A Scarcity of Condors

by Suanne Laqueur

  “Great, I’m in bed with Joseph Campbell.”

  “You love it.”

  “I do.” Tej’s hand ran from Jude’s rib cage, down the trunk of his body to his knee. Then up again. “I’m glad you came by.”

  Jude closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. “So am I.”

  The buzz of the doorbell made them both jump.

  “Did you order take-out?” Tej said.

  “Not me. You have other lovers in the neighborhood?”

  “It might be my ex-wife.” He laughed and dodged the pillow Jude swung at his head. “Kidding. I don’t know.” He pulled on jeans and walked out of the bedroom, smoothing his tousled hair.

  Jude brushed away condom wrappers and rolled onto his stomach, wrestled the lube bottle out from under his chest and flung it aside. “Good fucking lord,” he whispered, grinning into the pillows.

  Through the cracked door he could hear mumbled conversation. It was definitely a female voice. Now Tej was coming back down the hall.

  “Hold on, hold on, I got a naked man in here.” He peeked in. “It’s my sister. She’s cool, you can come out.”

  Jude got up, tugging at his own hair.

  “Put clothes on,” Tej said. “She’s not that cool. And don’t blush. That’s my department.”

  In the bathroom, Jude washed his hands and face, took a swig of mouthwash. Studied his reflection in the mirror. Tried not to look like someone who just fucked the shit out of your baby brother.

  Before his eyes, he flamed up red.

  In the living room Jude was greeted by a lovely, meticulously groomed woman, introduced as Mireille.

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” she said, and then turned raised eyebrows to Tej. “This is an improvement.”

  Glaring, Tej closed his fingertips around the air with a hissed, “Shh.”

  “What? It’s nice not to see you with a pouting, tattooed college boy for once.”

  Tej replied in one of his two languages. Mireille answered in the same. As the siblings bickered, Jude slowly knelt down. At Mireille’s feet was a dog. Perhaps the most amazing dog Jude ever saw. A dog that redefined the definition of dog. Jude wanted to punch the cat, this dog was so fucking cute. And when this incredible pooch trotted forward and greeted him like a soul mate, Jude felt something beyond pleasure. He felt chosen.

  “Look at you,” he said, laughing as the dog circled between his crouched legs, sniffing and nudging before settling down and leaning on him.

  “That’s Samson,” Mireille said.

  “We love him,” Tej added, and headed into the kitchen.

  “Look at you.” Jude couldn’t take eyes or his hands off this creature. His fur was a gorgeous, smooth caramel with a patch of white on his chest and the toes of one paw. His tail and ears were chocolate brown, the latter folded neatly forward beside his square head.

  “God, this is one handsome dog,” Jude said. “What breed is he?”

  “He’s the offspring of a Beagle and a Boxer-Lab,” Mireille said. “He’s got that blunt-face silhouette but he’s not as jowly as full Boxers. And he’s a nice size.”

  Not satisfied with leaning, Samson started crawling up Jude’s chest, panting contentedly, hinting he wouldn’t mind be carried.

  “He doesn’t seem to like you,” Mireille said.

  Jude stood up, arms full of puppy love. “Do you take checks, or do you prefer cash?”

  “You can’t afford him.”

  “Try me.”

  “Anytime you want to babysit, feel free.”

  “He’s my babysitter,” Tej said, coming out of the kitchen with a tray in his hands and a bottle of wine tucked under one arm.

  “So how’d you two meet?”

  “He picked me up in a bar,” Jude said to Samson’s curious face. “Didn’t he? Yes, he did.”

  “Must’ve been a Tuesday,” Mireille said.

  “Hey.” Tej looked up from pouring. “You and Rosie need to cut that shit out.”

  The tray had a bowl of salted almonds and another of green grapes, which Mireille warned not be fed to Samson. “They’re incredibly toxic to dogs, as I learned via a five grand veterinarian bill. So, Jude, are you a Seattle native or newcomer?”

  “I moved here in high school. From Vancouver.”

  Mireille leveled her gaze at her brother. “Canadian. Definitely an improvement.”

