“Papi, how are you feeling?”
“I’m nervous but I’m ready.” Cleon’s smile faded as he put a hand on his most serene child’s cheek. “You look so tired. You feel all right?”
“She’s working hard,” Giosué said. “Big project.”
Serena waved the concern away. “Tell me your itinerary, what things are planned on this memory tour? Are you going to look up any old friends?”
They tried. With Tej’s help—“I’m an expert stalker”—they combed the internet, Santiago phone directories and social media, looking for anyone from their circles. Cleon did make contact with a couple high school classmates, but neither lived in Chile anymore.
“No matter,” Cleon said. “We’ll be there during a significant week. September eleventh is the anniversary of the coup. September eighteenth is Chile’s independence day. Lots to see and do.”
“Apparently Alex tracked down the people who live in his old apartment,” Penny said. “He went by the building when he was in Santiago a few years ago, but didn’t go upstairs. This time, he wants to walk into the lion’s den.”
“That’ll be intense,” Giosué said. “Will you go to your old house?”
“We plan to.”
“We didn’t do any reconnaissance though,” Cleon said. “We’ll just barge in.”
“Are you nervous about meeting Alex?”
“Of course not,” Penny said. “I’ve seen his pictures, seen him on video calls. I feel like I know him.”
She was utterly wrong about this.
When the day came, she and Cleon were antsy with excitement. When Jude texted he was parking the car, they came out of the house, down the walk and waited at the gate.
One look at Alex Penda in person and Penny cracked in half.
One head-to-toe sweep of his tall, built frame.
One glint of the sun off his glasses.
One glimpse of his wide, dimpled smile.
“Oh dear God,” Cleon murmured.
As the in-the-flesh resemblance dawned on her, Penny broke.
And then she fled.
She ran across Alki Boulevard to the beach, blinded by horrified tears. Ducking behind a lone tree by the guardrail, hands pressed over her mouth. Eyes bulging and streaming.
I took another woman’s son.
I took a woman’s child away from her.
I took this man’s brother.
I left him to wonder all his life.
I did this.
Jude caught up to her, breathing hard. “Mami?”
She pressed her hands harder to her mouth, shaking her head.
“Mami, what is it?”
She moaned against her palms. Her legs buckled and Jude caught her up.
“It’s all right.”
“I can’t.”
“Mami, it’s all right.”
“I can’t look at him. I can’t bear it. I can’t…”
“Shh, take a deep breath.”
She was hysterical. Irrational. What the hell was wrong with her? “What do I say to him? How do I explain?”
“Mami, you did nothing wrong.”
Alex was coming toward them and Penny shrunk back, hiding in Jude’s arms.
Don’t look at me don’t look at me don’t look at me…
“Are you all right?” Jude’s brother asked.
At the sound of his voice, Penny shied like a frightened colt, nearly breaking free and making a run for it. Jude’s arms tightened.
“Hey, hey, Mami, it’s all right.”
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I can’t stay.”
“No,” Alex said. “No, please. Please don’t.”
“I’m so sorry.” She writhed and strained, looking anywhere but at her son’s brother. The shame in her veins was utterly foreign to her. “Don’t look at me.”
“It’s all right,” Alex said. “I promise.”
She peeked up. He held out his hands to her, palms to the sky.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
The hands beckoned. “Please.”
Shaking her head, she extended her trembling fingers.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Come here. It’s all right.”
His hands were warm. They held her life. She felt like a stray dog being coaxed into shelter and a vague recollection stirred in her swirling mind, remembering Alex Penda was a veterinarian.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said.
He had beautiful, mint-green eyes, damp at the edges. A quick smile and his dimples flickered.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, even as a calm began to trickle down from her scalp. Much like the entranced relaxation in Dr. Mezeritz’s office.
Alex put his hands on her shoulders. Then on her face. He held her forehead to his. “Thank you.”
“I had no idea, please believe me.”
“I believe you.” He was hugging her now. A hug so much like Jude’s. “Thank you. I can never thank you enough.”
“Oh my God.” She relaxed into his embrace. “I’m so sorry.”
“There is nothing, nothing to forgive but if you need to hear it, I forgive you. I forgive everything. All of it.”
She was crying again. “Oh my God.”
“Basta,” Cleon was there now. Last to arrive, but first to calm her down. “Come here, my love.”
She was passed off and buried her face in his chest. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Shh. You had no idea how you’d react.”
“I’m so ashamed.”
Three male voices protested but she held up a silencing hand.
“I know I have no reason to be, but I can’t help it. What did I do? I know I didn’t do anything, but I can’t help it. I didn’t know I was taking him from—”
“Nobody here took anything from anyone,” Alex said. “Things were taken from us.”
“We were stepped from the path of normal life,” Jude said.
Alex gave Penny a handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. They went inside where Valerie Lark was helping Tej, Serena and Giosué put out a magnificent spread and huge drinks. In her turbulent state, Penny couldn’t form an opinion of Alex’s new sister-in-law beyond She’s a lovely woman. Both she and Alex were unquestionably lovely people. Gracious, compassionate, solicitous of everyone’s fragile emotional state. Attentive in front of the family photo gallery and curious about the Tholets’ saga.
