“But you’re assuming that they’re intentionally poor,” Bo Lin pointed out. “A lot of them are being excluded from the job market by employers. It was in the Herald the other day.”
“If I had a dollar for every bit of fake news I read in the Herald,” Larry said, “I’d already be a billionaire. They should sue if they’re being discriminated against. It’s what I’d do. The courts are still open and functioning. I was there just the other day.”
“Anyway,” Amandine said as she tried to calm things down. “We have a new political party in power, and we should wish them the best. We should all give them a fighting chance. I’m sure that they will tackle all these issues and much more.”
“Of course, they will,” Larry said sarcastically.
Amandine yawned, and she suggested that we all get up and “mingle” because it was all getting a bit too heavy. She and Joshua, her husband wearing seersucker, stood up and proceeded to chat with Dad, Miguel, and Adam, who were all seated together. Everyone else followed suit, and they went to chat with people they hadn’t talked to yet.
I went to check on the kids, and when I came back, Joshua was laughing, just laughing, as Mom told him (with great pride) that she was the “most politically incorrect person you will ever meet, Joshua.”
Mom then thought it was time to talk about “President Jim,” whom she was committed to ousting.
“He’s glib,” Mom told Joshua. “Just so glib that you pray a bolt of lightning would fry him!”
“Glib?” Joshua repeated as he reached for some toothpicks and used them to pick up some cocktail meatballs from a tray held by Ursula, a ConfiPrice server.
Joshua then took a napkin, tucked it into his T-shirt (presumably so that none of the sauce from the meatballs fell onto his seersucker outfit), and he devoured eight meatballs one after the other, with all the gusto of someone eating his first meal in weeks.
“Not even thirty years old,” Mom said as she continued talking about Pastor Jim, “and he’s telling me what I should care about in these times. Can you believe this younger generation? Glib.”
“Right,” Joshua said. “Glib!”
Joshua raised three additional meatballs in the air as if to toast the idea of a glib young generation, and he popped the meatballs into his mouth, which now looked as if it was about to spew out a handful of golf balls.
“And he has two lovers,” Mom told Joshua. “Pastor Jim. Yes, he does.”
Mom was smiling again like she was God’s deputy at the end of the world, and the time had come to condemn God’s enemies and dispatch the worst among them to the underworld.
“Gazelle!” Joshua exclaimed as he got the last of his meatballs down. “You naughty parishioner! You didn’t do a background search into the pastor, did you?”
Joshua then took a swig of his red wine.
Mom nodded, and she and Joshua laughed together.
Mom summoned Helen, who had just whispered something in Abraham’s ear as he was talking to Maria. Mom wanted to introduce Helen to Joshua.
“Helen and I are going to get President Jim removed from office,” Mom assured Joshua. “Helen’s my oldest friend, and we’re both in agreement on what needs to be done at Living Heavens Church. It’s about the future of our church and all the souls in it.”
“President Jim had better be careful!” Joshua smiled.
Helen was holding a slice of toast, and she was trying to get Abraham to follow her to the kitchen, but Abraham, clearly attracted to Maria, refused to move from his seat near Maria. Maria seemed to enjoy chatting with him, as her mother, Rigoberta, followed their conversation with interest.
Since her son wouldn’t budge, Helen asked Mom and me to follow her, please. It was urgent. Mom excused herself from Joshua, and we went to the kitchen with Helen.
Helen was panting, and her hands were trembling.
“He’s here,” Helen said.
“Who? President Jim?” Mom looked flabbergasted. She looked around to see if her enemy was present.
Helen shook her head. The toast was trembling in her left hand. She placed the toast on the kitchen counter and pointed. “Our Lord is here.”
“What are you talking about, Helen?” Mom asked.
Helen pointed at the toast. “Our Lord is on the toast, Gazelle.”
Mom and I stared at the toast. At first, I didn’t see anything, but as I stared at the slice of toasted bread for about five minutes, I noticed an image of what appeared to be a moon with two uneven circles in it. One of the circles was much larger than the other.