  “Well you told me I had to start making better choices, so I stood in a bar and asked for countries of origin.”

  “Actually, I was born in Chile,” Jude said, scratching Samson’s chin. “Wasn’t I?”

  “Shut up,” Tej said around a mouthful of almonds. “I did not know this.”

  “Well, we just met.”

  Tej tilted his head in the direction of the bedroom. “We also just had a long getting-to-know you conversation, so how did Chile not come up?”

  “If you guys are going to have your first fight, I can leave,” Mireille said, then laughed when Jude widened his eyes and clutched Samson tighter. “Or not.”

  Tej looked poised on the edge of a question, which Jude could tell involved the DNA test and the switched-at-birth story and the new Chile information. He shook his head just the tiniest bit.

  I don’t want to get into it. Okay?

  Tej’s chin gave a tight rise and fall, and he only said, “Great, Miri, now he’s only going to want me for the dog. Thanks for coming by.”

  Mireille Khoury had a master’s in Oh Never Mind Me, Let’s Talk About You. Jude did glean she was an interior designer, but she could’ve been a hell of a therapist. Plus Samson acted like some kind of muscle-relaxing truth serum and before Jude knew it, half his life story was on the coffee table. Not just a neat, encapsulated version but deep, intimate memories and recollections of his childhood.

  “This is so interesting,” Mireille said, kicking off one of her flats and tucking her foot underneath her. “What was it like being your father’s child? I mean, did you and your siblings know what happened to him?”

  “We knew, sure,” Jude said. “But we didn’t learn in one sit-down session. I remember it all being kind of gradual. Like we were spoon fed age-appropriate versions of the story. Real simple at first—bad men hurt Papi, but he’s all right now. His legs don’t work so well, but he got away and nobody can hurt him or us ever again. As we got older and could understand the political background and who the bad men were, we learned more of the details. Learned he’d been tortured…”

  Learned my mother was roughed up when the soldiers came to La Reina. They shot Uncle Louis, rifle-butted Mami in the head and she gave birth to me on the floor of the house.

  Or rather, she gave birth on the floor, but not to me.

  “Anyway,” he said slowly. “We knew. It made us an incredibly tight family. My father was protective of us, but we were just as protective of him. He definitely had his trigger points. Things or situations that instantly made him upset.”

  “Like?” Mireille asked.

  “He’d never go to a stadium. Not for a sporting event or concert. Police and soldiers made him really nervous. He was a perfect driver. I mean a textbook, impeccable driver, because being pulled over could be a psychological ordeal. Once, leaving for a vacation, we were walking into Sea-Tac and a couple of on-duty soldiers were coming out. Full metal jacket, armed to the teeth, German Shepherd on a leash. My father was on his crutches, so one of the soldiers held the door for him. Perfectly polite, ‘I got it, sir, take your time.’ Papi broke out in a sweat. I watched him look over his shoulder a good five minutes after, seeing if they were trailing him.”

  “Jesus,” Tej said, shaking his head.

  “And he always needed to know where we were.” Jude shifted in his chair, rearranging both Samson and his lingering guilt. The deliberate cruelty in putting Cleon into radio silence was sour in his stomac
h now. It was a beyond shitty thing to do.

  “We had a bit of an argument recently,” he heard himself say. “I didn’t speak to him for a couple days. Didn’t answer his calls. He practically broke my door down and tore me a new one.” His cheeks prickled warm as he smiled at Tej. “Which I deserved.”

  Why am I telling him all this?

  Tej nodded, tousled, handsome and thoughtful.

  “Unbelievable,” Mireille said over the rim of her wineglass. “Have you ever been back to Chile?”

  “No. Not my parents or sister, either. My brother’s an environmental researcher and his work will often take him to South America. But mostly to the Chilean coast and Patagonia. I don’t think he’s ever been to Santiago. Or feels a desire to.”

  “Mm. We’ve never been back to Lebanon, either.”

  “Wait, you did that Mediterranean cruise,” Tej said. “Greece, Cyprus, Turkey, Israel. Didn’t it stop in Beirut?”