The two families didn’t just come together, they dissolved like sugar in water. Despite the sweetness, Penny stayed rattled and off-balance the rest of the evening. Slipping away to cry in bathrooms and pillows.
What’s wrong? What’s wrong with me?
She breathed. She used all her relaxation tricks. She affirmed. She chanted. Then she slipped into the bathroom or bedroom to gasp again.
What if whatever’s wrong can’t be made right?
She splashed her face with cold water over and over, but stayed flushed with heat, her heart refusing to slow down and walk.
Do I need to go to the hospital? Am I having a heart attack?
Val kept pressing water on her, garnished with paper-thin slices of cucumber and lemon. “Stay hydrated. You’ll feel worse if you don’t.”
Cleon went quieter and stiller than a painting. Apologetically turning up his palms and gesturing to Alex and Jude, his smile bewildered. “I have no words,” he said over and over. “I don’t believe what I’m seeing.”
Penny had never seen him look so small.
Don’t get small. Don’t disappear.
She refilled her water glass and sat next to Alex. “I feel so strange.”
“I know.” He rubbed a hand on his chest. “I can’t seem to exhale all the way. This is like the happiest time of my life and I feel kind of…wretched.”
She laughed, and because he was lovely, she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
This doesn’t have to be hello or goodbye, she thought. It doesn’t have to be taking sides or choosing teams. My family. Your family. It can be our family. The pool is big enough for everyone. The wall is big enough for more pictures.
Nothing made her feel better.
“You want half a Xanax?” Alex mumbled. “I was thinking of taking one but I’ll split it with you?”
Like two teenagers sneaking off for a joint, they slipped into the kitchen and split a little helper. There, Penny showed Alex her shrine to Clementina on the windowsill.
“I’m trying to separate the feeling of being responsible from a conscious decision to behave responsibly,” she said. “Finding out her name and seeing her face gave me something to connect to. I talk to her while I’m washing dishes. I tell her stories about Jude’s life. Stories about my life.”
“I love that,” Alex said softly. “I just want all this to bring peace to everyone. Everyone both living and dead. When Jude came with me to the cemetery and we stood in front of the grave, I felt like… Here he is. I found him. He’s all right. You can rest easy now. No more wondering and worrying. He’s right here, he’s had a good life, he was safe and he was loved and we found each other.”
Then they were blubbing again and Alex was passing her his handkerchief. How could you not like a man who carried a handkerchief?
Gradually, the Xanax sank fingertips into Penny’s muscles, took the edge off her anxiety and finally gave her exhales a bottom. It let her peer beyond the fog of nervous confusion, wanting to see how Cleon was handling everything.
He was gone.
“Where’s your father?” she asked Serena.
Serena glanced at the easy chair, but only Walter was there. She looked around. “I don’t know.”
Penny found him in the bedroom, sitting on the bench by the footboard, doing nothing. One trouser leg hitched up, his prosthetic leg on the floor. Looking cut in half, broken and lost.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t take anymore. Everyone is wonderful, it’s a beautiful night but I can’t…” He put a hand over his face and his other palm flew up, pushing at her presence. “Give me a minute. Go back to them.”
She took a step toward him instead. “Querido.”
His palm spread wider. “Don’t. I love you but… Just go. Please.”
Penny went back to the living room. Her party face in shambles, she gave up the honest truth. “He hit a wall. I think my tank is empty, too. Why don’t we call it a night?”
Everyone grabbed cups and plates, insisted she not do a thing to help and go straight to bed. With matriarchal privilege, she kissed and hugged, said goodnight and did just that. Cleon was already under the covers, waiting. Rolled to his side, wanting her heartbeat against his back.
“I couldn’t look at Alex anymore,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“The resemblance is uncanny. Up until now, it didn’t seem real. My mind wasn’t fully onboard. Even when Jude shared Alex’s picture, the resemblance was obvious but it still didn’t register. But seeing him today in person. Flesh and blood. Three dimensional. My God, he smiled and I nearly fell over. My heart broke.”
Penny’s throat was raw and chafed. She’d been crying all day but nothing had loosened in her heart.
My heart is breaking.
My heart is under attack.
“It got to me,” Cleon said. “Jude really is another couple’s son. It doesn’t change how I feel but it changes…something.”
“I don’t know why I feel so ashamed.”
“I can’t stop thinking about Alex’s father. Their father. I feel accountable to a man I never met and do you know, I might have met him. He owned that bookstore on the Plaza San Margarita. I knew that place. That lair of students and activists and cigarettes and coffee and causes. I know I went in there at least once. One book on my office shelves was bought there. Eduardo Penda could’ve sold it to me. Could’ve poured me a cup of coffee.”
“I could’ve passed his mother on the street.”
“She was in the Villa Grimaldi. I might have seen her. I might have heard her screams in the night. I could have been feet, inches away from Jude being born…”
He was crying. He rarely cried. He coasted above such violent emotions.