“I only see circles,” Mom said.
“Look closely,” Helen ordered Mom as she trembled further. “It’s a sign, Gazelle. I must do God’s will for Living Heavens Church.”
“We both will,” Mom said in response. “Of course.”
Helen told us that the two burned lines at the bottom of the toast were Jesus’s lips. The two uneven circles at the top of the bread were his eyes. And his nose was the dot in the top left corner. His ears were missing, and his beard was only visible if you look at the toast from a distance (she invited us to stand at a distance from the bread to see this).
It was, Helen finally told us, a deconstructed version of Jesus’s face—almost like puzzle pieces of Jesus’s face, just like a parable.
“Are you going to eat it?” I asked Helen.
“Of course not!” Mom said. “She can’t bite our Lord. That would be sacrilege.”
I left Mom and Helen in the kitchen, and I checked in with Mauru.
“I wish all my kids were here,” Mauru said.
“We’ll get them from the pool when we cut the cake,” I whispered. “It’s too much handle with all the guests. Helen’s going crazy in the kitchen over some burned toast. Anyway, did you hear what Larry said to Jennifer and Dolores?”
“You work for them, Jan,” Mauru said. “I only tolerate them for you, but I have nothing in common with most of these people.”
Mauru hugged me, and he went to chat with Dad and Andy, who were discussing President Lesyer, who was due to visit California.
A short while later, Dad walked up to me and asked how I was doing. Did I need anything for myself? He’d just been to check on the twins, and they were still asleep. Jon, Nate, and Sacha were still in the pool, and Samuel and Eileen were watching over them.
Dad was happy, he told me, to see me surrounded by so many people.
“This is who you are, Janet,” Dad nodded as he scanned the room. “The people you surround yourself with confirm what I’ve always known about you, Janet: you, too, want to belong.”
I hugged Dad and smiled.
Hannah walked up to me and asked if she could talk to me. We stepped into Dad’s study, where Hannah revealed that she was anxious that something had happened to Mike.
“What do you mean something’s happened to him?” I asked, pretending that I knew nothing.
“He’s stopped answering my calls,” Hannah said. “I can’t reach him, Janet. He doesn’t come to WS&X anymore, and even Larry doesn’t know where he is. I tried to look his family up in Stockton, but they’re not listed. I’ve run internet searches, and he’s not even in the papers anymore. It’s like he’s just fallen off the edge of the planet. Has anyone said anything to you?”
I placed my hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “It’s probably nothing, Hannah. The Hoviaks are in power now. He’s probably swamped.”
“Did he say anything about me when he drove you home after the celebration in early January? Do you think there’s someone else?”
“Someone else?” I asked Hannah, surprised. “That would be, um, disgusting, Hannah. Who would do such a thing?”
Mom told me that my twins were awake, it was time to wish me a happy birthday, and everyone had gathered in the atrium.
My kids were drawn to the raven, and I had to pull them away from Adriana and apologize.
Meeting my kids, LSD held Bo Lin’s hand for comfort.
“You know, we hav
e two sons, Bo Lin and I,” LSD reminded me, “and I’m just so scared for their future. I don’t even know what that word means right now, ‘future.’ Bo Lin and I are thinking of moving to Canada’s Northwest Territories or Alaska. They’re doing quite well over there, and they’re all flourishing.”
I glared at LSD.
Was she really serious about uprooting her family and moving to Canada? She hadn’t been at WS&X for about two years, and she was already thinking of moving? What about Maine (“Who can complain?”), or the Finger Lakes region? There was also Greenland, Siberia, Meghalaya State in India, and Quibdó in Colombia, among others, where thriving communities welcomed international migrants in these times. I, for one, wouldn’t move my family because I knew how tough it was to be an immigrant, and I didn’t want to put myself or my kids through that.
I got myself another buttermilk biscuit.
“Well, these are some truly surprising events across the planet,” Bo Lin said in support of LSD. “We don’t want our sons to get this hatred thing.”
