“Why don’t you follow us up to the cabin tomorrow?” said Elliot. His voice was a whisper. “There’s plenty of room.”
* * *
At the cabin, Elliot inspected the mousetraps as the others unpacked.
“Exactly how long do you think we’re all going to be staying out here?” asked Gretchen, eyes boggling at the supplies from Keelan’s Winnebago.
Dory shrugged and passed her another bag. Frank said, “Until classes are reinstated? Longer?”
“Hmm,” said Gretchen. She began stacking tins inside the upper cabinets.
“And if somebody comes here trying to rob us of this bounty,” added Frank, “well, Elliot has a gun.”
“Nonsense,” said Gretchen. “Don’t be a fantasist.”
“Elliot has what?” said Julia from the couch, where she was nursing the baby; otherwise, Elliot had a feeling she might have shouted.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “It’s locked in the car.”
Gretchen carried on as though neither of them had spoken. “We’ll share what we have, of course. And we’ll figure out how they can help us in return.” She settled down next to Julia and the baby. “It’s a bit exhilarating, to be honest. A test case in cooperation.”
His father sighed from the opposite couch. “It’s naive to assume these random, desperate strangers will have anything to offer.”
Dory spoke up. “It isn’t naive to assume people will do the right thing. People are surprisingly principled.”
“Until they get a taste of power,” said Gretchen. “Then they’ll throw anyone under the bus to keep it.”
“Another debate for another day, my dear,” said Frank.
As the conversation continued around him, Elliot began emptying his rucksack: a few clothes from his parents’ house, his laptop, a paperback thriller with an envelope stuffed in it as a bookmark. Julia went to heat up some soup in the kitchen and Dory took her place on the couch. He noticed the two of them didn’t seem to be speaking to each other except when it came to the baby. Then he listened to his mother and his ex fall back into their old rapport as though it had never ended, which perhaps it never had.
“We’re happy you’re here,” said Gretchen. She held out her hands for the baby and cradled her with a sigh of satisfaction.
“Have you seen the latest numbers?” asked Dory in a low voice. “The infection rate among children is terrifying. We know five families with kids in the ICU.”
“That’s horrible,” said his mother. “You must have been beside yourselves about the baby.”
Dory nodded. “Eventually, they hope the overall rate is going to plateau and drop off, maybe in a month or two if they can contain it.”
“Thank God you got out,” said Gretchen. “I wonder if Keelan really did know something we didn’t about the likelihood of a crisis.” She ran one finger softly along the baby’s cheek. “I read those books of his when they came out, but of course a book can never capture all of one’s thoughts on a subject.”
Elliot noticed that his mother seemed to have an anxiety around other people’s knowledge. It was probably what had helped her stay ahead in her career—her endless curiosity.
“His books are all about cooperation and responsibility,” said Frank, keeping his voice low in deference to Julia’s presence in the next room, “but it’s worth pointing out he didn’t hesitate to acquire more than his fair share of supplies. Panic makes people do terrible things—even people who should know better. It’ll soon be every man for himself out there.”
“Man being the operative word,” said Gretchen, wrinkling her nose, and Frank groaned. “All jokes aside, it’s an appallingly dark view of human nature. You’ll notice nobody else is agreeing with you.”
“Only because you’ve scared them off, my dear.” Frank’s smile was gallant. “But Elliot works in law enforcement for a reason. I’m sure he can attest to the presence of an antisocial element.”
Gretchen and the others turned to look at Elliot where he lingered on the rug, surrounded by the contents of his rucksack.
“There are always people who will take what they can get,” he said.
His mother gave him a close look just as the baby started fussing. “You’d be better off quitting and staying here to help your family. I know you’re not satisfied as a cog in a violent, corrupt system, Ell.” She continued scrutinizing him even when he glared back. “I can tell it’s getting to you. There’s no need to stand by some previous decision now that you know better.”
“Wow, good to finally know what you really think, Mom.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the baby’s thin cries.
“I’ll take her,” said Dory, carrying the baby to the bedroom. Even with the door closed, they could hear her singing as she changed the baby’s diaper.
“Hard to believe we all start out in life so defenceless,” said Frank.
Gretchen sat back and put her feet up on the coffee table. “Yes, how do all these wailing bundles of need get taken care of in such a cruel, cold world?”
“Struggle for existence!” Frank chortled. “Are you trying to pass off biology as altruism?”
Elliot settled down in the armchair with his book. He pulled out the envelope he’d tucked into it and finally ripped it open.
Re: Donor 154-095-91066
Dear Mr. Howe,
We are writing to you regarding your sperm donations between October and December 2001 as part of the Glendowns Fertility Research Project. Subjects who participated in certain medical trials at our facilities consented to unlimited use of donated sperm and were compensated accordingly. However, you may be unaware that many families were able to have children thanks to your generous donations.
As you may know, attitudes surrounding the anonymity of donors have evolved in recent years, and the rise of social networks has facilitated contact between donor offspring all over the world. Attached, please find correspondence from the Donor Offspring Registry, with whom we are cooperating according to legislation currently before Congress.
