My dad called to find out what I knew about Kate. When I told him she'd cut off all communications, he launched into a paranoid rap about how everyone knew what was going on except him. Once I talked him down, I realized how hurt he was. He couldn't understand why Kate wouldn't have anything to do with him. My dad didn't call much, so I packed in as much as I could about Sophie and me.
Heal, our clinic for uninsured people in the village, was actually happening. We were so consumed by it we were able to ignore the panic over the rising water. We knew we'd have to leave sometime, but we couldn't tear ourselves away from our patients who'd been shut out of the healthcare system. We were the last line of defense, a couple of twenty-something docs, naive and or grandiose enough to think that they could make things better.
We had concocted a crazy project that was doomed from the start. The clock was ticking on how long Manhattan would be above water, and it was easily the happiest time in my life. If you ever want to truly appreciate each day, set up shop in a dying city. We were just sitting down to dinner when Uncle Paul showed up, which never happened. My dad said, perfect timing, Paul, pull up a chair. He just stared at us and said, Everyone knows where Kate is except me. That's not acceptable.
My dad said Kate needed time to herself. And Uncle Paul started to come at him like, Are you telling me you know what's best for my daughter? My dad jumped up and turned on Uncle Paul, and we're thinking, here it comes, they're gonna beat the shit out of each other. Then Louise said Why don't you just tell him, Grandpa? He's her daddy.
Dad was so surprised at getting called out by a kid. He said, She's at the R. J. Manning Rehabilitation Center. It's where she needs to be. Uncle Paul just nodded and left. I followed him outside and apologized for the way he found out about Kate. He said Ella You raised your daughter to tell the truth. Most people don't do that. I went back inside.
There wasn't much to say. Kate had made us promise not to tell her parents where she was. Everyone had tried to do the right thing, and now we all felt bad. Typical family moment, at least in our family. This felt like one more wound that would never heal. But I sure as hell was going to try. Next time on Yeah. This was my dad's mission. He was my commanding officer. I had to obey his orders. I had a clear shot. Maybe my only one before he disappears into the woods. I never plan.
It was supposed to be about justice, not a cold blooded killing. It was my fault. Terence was She threw her arms around him and they both just held each other. It was Beyond words. Progressor and directed by Joe Kakachi. The cast includes Molly Babos, Molly Cardin, Edie Falco, Santino Fontana, Luke Kirby, Tom, and the Father. Marianne Rendone, Tony Shaloub and John Torturo. Our senior producer is Jess Hackle. Our composer Jared Paul. Engineering and Mixing by Justin Cowell.
Casting by Jack. Show art by Eleni Tanaros. Our script supervisor is Graham Ferguson. Producers Joe Kakachi, Richard. Elliot Forest. Morphos and John Whalen. This episode was recorded at Poman Sound in New York City.