  “It did,” Mireille said. “But I didn’t get off the boat. Hell, no.”

  “How old were you during the war?” Jude asked.

  “Eight when it started. Ten when we left. And call me a wimp, but it took so long to get over those bad memories, I didn’t even want to stand at the ship’s rail and look at the damn place.” She stood up and wiggled her shoe back on. “Unfortunately, I need to get going. Tej, help me get the dog back.”

  Jude sighed, got up and gave Samson over. “If you go on another cruise, I’ll dog sit. Free. I’ll pay you to watch him.”

  She laughed and kissed his cheek. “Deal. So nice to meet you.” She glanced at Tej, then back at Jude. “I mean really nice to meet you.”

  “Fiche le camp, cherie,” Tej said loudly. “Door is that way.”

  She left still laughing, Samson trotting behind, leaving Jude bereft.

  “From now on, I really do only want you for the dog,” he said. “Let’s just make it clear.”

  “Last time I let Miri drop by with her voodoo pooch.” Tej turned the locks and was about to slide the chain across when he stopped. “Well, look at me presumptuously bolting us in for the night.” He glanced back at Jude. “Do you want to stay?”

  Their eyes held. Tej’s gaze was like warm maple syrup, up to no good as it dripped down Jude’s body. An impossible mix of angel and devil beneath thick, sleek brows. One side of his mouth smiling through his beard growth.

  Jude had an appointment with Phil early tomorrow morning. Then a full day’s work, including a new ballet with a bitch of a score he hadn’t practiced.

  Tej reached and drew his finger down Jude’s stomach. “See, this is where you say thanks, but it’s a school night and maybe another time, you’ll call me, yadda yadda.”

  Quivering in his skin, Jude exhaled. “Can I borrow a toothbrush?”

  Reverse-imaged in a webcam window, Penny fussed with her hair and moved in and out of the kitchen light, grimacing.

  Is that how I look?

  “It’s the terrible thing about growing old,” the actress Jessica Tandy said. “You look like shit.”

  One more year and Penny Tholet would be able to test the Beatles theory of love: Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four? According to Serena, sixty-three was the new forty-six. But this whole DNA nightmare seemed to have aged Penny a decade and she was looking pretty goddamn ancient tonight. She set the edges of her hands at her ears and gently drew them back, smoothing the wrinkles in her face. She turned this way and that, considering her options. Maybe just a tuck?

  A beep and a whoosh and Skype opened a second webcam window, revealing Aiden Tholet. Penny let go her face and waved. “Hola, querido.”

  “Hey. Do you have a cold or something?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t look so good.”

  Aiden’s girlfriend appeared in the frame and gave his head a little shove. “Salvaje. Brute. That’s not how you say hello to a woman, let alone your mother.”

  “Hola, Inez,” Penny said.

  Inez waved both hands and peered into the camera. “Disculpa, mamacita, we’ll have your son try that again. Aiden, say hello.”

  “Hello, Mami,” Aiden said, smiling between hunched shoulders.

  “Bien, mi amor, bravo.” Inez slid arms around him from behind and kissed his cheek. “The beast can be taught.”

  Penny was all laughter inside, but she kept her face mild. Aiden’s romantic life was a secret vault within the guarded keep underneath the fortified fortress of his life. Getting merely one glimpse of a girlfriend was like sighting some rare, tropical moth. Inez had been in the picture close to three months now.

  “You both look great,” Penny said. “Aiden, are those new glasses?”

  Aiden touched the trendy, light blue frames. “Yeah I need them to read now, and for the computer.”

  “You cut your hair, too.”

  “I cut it,” Inez said. “¿Se ve muy guapo, verdad?”

  Aiden touched the sandy locks that once grew in a neglected mane to his shoulders. Now he sported a shorter cut, deliberately and artfully tousled, along with a rather smart V-neck sweater. Penny kissed her fingertips. “Muy guapo.”

  “What’s going on?” Aiden said, leaning on his forearms. Inez leaned on him, an arm slung around his shoulders.