“I could’ve been there,” he said between sobs. Which was untrue and unfair. Irrational. But sometimes you felt what you felt and nothing could assuage it.
“I could’ve known. I could have seen her. I could have let someone inside but the palace only had one room. There was only room for one. I’m not Louis. I couldn’t do it his way. I couldn’t make room for ten. Only one. If I saw a baby lying on the ground, I would’ve stepped over it. I would’ve passed Jude by…”
This was the cue for Penny to go strong and solid and stoic. To give him the floor and let him have his turn. She couldn’t. They were talking past each other now, fear upon fear cascading out and piling up on bed like throw pillows.
“What if he’s looking for us?” Cleon said.
“What if he isn’t?”
“What if he had a terrible life?”
“What if he has no idea?”
“I wonder what he looks like,” he said. “I wonder where he is. I wonder his name. I wonder if he’s even alive. I wonder if we passed on the street, would he do a double-take. Maybe Aiden, in his all his travels, passed him by. They could’ve exchanged a glance somewhere in Patagonia or Peru or Argentina and thought, Wow, look at that guy, we could be brothers…”
“Where is he,” Penny sobbed into his shoulder. “Where did he go, what happened to him?”
“Goddammit.” Cleon let out a frustrated roar, dragging his hands down his face. “I just want my fucking life back,” he cried. He shoved her weight off and rolled over. “They took everything from me. They can’t have my son, too.”
Then he grabbed her and dragged her on top of him. They clawed and clung, weeping.
My heart is breaking.
“They can’t have him, Lucy,” he said into her hair. “They can’t take him from me.”
She clutched him as if he were the only thing she had left in the world. At that moment, he was. He’d built a sky and set her like a goddess at its zenith, her belly filled with lit-up hope. He gave her diamonds. He gave her children. He gave her the best and the worst of himself.
“How much more do they think I can take?”
He was holding her hard, with those hands that could crack walnuts or place a thousand delicate paper squares into a mosaic. Arms that could hoist him and his wheelchair aloft or paddle effortlessly to Bainbridge Island and back. The barrel chest enclosing his fragile heart. The scars from brass-knuckled fists, chains and live wires. The mouth that held back so many secrets while it encouraged others to tell their stories.
“How much more, Lucy?”
They usually took such care making love. Not tonight. Their angry passion had no use for their imperfect, aging bodies. It turned them inside-out, threw off clothing and caution and they fucked like the world was ending. Collapsed into naked sleep with the tear-tracks still wet on their wrinkled faces, not caring if they ever woke up again.
They woke up again.
They got out of bed carefully. Limped to the kitchen and chuckled through sheepish, blushing glances. They made big omelets and bigger bloody Marys. In the afternoon, they took the two-seated kayak onto Puget Sound. Cleon clipped his Bluetooth speaker through the buttonhole of his jacket and played the Beatles from his phone. Their paddles dipped and sliced as McCartney sang “Let it Be.”
This is the hand we were dealt, Penny thought, breathing in the cool damp air.
Who are we going to be now?
They took Wal
ter to the kennel, then came home and packed their suitcases. Assembled their papers and passports and tickets. Got ready for bed. The phone rang: it was Serena, with Giosué on another extension.
“I’m pregnant,” she said. “Almost four months. We wanted to wait through the first trimester. We had the ultrasound this morning.”
Penny and Cleon stared at each other.
“It was beautiful,” Giosué said in a thick voice. “Perfect little head, little arms and legs. Turning and kicking. It was magic. You could see all four chambers of the heart. You could see everything.”
“Well, almost everything,” Serena said. “No gender reveal. But Mami, if it’s a girl, I want to call her Giulia. For your mother, but with a G to make it Italian.”
“If it’s a boy, we thought maybe Ringo,” Giosué said.
Now Cleon roared laughing and Penny sat down on the bed, her mouth open. “Oh, querida,” she finally managed. “What an un-revolting development.”
Then they were all laughing.
“I wanted to tell you before you left,” Serena said. “Something to take with you. And if this trip to Chile doesn’t put anything to rest or you find more questions than answers, then it’s something to come home to.”
“You are the sweetest, most serene child,” Cleon said.
“Isn’t she?” Giosué said.
“Wait until I go into labor,” Serena said. “I’m calling in all the crazy.”
“I’m going to be a grandmother.” Penny stood up, then sat down again. “Oh my God, I can’t wait. When?”
“February.”
“What a gift,” Cleon said. “We love you both.”
“I’m so glad we didn’t know until now,” Penny said. “It’s perfect. Just perfect. I’m putting it in my carry-on luggage.”
She moved on soft feet the rest of the night, smiling into the steam of the shower. Staring through her reflection as she brushed her teeth, creating vistas of grandparenthood. Her arms bundled the towel to her chest after she dried her face, imagining a baby to rock.
A girl, she thought. I’d love if it were a girl. Giulia.
Then the scene shifted to Cleon sitting at the kitchen table with a little boy in his lap, sharing a strawberry milkshake. And she loved that, too.
A Scarcity of Condors Page 34