Sincerely,
Genosys Family Resources
Dear Donor 154-095-91066,
Hello! Let me begin by thanking you for your generosity and telling you about our non-profit organization, which began as a website created by a mother whose son wanted to find his biological father.
Our mandate is to help donor children connect with blood relatives for the purposes of satisfying lifelong curiosities, sharing medical information, and to prevent future consanguinity. Children resulting from donor sperm can, upon reaching the age of 18, make use of our site to connect with donor fathers and potential half-siblings who have previously consented to contact. We also liaise with donation clinics to release donor names according to applicable state laws.
To date, 46 individuals resulting from your donations have connected with one another via the registry. We are holding correspondence from some of them in trust for you.
We are proud to have united many donor children with their donors and biological siblings. You will find a number of their stories on our website, and by registering as a donor on our site and releasing your name you can connect with the many amazing individuals you have helped bring into the world. This could be the first step on an incredible journey of discovery for you and your extended genetic network.
Sincerely,
Erin Elmwood
Liaison Officer
Donor Offspring Registry
www.donoroffspring.org
“Oh Jesus!” Elliot said. The torn envelope fluttered to the floor as the conversation between his parents stopped abruptly. “Christ.”
“Elliot,” said Gretchen, sounding rattled by his tone. “What is it?”
He held out the two pages for his mother to read. She scanned them quickly.
“Good lord,”
she said.
Elliot laced up his boots and went outside. Even after the door slammed behind him, he could hear his father and mother talking in loud voices, the baby crying, Julia and Dory coming out of the bedroom—all of them no doubt examining the preposterous letter and questioning his patently absurd life. He went around the side of the house out of earshot, past the low eaves covering a large woodpile and an idling axe that popped with red. He took out his rage on the logs, chopping the dry rounds into splits and kindling for the stove.
In between swings, he saw Dory approaching, donning her winter coat.
“Not in the mood,” he called out. “Not to mention I have an axe.”
“I just want to say it sucks. Especially if you didn’t know.”
“Guess I should have read the fine print.” He couldn’t remember now, what he had or hadn’t read. It was infuriating to think that his own life could be a mystery, even when he’d already lived it. He split a final log, preparing himself for a diatribe about the secret he’d kept from her during their marriage. “I’m an idiot, basically.”
“Yes,” said Dory. The hood of her coat was flipped up and her voice seemed to come from the trees. There was a strange edge to it. “But I’m sure you meant well.”
Elliot shivered. “Actually, I don’t know if I did.” He recalled being angry at his parents in the generic way he always was back then, for their constant well-meaning pressure to follow in their footsteps—though it would be another three years before he finally quit school. And he had been mad at Keisha, too, for being so upset about the breakup that had immediately preceded him signing up to donate. He’d been interested in the money, sure, but he couldn’t swear there hadn’t been some defiance there, in joining the trial. He’d felt guilty afterwards, but then, he’d felt guilty beforehand, too. As long as he could remember, he’d had a keen awareness of just how flawed a person he really was.
He paced over to a spot where he could make a pristine boot mark in the snow. Around the corner, there was a precipitous drop to the frozen lake. All was white and grey as far as he could see.
When he returned, Dory said, “I’m sorry your mom is still giving you a hard time about your job. I know it bugs you.” Her face grew sombre. “But I’m surprised to see you here. Isn’t there more than enough work for you guys right now?”
“Plenty, yeah.” So many police officers had contracted ARAMIS in the line of duty that the union was talking of a strike. And last week the rookie had texted him about seeing a group of officers signing out tear gas canisters and automatic rifles from the armoury, a process that no longer seemed to require the same chain of approval as before. Plus, the mayor was making noise about cracking down on precincts with the most curfew violations—coincidentally the poorest neighbourhoods, with the worst infection rates. “A bad time to take a vacation, I guess. But I wanted to spend some time with my parents.” Elliot looked at the snow, littered with scabs of bark and splintered wood chips.
“Things are getting worse out there, aren’t they?” said Dory.
Elliot hadn’t spoken to anyone about the city he’d left behind, but Dory had always been good at getting to the heart of things. “To be honest, I’m terrified of becoming part of the problem,” he said, and she nodded as though she understood. He resented that it was so easy to talk to someone who wasn’t even in his life anymore. “I’m thinking of quitting the force.” It was the first time he had said it out loud. “I’m ready for a change.”
Dory seemed shocked into a momentary silence. Her eyes roved over his face as though looking for something she might have missed. “Well. Change can be good,” she said finally, though she sounded dubious. Then she added, “But you’ve been avoiding me. Since you told us we could come.”
He didn’t think he’d tried to steer clear of her, though they certainly hadn’t had any in-depth conversations. “Maybe a little. But so have you.” He replaced the axe where he’d found it.
“Did you notice Julia freezing me out?”
He’d forgotten her habit of tuning him into other people’s problems as a way to help him forget about his own. “Give it time.”