Everyone sang, “Happy Birthday.”
“Candles,” Nathalie said as she pointed at the cakes. “Candles, Mommy.”
The kids blew out the candles, which were divided between the three cakes, thirteen on every cake.
Rigoberta, Maria’s mom, thought this a bad sign, especially since the number thirteen was repeated three times (and with candles), but Maria said, “It’s OK, Mama. It’s just more logical to spread the candles that way.”
“But no, Maria,” Rigoberta whispered. “Janet should have removed those candles from those cakes or rearranged them. Any number but thirteen. When she or anyone in her family blew them out, it’s bad luck. And they did it three times. Three times the bad luck.”
A short while later, Jon, my son, who’d just told me that the Black Forest cake was by far the best, pointed at the overhead glass panels, as a large flock of birds flew overhead in “V” formation, which startled all of us.
“That’s crazy,” Amandine said. “Those are trumpeter swans, and you never get them this far south. One, they avoid humans at all costs, and, two, they prefer wetlands, rivers, and really quiet places. San Diego is neither. Three, it’s way too dry and hot down here. Joshua and I saw them in Alaska, and you can even see them in Canada or Washington State, but never in San Diego. That’s just crazy.”
The sight of the trumpeter swans gave me hope.
If things that normally weren’t seen this far south appeared in the skies over San Diego, what else might appear miraculously in my life when I needed it most?
“What was that, Mom?” Nate asked.
“The flight of the trumpeter swans, darling,” I said. “That’s God’s way of greeting us on my birthday.”
As guests left with doggy bags filled with cake, buttermilk biscuits, pecan pie, and all types of food (and some alcohol), I stood in my parents’ driveway with my parents, Mauru, and the kids.
We waved at our guests as they all left, and we thanked them for coming.
A large bus passed by with the CWP colors—green and blue—all over it.
“We Need Your Advice and Help. Please Join Us.” was painted in blue and green on the bus.
A car pulled up, and the driver asked for “Janet Whitaker Virdis.”
“I’m Janet,” I said as Mauru seemed a little concerned about the arrival of a stranger, who appeared so unkempt that he looked a little aggressive.
“We tried to reach you all day, but you didn’t pick up your phone, Mrs. Virdis,” said the man, whose name tag said “Philip.”
“Is there a problem?” Mauru asked.
“Mrs. Virdis has a delivery of seven cases of Greenland Glace from Mike Iet of the CWP. Greenland Glace is our bestselling premium water product. It’s made from dissolving glaciers. We received an order for you to be delivered today.”
I signed for the delivery, paid a tip, and Philip left.
“Why is the CWP sending you birthday gifts?” Mom asked.
“And how does Mike Iet know where you are, Jan?” Mauru asked.
“I don’t know,” I responded. “They’re just clients of the firm. Anyway, what’s wrong with getting a gift from a client? I’m sure Dad gets random gifts from his clients.”
Mauru appeared annoyed. “And he wrote you a card.”
“Isn’t he married?” Mom asked. “Wasn’t it in the Herald a while back that he’d married that woman, who’s also a high-ranking member of the CWP?”
I opened the card, and Jon, who was as tall as I, thinking that he’d show us how much his reading had improved, read the message inside aloud.
“I miss you. Please join us.”
My blood froze in my veins, and Mom, thinking that Jon had misread the message, asked if she could see the card. I thought of protesting, but that would reinforce the notion that I had something to hide, so I gave Mom the card, and I said, “See, there’s nothing to it.”
“For you, maybe,” Mom responded. “But not for him. Which married man in America sends a woman—a married woman—a gift and a card on her birthday, especially in these times? Adultery is a sin, Janet—“
“Whoa,” Mauru said. “Mom, no one’s talking about adultery. There’s no adultery here. My wife would never do that.”
“Of course I wouldn’t!” I said.
“Mom,” Jon asked, “what’s adultery?”