  “Well,” Penny said, filled with reluctance. She wanted to sit and stare at this new, scrubbed-up Aiden, lounging under the drape of a steady girlfriend. “I wanted to talk to you about some… Well, it’s not exactly bad news. I’m not really sure what kind of news it is.”

  “What about?”

  “About Jude. And me. And Papi.”

  Inez glanced at Aiden, eyebrows furrowed, then back at the camera. “I’ll make some tea,” she said, getting up. “You two chat.”

  “What’s the matter with Jude?” Aiden asked.

  “Remember the DNA testing kit Serena sent you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well the results came back and they showed something we didn’t expect.”

  Aiden reached for a pad of paper with one hand and a pen with the other. “In your DNA? What is it, Parkinson’s? Some kind of cancer?”

  “No, no. The results showed that Jude…” Her mouth was dry, she cleared her throat.

  “What?”

  “Jude isn’t our son.”

  Aiden looked up from his writing. “I’m sorry?”

  “Jude isn’t our biological son.”

  He stared at her a long moment. Took off his glasses and stared some more. “Where’d you get him?”

  Penny said nothing. After being Aiden’s mother for twenty-nine years, she knew the first thing out of his mouth was often appalling. Tone deaf. Inappropriate. Lacking compassion. Missing the point by a country mile. He didn’t do it on purpose. He wasn’t a cruel man. He was wired differently and had a flimsy filter. Penny waited for him to craft a different response, remembering the time it took for her to rewire her reactions to her youngest son.

  “I don’t mean…” He put his glasses back on, drew the pad and pen closer. “Sorry. Tell me what happened. What did the tests say?”

  Penny told him. Fetched the result cards and held them one at a time up to the screen.

  “Email me pictures of those?” He wrote every figure and percentage down. The family secretary, he liked lots of visuals, lots of information, detailed notes, bullet points and lists.

  “So that’s what we know,” Penny said.

  “Wow.”

  “Which pales into comparison to what we don’t know.”

  “Well, it’s not a day in the life of the Tholets without something happening to Jude.” Aiden’s tone conveyed a lifetime spent calculating the trials of each Tholet, down to the second, with an accompanying pie graph. “Hasn’t he been through enough?”

  Penny nodded, keeping eye co
ntact across the ether. Aiden sank his chin onto a hand, mirroring Penny’s body language. She couldn’t sync with him on an intellectual level, but when they kept company, their physical posture often aligned.

  “Wow,” he said. “Wow, that’s hard. I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s hard to take in,” Penny said. “I feel like it’s happening to someone else.”

  Aiden blinked, his mouth moving around unspoken words.

  “It makes no sense,” she said. “I don’t understand at all.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know, querido.”

  “Will you look for his…” Aiden paused, which touched Penny to the bone. He stopped and thought before using the word mother or parents. Paused to consider her feelings. “His people?” he said.

  “I don’t know. I think that’s up to Jude.”

  “All right.” He tapped his pen on the pad, scanning his notes. His brow wrinkled tight above the frames of his glasses. It bothered him when he couldn’t provide an immediate solution to a problem.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” Penny said. “I just needed you to know. Because it’s a family issue and in my mind and heart, we’re still a family. Jude is still our son and your brother. But this is incredibly upsetting. You needed to know in case he reaches out to you. Or you reached out to him and he didn’t answer.”

  More likely the former. Reaching out to people was a skill Aiden was still mastering.

  “¿Papi está in casa?” he asked.

  “He was in the shower, let me see if he’s out.”

  Wet-haired and fresh-faced, Cleon scraped up a chair to the kitchen table. “¿Qué onda, gordo?”

  Gordo meant “fatso” or “fatty.” It was Cleon’s endearment for the lean Aiden, who walked between raindrops. Penny listened as Aiden caught his father up on work, a little puzzled. His Spanish sounded different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, she didn’t possess that kind of ear. Cleon and Jude loved to learn and mimic Latino accents. They could pinpoint a Spanish speaker’s country of origin in four words.

  “Gordo, where in the world did you pick up that terrible accent?”