As he bent to the task of arranging the split logs in the woodpile, Dory kicked the snow at her feet. “I don’t know why I can’t let it go,” she said. “All those things Julia told me about how Keelan treated her when she was growing up. I think partly we fell in love with the stories we told each other about the sad girls we used to be. How badly our parents misunderstood us and our terrible childhoods.” She hunched against the cold, leaning back against the cabin. “But Julia wants to be finished with our childhoods. Especially now, with the baby and everything. She wants to be healed and to move on.”
Elliot had no idea if his ex-wife really felt as lost as she sounded. “Would that be so bad?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Maybe not. But I don’t think leaving the past behind is all that easy. Do you?”
“No.” He risked another glance at her, and he saw that behind the glasses her eyes were wide and glassy. He blinked, surprised. He wondered how long he could be in her presence before he would be forced to reassess everything he’d ever told himself about their marriage and its end. He thought he’d mastered moving on, but only insofar as it meant not looking back. “And what do you want?” he asked.
Dory unfolded her arms and gave him a simple smile. “I want you to forgive me.”
Elliot had known plenty of couples who’d separated over the years. Yet most had clashed bitterly in the lead-up, or drifted apart in obvious and irrevocable ways. For him, their divorce had come out of the blue. “You know, I never stopped loving you. And that made it hard.”
Dory didn’t seem as taken aback as he’d expected her to be. “For me, too.” Her gaze was serious and not unsympathetic.
He said, “I felt a fool.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” She reached out as though to touch him, then thrust her hands into her pockets instead. “You know, you’ll be an amazing dad.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Dory frowned, as though uncertain if he was serious, and without thinking, he flashed her a reassuring grin—part of the wordless vocabulary of their former marriage. He remembered what Sarah had once said to him about how people’s lives could never truly be disentangled once they’d come together. He’d found the idea stagnant at best and horrifying at worst, but for the first time, as Dory smiled back at him, he saw the comfort in it.
* * *
—
When Elliot and Dory returned to the cabin with armfuls of firewood, Gretchen got up and walked out. Elliot occupied himself with stacking the wood against the wall, bracing himself for a parental onslaught about his donations. But his mother came back with a case of beer. “I can’t believe I forgot this on the first load.” She placed it heavily on the coffee table. “And some whisky,” she said, pulling a bottle of Laphroaig out of her shoulder bag.
“Thank god,” said Elliot, reaching for it.
“It’s a hell of a thing,” said Gretchen. “I suppose I ought to be scandalized, but I actually feel a strange kind of pride. Forty-six grandchildren!” She returned to her spot on the couch. “And Noah, of course.”
“In another time and place,” said Frank, “you’d be hailed as a matriarch.” He held out his hand for the whisky, poured some for everyone, then raised his glass and clinked it to Gretchen’s.
“You know, there’s not enough blood there, between fathers and children,” said Gretchen. She watched as Dory and Julia carried their drowsy baby into a bedroom, along with a portable crib. “Men—all the men I know—are unbound.”
“What do you mean?” said Frank. Elliot said nothing. He already knew that whatever his mother was going to say would annoy him.
“Just look at our own kids,” she said, proving him right. “Elliot scattering his seed far and wide, wit
h no involvement whatsoever with those children, and Sarah, binding herself forever, all alone, to a child almost entirely of her own making.”
“I think our kids are special cases.”
“Maybe.” Gretchen leaned her head on her hand, then turned her attention to her son. “So what are you going to do, honey?”
Elliot thought he saw something tender in her eyes, an unusual openness that didn’t assume she already had the right answer. Somehow he was sure she knew he’d decided not to return to the city: that she was feeling grateful, maternal, even indulgent. He got up from the table and returned to the armchair.
“Let’s not talk about it right now, okay?”
His parents nodded.
Dory came back into the living room. “Has it sunk in yet?”
Elliot could tell she wanted to tell a joke but was somehow restraining herself. He refrained from answering but grabbed the bottle and took another slug. From the bedroom, he could hear the hushed melody of a lullaby winding down.
Gretchen said, “He doesn’t want to talk right now.”
Julia returned after putting the baby to sleep. “I wonder what my father would think of us all being here.”
“He’d probably try to take credit for it,” said Gretchen, smiling. “Claim it was all his idea.”
“Poor old Dad.” Elliot saw that there were tears on Julia’s face.
“I wish he were here,” said Gretchen, and Frank agreed. The rest of them began exchanging stories about Keelan in low voices, sparing a glance in Elliot’s direction every once in a while. But he was happy to be out of the conversation.
He took one shot then another, then cracked open and chugged beer after beer until his panic began to subside. The cabin seemed to breathe with him, responsive and alive, as the wind whistled in and out of hairline cracks in the walls. He sensed his parents’ need and the history he shared with Dory and Julia—and beyond that, whatever connection lay between him and the forty-odd donor children spread all over the world. He noticed his eyes closing.
Songs for the End of the World Page 36