“It’s a sin,” Mom said. “A sin of moral corruption. The Bible is full of condemnation for it. Exodus. Jeremiah. Proverbs. Matthew. Mark. Luke. John. Corinthians. Hebrews. It’s one of the worst sins.”
“But it’s only a case of water, Mom,” Dad said. “Sure, it’s a little inappropriate, but Janet has no control over what a client sends her. And knowing the CWP, this is probably just another recruiting tactic. It even has their famous words on it, ‘Please Join Us.’”
“Exactly,” I said as my heart raced. “Mike came to our house a few years ago to promote the CWP ahead of the election. I’ve since seen him at work, and the CWP asked me to join them, and I’ve refused—“
“I don’t remember you telling me that you were under pressure to join them,” Mauru said as Nathaniel asked to be placed on the ground; Mauru was carrying him.
“Because I’m not interested in joining them. It’s just not an issue.”
“So, why are they sending these inappropriate gifts?” Mom asked. “You must have encouraged them. These people have no scruples. None whatsoever. They are not only corrupt and violent, but they are also adulterers.”
“I haven’t encouraged anyone, Mom.”
“Which doesn’t explain why this married man is sending you gifts and cards,” Mom said. “Who says ‘I miss you’ to another man’s wife?”
I was getting annoyed and frustrated, and I wanted the conversation to end. “Mom, please stop making it sound like I belong to Mauru. I’m not ‘another man’s wife.’ I’m no one’s property. I am my own person.”
“And, again,” Dad said, “I just want us all to be clear that we cannot be held responsible for other people’s choices.”
“As long as you know where I stand on this,” Mom said.
8
Beyond Right and Wrong
Mike’s gift was a delightful, if scary, surprise. I slept well the night I received it, and I didn’t have any nightmares over the following week.
Mauru looked at me as if he knew something about me that he couldn’t forgive, and he took to acting as if I were becoming a stranger to him. I could see Mauru fighting what he’d just learned about me, which he refused to believe was true.
How could the woman he’d married, the mother of his kids, have done such a thing? How was it even possible in a world in which he seemed certain of so little, but he was sure of what he believed to be true about us?
It only took a few days before he confronted me just as we were about to sleep.
“You’d tell me,” he pleaded, “if there was something wrong with us, right?”
“There
’s nothing wrong with us,” I said. “Mom blows things out of proportion.”
“But you’d tell me, right?”
“Of course, I would.”
“Because I’m all in, Jan. I’m all in. In this family, it’s you, me, and the kids. If you go down, I go down, and the kids go down with us.”
For a second, I was sure that I didn’t want to see Mike again, and, therefore, I’d never see him.
“I’d never do that,” I promised Mauru. “I would never cheat on you.”
I told myself that the statement I’d just made was honest because it was prospective in scope. I would never cheat on Mauru going forward. I hadn’t said that I’d never cheated in the past. We all permit ourselves a small measure of untruths to get through each day.
“I’m happy to hear you say that,” Mauru said. He breathed deeply.
“You didn’t believe me? Why wouldn’t you believe me?” I acted as if I were offended (tears and all) that he’d doubted me, even for a second, and Mauru found himself comforting me.
We were intimate shortly after, and he apologized for having ever doubted my trustworthiness.
The following Saturday, the first in March 2039, I surprised everyone with two announcements. The first was that I was going to attend a service at the Church of the Moral Elixir, and the second was that I was joining Mothers for Mercy.
It had been a while since I’d attended Living Heavens Church, where Mom and Helen were at war with Pastor Jim, and I didn’t want to be embroiled in that, so I was in search of a new religious community I might call my spiritual home.
The reassertion of my faith would also have the added effect of cloaking me in a veneer of morality, however gossamer-thin, which would only grow the more often I attended church services.
By attending Mothers for Mercy meetings, I’d establish my bona fides as an opponent of the CWP and as a mother who loved her children. I’d also rise in Hannah’s and Dad’s estimations since they had brought Mothers for Mercy to my attention.
Fire Sweeping: The California Ballot Killings Book II Page 9
